It Shouldn’t Be A Surprise

Maybe I jinxed myself all those months ago, back when I was still pregnant. Because every time we were looking at baby stuff, I was automatically drawn to everything and anything with a MONKEY on it.

Foreshadowing? Maybe.

At the ripe old age of fifteen months, my sweet baby boy has managed the new skill of climbing unassisted out of his play pen. It seems that the aluminum frame and mesh side panels that I painstakingly picked out and purchased a year ago is just no match for my little monkey. He’s not too tall, he’s actually on the lower end of the growth chart… He’s just strong and fearless and determined.

All I wanted was a safe place to put him when his sister was feeling a little less than sisterly, or if I wanted to vacuum, or run out the car for a load of groceries… you get the gist.

I packed it up today. After taking multiple pictures of it from different angles so I can list it on Craigslist!

Mirror, Mirror, Tell Me Lies

Who’s The Fairest Of Them All?

Does your bathroom mirror lie to you too?

I’m convinced mine does. It’s hard enough that I’ve had a certain birthday in the last month that lies midway between words that rhyme with “dirty” and “lordy”.

I know that I’m not 18 anymore with a lifeguards body and tan to prove it.

I acknowledge that most days I don’t spend much more time on my appearance than applying moisturizer and pinning my still growing out pixie cut from my eyes. BIG mistake on that cut.

Most days, I feel ok over all when I glance in the mirror and head out the door.

And then…..

The lies that my bathroom mirror has been telling me begin to crumble and fall apart.

First it’s my review mirror as I’m backing out of my parking space….. Are those my eyebrows up there or did a pair of caterpillars take up residence? Why don’t I keep tweezers in the car????

Then it’s the full length mirrors on display at Target. Wow, I thought this shirt hid the muffin top better than this. Maybe I should have ironed it after all.

Last but not least is the mirror over the bathroom sink in Wal-Mart. Do I really look that tired? I thought this miracle BB cream stuff was supposed to hide all under-eye baggage that comes from being woken by a crabby baby over and over again. Maybe not.

Just when I’m feeling sad and defeated I catch a glimpse of my sweet baby boy and he smiles at me as if lit from within.

Suddenly, I’m the most beautiful girl in the world.

Dinner and Diapers and Homework, Oh My!

It seems these days that my life is centered around the following questions, in no particular order.

1. What’s for dinner, Honey? Mommy, I’m starving!
2. Where are the clean diapers?
3. Whaddya mean you want an eraser and why do I have to re-do my homework?

And so the days fly by like those old movies where the calender pages just fly off into oblivion. Seemingly, my mind is flying with it. I have taken to making a weekly menu to help keep track of the all important question of what’s for dinner. It helps with the grocery shopping too.

I’m not embarrassed to admit that I have to mark on the calendar when I’ve done a load of diapers. The instructions say no longer than three days between washings, and I can’t always remember what happened three hours ago. So if  you see a little ‘D’ on my calendar, no you know why. It is a true testament to my diaper pail for keeping the odors at bay! If you happen to be in the market, I’m loving my Safety 1st Step On Diaper Pail, it was one of the cheapest, and since it’s small usually when it’s full, is a good time to wash… AHA! Mommy wisdom at it’s finest. Unless, of course, I’m feeling lazy and keep cramming them in there anyway.

Then comes the homework. It’s first grade and it’s getting harder. I know at the beginning of the year, the teacher told us to resist temptation to do the work ourselves, and I nodded and agreed alongside every other parent in the room. Man oh man is it HARD to let my child turn in homework that is an absolute mess. Spelling words all willy-nilly, letters and punctuation appear at random and as the space allows. Add drawings and coloring to the mix and it’s an eye-popping experience to be sure. I try to contain myself, I really do. But sometimes I just can’t! I’ve set the following guidelines for myself: as long as the general directions have been followed, LET IT BE! If and only IF the directions were not followed, do I step in with the eraser and we re-read the directions and she starts over again. Her biggest struggle is with reading homework where she has to do any kind of re-telling. She wants to copy sentences verbatim from the book, and I don’t want that to become a habit. Is it wrong for me to make her do it over when she does this? We never get her homework back from the teacher, so I’m flying blind on this one.

Dinner and diapers are easier by far!

Dinner and Diapers and Homework, Oh My! It really is great to be a Mommy!

Twelve Tips of Christmas:9 It’s In the Bag

Handbag (Photo credit: diongillard)

Alright last minute Christmas shoppers, are you wondering what to get the woman in your life who has everything?

