Nesting, preparing, going insane, no matter what you call it -- that's what I'm doing. Today, Not the Momma asked me to bring the drill upstairs. I was very prepared to nag for a while about how his project should wait until the stuff I've wanted to do was done.
Basically I was all ready to be whiny, selfish and demanding. Someone he'd want to throw over the side of the ship.
I was very surprised when I went upstairs that I didn't have to nag, whine, demand - or even ask nicely. He was started on the project. He was working on the nursery/guest room. Call me crazy, but with the way I feel this pregnancy, I am hoping to have most of the stuff ready by the time I hit the third trimester. I want to save my third trimester energy for chasing after the two year old monster in our household. It will be better for everyone involved.
We made some real progress. Little Monster's room is now sporting a new "big boy" dresser, and his changing table/dresser/wardrobe is in the nursery/guest room. The bed in the guest room has been moved to accommodate the dresser and the crib. Most of the baby stuff from the storage room has been removed and at least put into the guest room for sorting -- if it hasn't' already been sorted. I did a fair share of sorting today. I went through all of Little Monsters old clothes that were really "boy-ish" out and put them into a "boy" bin. And I sorted all of the non-crazy-boy clothes into size and either put them in the dresser or into another bin. I still have a couple of bins to go through -- and then I need to sort through the clothes I'm giving away. But a majority of it is started.
It's amazing how much space 'baby' stuff takes up when it's in storage. We'll have plenty of room in several places for all of the stuff that was in the storage room once we move it all around and either unpack or sort through it.
But now, after doing all of that, on top of our normal Saturday morning running around and the errands we ran this afternoon -- I'm pooped. It's a good thing, though, because I'm all 'nested' out for the day.
Several people have told me how much Little Monster and WECON look alike in their ultrasound photos. If that's the case, we're all in trouble. If WECON gets those blue eyes, and those eyelashes -- heaven help us -- she's going to get anything she wants. For the rest of her life. All based on a look and a bat of the eyes.
Did I mention how awesome my husband is? He did all that work for me. Today. Without being nagged. What a guy, huh?? Sorry. I'll probably keep him after all.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Foto Friday
I'm approaching 22 weeks. So, here's some pictures for your comparison.
Me at 22 weeks with Little Monster (note how warm it was. I was sweating to death. I was also already wearing my wedding ring around my neck. I'm wasn't really sure this was only a 22 week picture, but I double checked. It is.
Me today near 22 weeks with WECON (please don't mind the pregnancy acne and the look that says "TAKE THE DARN PICTURE OR I AM LIABLE TO COME OVER THERE AND KILL YOU!). I realize that I look like I'm due tomorrow in this picture. I'm not. I'm one of those women who balloon out like a whale. I promise.
Oh yeah, and here's a picture of WECON... 
Perhaps we'll have to start calling her WECON-ette. That's right. According to the ultrasound technician, it's a girl. There were three lines where I expected there to be an appendage. Let the fighting over names BEGIN!
Perhaps we'll have to start calling her WECON-ette. That's right. According to the ultrasound technician, it's a girl. There were three lines where I expected there to be an appendage. Let the fighting over names BEGIN!Oh, wait. You want a profile of Little Monster for comparison? Okay. He was only 18 weeks.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
I gave In...
It's easier than fighting. And when you're done -- at the end of the day you can make Banana pudding pie with your 2 year old.
Just be warned. This is how a 2 year old makes banana pudding pie:
Just be warned. This is how a 2 year old makes banana pudding pie:
And yes. Those are the same lion pajamas he wore last night. And the night before. And all day today. And why, yes, it is 4:30 in the afternoon. Are you judging me? Because I'm pregnant, and hormonal, and liable to blow up at any minute.
Full Disclosure...
In the interest of Full Disclosure, and so that Not the Momma has something to read between classes today I'm sharing this with you:
Allowance
No, it isn't about getting paid or paying your children. This is post about my daily life. Really, seriously. I would write my own version, but that would be stupid because she's already done it. And I'm lazy. Ask anyone. Now go read it and come back. Because I'm going to add on to it.
Did you read that blog?
No? Then you won't understand this.
Ugh. Not the Momma just click on the link and read it.
FINE! She says there are two kinds of days. Productive days where you get up get dressed and do things, and unproductive days that make you feel like crap because you've been in your pajamas for too long, nothing has gotten done, and you really wish you had gotten something done because maybe you think your husband who busts his butt all day is going to judge you if he comes home and the kid is still wearing the same pajamas he's been wearing for two days and you're still in your pajamas and the dishes are still in the sink and the house is still a mess and can we please grab drive thru for dinner because I don't feel like cooking. (How was that for a run-on sentence?)
I think there is a third type of day. I would say that the number of this type of day is quickly catching up to the number unproductive days in our household. The third type of day is when I get up and Little Monster and I have different ideas about what kind of day it's going to be. Take yesterday for example. I got up, got dressed and wanted to head to the grocery store. Not for anything frivolous like coffee filters, milk, or real food, but for fruit snacks and blueberry waffles. The food Little Monster eats. Little Monster wasn't having it. He was NOT going to get dressed. He even pulled his pajamas out of the dirty laundry hamper mid-tantrum and whined about how he really wanted to wear his lions. Even though he had taken off his pajamas on his own. Without me asking. After I got him dressed, despite all of the tears and wailing and gnashing of teeth, we got to shoes. He wasn't having those either. Not even the most coveted Batman Crocs. No Coat, No Shoes, No Way, No How. That was the motto for yesterday. Eventually I bribed him and we got out of the door. Luckily the day improved.
Now let's compare that to today. I got up, got showered and dressed while Little Monster tried to throw my towel in the shower with me. He's a big help that kid. Most of the time. (He did put daddy's new deodorant away all by himself when we got home from the store yesterday.) But, most days I do like to dry off with a DRY towel. It's just a preference I have.
We don't have anything planned for today, but it is Thursday, which means we could go to playgroup. Problem is, Little Monster still doesn't want to take off the darn Lion footy pajamas that he's worn 2 nights in a row. Even when I suggest that we go play at the park -- his favorite thing to do besides eat crackers and fruit snacks -- his position doesn't change. I would really like to get out of the house and do something productive today, but I don't see that happening, what with the blue lion covered ball of tears on the floor behind me.
Yes, there is at third day category beyond productive and non-productive. There are the days where you want to be productive, and are fought tooth-and-nail at every step. The days when you fold an entire load of towels to have your two year old un-fold them and throw them to the floor just as you are getting ready to put them away. The days where every step forward towards doing something ends up being two steps back. I'd rather have the unproductive days than these days where I seem to spend all of my energy fighting someone in order to do the things that he likes most. The biggest problem with these days? Just when I want to threaten to sell him to the Gypsies, he climbs into my lap and says "hugs, mommy" and plants a big old kiss on my cheek. Then, all of the irritation with how the day goes turns into guilt. But then, maybe that's just me.
Allowance
No, it isn't about getting paid or paying your children. This is post about my daily life. Really, seriously. I would write my own version, but that would be stupid because she's already done it. And I'm lazy. Ask anyone. Now go read it and come back. Because I'm going to add on to it.
Did you read that blog?
No? Then you won't understand this.
Ugh. Not the Momma just click on the link and read it.
FINE! She says there are two kinds of days. Productive days where you get up get dressed and do things, and unproductive days that make you feel like crap because you've been in your pajamas for too long, nothing has gotten done, and you really wish you had gotten something done because maybe you think your husband who busts his butt all day is going to judge you if he comes home and the kid is still wearing the same pajamas he's been wearing for two days and you're still in your pajamas and the dishes are still in the sink and the house is still a mess and can we please grab drive thru for dinner because I don't feel like cooking. (How was that for a run-on sentence?)
