New Digs

Notice anything different?

Yeah, thought so.

The ever so talented NapWarden hooked me up with a new look.

I personally love the new look. It's all shiny, fresh and wonderful. All I need now are a bunch of comments to really cozy the place up!

What do you think?

Haiku Friday: Birthday Edition!

Three decades plus three
After thirty two hours
I entered world

Nineteen inches long
Weighing 7lbs. and 8
My parents so proud

My birthday is on
Saturday! Oh, happy day!
I'll be thirty-three

Thirteen Foods I Dislike

1. Cottage Cheese: My kids love the stuff but I think there is something nasty about the texture.
2. Oatmeal Raisin Cookies: Like raisins, love oatmeal. Together? No thanks.
3. Butterscotch Pudding: Just. Yuck.
4. Banana Bread: I don't think bananas are meant to be cooked.
5. Hot Dogs: Do you know what these are made of?? Read The Jungle by Upton Sinclair.
6. Ham Salad: Old ham crushed and covered with mayo?
7. Pimento Cheese Spread: Ew.
8. Romaine Lettuce: Too crunchy and makes me think of cabbage. I'm a freak, I know.
9. Avocado: I just don't like it.
10. Cashews: Not a nut person and these are the biggest flippin' nuts!
11. Liver: Do I need to explain?
12. Pumpkin Pie: Not sweet enough for me, I guess. Seems more like a food than dessert.
13. Swiss Cheese: Smells funny.

See more Thursday Thirteen.

Wii All The Way Home

As I type, I am expecting the UPS man to bring something to my door that just might make me a widow.

Our Wii is on the way.




My husband is a big kid. Really.

When I met him, some 11 1/2 years ago, I was amused that he had a Star Trek phone that sounded the red alert when it rang. Funny, no? It was endearing that he spent half his paycheck on CDs and VHS tapes. A 100+ collection of shot glasses were displayed as predominantly as pictures of his parents (gag me with a spoon! About the parents, not the shot glasses. How do you think he got me over there in the first place??).

I enjoyed the fact that he was young at heart. The children of my friends and my young relatives loved playing with him; in fact, my cousin's little boy, then 3, said that he thought my then 25 year old fiance was 11. This was wonderful, right?

I have curtailed most of his childish ways. The Star Trek phone? Totally gone. The CD and DVD obsession is curbed thanks in part to Netflix and children. And the kid that is still in him? Makes him a great dad. But the dude still loves video games.

So, at Christmas, I contemplated buying him a Wii. I decided against it because we were planning to build a family room in our basement and I really didn't want him playing his toy in the middle of my living room. So, I didn't buy the several that I saw with plans to get him one for our 10th anniversary and another fancy TV to go with it.

Who knew that the freaking things were going to be impossible to find??

So, a few weeks ago, as the construction crew was banging around downstairs, I diligently began calling the local stores daily trying to score me some Wii. It was fruitless. With a fourteen month old, I couldn't go park at Wal-Mart standing in line for the afternoon in the hopes that they would get some in. (And, FYI, just because the Evil Empire that is Wal-Mart employs my husband doesn't mean the butt lickers will hold one for us. Oh, no! God forbid!)

My husband is growing frantic at this point. I had promised him a Wii for our anniversary (March 7) but didn't deliver. The basement construction was wrapping up last week when he slipped into full on panic. It was a conspiracy! The Wiis were being hoarded by....well, someone! We were never going to get one! The sky was falling! Run!

Then, an act of kindness by the good Lord himself befell us on Friday. Wal-Mart's website had Wii bundles available. My husband was seriously a kid in a candy store. Which games to choose? Which accessories? How long until it comes?

So, we ordered it.

I had orders today to stay home (he asked nicely, of course, because he is a nice, polite boy) in case I had to sign for the blessed Wii (do you hear the angels singing ever so softly in the background each time those three letters come across your vision?).

The Wii comes today and the TV comes Friday. It was really a good ten years of being married. I will miss him. *sniff*

Boys Will Be Boys...I Guess.