Kelly Ripa asked Dolly Parton this question a couple of weeks ago on Live! with Kelly and Michael, and the response was classic and dead on: A bag to carry it all in!

So there you go.

Hand bags, clutches, cosmetic bags or totes. Every girl loves a new bag!

Take a peek at what she has already and go shopping.

Holiday Panic

I love to plan for the holidays. I love the decorating, the baking, the music, the movies, the whole she-bang! Always have. Back to the year my sister and I “helped” our mom out by decorating the tree ourselves when we got home from school. We literally threw the ornaments at the tree and left them where they landed. Shatterproof ornaments: not just for toddlers. Mom was less than impressed, but the story lives on.

In recent years, I have been making and baking gifts for the holidays. I spend months trying out recipes to decide which will make the cut; sending the test samples with my husband to work to see which get the best reviews. Then I start on my crafting agenda…

Then came this year, the year that Pinterest entered my life. Oh, the hours that I have spent (wasted) searching and dreaming of the holidays. I made boards, lists and plans to my heart’s content.

Along came the internationally known party poopers destined to dash any grandiose plans that I could dream up: Time and Money.

I could dream of making fantasmic holiday wreaths and gift baskets galore to gift to all and sundry…. If only in my dreams.

Like a lot of things in life, my holiday plans get scaled back to something more feasible. It’s okay, I’m excited about what’s made the final cut. I can’t give too much away, since most of my readers are family and I would like to save some surprises for Christmas!

Until, I look at the calendar.  As of today, I have exactly a month to get everything done, wrapped, packaged and mailed to meet with the USPS deadline for Christmas. I use the Parcel Post deadline, because it seems a little silly to spend over $30 to mail a box of Christmas cookies. Since the majority of our family is out of state, it really adds up. If you have to mail gifts this year, check out the USPS holiday deadlines here.

So, here I sit on a Wednesday afternoon panicking that once again, I’ve overstretched myself, that I can’t do it all,  and the laundry, with my kitchen trashed, my carpets needing to be cleaned, and just knowing that once I bust out the sewing machine it will become the center-piece of my dining room table for at least the next month. Whew.  What am I doing to rectify this situation? I’m sitting here, still in my pajamas, telling all of you about it , while Mr Crabby Pants is emptying the storage box with office supplies in it at my feet. Time to find a box with a locking lid, but that will have to be another day.

By the way, if anyone has any tips on how to put up a Christmas tree that this baby won’t tip over or try to scale like a monkey, please let me know. I’m seriously considering a (gasp) fake tree and nailing it upside down to the ceiling!

Has anyone else entered into a holiday panic yet??? Please, tell me I’m not alone.

Crunchier than I Thought I Would Be

I have never thought of myself as a “Hippy” or however you would spell that.

In high school, I couldn’t understand people’s facination with The Greatful Dead, patchuli makes my face itch, I don’t feel like the day is started without a good shower, and I didn’t feel like smoking pot.

Today, um years later all of the same is true.

And yet, I am far crunchier than I thought I would be.

I wear my baby in a Moby wrap in order to have my hands free.

I use cloth diapers on this one, to keep the land-fills a little less full of poop, and also to keep a little extra green in our bank account.

I make my own baby wipes, because it is easier than sorting out and trashing the disposable ones from the cloth diapers when it is laundry time. Plus like everything else, those things are getting more expensive.

I’m happily breastfeeding #2 for as long as he’s interested.

I have taken to making my own baby food. It’s fun, it’s easier by far than I thought it would be, my daughter likes to help, which by the way,  is a huge bonus as it is summer vacation and every day is a struggle to keep her entertained and him from bodily harm!

I knit, I sew, and I have fallen head over heels for Pinterest and all it’s crafty, foody, fitness glory.

Maybe I’m not a hippy after all. Maybe I’m a little crunchy, a little crafty, and a lot cheap!

If you feel the same and have any tips, please feel free to share!

If you’re on Pinterest, let me know and I’ll look you up!

Laundry Wars: Surprise Attack!

modern front load tumble dryer, picture taken by Rick Harpenau (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have to admit first and foremost that I DO NOT check pockets. I never have and give this disclaimer freely.

In the twenty or so years that I have been doing my own laundry this has not been a problem. There were a couple slight hiccups with my ex-husband, but he learned quickly to remove his wallet if he did not want it to run through the washer and dryer. The last seven years with my hubby and daughter have been a breeze in the laundry department. A quarter here, a receipt there, maybe an acorn. Nothing that would damage either the machine or the clothes. But today I have decided that I might have to reconsider my position on this one.