I think there is a third type of day. I would say that the number of this type of day is quickly catching up to the number unproductive days in our household. The third type of day is when I get up and Little Monster and I have different ideas about what kind of day it's going to be. Take yesterday for example. I got up, got dressed and wanted to head to the grocery store. Not for anything frivolous like coffee filters, milk, or real food, but for fruit snacks and blueberry waffles. The food Little Monster eats. Little Monster wasn't having it. He was NOT going to get dressed. He even pulled his pajamas out of the dirty laundry hamper mid-tantrum and whined about how he really wanted to wear his lions. Even though he had taken off his pajamas on his own. Without me asking. After I got him dressed, despite all of the tears and wailing and gnashing of teeth, we got to shoes. He wasn't having those either. Not even the most coveted Batman Crocs. No Coat, No Shoes, No Way, No How. That was the motto for yesterday. Eventually I bribed him and we got out of the door. Luckily the day improved.
Now let's compare that to today. I got up, got showered and dressed while Little Monster tried to throw my towel in the shower with me. He's a big help that kid. Most of the time. (He did put daddy's new deodorant away all by himself when we got home from the store yesterday.) But, most days I do like to dry off with a DRY towel. It's just a preference I have.
We don't have anything planned for today, but it is Thursday, which means we could go to playgroup. Problem is, Little Monster still doesn't want to take off the darn Lion footy pajamas that he's worn 2 nights in a row. Even when I suggest that we go play at the park -- his favorite thing to do besides eat crackers and fruit snacks -- his position doesn't change. I would really like to get out of the house and do something productive today, but I don't see that happening, what with the blue lion covered ball of tears on the floor behind me.
Yes, there is at third day category beyond productive and non-productive. There are the days where you want to be productive, and are fought tooth-and-nail at every step. The days when you fold an entire load of towels to have your two year old un-fold them and throw them to the floor just as you are getting ready to put them away. The days where every step forward towards doing something ends up being two steps back. I'd rather have the unproductive days than these days where I seem to spend all of my energy fighting someone in order to do the things that he likes most. The biggest problem with these days? Just when I want to threaten to sell him to the Gypsies, he climbs into my lap and says "hugs, mommy" and plants a big old kiss on my cheek. Then, all of the irritation with how the day goes turns into guilt. But then, maybe that's just me.
Monday, January 26, 2009
More Monday Madness...
Today was Monday in all of its glory. It didn't end after the last post.
Nap time didn't happen. At all. Instead we insisted upon wearing the red truck T-shirt. And the yellow pirate T-shirt at the same time. And then he wanted his doggy pants off. And on. And off. He finally settled on jeans. And batman socks 3 sizes too big. After all of this and an hour of whining at the door, I gave up and let the monster free from the torture chamber of his bedroom.
We came downstairs, and I got to work doing the stuff that I needed to do while he was napping. He played happily with his dinosaurs and trucks. He ran around the house, passing me every minute or so. And then there were a few minutes where he didn't pass me. There were no truck sounds or dinosaur roars. Quiet.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
I enter the living room to find Little Monster (who earned his name today) sitting on the couch eating my TUMS. I have NO idea how many he ate.
And this is when I begin being grateful for poison control. I called, and was a little taken back when the lady sounded concerned. Of course, the concern waned after I told her he was 2. And that there were 60 pills in a new bottle, and 34 left, I had likely eaten at least 12 to 16 of them. Which meant that he'd eaten a max of 10. 10 is a lot of tums, but apparently not deadly or poisonous. He's just likely to be constipated. So after nearly exploding into tears of relief that we weren't going to have to spend our evening in the hospital, I fed him apple juice and raisins. I think he's in heaven. As far as he's concerned he ate some yummy candy, Mommy freaked out and he got to have juice and raisins after. (We don't have juice or raisins that often. They tend to make to quick of an exit.)
To settle myself down after all of this I called my mother. Is it wrong that it makes me feel better when I call all frantic, and she's sounding like she's having quite a "case of the Mondays" as well?
Her day went as follows:
She arrived home to find my Dad smashing on something repeatedly with a shovel. She got out of the car to find out it was a squirrel. A very dead squirrel. And the shovel he was using had been smashing said squirrel so hard that the shovel handle broke. When she asked him if he normally spent his afternoons smashing squirrels, his reply was "When the squirrel bites my dog in the nose I do."
Apparently, my parent's dog Buster caught a squirrel. It was probably injured (my dad thinks he had recently been run over by a car) and slow -- Buster's old. He caught the squirrel and was shaking it when the squirrel reared up and scratched and bit Buster's face all over. And so Buster began bleeding. All over. Buster, that dog, he likes to catch things that make him bleed. And then bleed all over. It seems like he's done something like this at least once per year that they've had that dog. Luckily, squirrels don't carry rabies, and his scratches/bites weren't deep enough to warrant stitches. Also, luckily the squirrel didn't have to suffer. Well, he probably would have suffered less if he hadn't been so stubborn as to live through getting run over by a car, and shaken by a dog. At least he didn't survive the shovel.
If you include the TUMS, the Squirrel and the bleeding, all of the other things that went on today, combine that with a dose of "not having the 700 software I need to install on my computer to do my job" and you've got yourself a great Monday.
Tonight we're having a quick and easy dinner. To be followed by a 9x9 inch pan of brownies. No. Not one or two brownies. The entire pan. If he's lucky, Not the Momma will get some too. How was your Monday. (Note.. If this keeps up, I'm going to be forced to join in on the "Not Me Monday" blog carnival.)
Nap time didn't happen. At all. Instead we insisted upon wearing the red truck T-shirt. And the yellow pirate T-shirt at the same time. And then he wanted his doggy pants off. And on. And off. He finally settled on jeans. And batman socks 3 sizes too big. After all of this and an hour of whining at the door, I gave up and let the monster free from the torture chamber of his bedroom.
We came downstairs, and I got to work doing the stuff that I needed to do while he was napping. He played happily with his dinosaurs and trucks. He ran around the house, passing me every minute or so. And then there were a few minutes where he didn't pass me. There were no truck sounds or dinosaur roars. Quiet.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
I enter the living room to find Little Monster (who earned his name today) sitting on the couch eating my TUMS. I have NO idea how many he ate.
And this is when I begin being grateful for poison control. I called, and was a little taken back when the lady sounded concerned. Of course, the concern waned after I told her he was 2. And that there were 60 pills in a new bottle, and 34 left, I had likely eaten at least 12 to 16 of them. Which meant that he'd eaten a max of 10. 10 is a lot of tums, but apparently not deadly or poisonous. He's just likely to be constipated. So after nearly exploding into tears of relief that we weren't going to have to spend our evening in the hospital, I fed him apple juice and raisins. I think he's in heaven. As far as he's concerned he ate some yummy candy, Mommy freaked out and he got to have juice and raisins after. (We don't have juice or raisins that often. They tend to make to quick of an exit.)
To settle myself down after all of this I called my mother. Is it wrong that it makes me feel better when I call all frantic, and she's sounding like she's having quite a "case of the Mondays" as well?
Her day went as follows:
She arrived home to find my Dad smashing on something repeatedly with a shovel. She got out of the car to find out it was a squirrel. A very dead squirrel. And the shovel he was using had been smashing said squirrel so hard that the shovel handle broke. When she asked him if he normally spent his afternoons smashing squirrels, his reply was "When the squirrel bites my dog in the nose I do."
Apparently, my parent's dog Buster caught a squirrel. It was probably injured (my dad thinks he had recently been run over by a car) and slow -- Buster's old. He caught the squirrel and was shaking it when the squirrel reared up and scratched and bit Buster's face all over. And so Buster began bleeding. All over. Buster, that dog, he likes to catch things that make him bleed. And then bleed all over. It seems like he's done something like this at least once per year that they've had that dog. Luckily, squirrels don't carry rabies, and his scratches/bites weren't deep enough to warrant stitches. Also, luckily the squirrel didn't have to suffer. Well, he probably would have suffered less if he hadn't been so stubborn as to live through getting run over by a car, and shaken by a dog. At least he didn't survive the shovel.
