Well, it's the night before our trip to Florida and I can't sleep. I decided to pass the sleepless hours by sharing a crappy thing that happened to me today - I call it the Hair-Tastrophe. All I wanted was a simple haircut - a trim - just an inch off the back. Enter Sophia at the Hair Cuttery - BEEOCH!
I should have known from the start that Sophia, queen of bullshit, was about to ruin my appearance and my self image as we know it. After asking me what kind of hair cut I wanted (which I am 1000% positive she didn't understand - yes, she is NOT from here, go figure), she asked me what my favorite color was. Yellow, I replied. Light yellow or dark yellow, she asked. Light yellow. Oh, I see, I see (said in a thick asian accent). That mean you have lot of love. Whatever! You see, Sophia "studies" color psychology. She went on to tell me to beware of people who love the color white. They are apparently very picky people who can never be pleased or trusted. Green lovers are outgoing, take charge people. Fans of blue are good at business. Purple people are creative. And red...sexual, she whispered in my ear.
A simple trim of my all-one-length hair, soon turned into a freaking chop session. What color did I represent after she was finished butchering my hair??? BLACK! Let's see, what color would you associate "pissed off beyond all control"? Hmmm...you've seen the trash on the Jerry Springer show. You know, the women who kick each other's asses while ripping out their Jheri curl (had to look up the spelling) from the root. Yeah, that was me. You see, Sophia started cutting LAYERS without my permission. Hacking away at my hair like the Lawnmower of Death. No, more like Stevie Wonder left alone with a lawnmower. (Sorry Stevie, love your music.) Then her little white high heel wearing self picked up another "tool", scissors with little holes. Before I knew it she was THINNING my already thin, wimpy hair. Everyone knows I have very fine, thin hair AND not to mention that it is falling out after giving birth (it happened after Lincoln and I had a bald spot in the front of my head for months).
I started crying. Instead of comforting me, Oh mam, I am so sorry. You don't like? NO, Sophia had to start arguing with me. The nerve! Can you imagine if a customer of yours started crying??? Now, here is the part of the show I don't like to admit to...this is NOT the first time this has happened to me. I am a total sucker when it comes to having my hair cut. They say, you can see your scalp in the back, you need some "texture". This should be a hint to me "They are about to chop your hair to shreds!!!" Why don't I ever stop them??? This time, I tried to stick up for myself (something I suck at). I asked to see the manager. Sophia told me NO! The only other people in the salon were two other asian women who didn't speak English. At that point I should have walked out, but no, my weak ass paid her - although I didn't leave a tip! So there!
Now I have a semi mullet. All kinds of little layers from the crown to my newly cut bangs (UGH!) with a few long hairs left in the back. Oh My Gosh! I am still livid. This will take months to fix. Months of hiding my hair in a small, thin little ponytail (you know, the kind little 2 year olds have). Can't really even get my hair into a ponytail, but I'm going to try.
Husband - the sweetheart - actually went to Hair Cuttery after hearing me cry to my sister and mom. He spoke to the manager and she is going to give us our money back. Too bad she can't give me my hair back, damn it.
It will grow. That's the good news. As for my love of yellow...Sophia was right. I do have a lot of love. Hubby went to bat for me, and Lincoln said "Mommy pretty" - I taught him that yesterday and he likes repeating it (on command, of course).
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Bath Time with Lincoln
Bath time is always so fun at our house, especially since both boys take a bath together now! We can't wait til Carter can sit up by himself so that the boys are not crammed in the little blue baby bath! Last night we made a couple videos to share with you! The first one is Lincoln showing off his ABC skills. I am so proud of him!
This second video is Lincoln saying hi to his favorite people. "Bare" with us for the first 20 seconds or so while he plays with his little friend. The good stuff comes later in the video.
This second video is Lincoln saying hi to his favorite people. "Bare" with us for the first 20 seconds or so while he plays with his little friend. The good stuff comes later in the video.
Monday, July 14, 2008
4 Spoons, 3 Cookies, 2 Cars, and a Partridge...
You know how little kids carry around a comfort object? Some kids call it a lovey, a cuddly, a wubbie, a blankey, etc. That's because most kids only carry ONE object with them wherever they go. Now, on the other hand, you have Mr. Lincoln. It all began right around the time we took away his pacifier (another thing that gets weird little pet names like passy or nook). Below is exhibit A: all of Lincoln's "comfort objects".
First, Lincoln contracted the Spoon Disease. It's not fatal or contagious, but it does have some weird side effects. His love for cutlery is an all-day affair. From the time he wakes up to the time he goes to sleep, he must have at least one spoon with him at all times. He takes them from room to room. He takes them in the car. He takes them to daycare. He even takes them in the pool. When he takes them to the park, they get to ride down the slide and swing in the swings.
Next, he picked up the mysterious "Man Hat" syndrome. This one is very rare and has the potential to be deadly (i.e. the man's very sharp pointy nose). Grandma is to blame...yeah, let's blame her. She purchased these adorable dive sticks for Lincoln's baths. You are supposed to throw them into the pool and dive down to retrieve them. Lincoln loves them. There is a yellow (wea-wo) octopus, a green turtle, a pink crab, and a blue penguin wearing a hat. The penguin soon became known as "Man Hat". Man Hat travelled from the bath into the bedroom and now goes wherever Lincoln goes.
After Man Hat came Boy Hat, a little rubbery Fisher Price boy wearing a yellow plaid hat. Lincoln contracted this from daycare and hasn't given it back. Boy Hat ends up on the floor a lot post tantrums.
The latest sickness, I mean addiction, I mean "addition" was a piece from Lincoln's transportation "zip-po" (puzzle) - a green car. The green car ailment is totally benign and comes and goes with random frequency. Other ailments in this family are the ambulance, helicopter, motorcycle, and train, but they have not attacked Lincoln's cells yet.
The Book Bug also frequents our house. Lincoln must carry at least one book with him along with spoons, Man Hat, Boy Hat, green car, and several "cookie letters". These cookie letters are organic (oh, how not me) cookies with letters on them and Cookie Monster on the box. Lincoln demands them every morning and a few stow-aways end up riding with us to daycare.
The funniest thing about Lincoln's "comfort object" thingy, for lack of a better term, is when he tries to carry all of these items at the same time. You would think it would be impossible, but somehow he manages to stuff all these objects under his armpits and in his hands. I will try to get a better picture of this, but at this time Lincoln is not too keen on the paparazzi!
Also, for your viewing pleasure - check out this little video I made on Sunday morning. I am so proud of myself for learning how to upload on you tube! Email me and let me know if you can get it to load! My dad couldn't get it to load on his new iphone!
Gotta do diaper duty! Wait, how did Man Hat get in there?
First, Lincoln contracted the Spoon Disease. It's not fatal or contagious, but it does have some weird side effects. His love for cutlery is an all-day affair. From the time he wakes up to the time he goes to sleep, he must have at least one spoon with him at all times. He takes them from room to room. He takes them in the car. He takes them to daycare. He even takes them in the pool. When he takes them to the park, they get to ride down the slide and swing in the swings.
Next, he picked up the mysterious "Man Hat" syndrome. This one is very rare and has the potential to be deadly (i.e. the man's very sharp pointy nose). Grandma is to blame...yeah, let's blame her. She purchased these adorable dive sticks for Lincoln's baths. You are supposed to throw them into the pool and dive down to retrieve them. Lincoln loves them. There is a yellow (wea-wo) octopus, a green turtle, a pink crab, and a blue penguin wearing a hat. The penguin soon became known as "Man Hat". Man Hat travelled from the bath into the bedroom and now goes wherever Lincoln goes.
After Man Hat came Boy Hat, a little rubbery Fisher Price boy wearing a yellow plaid hat. Lincoln contracted this from daycare and hasn't given it back. Boy Hat ends up on the floor a lot post tantrums.
The latest sickness, I mean addiction, I mean "addition" was a piece from Lincoln's transportation "zip-po" (puzzle) - a green car. The green car ailment is totally benign and comes and goes with random frequency. Other ailments in this family are the ambulance, helicopter, motorcycle, and train, but they have not attacked Lincoln's cells yet.
