I Am Moving

My residence is not changing, just my blog URL. This one is way too long to remember and type. When I chose it I was young and inexperienced. I am sorry for any inconvience this may cause you.

You can find my new and improved blog postings here.

Please come over and see me.

A Baby Blessing, A Wedding, A Photo Shoot, and 2 Fourteen Hour Drives

What did you do this weekend?
And my husband wonders why I am eating coco puffs for breakfast and staring blankly at the box.

Tip: If someone in your family wants to have a wedding/family reunion right after you have a baby and you are a tiny bit sleep deprived and hormonal, mail out a disclaimer that will explain your neurotic actions before hand.


Pictures may have turned out okay.
At least the bus is really cool, and the girls aren't crying.

My middle name is Restraint

This morning, my father-in-law said his middle name was Restraint, when offered a mouth watering glazed Stan's donut.
It made me think, what is my middle name. (Really its Lynne, but that is not what I am meaning)
I believe my middle name is "I am addicted to sugar and refined carbs" or maybe it is "sleep deprived" or even sometimes it is "CHOCOLATE" . It is never, never Restriant.
Maybe I need to work on that. Is it possible for a delectable donut to be placed in my near vicinity and say no thank you? Can I really stop eating treats and the like?
It seems like an impossibility but if my middle name was Restraint I might have a chance.

I am going to eat my donut and think on that. I will get back to you with my progress report.

Its Just Easier: An introduction to a nudest colony

Over the weekend we bought a house. Not a real one, let's be realistic, but a cute little plastic house filled with the potential of hours of childish delight.
The house was dirty, so I sent the girlies out to give it a scrub down. When I went out to check on them, they were naked.

I asked why the nudity? The answer..."Its just easier this way. "

Perfect. I guess that is why people fence their yards. Just in case sans-clothes is easier.

Snips and Snails???

Now that we have a boy there are a few unaddressed anatomy questions. I am very aware that kids need correct information, and I am all for keeping the little people in the know, but I don't love them hollering that their (insert proper anatomy part ) hurts while I peruse the isles at Target. So we give things a little tweak so I can stand to talk about them in mixed company. Cute girl number 1 got a bit confused.

#1 to me (as I change the boy's diaper): he-he" I just can't keep it straight. Is it really called a u-nis or a wee-nit?"

Me: Uh neither.

I had to run to the bathroom to snigger my head off.
I don't think I have cleared that one up yet. I am excited to hear her next idea. :)

Harnessing the GOO

So I had the baby, now what the heck do I do with my bowl full of jelly, aka The Gut. I usually come home from the hospital and squeeze into my grandma girdle, but this time I bought some Spanx thinking that they would be better. WRONG!!! I put them on and it looked like I had just slimmed some spandex over the volley ball I had shoved down my pants. Sadly there was no ball, just my chubby tummy. I can always put on my Grannys. They worked for the last 2, but there has to be a better way. A way that doesn't require diet or exercise.
I am going to work on that and I'll let you know.

Its a BOY!!

At 9:33 this (Sunday) morning I was finally freed from internal turmoil and as my prize for 9 months of bondage, a sweet 8.2 lb, 21 inch little boy. He is the cutest!! He has lots of fluffy brown hair, and the sisters decided we could keep him. Yeah!

Potty training logic

I am officially no longer potty training; the girl is trained!! Yes folks, there has been successful dryness of all panties for a few days now. We even made a dry trip to Ikea this afternoon. Way to go child #2!!
The only thing I get concerned about is the frequency that the solids, or rather the infrequency.
The girl never has to go that route. I finally asked her why.
the answer of the day...

"My poops are just sleeping in my buns. They are tired and are not ready to come out. When they wake up I will help them into the potty."

There you have it. I guess I have always been inconsiderate about such things. Now that I know I will try not to interfere.

D-Day

Today is D-Day for this baby. I have a feeling that he could care less. He is on the 10 day count down to a forced exit. I'll keep you posted!

Photos: Never to be Forgotten

Do you ever browse through your photos and find ones that are not really that attractive of you at big events? Like weddings, family reunions, etc.. I am loving this one recently taken at my friends wedding.
I look like I am waiting for the camera to flash so I can EAT her.
(There is something about a maternity bridesmade dress that gives me that cannibalistic glint.)