If you include the TUMS, the Squirrel and the bleeding, all of the other things that went on today, combine that with a dose of "not having the 700 software I need to install on my computer to do my job" and you've got yourself a great Monday.
Tonight we're having a quick and easy dinner. To be followed by a 9x9 inch pan of brownies. No. Not one or two brownies. The entire pan. If he's lucky, Not the Momma will get some too. How was your Monday. (Note.. If this keeps up, I'm going to be forced to join in on the "Not Me Monday" blog carnival.)
Monday, Monday...
The first in two weeks where I've been by myself for the entire day since the in-laws left on Saturday morning. It is also the first Monday that I've been strapped to a desk in order to be on the computer.
There have been a few snags. Little Monster is refusing naps again. Probably because I haven't been on the floor chasing him and playing with him every second of the day like Grandma did. That's what Grandmas are for, but he got quite used to it. That snag will be taken care of soon. Hopefully.
As much as I enjoyed having company, I am also enjoying the quiet of having the house to myself. Well, the relative quiet as Little Monster is still here with me "vrumming" his trucks and "rarrring" his dinosaurs, begging for drinks and snacks every time I turn around. The relative quiet still includes him screaming from his bedroom door "hand, Mommy, Hand!" He wants me to hold his hand until he falls asleep. The problem with that is that I'm not allowed in his room. When I enter he says "go away Mommy!" So, I sit and I wait. I wait and pray that the relative quiet will become actual quiet as he drifts off into sleep.
There have been a few snags. Little Monster is refusing naps again. Probably because I haven't been on the floor chasing him and playing with him every second of the day like Grandma did. That's what Grandmas are for, but he got quite used to it. That snag will be taken care of soon. Hopefully.
As much as I enjoyed having company, I am also enjoying the quiet of having the house to myself. Well, the relative quiet as Little Monster is still here with me "vrumming" his trucks and "rarrring" his dinosaurs, begging for drinks and snacks every time I turn around. The relative quiet still includes him screaming from his bedroom door "hand, Mommy, Hand!" He wants me to hold his hand until he falls asleep. The problem with that is that I'm not allowed in his room. When I enter he says "go away Mommy!" So, I sit and I wait. I wait and pray that the relative quiet will become actual quiet as he drifts off into sleep.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Moving the world.
Well, my world is moving at least. My laptop is about fried. It won't hold a charge, and half the time the a/c adapter doesn't register that the thing is plugged in. It's about four years old. And it's spent pretty much an entire four years on my lap. So, I guess it's time. I'm not getting a new computer though. Times are too tough for that. I'm moving to a...
I can barely say it.
Desktop.
That's right. I'm about to be tied to my computer desk rather than just my computer. I'm not sure about it, but it will have to do. The computing power is a million times better on the desktop, so that's a plus. The only negative is that I'm strapped to the desk.
And now it's time to get a drink and hang out with the family. I hope you all have a great weekend. And I'm sorry for the crappy post. Hey, at least you didn't have to put up with ONE MORE PICTURE of Little Monster, am I right??
I can barely say it.
Desktop.
That's right. I'm about to be tied to my computer desk rather than just my computer. I'm not sure about it, but it will have to do. The computing power is a million times better on the desktop, so that's a plus. The only negative is that I'm strapped to the desk.
And now it's time to get a drink and hang out with the family. I hope you all have a great weekend. And I'm sorry for the crappy post. Hey, at least you didn't have to put up with ONE MORE PICTURE of Little Monster, am I right??
Friday, January 23, 2009
Half Way!
I guess it's time for a pregnancy update.
I'm half way through the pregnancy... 20 weeks. And then some. I haven't posted 'belly pictures' anywhere, but I think it's probably time that I do so.
Here is a picture of me at 20 weeks when I was pregnant with Little Monster:
And me today. Funny enough, these pictures were taken the same number of days from conception. Nice, huh?
I was thinking I was bigger this time around. But as it turns out, I'm not. I'm about the same. I just feel bigger and more cumbersome. The aches and pains that I got at around 36-40 weeks with Little Monster are already rearing their ugly heads. That's okay though. I'm trying not to take any of this pregnancy for granted. The indigestion is out of control, so this baby's liable to look like a monkey. I've also noticed having to go to the bathroom EXTREMELY often. I feel like I'm going more than I did last time, but I could be wrong. When I brought it up to my doctor, he jokingly said "Well, you shouldn't have gotten pregnant then!"
In the future, I plan on trying to post a picture each Friday of the "BELLY" as it progressively gets larger. If there was a picture taken at the same time when I was pregnant with Little Monster, then I'll post that for comparison as well.
Stay tuned until next Friday -- (or whenever I feel like it) for more whining about the ailments and problems that I have!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Pictures...
Lately, Little Monster sees me get out the laptop and he runs to my lap yelling "PICTURES!" HE loves to look at pictures of our family, places we've been, and himself. It's a good thing he likes pictures of himself, because that's what I've got the most pictures of. I've been randomly opening a folder from the past, remembering what he was like as a busy little baby. I'm sure I'm forgetting all of the craziness he brought to our lives, the crying, the messy messy messy diapers, the whining, the lack of sleep, etc.
When I look at these pictures, I just want to reach in, squeeze those cheeks and kiss that baby who has too quickly become a little boy. It reminds me to remember to cherish the moments now -- even when he is running on the walls and driving me batty.
These are the pictures we found ourselves looking at today. They are from our first couple of weeks here in Central California. We were living in our fifth wheel trailer. He was so little, with such chubby cheeks. It's amazing how you watch them grow right before your eyes, yet you seem to miss it at the same time. It's kind of bittersweet.
When I look at these pictures, I just want to reach in, squeeze those cheeks and kiss that baby who has too quickly become a little boy. It reminds me to remember to cherish the moments now -- even when he is running on the walls and driving me batty.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Wordless Wednesday...
One year has passed and not much has changed -- except how big he is.
He's still every bit as naughty.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Inauguration Day
You're not going to find any talk of politics or Presidents here... Today was a very important day in our household.
Today was the day that Little Monster ate the first ice cream cone of his very own. Sure, he's had nibbles off of others. Certainly he's had ice cream, usually in shake form. He's no stranger to frozen confectionery treats. But today -- today we gave him a Drumstick. It's supposed to start cooling off and raining tomorrow. So we celebrated the end of nearly two weeks of fabulous weather with ice cream on the front lawn, followed by soccer and a late nap.
Little Monster had a good time, even if he wasn't sure about the ice cream cone at first. You see, he had a little trouble getting past all of the chocolate and nuts.
Once he got past the chocolate and nuts, he still wasn't sure about the whole thing.
Maybe he was worried it was too good to be true?
After another bite, I asked him what he thought?
I think he was telling me he'd rather I stop talking and taking pictures and allow him to eat his snack.
Uh oh! There's a drip! Catch the drip!!
The ice cream in the cone was too much. He asked for a spoon to get the rest out.
The problem with using a spoon, is that ALL of the ice cream comes out at once and you get a brain freeze.
You wouldn't believe the trouble we had trying to convince him that he could actually eat that chocolate coated sugar cone.
That chocolate cone is pretty good after all isn't it?? So... Little Monster -- How do you feel about your inauguration into the world of Drumstick Ice Cream Cones?
Monday, January 19, 2009
Doing the "tourist" thing.