The Book Bug also frequents our house. Lincoln must carry at least one book with him along with spoons, Man Hat, Boy Hat, green car, and several "cookie letters". These cookie letters are organic (oh, how not me) cookies with letters on them and Cookie Monster on the box. Lincoln demands them every morning and a few stow-aways end up riding with us to daycare.
The funniest thing about Lincoln's "comfort object" thingy, for lack of a better term, is when he tries to carry all of these items at the same time. You would think it would be impossible, but somehow he manages to stuff all these objects under his armpits and in his hands. I will try to get a better picture of this, but at this time Lincoln is not too keen on the paparazzi!
Also, for your viewing pleasure - check out this little video I made on Sunday morning. I am so proud of myself for learning how to upload on you tube! Email me and let me know if you can get it to load! My dad couldn't get it to load on his new iphone!
Gotta do diaper duty! Wait, how did Man Hat get in there?
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Bert and Ernie: Friends or Lovers?
While watching Sesame Street with Lincoln the other day something dawned on me…something that never occurred to me as a kid…are Bert and Ernie gay or simply good friends? They sleep in the same bedroom, although in separate little twin beds. They are always together, although you never see Bert in the bathtub playing with Ernie’s rubber ducky. They are always arguing – Bert is the uptight turtleneck-wearing one and Ernie is happy-go-lucky – but then they always seem to make up before bed. Hmmm…I began to wonder. Then I saw an episode that just about clinched the quandary. Bert was out of town at a pigeon convention and Ernie was very sad and lonely. He was singing a song about how he could not go to bed without Bert by his side. I think I even remember him saying, “Come back to me, Bert”.
Now Sesame Street is very diverse. As you know, they always make sure to have every ethnic group represented - an asian kid, an african american kid, a hispanic kid. The adults are diverse too - Bob is white, Luis and Maria are hispanic, and Gordon and Susan are black. Linda is deaf and has a guide dog named Barkley. Bob has a deaf niece too. Tara is a little girl in a wheelchair with brittle bone disease. Even the muppets are diverse - there is a green muppet, a purple muppet, a blue muppet, etc. It makes perfect sense to have gay muppets too, right?
So, what do you think? Are Ernie and Bert headed to California to get married? I just thought I would send this question out into the universe tonight. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has pondered this subject…or am I? Guess I need more adult stimulation!!
After my blog...I researched this topic online and found out that many people have pondered this question before. The Children's Television Workshop had to issue this 1993 press release: "Bert and Ernie, who've been on Sesame Street for 25 years, do not portray a gay couple, and there are no plans for them to do so in the future. They are puppets, not humans. Like all the Muppets created for Sesame Street, they were designed to help educate preschoolers. Bert and Ernie are characters who help demonstrate to children that despite their differences, they can be good friends."
Now Sesame Street is very diverse. As you know, they always make sure to have every ethnic group represented - an asian kid, an african american kid, a hispanic kid. The adults are diverse too - Bob is white, Luis and Maria are hispanic, and Gordon and Susan are black. Linda is deaf and has a guide dog named Barkley. Bob has a deaf niece too. Tara is a little girl in a wheelchair with brittle bone disease. Even the muppets are diverse - there is a green muppet, a purple muppet, a blue muppet, etc. It makes perfect sense to have gay muppets too, right?
So, what do you think? Are Ernie and Bert headed to California to get married? I just thought I would send this question out into the universe tonight. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has pondered this subject…or am I? Guess I need more adult stimulation!!
After my blog...I researched this topic online and found out that many people have pondered this question before. The Children's Television Workshop had to issue this 1993 press release: "Bert and Ernie, who've been on Sesame Street for 25 years, do not portray a gay couple, and there are no plans for them to do so in the future. They are puppets, not humans. Like all the Muppets created for Sesame Street, they were designed to help educate preschoolers. Bert and Ernie are characters who help demonstrate to children that despite their differences, they can be good friends."
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Joe Who?
It was so cute...last night Lincoln and I were saying his prayers together the way we end each day. First we sing a little song:
Thank you, Jesus
Thank you, Jesus
For this day
For this day
For my many blessings
For my many blessings
Amen
Amen
Lincoln always helps with the last word of each line. He says "Jeez" for Jesus, loves to shout out "DAY!" and calls blessings "sings". Then I prompt him by saying, "God bless..." and he replies "DADDY!" at the top of his lungs (directly into my ear). Daddy is followed by "Baby Audrey", a baby at daycare. Then I say, "and baby..." "CARTER!" he says. He always forgets to say Mommy, but I remind him. Then he moves onto the grandparents. PopPop is a favorite, followed by Gran and Grandma. I prompt again, "and Grandpa..." "TONY!" he says with enthusiasm, and "CC!" another one of his favorite words.
Now usually CC is followed by Aunt Lauren, and "CANDI!" and finally "Milder" for his cousin Miller. But last night, after CC, Lincoln added a new family member...Joe. Who the heck is Joe?? There is no Joe at daycare. There is no Joe in our family. There isn't even a Joe on TV, except for Little Joe in VeggieTales "The Ballad of Little Joe", but he hasn't watched that one in months. Hmmm....ok, God bless Joe!
Later that night, my husband and I were sitting on the couch recounting the day, and he told me about the funniest thing. He said he has been teaching Lincoln to say "Hey Joe!" in the car every day on the way to daycare. You see, my husband is not so good with names. All this time he thought our daycare lady's husband's name was Joe. It's actually John...not so hard to remember considering his step dad's name is John and Lincoln's middle name is John. I cracked up! So that is where Lincoln got the name Joe.
On another note, we have reached the point of needing to watch our potty mouths! Lincoln now repeats everything! Last night before the whole prayer thing, I was getting ready to put the kids in the tub when Carter threw up all down my leg. My reaction was to say "Oh shit!" to which Lincoln repeated "Oh shit!" Guess when I say my prayers I need to ask first for forgiveness for my language, and second for help in those "Oh shit" moments. What else could I have said when warm spit up was spilling down my leg? I know, I'll repeat after Sister Mary David back at St. Cecilia, who when we were being bad would repeat quietly to herself, "God bless the children". Yeah, ok! Hey, I'll work on it.
P.S. If your name isn't on Lincoln's list of prayers, I apologize! We can only prolong bedtime for so long, people! :)
Thank you, Jesus
Thank you, Jesus
For this day
For this day
For my many blessings
For my many blessings
Amen
Amen
Lincoln always helps with the last word of each line. He says "Jeez" for Jesus, loves to shout out "DAY!" and calls blessings "sings". Then I prompt him by saying, "God bless..." and he replies "DADDY!" at the top of his lungs (directly into my ear). Daddy is followed by "Baby Audrey", a baby at daycare. Then I say, "and baby..." "CARTER!" he says. He always forgets to say Mommy, but I remind him. Then he moves onto the grandparents. PopPop is a favorite, followed by Gran and Grandma. I prompt again, "and Grandpa..." "TONY!" he says with enthusiasm, and "CC!" another one of his favorite words.
Now usually CC is followed by Aunt Lauren, and "CANDI!" and finally "Milder" for his cousin Miller. But last night, after CC, Lincoln added a new family member...Joe. Who the heck is Joe?? There is no Joe at daycare. There is no Joe in our family. There isn't even a Joe on TV, except for Little Joe in VeggieTales "The Ballad of Little Joe", but he hasn't watched that one in months. Hmmm....ok, God bless Joe!
Later that night, my husband and I were sitting on the couch recounting the day, and he told me about the funniest thing. He said he has been teaching Lincoln to say "Hey Joe!" in the car every day on the way to daycare. You see, my husband is not so good with names. All this time he thought our daycare lady's husband's name was Joe. It's actually John...not so hard to remember considering his step dad's name is John and Lincoln's middle name is John. I cracked up! So that is where Lincoln got the name Joe.