I know we all have such photos lurking in the back of our memories. You know the one where you lean in to kiss your hubby right as your 4th chin pops out of your neck, and some good soul is there to capture it forever on film and mail to the relatives in the next family newsletter.

You gotta love it.

I think we should embrace unflattering photography and collect all the horrible photos taken of us in one little (or big) box. Then we can get them out when we are feeling really ugly and hopefully be cheered (that we don't look like that anymore), or if it makes us feel worse at least we have something tangible to burn and tear until we feel better.

This next one is going in my pile for sure!!! (yes those are tiny chevrons on my western shirt, and that was how I looked in the year book)

*NEW* Favorite Tidbit of the Week

Every once in awhile I find a little quote or something that makes me think or smile or even want to be a little bit better.
This one is an excerpt of a letter a husband wrote to his wife in his journal. It made me want to be a better wifey so that in 50 years my husband will feel this way about me.

"We are alone, We two. We two whom destiny has made one. Long ago, it has been sixty years since we met under the June trees. I kissed you first. How shy and afraid was your girlhood. Not any woman on earth or in heaven could be to me what you are. I would rather you were here, woman, with your gray hair, than any fresh blossom of youth. Where you are is home. Where you are not is homesickness. As I look at you I realize that there is something greater than love, although love is the greatest thing in earth. It is loyalty. For were I driven away in shame you would follow. If I were burning in fever your cool hand would soothe me. With your hand in mine may I pass and take my place among the saved of Heaven." John Haslem Clark

This body ain't big enough for the both of us

Seriously someone has to go. I'm fine if it has to be me. I am ready to graciously bow out of my own skin and let the little intruder take over. I used to be at peace with my body. I even embraced my thighs this summer and took off the board shorts, but I am done sharing it with someone who isn't keeping up their end of the deal. What is it with babies? Do they think they are on their own time line or something.?!! Granted he technically has another 4 days before his term is officially up, but I am the land lord here, and I say he needs to be out now, or better yet YESTERDAY!!!! If the little nugget doesn't leave soon, he is going to get evicted. You have another week my boy and then we will have a little talk!

Dear Harry,

It has been such a long time since I last thought about you. I admit that in the past I was a little obsessed with your life and fame, but sadly my love for you has waxed cold in your long absence. I am nervous about getting news of you in the mail. I think it is coming tomorrow, and I hope our relationship can be rekindled. I hate that for the last while we have been at loose ends. I know that tomorrow may be the last I hear of you; I hope we can resolve our relationship and that we can end on good terms if it really comes to that.

Until tomorrow Dearest Harry. I know I must wait until then.

XOXO,

Me

ps. Please don't die!!!

Husbands are WONDERFUL (at least mine is)

Today is the 2nd of potty training for our cutie number 2. She just turned 3 and it is WAY past time. (Cutie number 1 was potty trained at 20 months)
I am 38 weeks pregnant and hopped up on Vicodin, for some serious displaced ribs. By the time dinner time rolls around I am pretty much laying in a massive heap on my bed.

Cue the Blessed Husband home from a hard days work.

We had peanut butter and jelly and yogurt for dinner and then he took the kids outside to pick tomatoes while I prostrated myself on the bed.

They came back in to wash the tomatoes and all the sudden he is hollering "Stop shaking your leg! Don't touch it! What happened?!! AHHHH!" Cue the running down the hall accompanied by reminders that solid bodily waste goes in the potty. Apparently little cutie had poop running down her legs and pooling on the floor around her, and then she started shaking it into a splatter pattern on the surrounding area. NASTY!
He never called me for help. He bathed the offending child, scrubbed the floor and the poopy underware read everyone a story and sweetly put the children to bed.

I stayed in my bed and listened to the whole thing.

He deserves a raise.

Things That Go Spit in the Night

This is a post from a few months ago that I published on a different blog. I will have to give you the latest tomorrow!!!