One of the great things about being married to the military is that we move often -- and because we're Navy, we're almost always on the ocean. And usually in some sort of a tourist destination. Sometimes it's a pain -- like from Memorial Day to Labor Day. But other times, it's awesome. Like when there are no tourists in town, because it's January. And then because you have family come into town (I swear that's the only time it warms up here) it's 80 degrees. And because it's 80 degrees, you feel guilty sitting around inside doing nothing, so you go on a drive through the rich area, with the golf courses. That place you never visit except when company is in town, because it's 9 dollars and some change to drive through.
Were you expecting pictures without Little Monster in them?? Oh. Okay. Here's some pictures of the scenery. The first is of bird rock. Those funky looking lumps are sea lions and pelicans.
There. That's all you get. Now we're back to the cute. Plus, the short sleeves prove it is actually warm here.
And this one has nothing to do with our road trip, but the Zoolander pose cracks me up anyway.
What? You don't believe me? Here's proof of the weather, the sun, surf and just plain beautiful weather.
Were you expecting pictures without Little Monster in them?? Oh. Okay. Here's some pictures of the scenery. The first is of bird rock. Those funky looking lumps are sea lions and pelicans.There. That's all you get. Now we're back to the cute. Plus, the short sleeves prove it is actually warm here.
And this one has nothing to do with our road trip, but the Zoolander pose cracks me up anyway.
Don't be too jealous. It will be cool, cloudy and rainy in a couple of days. And it will stay that way until sometime in October. While you are all basking in your springs, summers and swimming pools, I'll be sitting in my house, cuddled under a blanket while the fog rolls past my front door.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Today is a better day.
Today always has the possibility of being a better day than yesterday.
Jesus said that we should be like little children in our faith. I'm starting to think that we should be like little children in other ways as well. Have you ever noticed that no matter how terribly your child is behaving before bed, no matter how bad the day before was, that when they wake the next morning (so long as they wake up on their own accord with a clean diaper), they are in a good mood, ready to start the new day. They've forgotten about the troubles of yesterday -- the ice cream that they didn't get, the trouble they were in for biting like dinosaurs. They get up, smile, and greet the world as though today could be the best day of their lives.
I wasn't sure what my New Year's Resolution was going to be this year. But after yesterday, I prayed a little bit and realized that I was blessed. I am blessed to own sunglasses, have money for milk, and be able to go out to eat with my husband on a Friday night. I need to wake up each morning, count my blessings and try to remember that today has the potential to be the best day of my life. And if today isn't, then it very well could be tomorrow.
Jesus said that we should be like little children in our faith. I'm starting to think that we should be like little children in other ways as well. Have you ever noticed that no matter how terribly your child is behaving before bed, no matter how bad the day before was, that when they wake the next morning (so long as they wake up on their own accord with a clean diaper), they are in a good mood, ready to start the new day. They've forgotten about the troubles of yesterday -- the ice cream that they didn't get, the trouble they were in for biting like dinosaurs. They get up, smile, and greet the world as though today could be the best day of their lives.
I wasn't sure what my New Year's Resolution was going to be this year. But after yesterday, I prayed a little bit and realized that I was blessed. I am blessed to own sunglasses, have money for milk, and be able to go out to eat with my husband on a Friday night. I need to wake up each morning, count my blessings and try to remember that today has the potential to be the best day of my life. And if today isn't, then it very well could be tomorrow.
Friday, January 09, 2009
One of those days...
Today was one of those days. You know, the days where you'd swear if your head wasn't attached you'd leave it somewhere? Yeah. Today. That was it.
A simple trip to the burger joint to meet Daddy. Little Monster woke up just in time, however he wasn't quite ready to. I got him ready to go, despite crying and whining and kicking and screaming. I probably could have done without the head spinning around on his shoulders and the tornado siren wail, but I managed to get him ready to go anyway. That must be one of those super powers God blesses you with when you squat out a fat squealing ball of love.
After wrangling him into his car seat, turning on Mermaid, and getting my sore pregnant butt into the car myself, I realized Little Monster didn't have anything to drink. So, out of the car, into the house, over the gate that keeps the dogs from tearing up the place. Then reverse that, with sippy cup of milk in tow.
Before I pulled out of the garage, I decided to double check for my military ID. I've been known to get to base, not have it, and cause problems for everyone. It wasn't in my purse. So, out of the car, into the house, over the gate, up the stairs and into my room. I must have left it in the pocket of my jeans yesterday when we went to the commissary. After digging through my pants and not finding it, I decided I probably did have it in my purse, but missed it. Reverse that, checking all of my coat pockets for insurance on the way out.
Once again, dig through the purse. Find a billion receipts, 30 tubes of chap stick, 24 pens, some pennies, an old peppermint, 3 ones, and forty 'savers' cards. But no Military ID. So, out of the car, into the house, over the gate, up the stairs and into my room. Again. Dump out the laundry hamper because the ID surely must have fallen out of my pocket as I was pulling the pants out earlier. Darn these sunglasses! They're falling off of my head. GRR! Ah. There is the military ID. Reverse the trip, get into the car, pull my sunglasses off of my head and....
Wait a minute. My sunglasses are missing.
Sigh.
So, out of the car, into the house, over the gate, up the stairs and into my room. For the third time. to find my sunglasses sitting on the dresser next to the laundry hamper. Put them on my head. Reverse the trip out of the house and get into the car.
I have been almost arthritic with this pregnancy. At first it was my shoulders, elbows and wrists. That has gone away. Now it's my knees, heels and ankles. I don't want to be a complainer. I know how blessed I am that I am pregnant, and have stayed that way. But this aches and pains and throwing up and not pooping and peeing every 20 seconds. It's getting a bit old. I'm not even 20 weeks yet. It's going to be a loooong pregnancy. Perhaps it's a sign from Someone upstairs that this should be my last pregnancy? All of those trips up and down the stairs, scaling baby gates as high as my hips -- well, they were a pain in my... everywhere.
That was just one little ten minute snippet of a day that has not been the best of them. I am glad it is over. Thank God for tomorrow.
A simple trip to the burger joint to meet Daddy. Little Monster woke up just in time, however he wasn't quite ready to. I got him ready to go, despite crying and whining and kicking and screaming. I probably could have done without the head spinning around on his shoulders and the tornado siren wail, but I managed to get him ready to go anyway. That must be one of those super powers God blesses you with when you squat out a fat squealing ball of love.
After wrangling him into his car seat, turning on Mermaid, and getting my sore pregnant butt into the car myself, I realized Little Monster didn't have anything to drink. So, out of the car, into the house, over the gate that keeps the dogs from tearing up the place. Then reverse that, with sippy cup of milk in tow.
Before I pulled out of the garage, I decided to double check for my military ID. I've been known to get to base, not have it, and cause problems for everyone. It wasn't in my purse. So, out of the car, into the house, over the gate, up the stairs and into my room. I must have left it in the pocket of my jeans yesterday when we went to the commissary. After digging through my pants and not finding it, I decided I probably did have it in my purse, but missed it. Reverse that, checking all of my coat pockets for insurance on the way out.
Once again, dig through the purse. Find a billion receipts, 30 tubes of chap stick, 24 pens, some pennies, an old peppermint, 3 ones, and forty 'savers' cards. But no Military ID. So, out of the car, into the house, over the gate, up the stairs and into my room. Again. Dump out the laundry hamper because the ID surely must have fallen out of my pocket as I was pulling the pants out earlier. Darn these sunglasses! They're falling off of my head. GRR! Ah. There is the military ID. Reverse the trip, get into the car, pull my sunglasses off of my head and....
Wait a minute. My sunglasses are missing.
Sigh.
So, out of the car, into the house, over the gate, up the stairs and into my room. For the third time. to find my sunglasses sitting on the dresser next to the laundry hamper. Put them on my head. Reverse the trip out of the house and get into the car.