On another note, we have reached the point of needing to watch our potty mouths! Lincoln now repeats everything! Last night before the whole prayer thing, I was getting ready to put the kids in the tub when Carter threw up all down my leg. My reaction was to say "Oh shit!" to which Lincoln repeated "Oh shit!" Guess when I say my prayers I need to ask first for forgiveness for my language, and second for help in those "Oh shit" moments. What else could I have said when warm spit up was spilling down my leg? I know, I'll repeat after Sister Mary David back at St. Cecilia, who when we were being bad would repeat quietly to herself, "God bless the children". Yeah, ok! Hey, I'll work on it.
P.S. If your name isn't on Lincoln's list of prayers, I apologize! We can only prolong bedtime for so long, people! :)
Friday, June 20, 2008
Midnight Mommy
It's 12:01 a.m. and I have been lying in bed for the last twenty minutes listening to the baby cry. Guess what my hubbie is doing...that's right, snoring! Why is it that men can sleep right through a crying baby and moms can't? Why does it physically hurt me deep inside when the baby cries, and my husband tunes it out by turning the TV up even louder?
Tonight the baby is performing a new trick - rolling over onto his tummy and then nearly suffocating face down into the mattress. I have gone in several times to flip the poor thing back over, which makes him even more upset because I then leave. The doctor said not to worry about SIDS after they can roll over themselves, but he can only roll from back to belly - not back again.
He has probably been doing this rolling thing all night. After all, he has been in there since 6 p.m. - doctor's orders (must put him down wide awake so he learns to fall asleep by himself). It's just that we were out in the other room eating dinner (leftover tacos and queso) and watching a waste of a movie ("Fools Gold" with Kate Hudson). We probably just didn't hear the baby the whole time until now. I can't even believe I am up this late considering that I will be up again at 3 a.m. for his nightly feeding. That's when I catch up on my HGTV. I like this one show called "Sleep On It" where the people get to sleep in the house they are thinking about buying. How cool is that! I wish we had gotten to do that. Anyway, I digress.
I'm thinking a lot about a family friend tonight. Her name is Maddie. She is 25 and has been diagnosed with a type of blood cancer called myeloma. She woke up one day earlier this month and had blurry vision. That led to an MRI and blood work...and then the most awful news of cancer. She has been writing a blog every day from her hospital room - www.maddiebahar.blogspot.com. I looked up myeloma on wikipedia and it said that most people only survive 3 years (some sites say with certain treatments the survival rate can be much longer. Let's pray for that!). I can't imagine what her mother must be going through. To think that she probably worried like I am over the crib when Maddie was a baby, saw her through loosing her first tooth, learning to ride a bike, ballet recitals, her first heartbreak, and even her college graduation. I bet she never thought something like this would happen to her baby at 25! I've been praying that Maddie can beat this and live to walk down the aisle with her prince charming. She wants to dance her first dance to Michael Buble's "Everything". You can watch the video at:
After watching/listening to that song, check out the one called "Home" - that is my favorite.
12:18 and my husband is snoring louder than a train. He's on his back again. Unlike the baby, I desperately want him to flip over!!! He doesn't snore when he's on his side or stomach. I thought writing this blog would make me tired, but it's not. I am getting more and more awake. Ugh! Why am I not tired? I am always tired!!
Random question of the night - why do we drive on a parkway and park on a driveway? Discuss amongst yourselves.
Well, shoot...still wide awake but nothing to say. My mind is actually a blank. Big poo poo head is still snoring like a fire breathing dragon. I think I'm getting a hot flash. Must get a diet coke.
12:29 a.m. No diaper duty at this hour!
P.S. Lincoln ate the FIRST thing I served him for dinner tonight...chicken fried rice. He loved it. Go figure!
Tonight the baby is performing a new trick - rolling over onto his tummy and then nearly suffocating face down into the mattress. I have gone in several times to flip the poor thing back over, which makes him even more upset because I then leave. The doctor said not to worry about SIDS after they can roll over themselves, but he can only roll from back to belly - not back again.
He has probably been doing this rolling thing all night. After all, he has been in there since 6 p.m. - doctor's orders (must put him down wide awake so he learns to fall asleep by himself). It's just that we were out in the other room eating dinner (leftover tacos and queso) and watching a waste of a movie ("Fools Gold" with Kate Hudson). We probably just didn't hear the baby the whole time until now. I can't even believe I am up this late considering that I will be up again at 3 a.m. for his nightly feeding. That's when I catch up on my HGTV. I like this one show called "Sleep On It" where the people get to sleep in the house they are thinking about buying. How cool is that! I wish we had gotten to do that. Anyway, I digress.
I'm thinking a lot about a family friend tonight. Her name is Maddie. She is 25 and has been diagnosed with a type of blood cancer called myeloma. She woke up one day earlier this month and had blurry vision. That led to an MRI and blood work...and then the most awful news of cancer. She has been writing a blog every day from her hospital room - www.maddiebahar.blogspot.com. I looked up myeloma on wikipedia and it said that most people only survive 3 years (some sites say with certain treatments the survival rate can be much longer. Let's pray for that!). I can't imagine what her mother must be going through. To think that she probably worried like I am over the crib when Maddie was a baby, saw her through loosing her first tooth, learning to ride a bike, ballet recitals, her first heartbreak, and even her college graduation. I bet she never thought something like this would happen to her baby at 25! I've been praying that Maddie can beat this and live to walk down the aisle with her prince charming. She wants to dance her first dance to Michael Buble's "Everything". You can watch the video at:
After watching/listening to that song, check out the one called "Home" - that is my favorite.
12:18 and my husband is snoring louder than a train. He's on his back again. Unlike the baby, I desperately want him to flip over!!! He doesn't snore when he's on his side or stomach. I thought writing this blog would make me tired, but it's not. I am getting more and more awake. Ugh! Why am I not tired? I am always tired!!
Random question of the night - why do we drive on a parkway and park on a driveway? Discuss amongst yourselves.
Well, shoot...still wide awake but nothing to say. My mind is actually a blank. Big poo poo head is still snoring like a fire breathing dragon. I think I'm getting a hot flash. Must get a diet coke.
12:29 a.m. No diaper duty at this hour!
P.S. Lincoln ate the FIRST thing I served him for dinner tonight...chicken fried rice. He loved it. Go figure!
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Random Thursday Thoughts
The baby is sleeping right now. I just worked out at the apartment gym - Yay Me! You go girl! HGTV is a great source of entertainment while on the treadmill. I had to remind myself not to hold on...for you Biggest Loser fans, you will remember Jillian yelling at that fat dope of a husband to let go! For every minute he held on, Jillian would make the other contestants go another five minutes. Needless-to-say he was voted off quickly. I took a shower and my hair is falling out like crazy. Parenting Magazine says it's totally normal, but every time I shower or brush it's like a squirrel is born. It's creepy! After Lincoln was born I actually had a bald spot in the front of my head.
Wait...more random thoughts coming...for you parents out there, have you ever had to put your child directly into the bath tub because their diahrea was so stuck to their behinds? I know, yucky thought, but it happened yesterday morning and it caused Lincoln's little balls to swell up. Poor baby! Mary, our daycare lady, had to deal with him all day after he had been up since 3 a.m. Not a pretty sight! I picked him up at 3:30 and couldn't even deal with him for two hours. His butt was in bed at 5:30! He chose to sleep in the pack-and-play again. Weird! I thought he loved his big boy bed. At least he is not banging his head on the door to get out. He actually caused his dumb self to have a nose bleed the other day...my mom fell for it and ended nap time after 15 minutes. We came home and mom and Lincoln were out on the patio with every bowl, cup, and big spoon we own having a blast. Lincoln was sporting a soggy diaper and a smile, and our carpet was soaked from mom's endless trips to the kitchen to get Lincoln more water.
Still catering to Lincoln's every wish. Have a hard time saying NO, but I really have to. He is driving me crazy. This morning he asked for cookies, chips (pips), noodles, yogurt (gert), apple sauce, lemonade, and milk. I took his order like a freaking waitress and he only ate 1/2 the yogurt, 1/2 the applesauce, and about two sips of milk. He did make a lovely little mess on the carpet by crushing the chips and then stomping on them. I put myself in time out after that one!