My children are ruled by the regular childhood vices. Pacifiers, diaper wearing past the age of 2 1/2, blankets, bottles, sleeping in their parents room; you name it they could turn it into a full blown addiction. Our largest offense by the world's standard is all the sucking that goes on at night.
It all started very innocently. My mother-in-law, who is omniscient in the ways of childhood and children, and all the sisters-in-law were huge proponents of the pacifier. They claimed that it had magical soothing powers, so I embraced it whole heartedly for my first child. She loved it, sucked it constantly, and couldn't live without it. Perfect. She slept like a lamb, (after the first 8 months), and hardly cried as long as it was in her clutches. Went merrily along with the pacifier for the first two years. She sucked it with passion that was only rivaled by the smelling of her blanket.
After 2 years of sucking violently on a rubber nipple there was a gap in her bite that she could stick her tongue through while her molars were touching. It was time to be done.
Being the intelligent parents that we are, we collected all 7 of the offensive nubys and we all took a trip to Target where they are recognized as a kind of currency which can purchase anything a 2 year old heart desires.
Oh, we were so smart, so crafty, sooo underestimating the brain of our 2 year old.
She cashed those pacis in for a 28 dollar barbie back pack and a new baby to boot. She sucked each one a final time (her idea, not ours) and set them in a little pile on a shelf and walked away. We thought we were home free!!
The first month was rough. I think that pacifiers and cocaine have the same detox process. After about 4 weeks all was well and I thought we had kicked the habit, and then the thumb sucking monster reared its UGLY head. Yes folks, she started sucking her THUMB!!!!! Oh the humanity. I hate thumb sucking. It is just plain nasty. I wanted to tie her up with mittens and duct tape, but my pediatrician advised other wise. It was normal, and age appropriate, blah, blah, blah.
I have accepted it, but not embraced it for the last 2 1/2 years, but now I am done. I can't take it anymore. I found some anti-thumb magic in a bottle and for the last 4 nights I have been acting out my diabolical plan. (cue the world domination laugh)

I have been planning this for a long time. I had to be careful, leave no traces of tampering with the precious thumb, it had to be all "nature's" fault.

My sister-in-law is a genius. She gave me the best idea...For the last month I have been telling my 4 year old that if you suck your thumb too much it runs out of flavor. I said usually when the thumb is all wrinkled and the nail is peeling it is a good sign the end is near. I casually remind her when I see her sucking away.
Her thumb has all the symptoms and was doomed to rot!

Saturday night I tiptoed into her room and secretly painted her nail with the most poisonous tasting stuff I have ever encountered. (I painted my own thumb, just to see how bad it was. YUCKY is an understatement)
Late in the night I could hear her spitting. Really hawking and drinking lots of water. I had to stifle my laughter.
She didn't wake me to talk about it, but the next morning she mentioned that her thumb tasted a little funny. I had to turn away and pinch the underside of my arm.

It is really sneaky, and awful, but I am loving it.

The stuff lasts for a while, so I skipped Saturday night. Sunday morning she was sucking her thumb again. I casually asked her if the flavor had come back and she said no, but she had decided to SUCK THE OTHER THUMB!! aargh!
Sunday night I tiptoed in like a thief in the night and painted both thumbs. I am winning for sure! There were several spitting episodes in the night. One I woke my husband for. We were both sniggering in our bed, a little sympathetic to the poor girl, but so smug that we had outsmarted the fox.
Every morning I think she is going to want to discuss the condition of her offensive digits, but she never mentions it. She just looks at them and wrinkles her brow while she smells her blanket. I know she doesn't want to hear I told you so, so she keeps quiet.
I can't believe the sucking is almost over, and I am not the bad guy.
I have enough nasty paint to last through the other 8 digits, just in case.

Tonight I am taking out the pinky.

I'm Back

After a long absence from the world of blogging, I have decided it is time to begin again.

A little catch up .....

*I have been away long enough to almost completely gestate a new Human! (done July 31st HOPEFULLY)
*I quit watching other peoples children for pay. (I am now free to tend for friends in need of a break!)
*My 3 year old is still not potty trained (Tuesday July 17th is her last day in diapers?? Wish me luck)

Other than that this last 9 months has been pretty uneventful, or I have forgotten that something interesting may have happened because my brain is way too pregnant for long term memory recall.

It feels good to type again.