I have been almost arthritic with this pregnancy. At first it was my shoulders, elbows and wrists. That has gone away. Now it's my knees, heels and ankles. I don't want to be a complainer. I know how blessed I am that I am pregnant, and have stayed that way. But this aches and pains and throwing up and not pooping and peeing every 20 seconds. It's getting a bit old. I'm not even 20 weeks yet. It's going to be a loooong pregnancy. Perhaps it's a sign from Someone upstairs that this should be my last pregnancy? All of those trips up and down the stairs, scaling baby gates as high as my hips -- well, they were a pain in my... everywhere.
That was just one little ten minute snippet of a day that has not been the best of them. I am glad it is over. Thank God for tomorrow.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Resume Normal.
While Not the Momma is on shore-duty, we've come to a kind of new "normal. He leaves for school around 6:30 or 7:00 (earlier if he wants to work out or ride his bicycle), and comes home around 4:00 or 5:00 most days. I know. It's like heaven. It's the life non-military families get to live most of the time -- or at least what I dream happens in your homes.
During the day while he's gone (and while I'm not sick as a dog gestating his second child who is determined to team up with its older sibling to be the death of me), I have a routine. Mondays I clean the house. I strip sheets, scrub toilets, etc. Tuesdays I go to my bible study. Wednesdays I do laundry. Thursdays are grocery shopping and Fridays are tidy up before the weekend.
The past three weeks (in reality, more like the past four months) I've been slacking from that routine. The groceries are bought when the milk jug is dry. The carpets are vacuumed when Little Monster rolls around on the carpet and comes up with more hair than the dogs, the floors are mopped when they are so sticky you burn extra calories walking. The dishwasher has been emptied when we are out of forks (meaning we've pulled all of the clean ones out and need to do another load of dirty dishes). As for the laundry, that's a whole other story. Not the Momma has been in charge of that. Laundry has basically been wash, dry, dump somewhere. Dig in the pile for clean clothes until you can't find anything, then start over. Cleaning implied tossing stuff into a place where no one would look (our bedroom), shutting the door and vacuuming and scrubbing the day before-or of- the arrival of guests.
Are you gagging yet? Yeah. Me too. I can't believe I actually told you about the grossness of my house.
Yesterday, Not the Momma went back to school after a full three week break. It was amazing. We've not spent that much time together since we dated. And when we were dating we were attached at the hip. It was kind of gross, actually. The only bad part about him being home is that while I felt mostly better, I wasn't able to resume my normal routine. He likes to mess it up. You know, by sleeping past 6AM, and being all warm and snuggly, taking me on shopping trips, picnics, and play dates at the park with our son. We had a great time while he was home. I was sad to see him go back to school. However, I was glad to see him go back because I thought maybe I could resume normal.
I also hit the second trimester. Well, far enough into the second trimester for it to make a difference. It is wonderful for several reasons. I no longer feel the need to set up a bed in the bathroom so that I can make use of the toilet every ten minutes -- or sooner if I decide to attempt to eat or drink something, or think about eating or drinking something. I no longer sit down on the couch to rest for a second and wake up 3o minutes later wondering if I was abducted by aliens. I can stand up for more than 20 seconds without the need to pass out or rest. Of course there are the achy joints (I didn't have this the last time) and the bathroom issues, but those are minor. I can clean my house again!
Right now, my friends, I'm sitting in a recently dusted, recently vacuumed (and shampooed mind you) living room. The movies are put away, there isn't junk piled all over the tables. I am able to sit here and relax. The playroom has also been cleaned (for now) and vacuumed and shampooed. Would it be wrong if I just lived my life in these two rooms so I didn't have to go into the other mountainous piles of mess we've accumulated? Yes? Okay then. I'm off to dig out the dining room. It is where the most recent laundry piles (folded, however) have accumulated. If you don't hear from me in a few days I may have been lost. If you don't hear from me before Saturday, send someone to the airport to pick up my in-laws.
There went normal.
During the day while he's gone (and while I'm not sick as a dog gestating his second child who is determined to team up with its older sibling to be the death of me), I have a routine. Mondays I clean the house. I strip sheets, scrub toilets, etc. Tuesdays I go to my bible study. Wednesdays I do laundry. Thursdays are grocery shopping and Fridays are tidy up before the weekend.
The past three weeks (in reality, more like the past four months) I've been slacking from that routine. The groceries are bought when the milk jug is dry. The carpets are vacuumed when Little Monster rolls around on the carpet and comes up with more hair than the dogs, the floors are mopped when they are so sticky you burn extra calories walking. The dishwasher has been emptied when we are out of forks (meaning we've pulled all of the clean ones out and need to do another load of dirty dishes). As for the laundry, that's a whole other story. Not the Momma has been in charge of that. Laundry has basically been wash, dry, dump somewhere. Dig in the pile for clean clothes until you can't find anything, then start over. Cleaning implied tossing stuff into a place where no one would look (our bedroom), shutting the door and vacuuming and scrubbing the day before-or of- the arrival of guests.
Are you gagging yet? Yeah. Me too. I can't believe I actually told you about the grossness of my house.
Yesterday, Not the Momma went back to school after a full three week break. It was amazing. We've not spent that much time together since we dated. And when we were dating we were attached at the hip. It was kind of gross, actually. The only bad part about him being home is that while I felt mostly better, I wasn't able to resume my normal routine. He likes to mess it up. You know, by sleeping past 6AM, and being all warm and snuggly, taking me on shopping trips, picnics, and play dates at the park with our son. We had a great time while he was home. I was sad to see him go back to school. However, I was glad to see him go back because I thought maybe I could resume normal.
I also hit the second trimester. Well, far enough into the second trimester for it to make a difference. It is wonderful for several reasons. I no longer feel the need to set up a bed in the bathroom so that I can make use of the toilet every ten minutes -- or sooner if I decide to attempt to eat or drink something, or think about eating or drinking something. I no longer sit down on the couch to rest for a second and wake up 3o minutes later wondering if I was abducted by aliens. I can stand up for more than 20 seconds without the need to pass out or rest. Of course there are the achy joints (I didn't have this the last time) and the bathroom issues, but those are minor. I can clean my house again!
Right now, my friends, I'm sitting in a recently dusted, recently vacuumed (and shampooed mind you) living room. The movies are put away, there isn't junk piled all over the tables. I am able to sit here and relax. The playroom has also been cleaned (for now) and vacuumed and shampooed. Would it be wrong if I just lived my life in these two rooms so I didn't have to go into the other mountainous piles of mess we've accumulated? Yes? Okay then. I'm off to dig out the dining room. It is where the most recent laundry piles (folded, however) have accumulated. If you don't hear from me in a few days I may have been lost. If you don't hear from me before Saturday, send someone to the airport to pick up my in-laws.
There went normal.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Feed Readers!
Attention those of you who subscribe!
1) I apologize for the random blog post. I really need it for something else.
2) Click through to see the new look!
1) I apologize for the random blog post. I really need it for something else.
2) Click through to see the new look!
Woe is me. And my husband. And the chair.
Potty Training. It's all over the place. One of the mommies from Playgroups are no Place for Children just wrote about her situation. I wish I could say that ours is different. But, it isn't.
We have spent days and days talking about the potty. Practicing sitting on the potty, flushing the potty, watching Mommy and Daddy go potty. Talking about how his doggy and his fish (and all the rest of his stuffed animals) go potty. We have purchased Elmo potty rings, Cars potty rings, potty chairs, special underpants, padded underpants, rubber underwear covers and chocolate for treats. We have had discussions, which he claims to understand, about how we potty and poopy in the toilet. About how diapers are for babies and he's getting to be a big boy.
After a couple of days of trying, he was getting frustrated and no longer wanted to sit on the toilet. So, we gave it a break. No big deal. We'll try again after the grandparents leave. However, the diaper removal is getting out of control. We are having problems.
1. The child is nearly too big for all of the padded underpants. He is in 3T clothing, which means he's at the top of the line for padded underwear.