For you moms out there...how many dinners do you make for your toddlers? When they don't want what you have fixed, is that it? Or, do you get out your order pad and open up Mom's Diner? My husband thinks one meal should be it. If Lincoln doesn't eat, then too bad! He'll learn. Hmmm...
Song of the day - 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton. I danced around our cramped apartment bedroom, probably looking like an idiot while the song was playing on iTunes. Carter was literally laughing at me. It made me feel good.
Tonight's dinner - Tacos with homemade queso (Velveeta and Rotel). Yum!
Excitement #1 - We are moving into our new house next week! Yippee! Can't wait to get unpacked. Honey, if you are reading this...everything will have it's place in this house! No more piles on the dining room table! Got it?
Excitement #2 - We booked airline tickets last night for a romantic getaway to Florida in July! We are planning to go to Disney for two days - back to the scene of our awesome honeymoon. Dad has a hot tub at his house. Yeah boy! I am so excited. Oh, biggest news...the kids are staying with Mary! Best money we'll ever spend!
Baby is awake! Gotta do diaper duty.
Wait...more random thoughts coming...for you parents out there, have you ever had to put your child directly into the bath tub because their diahrea was so stuck to their behinds? I know, yucky thought, but it happened yesterday morning and it caused Lincoln's little balls to swell up. Poor baby! Mary, our daycare lady, had to deal with him all day after he had been up since 3 a.m. Not a pretty sight! I picked him up at 3:30 and couldn't even deal with him for two hours. His butt was in bed at 5:30! He chose to sleep in the pack-and-play again. Weird! I thought he loved his big boy bed. At least he is not banging his head on the door to get out. He actually caused his dumb self to have a nose bleed the other day...my mom fell for it and ended nap time after 15 minutes. We came home and mom and Lincoln were out on the patio with every bowl, cup, and big spoon we own having a blast. Lincoln was sporting a soggy diaper and a smile, and our carpet was soaked from mom's endless trips to the kitchen to get Lincoln more water.
Still catering to Lincoln's every wish. Have a hard time saying NO, but I really have to. He is driving me crazy. This morning he asked for cookies, chips (pips), noodles, yogurt (gert), apple sauce, lemonade, and milk. I took his order like a freaking waitress and he only ate 1/2 the yogurt, 1/2 the applesauce, and about two sips of milk. He did make a lovely little mess on the carpet by crushing the chips and then stomping on them. I put myself in time out after that one!
For you moms out there...how many dinners do you make for your toddlers? When they don't want what you have fixed, is that it? Or, do you get out your order pad and open up Mom's Diner? My husband thinks one meal should be it. If Lincoln doesn't eat, then too bad! He'll learn. Hmmm...
Song of the day - 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton. I danced around our cramped apartment bedroom, probably looking like an idiot while the song was playing on iTunes. Carter was literally laughing at me. It made me feel good.
Tonight's dinner - Tacos with homemade queso (Velveeta and Rotel). Yum!
Excitement #1 - We are moving into our new house next week! Yippee! Can't wait to get unpacked. Honey, if you are reading this...everything will have it's place in this house! No more piles on the dining room table! Got it?
Excitement #2 - We booked airline tickets last night for a romantic getaway to Florida in July! We are planning to go to Disney for two days - back to the scene of our awesome honeymoon. Dad has a hot tub at his house. Yeah boy! I am so excited. Oh, biggest news...the kids are staying with Mary! Best money we'll ever spend!
Baby is awake! Gotta do diaper duty.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
A Day at the Shore
You all know how much stress our family has been under this year (if not, see my last blog about everything that has happened in 2008). Well, this past weekend all the stress caught up to me and I was at the breaking point…at the edge looking over. I had totally lost control of my mind, body, and mouth, and things got out of hand. After an excruciatingly painful fight, my husband agreed that I needed to get away (my point to begin with, but who is keeping score?). He booked me 2 nights at the Northwood Inn, a bed and breakfast on the Jersey Shore. Through sobbing eyes, I stared blankly at the road ahead of me as the miles ticked past. I made it to the inn around 6 p.m. Thank God my support system (Mom, Dad, Clare, and Lauren) were available to talk and offer encouragement. The innkeeper mumbled a few house rules and then I carried my heavy little bag up three steep flights of stairs. I could barely carry myself at that point. I opened the door, found the bed, and collapsed.
That night was a blur, but I do remember soaking in the Jacuzzi tub twice before climbing into bed and closing my swollen eyes. I woke up at 2 and 5 a.m., my body clock set to the baby’s feeding times, but I blissfully went right back to sleep. I forced myself to get up at 9 to take advantage of the free homemade breakfast, which was delicious. After loving on the inn mascot, Harry the Poodle, I crawled back to bed until noon. Feeling almost human again, I walked to the beach and strolled down the boardwalk for a few hours, keenly aware of all the young families with their colorful strollers and their laughing children. They were having the family vacation I so longed for…time together away from the daily grind…time to have fun…time to feel frisky and romantic again, not like an old stale mom in a spit-up stained T-shirt. A highlight of the day came at Mack and Mankos Pizza. It was the best slice I ever tasted…just the perfect amount of sauce. While the pizza was incredible, I sat there alone feeling so small, like I wanted to say to everyone, “Hey, I have a family too. I have a husband who loves me and two great little boys at home.” It was like being in a bubble with life circling around you. All day I kept my cell phone in hand, hoping my husband would call and say he missed me, but his ring tone (our wedding song) never played. I thought about calling him hundreds of times, but convinced myself that we needed this day to reflect and to be apart. We needed time to miss each other. I needed time to remember why it is all worth it. I needed time to bring myself back.
After a few hours on the boardwalk, I went back to the inn and took another nap. Gosh, I never get an uninterrupted nap at home. It was heavenly. I was able to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and while for only one day, it was undeniably therapeutic. While I was extremely aware of how alone I was feeling, it was that same feeling that healed me. I had the chance to be me again, not just mom or wife or teacher or sister or daughter or friend, but ME. I went back to the beach at sunset and this time I walked in the sand and got my feet wet in the ocean. I took in everything around me, my senses on overdrive…the smell of the salty water, the feel of the sand between my toes, the touch of the breeze on my face, and the sight of a lonely, but beautiful sandcastle. I finished the evening listening to the eclectic mix of music on my iPod… Prince’s “Purple Rain” was strangely like a warm familiar blanket drowning me in the sadness of his electric guitar, Hillsong’s “Shout to the Lord” was a tearjerker that reminded me of how powerful the Lord’s strength can be, Sade’s “No Ordinary Love” was an erotic explosion of yearning for my husband, and finally, Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” summed up how I was feeling brilliantly. Although the lyrics to this classic tale of depression end with “the dream is gone”, the opposite was happening inside of me…my day at the shore was so much more…it was breathing new life into this tired soul.
So as I left the shore the next morning, I drove away with a rejuvenated spirit and a joyful heart. I was driving home to my husband and my precious babies. While still a bit saddened by the fight that landed me there, I will be forever grateful for my time away. It’s amazing what a day alone can do for you if you really open up and allow yourself to feel the array of emotions, and GET SOME SLEEP! It does wonders for your mind, body, and soul. It also doesn’t hurt if Antonio Banderas is waiting for you in dreamland! Just kidding, honey!
Gotta do diaper duty…with joy!
P.S. To my mother-in-law and father-in-law, a huge thank you goes out to you for being there for us in our time of need. This much needed break would not have been possible without you!
That night was a blur, but I do remember soaking in the Jacuzzi tub twice before climbing into bed and closing my swollen eyes. I woke up at 2 and 5 a.m., my body clock set to the baby’s feeding times, but I blissfully went right back to sleep. I forced myself to get up at 9 to take advantage of the free homemade breakfast, which was delicious. After loving on the inn mascot, Harry the Poodle, I crawled back to bed until noon. Feeling almost human again, I walked to the beach and strolled down the boardwalk for a few hours, keenly aware of all the young families with their colorful strollers and their laughing children. They were having the family vacation I so longed for…time together away from the daily grind…time to have fun…time to feel frisky and romantic again, not like an old stale mom in a spit-up stained T-shirt. A highlight of the day came at Mack and Mankos Pizza. It was the best slice I ever tasted…just the perfect amount of sauce. While the pizza was incredible, I sat there alone feeling so small, like I wanted to say to everyone, “Hey, I have a family too. I have a husband who loves me and two great little boys at home.” It was like being in a bubble with life circling around you. All day I kept my cell phone in hand, hoping my husband would call and say he missed me, but his ring tone (our wedding song) never played. I thought about calling him hundreds of times, but convinced myself that we needed this day to reflect and to be apart. We needed time to miss each other. I needed time to remember why it is all worth it. I needed time to bring myself back.