It was a month or so I guess that the crayon went through the washer and dryer in my daughter’s pocket. Three pieces of a dark blue-green crayon for maximum coverage. With some Goo Gone, some sweating and some swearing along with multiple wash cycles to remove the smell once the crayon was gone, most of the clothes came out clean. As a cautionary tale, I did purposely leave a few spots on her clothes as a reminder not to put crayons in her pockets! Pretty sure she got the message.

Then today, I opened the dryer to pull out  a shirt so I could get going on a few projects and lo and behold there has been an explosion of some sorts all over the place. Nope, not crayon. Black ballpoint pen! BAAAAHHHHH! Not only are there ink stains of varying degree on most of the load, but the inside of my dryer is fairly well coated as well. Just for good measure. Because I need more projects when my mom will be here in a few days!

Of course when such things happen you get on the phone with your bestie right? A little venting to prevent the hyperventilating. She Googled ballpoint pen in the dryer and came back with rubbing alcohol. I tried it in the dryer with little success and a bit of a buzz. So that is airing out before I use it again. I have not tried it on the clothes yet. Might need a little liquid courage before I start on that.

By the way, the person behind the pen has yet to come forward with any information. My husband has been quick to try to remove himself from any possible implication. Highly suspect.

It must have been the baby.

If anyone out there has had success in removing ballpoint pen, please feel free to share your magical wisdom. Any tips would be greatly appreciated!

Grandma is coming and I am not ready yet!

 

Ok, so I have six whole days until she gets here. But all you parents out there know that time whizzes by when you have big plans and obstacles have a way of cropping up at the most opportune time. In our house that usually means car problems and a good healthy case of strep throat. But that was last week, so hopefully we can stay out of the Dr office for the next few weeks at least!

Wednesdays are my Mondays and as I look around I think that a force of nature must have swept through here while my back was turned. Oh yeah, she is almost six. Since she doesn’t know that Grandma is coming, there is no incentive for her to help mommy keep things tidy. This weekend I did hint at a big surprise for her birthday and that she should clean her room like she would if Santa was coming. It actually worked fairly well. Her room is reasonable. Or it will be once I get in there with a vacuum and sweep up the Cheerios from her floor. She gets into lots of fun stuff while I am in our room nursing her brother. Self-Sufficient = More Work for Mommy in our house.

So running the numbers real quick:

3- number of loads of laundry I am now behind from trying to de-stink my cloth diapers

3- number of toes that are currently painted. What do you think hot pink or turquoise?

5- number of times a day that I have to LAY DOWN and nurse the baby. He is at that stage where all distractions need to be removed so he can get down to business and eat.

2- number of miles roundtrip to pick M up from school. Currently the only exercise I get.

20- number of pounds I wish I was down before having to put on a bathing suit.

88- temperature it is supposed to reach today.

Part of my get ready for Grandma plan was a new haircut for mommy. So when I picked up M from school yesterday she was really quiet, then asked why I got my hair cut like that? When I asked if she liked it she replied “no, not really, no.” Nothing like a kindergartener to bring you back down to earth. Can’t wait to get her opinion of the bathig suit.

Wish me luck!!!

Glossary of a Mommy

Angel:What all children look like while sleeping.

Asleep: The state in which you will do anything to keep your baby in once achieved.

Baby: The tiny despot who has taken over your entire existence. * You will think of your life forevermore in these terms: Before Baby and After Baby.

Birth: The intense process during which the baby leaves it’s happy uterine home and enters the real world ie: your life.

Breastfeeding: The art of feeding your child from your own body. In most instances you can let mother nature take it from here.

Baby nearly asleep at the breast (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Crap: All the accessories, gadgets and assorted paraphernalia that you will acquire via either gifts or by purchase to go with the baby. Say good-bye to your days of traveling light.

Diapers: The nifty things designed to catch pee & poo. You will learn to change them bleary eyed in the dark all while praying to keep the baby asleep.

Diaper Bag, Diaper Cream, Baby Wipes. see Crap

Dad/Daddy: The person formally known as your lover. The change is simultaneous upon birth.

Ears: aka Mom Ears, You will be amazed at how the slightest snore, sniffle, or sigh from your baby will wake you from a dead sleep. Practice for the teenage years??

Fingers: Precious digits you will count, kiss, caress and inevitably take a nick out of while trying to trim those teeny, tiny, paper-thin, yet razor-sharp fingernails.