2. Onesies under clothes won't work either, because he knows how to unsnap them and I don't think I could find any to fit him anywhere anyway.
3. He is able to remove all articles of clothing. The only thing I haven't seen him personally remove is denim jeans with snaps and zippers. Daddy, however says that has happened when I haven't been around.
4. He tells us when he is peeing. He says "Mommy, I pee-pee."
5. He removes his own diapers when he is uncomfortable with the wet feeling.
6. He refuses to sit on the toilet 80% of the time.
The only thing that is keeping us from going full-steam ahead on the potty training train is number six. He really refuses to sit on the toilet. When I suggest it he says NOOOOOO!!! and runs away. He cries and whines and says "I'm done" after being on the toilet for about 3 nanoseconds.
Then there was this morning. If you thought the pee in the bed episode from yesterday was comical, wait -- just wait.
This morning I had to go help out with an event for my bible study group. I wasn't planning on being gone long, but I did need to be dressed and look presentable just in case I was needed to stay longer. The morning had already gone wrong. Not the Momma was dusting the fan blades while standing on the ottoman. When he stepped off, he landed on a wooden cube toy. The pointy corner created a small hole in the bottom of his foot. He began to nurse that, and I talked to Little Monster "LM, I need to go check on Daddy. He stepped on something and has a boo-boo on the bottom of his foot. Can you go play in your playroom for a while so that I can make sure he's okay?" "Yes Mommy." I was surprised. He has been pretty clingy and hasn't wanted to play by himself much lately. I checked on Not the Momma and got in the shower.
As I was finishing up getting ready to go (read: I was already running late and had about 10 minutes before I had to leave and about 30 minutes worth of stuff to do in that 10 minutes), I heard a commotion downstairs and some stomping up the stairs. Into the bathroom stormed Not the Momma carrying a very naked Little Monster by the armpits, arms straight out to keep him as far away as possible. Then I smelled it. I looked up and noticed the streak down Little Monster's legs.
As Not the Momma tells it, he was sitting on the couch, nursing his foot, when he heard the sound of a nearly empty ketchup bottle being squeezed in the playroom. That alarmed him, being as we threw away the nearly empty ketchup bottle a couple of days ago. Either Little Monster truly is a genius and managed to get the nearly empty ketchup bottle and play with it, or there was a seriously bad situation brewing. He walked in to find a completely naked (he removed his pajamas and diaper) Little Monster, sitting in the chair in his playroom, using it as a toilet. And saying "yuckie!" He removed his diaper. THEN pooped. Nice, huh?
Of course, this would only happen as I am frantically trying to get out of the house, wearing a white sweater. At least the carpet extractor (thank Heavens we bought the one with the tools for furniture!) was already out since we had to clean a mattress yesterday.
At any rate, I am left with but a few conclusions. 1)My child is never going to potty train and I should start seeking out diapers for older kids and adults. Also -- I'm going to have to spend a lot of money on duct tape to keep his diapers on. 2)He is ready to potty train, but is going to be stubborn about the whole ordeal, causing me to go greyer than I'd like earlier than I'd like, as well as drive me into complete insanity instead of the 80% insane 20% sane that I already am.
I'm thinking it's a little bit of both. First the duct tape, then the losing my mind trying to really potty train this kid. You know he'll end up being really potty-trained by May. Just in time for Baby # 2 to make it's arrival. So he'll regress and we'll have to do it all over again.
---------------------------------------------
Oh, and If you're hanging out around here and notice things are all amuck. They probably are. I'm redoing stuff.
We have spent days and days talking about the potty. Practicing sitting on the potty, flushing the potty, watching Mommy and Daddy go potty. Talking about how his doggy and his fish (and all the rest of his stuffed animals) go potty. We have purchased Elmo potty rings, Cars potty rings, potty chairs, special underpants, padded underpants, rubber underwear covers and chocolate for treats. We have had discussions, which he claims to understand, about how we potty and poopy in the toilet. About how diapers are for babies and he's getting to be a big boy.
After a couple of days of trying, he was getting frustrated and no longer wanted to sit on the toilet. So, we gave it a break. No big deal. We'll try again after the grandparents leave. However, the diaper removal is getting out of control. We are having problems.
1. The child is nearly too big for all of the padded underpants. He is in 3T clothing, which means he's at the top of the line for padded underwear.
2. Onesies under clothes won't work either, because he knows how to unsnap them and I don't think I could find any to fit him anywhere anyway.
3. He is able to remove all articles of clothing. The only thing I haven't seen him personally remove is denim jeans with snaps and zippers. Daddy, however says that has happened when I haven't been around.
4. He tells us when he is peeing. He says "Mommy, I pee-pee."
5. He removes his own diapers when he is uncomfortable with the wet feeling.
6. He refuses to sit on the toilet 80% of the time.
The only thing that is keeping us from going full-steam ahead on the potty training train is number six. He really refuses to sit on the toilet. When I suggest it he says NOOOOOO!!! and runs away. He cries and whines and says "I'm done" after being on the toilet for about 3 nanoseconds.
Then there was this morning. If you thought the pee in the bed episode from yesterday was comical, wait -- just wait.
This morning I had to go help out with an event for my bible study group. I wasn't planning on being gone long, but I did need to be dressed and look presentable just in case I was needed to stay longer. The morning had already gone wrong. Not the Momma was dusting the fan blades while standing on the ottoman. When he stepped off, he landed on a wooden cube toy. The pointy corner created a small hole in the bottom of his foot. He began to nurse that, and I talked to Little Monster "LM, I need to go check on Daddy. He stepped on something and has a boo-boo on the bottom of his foot. Can you go play in your playroom for a while so that I can make sure he's okay?" "Yes Mommy." I was surprised. He has been pretty clingy and hasn't wanted to play by himself much lately. I checked on Not the Momma and got in the shower.
As I was finishing up getting ready to go (read: I was already running late and had about 10 minutes before I had to leave and about 30 minutes worth of stuff to do in that 10 minutes), I heard a commotion downstairs and some stomping up the stairs. Into the bathroom stormed Not the Momma carrying a very naked Little Monster by the armpits, arms straight out to keep him as far away as possible. Then I smelled it. I looked up and noticed the streak down Little Monster's legs.
As Not the Momma tells it, he was sitting on the couch, nursing his foot, when he heard the sound of a nearly empty ketchup bottle being squeezed in the playroom. That alarmed him, being as we threw away the nearly empty ketchup bottle a couple of days ago. Either Little Monster truly is a genius and managed to get the nearly empty ketchup bottle and play with it, or there was a seriously bad situation brewing. He walked in to find a completely naked (he removed his pajamas and diaper) Little Monster, sitting in the chair in his playroom, using it as a toilet. And saying "yuckie!" He removed his diaper. THEN pooped. Nice, huh?
Of course, this would only happen as I am frantically trying to get out of the house, wearing a white sweater. At least the carpet extractor (thank Heavens we bought the one with the tools for furniture!) was already out since we had to clean a mattress yesterday.
At any rate, I am left with but a few conclusions. 1)My child is never going to potty train and I should start seeking out diapers for older kids and adults. Also -- I'm going to have to spend a lot of money on duct tape to keep his diapers on. 2)He is ready to potty train, but is going to be stubborn about the whole ordeal, causing me to go greyer than I'd like earlier than I'd like, as well as drive me into complete insanity instead of the 80% insane 20% sane that I already am.
I'm thinking it's a little bit of both. First the duct tape, then the losing my mind trying to really potty train this kid. You know he'll end up being really potty-trained by May. Just in time for Baby # 2 to make it's arrival. So he'll regress and we'll have to do it all over again.
---------------------------------------------
Oh, and If you're hanging out around here and notice things are all amuck. They probably are. I'm redoing stuff.
Monday, January 05, 2009
These are the days.