After a few hours on the boardwalk, I went back to the inn and took another nap. Gosh, I never get an uninterrupted nap at home. It was heavenly. I was able to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and while for only one day, it was undeniably therapeutic. While I was extremely aware of how alone I was feeling, it was that same feeling that healed me. I had the chance to be me again, not just mom or wife or teacher or sister or daughter or friend, but ME. I went back to the beach at sunset and this time I walked in the sand and got my feet wet in the ocean. I took in everything around me, my senses on overdrive…the smell of the salty water, the feel of the sand between my toes, the touch of the breeze on my face, and the sight of a lonely, but beautiful sandcastle. I finished the evening listening to the eclectic mix of music on my iPod… Prince’s “Purple Rain” was strangely like a warm familiar blanket drowning me in the sadness of his electric guitar, Hillsong’s “Shout to the Lord” was a tearjerker that reminded me of how powerful the Lord’s strength can be, Sade’s “No Ordinary Love” was an erotic explosion of yearning for my husband, and finally, Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” summed up how I was feeling brilliantly. Although the lyrics to this classic tale of depression end with “the dream is gone”, the opposite was happening inside of me…my day at the shore was so much more…it was breathing new life into this tired soul.
So as I left the shore the next morning, I drove away with a rejuvenated spirit and a joyful heart. I was driving home to my husband and my precious babies. While still a bit saddened by the fight that landed me there, I will be forever grateful for my time away. It’s amazing what a day alone can do for you if you really open up and allow yourself to feel the array of emotions, and GET SOME SLEEP! It does wonders for your mind, body, and soul. It also doesn’t hurt if Antonio Banderas is waiting for you in dreamland! Just kidding, honey!
Gotta do diaper duty…with joy!
P.S. To my mother-in-law and father-in-law, a huge thank you goes out to you for being there for us in our time of need. This much needed break would not have been possible without you!
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Life Has Been Crazy!
Top Ten Reasons Why 2008 = STRESS
10. Bedrest due to pregnancy complications
9. Birth of Carter (although a joyous event, it added stress)
8. Getting no sleep! Feeding the baby at all hours.
7. Husband’s two trips to Texas, leaving me with the kids alone
6. House construction! Daycare lady in Iran, so I had both kids home during this time and we stayed with inlaws for a week (that part was actually fun, although it displaced us).
5. Giving away the dog (although we found him an awesome home)
4. Putting the house on the market (it sold in 4 hours, but then we wanted it back and couldn’t get it back)
3. Losing my job (being told my position was vacated/going without pay since March)
2. Losing daycare because it’s just too far from the new house and she doesn’t open early enough for my new job (high school starts much earlier)
1. Deciding NOT to go to Texas, moving into an apartment, house hunting (Husband and I almost killed each other), choosing a home, going through all the inspections, etc., and now moving again in 2 weeks. Oh, I forgot to add in husband’s vasectomy and subsequent ball pain! (Should I remind him of the combined 30+ hours of labor I went through?)
Top Ten Reasons Why 2008 = HAPPINESS
10. Lincoln is talking up a storm! Our worries of autism are over!
9. Husband got a new 2008 Dodge Charger with a V8 Hemi engine (yay, no more mold smell!)
8. Got to see dad and Clare after Carter’s birth & lots of visits by my mom.
7. Husband going back to patrol (which sucks, but it’s awesome because it means way more money!)
6. David Cook won American Idol!
5. My new job! High school here I come!!
4. Our new house!!!
3. Our health! We are all healthy, which is the biggest blessing.
2. The birth of Carter!!!
1. We are going to church! It feels so great to go to church (not to mention, the hour we get to spend without the kids while they are in Sunday School!) I love singing praise songs and hearing a great message. It really has been wonderful.
*Note - after reading this, my husband commented that going back to the road was not a positive thing because it means he will not see us as much. It will be difficult, but we will make it work, and there is the whole "more money" thing, which hopefully will make it worth it.
Gotta do diaper duty!
10. Bedrest due to pregnancy complications
9. Birth of Carter (although a joyous event, it added stress)
8. Getting no sleep! Feeding the baby at all hours.
7. Husband’s two trips to Texas, leaving me with the kids alone
6. House construction! Daycare lady in Iran, so I had both kids home during this time and we stayed with inlaws for a week (that part was actually fun, although it displaced us).
5. Giving away the dog (although we found him an awesome home)
4. Putting the house on the market (it sold in 4 hours, but then we wanted it back and couldn’t get it back)
3. Losing my job (being told my position was vacated/going without pay since March)
2. Losing daycare because it’s just too far from the new house and she doesn’t open early enough for my new job (high school starts much earlier)
1. Deciding NOT to go to Texas, moving into an apartment, house hunting (Husband and I almost killed each other), choosing a home, going through all the inspections, etc., and now moving again in 2 weeks. Oh, I forgot to add in husband’s vasectomy and subsequent ball pain! (Should I remind him of the combined 30+ hours of labor I went through?)
Top Ten Reasons Why 2008 = HAPPINESS
10. Lincoln is talking up a storm! Our worries of autism are over!
9. Husband got a new 2008 Dodge Charger with a V8 Hemi engine (yay, no more mold smell!)
8. Got to see dad and Clare after Carter’s birth & lots of visits by my mom.
7. Husband going back to patrol (which sucks, but it’s awesome because it means way more money!)
6. David Cook won American Idol!
5. My new job! High school here I come!!
4. Our new house!!!
3. Our health! We are all healthy, which is the biggest blessing.
2. The birth of Carter!!!
1. We are going to church! It feels so great to go to church (not to mention, the hour we get to spend without the kids while they are in Sunday School!) I love singing praise songs and hearing a great message. It really has been wonderful.
*Note - after reading this, my husband commented that going back to the road was not a positive thing because it means he will not see us as much. It will be difficult, but we will make it work, and there is the whole "more money" thing, which hopefully will make it worth it.
Gotta do diaper duty!
Friday, May 16, 2008
Permanent Vacancy
As I write this, my sweet husband is getting the snip snip surgery. Yes, there will now and forever be a permanent vacancy in my uterus. No more babies. I am finding this day actually quite bittersweet (mostly sad, not sweet). While I understand my husband’s argument for why we shouldn’t have more children (and I did completely, well mostly, agree with him), there is still a little part of me that is saddened by the fact that I will never have that feeling again. I know that I have two beautiful, healthy children, and I am so blessed and grateful to have them. I also know that women over 35 have higher risks for birth defects, which would be devastating. My pregnancies were certainly not easy. I didn’t enjoy pricking my finger five times a day to test my blood sugar, or giving myself three shots a day, but it was all worth it. I did it with pleasure because I had a little precious life growing inside of me. That was the best feeling I ever had. The mothers reading this know what I am talking about. I felt so alive, so special, and so beautiful. For once I didn’t feel fat, but yet round with new life. I felt like a real woman taking part in the absolute best job on Earth – bringing new life into this world, being a mother.
I know that having more children would be risky, and it would also put a financial strain on us. We can barely afford daycare as it is. And, I’m sure from my husband’s perspective, he would love to live with the girl he married, not the pregnant woman he has had to live with two out of the three years of our young marriage! I know it wasn’t easy worrying about whether or not I would eat my snack on time so that my blood sugar didn’t crash, or trying to please me at dinner time – I never wanted anything we had in the house. It wasn’t easy sleeping alone night after night because I preferred the twin bed in the guest room.
I know all the reasons why today’s surgery was the right choice, but somehow I feel like a little part of me is dying. I say this with a tear in my eye and a lump in my throat, but yet the silly side of me wants to write – RIP Uterus. Job well done!