Fussing: (crying/colic) Any less than happy noise coming from your baby. *Caution: Pending the type of cry you may find yourself responding in a variety of ways from giggling to a full-fledged fight or flight response. ** Your husband will not have any of these same responses.

Grunt: That strange noise usually accompanied by a squished face and a full diaper.

Hair: There is nothing sweeter than silky soft baby hair.

Ignorance: 1 The blissful state you were in before baby. 2 The vast majority of advice heaped on you by random strangers.

Jump: The motion you will do at any slightest sign of fussiness from your baby.

Kegels: You know what they are, keep doing them.

Light: Substance you will learn to manipulate in your favor or just plain do without in order to better keep your baby asleep,  while still function somewhat normally yourself.

Mommy/Mama/Mother: This is your new ID from now until eternity. You will not only be introduced by others as your child’s mom, but you will also introduce yourself that way. Often without ever giving out your actual name!

Mommy Time: 1 Those one to five minutes you sneak alone in the bathroom with a book. 2 Minimum five minutes late per kid that you will be anywhere from now on.

Newborn: Those long yet fleeting days when your baby stays mostly asleep in the curled up peanut position. The time in which you fall head over heels in love with the sleeping angel.

New Mom/Dad: The couple stumbling around the store in a haze. Possibly with a screaming baby. *Be kind. Lend a hand if possible.

Overexposed: State in which you will find yourself during birth and while breastfeeding. Take heart, relax and try not to care.

Pee & Poo:Two things you will obsess over and discuss at length with: your spouse, friends, parents, pediatrician and yes, random strangers.

Rest:Grab it when you can get it!

Sex:Gonna be awhile till you want to do that again.

Tub: No longer a sanctuary for bubbles and candles. Now a play zone for splashing and duckies.

Vacation: R&R is now a fantasy. See Crap

Worth it? Yes, Absolutely!

Yes, Please!: The correct answer to anyone who offers to help.

Zzzzzzzzzzz: Sweet dreams, while you can.

Eau de Breast Milk

Perfume Bottle (i) (Photo credit: misteraitch)

Becoming a wife and mommy is complicated business. One day you are this gorgeous young thing dreaming big dreams and enjoying life with your friends. Then it happens. You meet him, the man of your dreams. Whirlwind romance, yada yada and suddenly you are a Mrs. and then a mommy.  What exactly does this all mean?

When a girl gets married she plans every detail of the day. The invitations, the dress, the flowers, everything down to the finest detail. Then the honeymoon. Cue the organ music, the happily ever after….

Then what? I don’t recall anyone of my circle of friends sitting down and really discussing just how much work being married truly is. And MOTHERHOOD??? Forget it.  My own parents divorced when my sister and I were just two years old, so there wasn’t much to learn from by observation at home. Of my friends, the ones who had parents that were “still married”, well there wasn’t much to learn there either. At least not from a teenage girl’s perspective.

No one tells you the dirt. That one day you will wake up a Mommy; soaking wet and wondering what exactly that strange (not unpleasant) smell is. Oh wait it’s you, and while you were sleeping your breasts overflowed all over the place soaking not only you but your sheets as well. Looking in the mirror, up, down and sideways will be a true test to find some semblance of the girl you once were. It may be a long time before you want to really look in the mirror again. Four months after giving birth and I still cringe if I catch a sideways glance of myself in the mirror. And naked? Well, there aren’t quite words…

I look at the shelf in my bathroom and lined up neatly are bottles of perfume all sweet-smelling in their pretty bottles. I can’t wear any of them, my baby won’t eat if I do. Then I look at my make up bag(s) full of promises. This way beauty lies. A few minutes and these magic brushes will wipe away all signs of fatigue for a bright and shiny you. If only I had a few minutes. In the cabinet under the sink; hot rollers, curling irons, and the case with the “good make up”. You know, the stuff for a hot date or a girls night out.  If I went by those get organized in 3 easy steps articles all of this would be garbage as they are far past any “expiration date”. Does that mean that I am past my expiration date too?

Thank goodness my hubby is seemingly blind to my wobbly bits. Those once tight and upright body parts that have softened from a combination of time and baby carrying. I just wish that I was too.  So that is what I am working on. Finding and being the best possible me. I will never again be that hot young 15-year-old self I have a photo of on my refrigerator. But with a little work (that diet and exercise bit the experts are always recommending), I can be the best possible me. I think I can be ok with that. And if for the next year or so I carry the faint smell of breast milk, I can be ok with that too.

On that note, I signed up for a 5k today. I will probably walk it. But it’s a start.