Little Monster. What can I say about him today? He has so much energy, I wish I could tap it and bottle it for those days when I just can't get out of bed. Today I'd have been able to bottle enough energy that I'd be able to skip the Lattes for the rest of my life.
Normally his energy drains me and has me pulling my hair out, wishing for nap time and the end of the day. Today wasn't much different. That's the thing about being a parent. Sometimes it is terrible, awful and disgusting. The good thing is that usually the cute, hilarious, and down-right memorable moments outweigh those moments you want to forget. Today was one day where the cute, hilarious, and down-right memorable definitely won out over everything else.
You want examples? Sure.
Little Monster refused to take a nap today. No big deal. It happens all the time. He finally got quiet. A few minutes later, I decided to check on him. What I found, was a child, laying in his T-Shirt in bed. I chuckled as I saw his little butt cheeks in the air. Then I panicked -- because if he wasn't wearing a diaper, he'd probably peed in his bed. And he did. But where was the dirty diaper? The only thing I could find was the clean one he'd tried to put on after dragging it out of the bin. That -- not one of the perks of parenting today. It was not fun to wake the poor kid up and drag him out of bed in order to get everything cleaned up. (While cleaning up we noticed he had taken off his wet diaper and thrown it into the hallway near the diaper champ. Smart kid.)
After he woke up, though, he decided to pretend to be a dinosaur. The afternoon was spent running around chasing us. We'd pretend to scared and scream which caused him to erupt into contagious giggles. Then he'd announce "I scared Daddy!" or "I scared Mommy!" Repeat times 425. A friend came over, and he was very disappointed when the only response he got to his dinosaur routine was "Ooh, you're scary."
We went out to dinner, but he refused to wear shoes. Only Elmo slippers would do.
On the way home from dinner, he erupted into song... "Head... Knees... Toes... Shoulders..." He loves that song. But then it morphed into "Knees... Toes... Knees... Toes... Head... WASH! SUN! SPIDER!" Daddy and I helped him sing the songs the rest of the way home. I've never had so much fun singing "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider" in my life. After the song would end he would yell "AY-YEN!" (That means again.)
Before bed tonight, he resumed 'dinosaur' mode. He walked up to me while I was working on a project, said "RAAAAHR!" and then proceeded to bite my butt. Let me tell you that was quite a surprise. I was very glad that I was wearing a sweater -- that caught most of the bite. When I turned around and asked him if he had just bitten me, he said "Yes. I dinosaur! RAHR! Dinosaur BITE!" I told him it wasn't nice to bite, and that the next time he'd be in trouble. Then I heard Not the Momma nearly collapse in laughter from the hallway. Not ten seconds later there was a girlish YELP! coming from the hallway, followed by "I dinosaur! RAHR! BITE!" Not the Momma didn't think it was so funny when the back of his leg was being attacked by a two-year-old blue eyed dinosaur. There was a time-out this time. (Meanwhile Mommy and Daddy had to excuse themselves for their own time-out so that they could giggle.)
Fast forward to bedtime when we were saying prayers. We said our prayers in English, but Little Monster, who had found a stuffed monkey (Thanks Grampa!), recited his in some unknown primate language.
Those are only the moments I can remember -- from today. There are days when I want to strangle him (with hugs and kisses only) before duct taping him to the wall to keep him from TOUCHING! EVERYTHING! HE! CAN! FIND! There are days where I think I must have lost my mind to actually have desired to have another walking, pooping, eating, crying time-bomb of destruction. But then, there are days like today. When even the time-bomb destruction can make me laugh so hard I worry I'll end up incontinent. These are the days when the gross and terrible parts of parenthood have no dominion over the hilarious, and down-right memorable moments.
Normally his energy drains me and has me pulling my hair out, wishing for nap time and the end of the day. Today wasn't much different. That's the thing about being a parent. Sometimes it is terrible, awful and disgusting. The good thing is that usually the cute, hilarious, and down-right memorable moments outweigh those moments you want to forget. Today was one day where the cute, hilarious, and down-right memorable definitely won out over everything else.
You want examples? Sure.
Little Monster refused to take a nap today. No big deal. It happens all the time. He finally got quiet. A few minutes later, I decided to check on him. What I found, was a child, laying in his T-Shirt in bed. I chuckled as I saw his little butt cheeks in the air. Then I panicked -- because if he wasn't wearing a diaper, he'd probably peed in his bed. And he did. But where was the dirty diaper? The only thing I could find was the clean one he'd tried to put on after dragging it out of the bin. That -- not one of the perks of parenting today. It was not fun to wake the poor kid up and drag him out of bed in order to get everything cleaned up. (While cleaning up we noticed he had taken off his wet diaper and thrown it into the hallway near the diaper champ. Smart kid.)
After he woke up, though, he decided to pretend to be a dinosaur. The afternoon was spent running around chasing us. We'd pretend to scared and scream which caused him to erupt into contagious giggles. Then he'd announce "I scared Daddy!" or "I scared Mommy!" Repeat times 425. A friend came over, and he was very disappointed when the only response he got to his dinosaur routine was "Ooh, you're scary."
We went out to dinner, but he refused to wear shoes. Only Elmo slippers would do.
On the way home from dinner, he erupted into song... "Head... Knees... Toes... Shoulders..." He loves that song. But then it morphed into "Knees... Toes... Knees... Toes... Head... WASH! SUN! SPIDER!" Daddy and I helped him sing the songs the rest of the way home. I've never had so much fun singing "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider" in my life. After the song would end he would yell "AY-YEN!" (That means again.)
Before bed tonight, he resumed 'dinosaur' mode. He walked up to me while I was working on a project, said "RAAAAHR!" and then proceeded to bite my butt. Let me tell you that was quite a surprise. I was very glad that I was wearing a sweater -- that caught most of the bite. When I turned around and asked him if he had just bitten me, he said "Yes. I dinosaur! RAHR! Dinosaur BITE!" I told him it wasn't nice to bite, and that the next time he'd be in trouble. Then I heard Not the Momma nearly collapse in laughter from the hallway. Not ten seconds later there was a girlish YELP! coming from the hallway, followed by "I dinosaur! RAHR! BITE!" Not the Momma didn't think it was so funny when the back of his leg was being attacked by a two-year-old blue eyed dinosaur. There was a time-out this time. (Meanwhile Mommy and Daddy had to excuse themselves for their own time-out so that they could giggle.)
Fast forward to bedtime when we were saying prayers. We said our prayers in English, but Little Monster, who had found a stuffed monkey (Thanks Grampa!), recited his in some unknown primate language.
Those are only the moments I can remember -- from today. There are days when I want to strangle him (with hugs and kisses only) before duct taping him to the wall to keep him from TOUCHING! EVERYTHING! HE! CAN! FIND! There are days where I think I must have lost my mind to actually have desired to have another walking, pooping, eating, crying time-bomb of destruction. But then, there are days like today. When even the time-bomb destruction can make me laugh so hard I worry I'll end up incontinent. These are the days when the gross and terrible parts of parenthood have no dominion over the hilarious, and down-right memorable moments.
Friday, January 02, 2009
The funniest thing all year.
I know that we're only on day 2 of the year, so there isn't much to compare against, but I'm telling you I have found the funniest show I've seen all year -- in 2008.
It all started in early December when to save some cash, we dumped about 3/4 of our DirecTV channels. We now get a bunch of junk for kids, a bunch of religious channels, locals, DIY and the Science channel. It leaves a lot to be desired for adult daytime and late night viewing, especially when everything has been reruns since Thanksgiving. At first I thought I was going to die from watching all of the remodeling shows. You can only watch so many stainless steel appliances and granite counter tops go into 5 million dollar homes so many times before you want to pull your hair out and scream.