Gotta go do diaper duty! (Ew, it's a stinky one!)
I know that having more children would be risky, and it would also put a financial strain on us. We can barely afford daycare as it is. And, I’m sure from my husband’s perspective, he would love to live with the girl he married, not the pregnant woman he has had to live with two out of the three years of our young marriage! I know it wasn’t easy worrying about whether or not I would eat my snack on time so that my blood sugar didn’t crash, or trying to please me at dinner time – I never wanted anything we had in the house. It wasn’t easy sleeping alone night after night because I preferred the twin bed in the guest room.
I know all the reasons why today’s surgery was the right choice, but somehow I feel like a little part of me is dying. I say this with a tear in my eye and a lump in my throat, but yet the silly side of me wants to write – RIP Uterus. Job well done!
Gotta go do diaper duty! (Ew, it's a stinky one!)
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
The Remote From Hell
I couldn’t agree more with Dr. John Gray’s theory that men and women come from two different planets (Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus). After all, I am starting to believe that men (little boys) are wired from birth to be techie freaks (gadget whore is a more appropriate term for my husband). From the time Lincoln was old enough to hold something in his hand, he was reaching for our cell phones and our Logitech Harmony One remote-from-hell. He even puts the phone up to his ear and points the remote toward the TV mimicking mommy and daddy. One minute we are watching Veggie Tales and the next minute Lincoln has changed the aspect (whatever that means) and is playing Veggie Tales and America’s Next Top Model with the PIP feature (picture-in-picture for all you women readers). I will never get back all the countless minutes I spend trying to undo and fix Lincoln’s remote rookie status.
This leads me to the point of today’s blog – my husband’s remote-from-hell. Let’s just put aside all of his other gadgets (iphone, ipod, Blackberry, specialized running watch, new GPS system, portable DVD player, not to mention all of his “gotta have” police electronics). When he first saw the Logitech Harmony remote it was as if Pamela Anderson was standing in front of him topless. His eyes bugged out and a drop of drool dripped from his enormous grin. He had found the mother ship. He was home! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my husband wanted to spend $250 on a remote control. Since I thought this was the stupidest thing I had ever heard, he assured me that he would spend HIS money on this purchase (this was back when we actually had an allowance every month. My nail salon lady misses me!).
Oh this thing is going to be great, my husband promised me! Now we don’t need all of the individual remotes for the TV, cable box, VCR, DVD, stereo receiver, etc. It’s all here on this sleek phallic shaped remote. But wait…now he disappeared down into the basement leaving me alone with our children for yet another hour while he “programmed” the remote.
After programming his new toy, he tried to explain to me how it works in a confusing, mind blowing 30 minute tutorial (again, more time out of my life that I will never get back). Look, honey, if you don’t know what to do, just push this “help” button and it will walk you through the process. So, the next day I am alone in the house and just want to watch my Baby Story episode. I push “watch TV”. Some of the equipment turns on. I get sound, but no picture. I don’t even know if the TV is on because my husband has taped a piece of cardboard over the actual on/off button on the front of the TV because he doesn’t want Lincoln touching it any more. (I can hear my dad scolding me for using my toes to hit fast forward on our VCR during the Xanadu years.) Ok, so I’ll just hit the help button like he told me. I hit help. It says “Did that fix the problem?” NO! Now it asks me, “Is the TV on?” Um, I don’t think so. I hit no. Nothing happens. “Did that fix the problem?” NO! Now it asks, “Is it on video input 1?” What the hell is that? UGH! I just want to watch my show, I yell at the TV. Somehow I managed that day to figure it out before hurling the damn thing at the screen.
Later I complain to my husband, “Honey, when I want to turn the TV off after watching a DVD it turns everything off but the TV.” He says, “Yeah, you have to switch it from watch DVD to watch TV first and then it will turn everything off.” WHAT? You mean there is a problem??? Luckily, my Martian always buys the extended warranty (I thought these warranties were just another way to get your money) and so he decides to return the remote. Just when I think we are getting rid of this thing, here he comes with the newest model. It’s touch screen, he says with a twinkle in his eye. Back down to the basement he goes for another install and programming session.
Now, when we have a babysitter over (usually a grandparent) we leave instructions for the baby. You know, nuke the chicken nuggets for 30 seconds, bath time is at 5:30, bedtime is at 6:00, make sure to read his favorite book, etc. But you should see the detailed typed out little manual we have to leave for the Logitech Harmony One! I'll never forget sitting in The Melting Pot having a romantic evening when the phone rings. It says "home". Crap! My heart starts racing. Did they break the baby? Does he need medical attention? Nope. It's the remote. They were calling to ask how to raise the volume! Are you kidding me? My mom now simply asks that we please leave the TV on tuned to her favorite channel and she doesn’t go near the remote for the night.
As I am writing this, my husband just called to congratulate himself on his latest scam at our local electronics superstore (his return scams will definitely be the subject of a future blog). His new GPS system apparently does not come with an extended warranty. So he went to two stores today and found the sucker who was intimidated by his uniform, badge, and gun who manually forced the system to give him the extended warranty. Bravo, honey! My hero. Now can you please slide by home and help me with this damn remote! It’s stuck on Kathie Lee. Oh, and bring home some diapers.
Gotta go do diaper duty!
This leads me to the point of today’s blog – my husband’s remote-from-hell. Let’s just put aside all of his other gadgets (iphone, ipod, Blackberry, specialized running watch, new GPS system, portable DVD player, not to mention all of his “gotta have” police electronics). When he first saw the Logitech Harmony remote it was as if Pamela Anderson was standing in front of him topless. His eyes bugged out and a drop of drool dripped from his enormous grin. He had found the mother ship. He was home! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my husband wanted to spend $250 on a remote control. Since I thought this was the stupidest thing I had ever heard, he assured me that he would spend HIS money on this purchase (this was back when we actually had an allowance every month. My nail salon lady misses me!).
Oh this thing is going to be great, my husband promised me! Now we don’t need all of the individual remotes for the TV, cable box, VCR, DVD, stereo receiver, etc. It’s all here on this sleek phallic shaped remote. But wait…now he disappeared down into the basement leaving me alone with our children for yet another hour while he “programmed” the remote.
After programming his new toy, he tried to explain to me how it works in a confusing, mind blowing 30 minute tutorial (again, more time out of my life that I will never get back). Look, honey, if you don’t know what to do, just push this “help” button and it will walk you through the process. So, the next day I am alone in the house and just want to watch my Baby Story episode. I push “watch TV”. Some of the equipment turns on. I get sound, but no picture. I don’t even know if the TV is on because my husband has taped a piece of cardboard over the actual on/off button on the front of the TV because he doesn’t want Lincoln touching it any more. (I can hear my dad scolding me for using my toes to hit fast forward on our VCR during the Xanadu years.) Ok, so I’ll just hit the help button like he told me. I hit help. It says “Did that fix the problem?” NO! Now it asks me, “Is the TV on?” Um, I don’t think so. I hit no. Nothing happens. “Did that fix the problem?” NO! Now it asks, “Is it on video input 1?” What the hell is that? UGH! I just want to watch my show, I yell at the TV. Somehow I managed that day to figure it out before hurling the damn thing at the screen.
Later I complain to my husband, “Honey, when I want to turn the TV off after watching a DVD it turns everything off but the TV.” He says, “Yeah, you have to switch it from watch DVD to watch TV first and then it will turn everything off.” WHAT? You mean there is a problem??? Luckily, my Martian always buys the extended warranty (I thought these warranties were just another way to get your money) and so he decides to return the remote. Just when I think we are getting rid of this thing, here he comes with the newest model. It’s touch screen, he says with a twinkle in his eye. Back down to the basement he goes for another install and programming session.
Now, when we have a babysitter over (usually a grandparent) we leave instructions for the baby. You know, nuke the chicken nuggets for 30 seconds, bath time is at 5:30, bedtime is at 6:00, make sure to read his favorite book, etc. But you should see the detailed typed out little manual we have to leave for the Logitech Harmony One! I'll never forget sitting in The Melting Pot having a romantic evening when the phone rings. It says "home". Crap! My heart starts racing. Did they break the baby? Does he need medical attention? Nope. It's the remote. They were calling to ask how to raise the volume! Are you kidding me? My mom now simply asks that we please leave the TV on tuned to her favorite channel and she doesn’t go near the remote for the night.