Yesterday, though, DIY had a marathon running. And you know those marathons, they're highly addicting -- even when the shows aren't that interesting. But then, you show a bunch of idiots doing projects themselves, and you're hooked. For life.
Renovation Realities is probably the stupidest show in the entire world. At the same time it is laugh-out-loud funny. As an added bonus it has that 'car-wreck' appeal. Once you start watching your jaw drops to the ground, you go into complete and total shock and you're unable to look away. That's bad when they air episodes for 24 hours. The entire time we watched these shows yesterday, I was dying a little inside because I felt the need to share this show with you. I needed to blog about it, and I felt bad that I wasn't taking notes about all of the mishaps, fights, and utter insanity of it all.
The people doing these projects go from people who know what they're doing, but are such complete and total control freaks that they shut down when something doesn't happen the way they expect to people who have NO idea what they are doing, NO idea how much it is going to cost or how long it should take and absolutely NO common sense whatsoever -- OR they've planned to complete several week project in just a few days in preparation for an inspection, party, etc.
As we were watching we wondered how the producers screen for this show -- because seriously, you can't come across pure comedy like this just anywhere. Unless of course, you've ever wandered into our household while we're doing a home improvement project. Yes, we're do-it-yourself-ers. We've landscaped, installed fencing, redone two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a garage. We're not perfect, but we're not nearly as bad as ninety percent of the people on this show. Not the Momma has fallen through rafters, and we've had holes end up in walls where they weren't supposed to. We've done some pretty unconventional things. And as for drywall sanding, it isn't our friend either -- but I hope if Renovation Reality ever showed up to tape one of our projects our episode would be boring enough that they'd never air it.
If you're bored and you're looking for something to watch on TV, it airs Saturday nights at 9:00 (or something like that) on DIY. I think you can click the link too and watch a couple of episodes online. I doubt you'll be disappointed.
**This was not a paid advertisement for DIY, or the show Renovation Realities. Simply a public service announcement for my DIY friends who like to laugh at the mistakes of others.**
It all started in early December when to save some cash, we dumped about 3/4 of our DirecTV channels. We now get a bunch of junk for kids, a bunch of religious channels, locals, DIY and the Science channel. It leaves a lot to be desired for adult daytime and late night viewing, especially when everything has been reruns since Thanksgiving. At first I thought I was going to die from watching all of the remodeling shows. You can only watch so many stainless steel appliances and granite counter tops go into 5 million dollar homes so many times before you want to pull your hair out and scream.
Yesterday, though, DIY had a marathon running. And you know those marathons, they're highly addicting -- even when the shows aren't that interesting. But then, you show a bunch of idiots doing projects themselves, and you're hooked. For life.
Renovation Realities is probably the stupidest show in the entire world. At the same time it is laugh-out-loud funny. As an added bonus it has that 'car-wreck' appeal. Once you start watching your jaw drops to the ground, you go into complete and total shock and you're unable to look away. That's bad when they air episodes for 24 hours. The entire time we watched these shows yesterday, I was dying a little inside because I felt the need to share this show with you. I needed to blog about it, and I felt bad that I wasn't taking notes about all of the mishaps, fights, and utter insanity of it all.
The people doing these projects go from people who know what they're doing, but are such complete and total control freaks that they shut down when something doesn't happen the way they expect to people who have NO idea what they are doing, NO idea how much it is going to cost or how long it should take and absolutely NO common sense whatsoever -- OR they've planned to complete several week project in just a few days in preparation for an inspection, party, etc.
As we were watching we wondered how the producers screen for this show -- because seriously, you can't come across pure comedy like this just anywhere. Unless of course, you've ever wandered into our household while we're doing a home improvement project. Yes, we're do-it-yourself-ers. We've landscaped, installed fencing, redone two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a garage. We're not perfect, but we're not nearly as bad as ninety percent of the people on this show. Not the Momma has fallen through rafters, and we've had holes end up in walls where they weren't supposed to. We've done some pretty unconventional things. And as for drywall sanding, it isn't our friend either -- but I hope if Renovation Reality ever showed up to tape one of our projects our episode would be boring enough that they'd never air it.
If you're bored and you're looking for something to watch on TV, it airs Saturday nights at 9:00 (or something like that) on DIY. I think you can click the link too and watch a couple of episodes online. I doubt you'll be disappointed.
**This was not a paid advertisement for DIY, or the show Renovation Realities. Simply a public service announcement for my DIY friends who like to laugh at the mistakes of others.**
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Happy 2009!!
Our 2008 ended with a boom. I promised yesterday I'd tell you about it, remember?
We got up early (no thanks for that wake-up call, Little Monster!) and hit the donut shop and Target. Little Monster needed some mittens, a hat, slippers and a backpack. We had just finished picking up the backpacks when
BOOM!
I was certain it was something bad. The shelves had collapsed. Or the terrorists had found us. Then I felt the cold, cold sensation on my legs. No, my water didn't break. It's too early for that - and that would be warm anyway. I turned around to find that my husband's face was beginning to match the red of his shirt. He apparently had forgotten the warning he's gotten every day from every local Starbucks about the lids not fitting on the frappuccino glasses. And he dropped his Venti Java Chip all over the aisle. And by all over, I mean ALL. OVER. It was on the floor, up the other side of the shelving (luckily it was all glassed in, so we didn't have to feel obligated to bring home any extra merchandise) and the backs of my legs.
If he could have, he would have slithered out of that store as quickly as possible. He embarrasses easily, my husband. But we weren't done shopping yet. I wiped up the back of my pants so no one would think I had a very bad situation in the bathroom (it didn't really work) and finished up our shopping.
You know, this isn't nearly as funny now that I've typed it all up as it was at the moment. Oh well. Did you know that they have this cool powdery stuff that you put on wet spills that will soak up the liquid and the sticky? All you have to do is sweep it up and the mess is gone. It was amazing.
Little Monster was thoroughly pleased with his new stuff. Especially the slippers, mittens and hat. I've convinced him (for now) to remove the hat and mittens for nap time, and he wasn't allowed to wear them during lunch (which meant he refused to eat). Here he is modeling it all, and dancing in it. Once again, the cuteness is almost suffocating. Or I'm pregnant and hormonal. You pick.
We got up early (no thanks for that wake-up call, Little Monster!) and hit the donut shop and Target. Little Monster needed some mittens, a hat, slippers and a backpack. We had just finished picking up the backpacks when
BOOM!
I was certain it was something bad. The shelves had collapsed. Or the terrorists had found us. Then I felt the cold, cold sensation on my legs. No, my water didn't break. It's too early for that - and that would be warm anyway. I turned around to find that my husband's face was beginning to match the red of his shirt. He apparently had forgotten the warning he's gotten every day from every local Starbucks about the lids not fitting on the frappuccino glasses. And he dropped his Venti Java Chip all over the aisle. And by all over, I mean ALL. OVER. It was on the floor, up the other side of the shelving (luckily it was all glassed in, so we didn't have to feel obligated to bring home any extra merchandise) and the backs of my legs.
If he could have, he would have slithered out of that store as quickly as possible. He embarrasses easily, my husband. But we weren't done shopping yet. I wiped up the back of my pants so no one would think I had a very bad situation in the bathroom (it didn't really work) and finished up our shopping.
You know, this isn't nearly as funny now that I've typed it all up as it was at the moment. Oh well. Did you know that they have this cool powdery stuff that you put on wet spills that will soak up the liquid and the sticky? All you have to do is sweep it up and the mess is gone. It was amazing.
Little Monster was thoroughly pleased with his new stuff. Especially the slippers, mittens and hat. I've convinced him (for now) to remove the hat and mittens for nap time, and he wasn't allowed to wear them during lunch (which meant he refused to eat). Here he is modeling it all, and dancing in it. Once again, the cuteness is almost suffocating. Or I'm pregnant and hormonal. You pick.
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