As I am writing this, my husband just called to congratulate himself on his latest scam at our local electronics superstore (his return scams will definitely be the subject of a future blog). His new GPS system apparently does not come with an extended warranty. So he went to two stores today and found the sucker who was intimidated by his uniform, badge, and gun who manually forced the system to give him the extended warranty. Bravo, honey! My hero. Now can you please slide by home and help me with this damn remote! It’s stuck on Kathie Lee. Oh, and bring home some diapers.
Gotta go do diaper duty!
Monday, May 12, 2008
Situation Sippy Cup
Ah, what we women won't do to make the men (in this case, little boys) in our lives happy! After my discussion about Lincoln and his spoons, my friend, Allison pointed out to me that men will just sit back and enjoy watching us scurry around trying to make them happy. Even at the tender age of two, Lincoln is already enjoying his power over the woman in his life. Enter the Sippy Cup Situation.
Out of the blue, Lincoln decided that he no longer wanted to drink from a sippy cup. He now wants a real cup just like mommy. The first time this happened we were at the food court eating a Chick-Fil-A kid's meal which comes with an apple juice box. The options were: a. squeeze the juice from the little hole made by the tiny straw into Lincoln's sippy cup, or b. let him try the straw (something he had never achieved before). But, wait, I didn't have a sippy cup because my dumb ass never packs everything I might possibly need while entertaining two small children. So, I asked for a small cup and decided to squeeze the apple juice into the cup and just see what would happen. Wait! You mean, I am the cause of the Sippy Cup Situation? Lincoln did surprisingly well for his first time with a big boy cup...his shirt was just mildly soaked due to lack of bib and spare shirt (again, my fault).
Fast forward to last week (a few days after the food court fiasco). Lincoln was sitting in his high chair in front of his 57th Veggie Tales of the morning (my lack of strength in saying NO to TV will be the subject of another blog) and mommy was scurrying around getting him his milk and two cookies (not the sugar-filled ones, but the gross Gerber banana ones). I know what you are thinking - you let him eat cookies for breakfast??? Yes, how else can I get him to drink his milk? Anyway, so I got Lincoln his sippy cup and he threw it back at me and said "PIPS". Well, "pips" usually means potato chips, but in this case he meant he wanted to take a "sip" without the top on. After several weak attempts to tell him no, he began adamantly demanding "help top" over and over again. I must have been out of my mind because the next thing I knew I was taking the top off and allowing him to drink it sans protective top. Thinking the situation was solved, I went to sit down on the couch to feed the baby. Nope! Now Lincoln demanded "pup" which means "cup". He did not want the sippy cup at all.
Off to the kitchen I went. This time I came back with a new cool neon green sippy cup with a pop-up straw. "Ooh, look at this," I tried to sell Lincoln. Nope! He was not buying it. "No, pup!" Mommy went back into the kitchen, poured the milk into yet another type of cup. This time I tried a little plastic kiddie cup that came with his set of spoons and bowls. I thought he would love this idea. Nope! Wrong again. Back to the kitchen. Get a back bone, I tried to tell myself. In a bold move I decided to pour the milk back into the original sippy cup with the top ON and make a statement. Yeah, right. "NO, NO, NO," Lincoln screamed, spoons flying everywhere. Ugh! Fine! Back to the kitchen I went. I poured the damn milk from the sippy cup into a regular grown-up cup and slammed it down on his tray. Can you guess what happened next? He spilled the entire cup down the front of his shirt and all over his tray soaking the spoons and cookies. Great! Now my poor second child, who had been waiting ever so patiently, had to wait yet again while I took Lincoln upstairs to get new clothes.
After all was said and done, my husband (the sleeping beast of the east), finally came down the stairs yawning after his 8 hour sleep (I forgot to mention that this whole morning milk drama happened after I had been up since about 4 a.m.). He handed Lincoln the original sippy cup. "Come on, pal. Time to go to daycare," he said as the little bastard (Lincoln) took the sippy cup from his daddy and drank! SON OF A .....!
This brings up a good point that I started to make in the beginning. Why did I rush around trying to make my little prince happy when my husband simply gave him a command and he followed it? My husband doesn't care about making him happy. My husband cares about teaching him a lesson, teaching him who is boss, and teaching him to suck it up and drink from the sippy cup regardless of the tantrums and tears that usually follow. I am all for having peace in the morning, and not starting a battle before Lincoln goes off to daycare for the day. What am I teaching him? That women, or at least THIS woman, will sacrifice her happiness to make him happy and cater to his every need. Somewhere in the middle there must be a compromise between my husband's drill sargent, hard-ass approach and my door mat catering service!
An update: Last night we tried giving Lincoln a little Dixie cup filled with a small amount of milk. He spilled the first cup all over the living room rug, to which Eric scolded, "why did you let him have the drink in the living room?" Then he spilled the second cup all over his high chair tray. In the end, he got a sippy cup which he wanted to bring to bed. Ugh! He knows we don't allow drinks in bed! Time to put on the boxing gloves. In this corner wearing a white wife beater onesie and weighing 25 pounds - Lincoln, the Mommy Crusher...and in this corner wearing a dirty old worn-out sweatshirt with spit-up stains and spaghetti sauce and weighing none of your dang beeswax...
Gotta go do diaper duty!
Out of the blue, Lincoln decided that he no longer wanted to drink from a sippy cup. He now wants a real cup just like mommy. The first time this happened we were at the food court eating a Chick-Fil-A kid's meal which comes with an apple juice box. The options were: a. squeeze the juice from the little hole made by the tiny straw into Lincoln's sippy cup, or b. let him try the straw (something he had never achieved before). But, wait, I didn't have a sippy cup because my dumb ass never packs everything I might possibly need while entertaining two small children. So, I asked for a small cup and decided to squeeze the apple juice into the cup and just see what would happen. Wait! You mean, I am the cause of the Sippy Cup Situation? Lincoln did surprisingly well for his first time with a big boy cup...his shirt was just mildly soaked due to lack of bib and spare shirt (again, my fault).
Fast forward to last week (a few days after the food court fiasco). Lincoln was sitting in his high chair in front of his 57th Veggie Tales of the morning (my lack of strength in saying NO to TV will be the subject of another blog) and mommy was scurrying around getting him his milk and two cookies (not the sugar-filled ones, but the gross Gerber banana ones). I know what you are thinking - you let him eat cookies for breakfast??? Yes, how else can I get him to drink his milk? Anyway, so I got Lincoln his sippy cup and he threw it back at me and said "PIPS". Well, "pips" usually means potato chips, but in this case he meant he wanted to take a "sip" without the top on. After several weak attempts to tell him no, he began adamantly demanding "help top" over and over again. I must have been out of my mind because the next thing I knew I was taking the top off and allowing him to drink it sans protective top. Thinking the situation was solved, I went to sit down on the couch to feed the baby. Nope! Now Lincoln demanded "pup" which means "cup". He did not want the sippy cup at all.
Off to the kitchen I went. This time I came back with a new cool neon green sippy cup with a pop-up straw. "Ooh, look at this," I tried to sell Lincoln. Nope! He was not buying it. "No, pup!" Mommy went back into the kitchen, poured the milk into yet another type of cup. This time I tried a little plastic kiddie cup that came with his set of spoons and bowls. I thought he would love this idea. Nope! Wrong again. Back to the kitchen. Get a back bone, I tried to tell myself. In a bold move I decided to pour the milk back into the original sippy cup with the top ON and make a statement. Yeah, right. "NO, NO, NO," Lincoln screamed, spoons flying everywhere. Ugh! Fine! Back to the kitchen I went. I poured the damn milk from the sippy cup into a regular grown-up cup and slammed it down on his tray. Can you guess what happened next? He spilled the entire cup down the front of his shirt and all over his tray soaking the spoons and cookies. Great! Now my poor second child, who had been waiting ever so patiently, had to wait yet again while I took Lincoln upstairs to get new clothes.
After all was said and done, my husband (the sleeping beast of the east), finally came down the stairs yawning after his 8 hour sleep (I forgot to mention that this whole morning milk drama happened after I had been up since about 4 a.m.). He handed Lincoln the original sippy cup. "Come on, pal. Time to go to daycare," he said as the little bastard (Lincoln) took the sippy cup from his daddy and drank! SON OF A .....!
This brings up a good point that I started to make in the beginning. Why did I rush around trying to make my little prince happy when my husband simply gave him a command and he followed it? My husband doesn't care about making him happy. My husband cares about teaching him a lesson, teaching him who is boss, and teaching him to suck it up and drink from the sippy cup regardless of the tantrums and tears that usually follow. I am all for having peace in the morning, and not starting a battle before Lincoln goes off to daycare for the day. What am I teaching him? That women, or at least THIS woman, will sacrifice her happiness to make him happy and cater to his every need. Somewhere in the middle there must be a compromise between my husband's drill sargent, hard-ass approach and my door mat catering service!
An update: Last night we tried giving Lincoln a little Dixie cup filled with a small amount of milk. He spilled the first cup all over the living room rug, to which Eric scolded, "why did you let him have the drink in the living room?" Then he spilled the second cup all over his high chair tray. In the end, he got a sippy cup which he wanted to bring to bed. Ugh! He knows we don't allow drinks in bed! Time to put on the boxing gloves. In this corner wearing a white wife beater onesie and weighing 25 pounds - Lincoln, the Mommy Crusher...and in this corner wearing a dirty old worn-out sweatshirt with spit-up stains and spaghetti sauce and weighing none of your dang beeswax...
Gotta go do diaper duty!
Friday, May 9, 2008
Wife Beater Onesie
In yesterday’s blog I mentioned Lincoln’s wife beater onesie. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the wife beater, it is a thin white V-neck T-shirt that a certain type of man wears (usually stretched to the max over his enormous beer gut and hairy chest). I became scarred for life by this term many years ago while living with my dad who went from lounging around the house in a designer monogrammed robe to a wife beater T-shirt and tighty whiteys shortly after the divorce from my mom. I am pretty sure he is back to looking his usual Rico Suave now that another good woman is in his life. Ha, ha!
A few months ago, Lincoln (my two year old, for those of you who don’t know him) began “exploring” in his pants. This exploring quickly turned into an all-day event. I know I probably shouldn’t allow him to spend the day digging into his drawers, but I actually find it kind of funny and cute for some odd reason (and, what man doesn’t spend at least part of the day in the same way). Soon this all-day event became most fun for my little genital-obsessed monkey at night. He would wedge his hand so far down his pajama bottoms that in the mornings he would no longer have a diaper on. His #5 Pampers was now pushed all the way down one pant leg and his bed was soaked. After three mornings in a row, I decided I had to do something. My husband was threatening to get out his duct tape!
This is where having a network of fellow mommy friends comes in real handy (no pun intended). I was explaining the problem to a friend of ours who also has a 2 yr. old son, and she suggested putting him to bed in a onesie instead of pajamas. Brilliant! So that day I went to Target in search of a 24-month size onesie. Well, they don’t come in cute little patterns, colors, or with little baseballs on them. Nope! They only come in wife beater white! But guess what, those beautiful little crotch snaps that I once cursed for being so difficult to undo, became my heroes. Lincoln wasn’t too thrilled to have his ACCESS DENIED! Sorry, buddy. The sheets are dry once again and all is right in my world.
Gotta do diaper duty!
A few months ago, Lincoln (my two year old, for those of you who don’t know him) began “exploring” in his pants. This exploring quickly turned into an all-day event. I know I probably shouldn’t allow him to spend the day digging into his drawers, but I actually find it kind of funny and cute for some odd reason (and, what man doesn’t spend at least part of the day in the same way). Soon this all-day event became most fun for my little genital-obsessed monkey at night. He would wedge his hand so far down his pajama bottoms that in the mornings he would no longer have a diaper on. His #5 Pampers was now pushed all the way down one pant leg and his bed was soaked. After three mornings in a row, I decided I had to do something. My husband was threatening to get out his duct tape!
This is where having a network of fellow mommy friends comes in real handy (no pun intended). I was explaining the problem to a friend of ours who also has a 2 yr. old son, and she suggested putting him to bed in a onesie instead of pajamas. Brilliant! So that day I went to Target in search of a 24-month size onesie. Well, they don’t come in cute little patterns, colors, or with little baseballs on them. Nope! They only come in wife beater white! But guess what, those beautiful little crotch snaps that I once cursed for being so difficult to undo, became my heroes. Lincoln wasn’t too thrilled to have his ACCESS DENIED! Sorry, buddy. The sheets are dry once again and all is right in my world.
Gotta do diaper duty!
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Bipolar Boy
Does anyone else feel like their toddler is bipolar? I guess it comes with the territory when you are talking about a two year old with limited communication skills (or your husbands, just kidding), but I know that it drives me crazy! A perfect example happened yesterday morning with my little demon, I mean, Lincoln.
Recently Lincoln has been doing something new in the mornings. Instead of waiting patiently in his bed and singing sweet little morning ditties, he now gets out of bed and knocks loudly at the door and screams "MOM". He can't get out by himself because my hunky weekend warrior installed a safety door knob. Lincoln (whose spoon fetish will be the topic of a later blog) also likes to stick his spoons under the doorframe. So yesterday morning after hearing his screams, I came upstairs and saw nine little bent plastic spoons in front of his door. Thinking I would be funny, I stuck them back under the door. Just then screams came from the other side - "NO Mommy! No, no no!" So I open the door and I am greeted by my little ray of sunshine (NOT) in his wife beater onesie (definitely the subject of a later blog). Before he tries to bolt out the door I have swooped him up and put him on the changing table (which he is way too big for). But before I have a chance to remove his 10 pound diaper, he starts shrieking, "POONS! POONS!" Congratulating myself for understanding his "needs", I quickly pick up his array of rainbow-colored spoons and bring them to him. "NO!" he shouts as spoons fly across his bedroom. What the heck??? Didn't he just ask for the spoons??? What should I do?
A. Pick up the spoons and try again?
B. Leave the spoons on the floor and ignore him?
C. Make him pick up the spoons himself?
D. Make him pick up the spoons AND give him a time out for throwing things?
E. Throw away the dang spoons and deal with the fallout?
Please, I'm begging you! Tell me what you think! I hope I'm not the only one with a bipolar toddler!
Gotta do diaper duty!
Recently Lincoln has been doing something new in the mornings. Instead of waiting patiently in his bed and singing sweet little morning ditties, he now gets out of bed and knocks loudly at the door and screams "MOM". He can't get out by himself because my hunky weekend warrior installed a safety door knob. Lincoln (whose spoon fetish will be the topic of a later blog) also likes to stick his spoons under the doorframe. So yesterday morning after hearing his screams, I came upstairs and saw nine little bent plastic spoons in front of his door. Thinking I would be funny, I stuck them back under the door. Just then screams came from the other side - "NO Mommy! No, no no!" So I open the door and I am greeted by my little ray of sunshine (NOT) in his wife beater onesie (definitely the subject of a later blog). Before he tries to bolt out the door I have swooped him up and put him on the changing table (which he is way too big for). But before I have a chance to remove his 10 pound diaper, he starts shrieking, "POONS! POONS!" Congratulating myself for understanding his "needs", I quickly pick up his array of rainbow-colored spoons and bring them to him. "NO!" he shouts as spoons fly across his bedroom. What the heck??? Didn't he just ask for the spoons??? What should I do?
A. Pick up the spoons and try again?
B. Leave the spoons on the floor and ignore him?
C. Make him pick up the spoons himself?
D. Make him pick up the spoons AND give him a time out for throwing things?
E. Throw away the dang spoons and deal with the fallout?
Please, I'm begging you! Tell me what you think! I hope I'm not the only one with a bipolar toddler!
Gotta do diaper duty!
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