Well, I did yet another of those parenting things over the weekend that I vowed I would never do. The "Easter Bunny" dropped one of these off with my son's Easter loot.



Yes, not only am I the mom who spoon feeds her kid yogurt in the grocery, I am now also the mother who has so little control over her child that she resorts to leashing him like a dog.

I'm so proud.

Before I had the human baby that is a BOY, I never dreamt that I would ever have to use one of these devices to corral my child. But, this little person? He is completely different than the first one I gave birth to (i.e. a GIRL).

Now, I am completely schooled in the gendered way in which we rear our children. I know that by giving my daughter a pink kitty that I am teaching her stereotypical "girl" behavior. I also know that when my son came out of my womb (c-section), he wasn't like her. He had some exterior parts that she didn't and he was DIFFERENT.

I was forced to put aside all of my pre-conceived parenting notions about raising a child (i.e. a GIRL) and start. completely. over.

He is rougher than she is. He bites for fun. He climbs things she didn't even notice. He is more adventurous and driven. So, perhaps I added to his being a "boy" rather than gender neutral by dressing him in navy clothes emblazoned with trucks and dogs but the kid was just. born. different.

And no scientist, sociologist or anyone else will be able to convince me otherwise.

I may not even use the harness. I have very mixed feelings on it, truthfully. My son, though, sees strollers and wagons that aren't moving at a steady clip as something to climb out of instead of sit in. He is a man on the move who needs to be going at all times.

So, when you see someone who harnesses their child, please don't look at them with one of those looks (you know the look). That person may not just be a crappy parent; she may just be doing what she has to to keep the kid from running in front of a Greyhound.

Haiku-y Day!

Here's a question for
you: Do you use real or fake
eggs for hunting, hmmn?

We are fakers here
Eggs are filled with treasure
Little trinkets, junk

After church we eat
Grilled steak, baked potatoes, yum
Then watch kids hunt eggs

Hope you all have a
blessed weekend no matter what
you will be doing

Taking Care of Business...

Marvelous Marie gave me three awards weeks ago and I failed to mention them here even though I was very thrilled and honored with the recognition. She is a new blogging friend but a great one already! Thanks, Marie!

I guess this is one instance where being sassy isn't a bad thing! I have to share this award with my friends SuchSimplePleasures and Dixie because these two are ever so sassy and wonderful!





The True Blue Award has to be awarded to Bradley at The Egel Nest and his super mom Linda. Both Bradley and Linda are continual supporters of little blogs like mine and can always be counted on to share a kind word and a laugh!




And my final award from Marie is The Spreader of Love Award and I must send this out to my blog crush MamaGeek, who tagged me for my first meme and gave me a cool award, too! Also, I would like to share this with my new friend Jenni who just announced her pregnancy; what a great way to spread the love!

Also, MamaGeek gave me a groovy bouquet of flowers for a correct guess on one of her posts. So, if you're reading this and need a little pick me up, grab 'em for yourself 'cause they sure are purty! Thanks!


Congrats to all of the recipients! Well deserved!

When Did I Become THAT Mom?

A few weeks ago, before the sickness roosted in my home, I was at the grocery with The Conqueror. That is always a scary experience because the kid is unpredictable. Some days it goes off without a hitch. Others, well, I run cowering from the store clutching my screaming boy.

So, going to the grocery has become Operation Get It Done Quick. My husband typically goes to the store alone because, well, he cooks and I reheat. So...it makes good sense for him to do the shopping. For some reason, though, this day we went together. And took the boy.

So, things were going well. We got cocky. We had been through the entire store (at Mach speed, mind you) and were left only in the cold section (milk, eggs, cheese, etc.). We slowed down. Big mistake, as you probably guessed.

At first, the kid was just whimpering a little as we debated on what brand of butter. As we perused the yogurt section for just a little too long, his whining increased by several decibels. Then he began full out screaming. He wanted out of that cart and NOW!

Well, I may be dumb but I ain't stupid and there was no way that wild child was being let down in the middle of a grocery store because, well, I have to go back there. So, I start offering him anything (ANYTHING!!) to shut him up because I hate, hate, hate being that person in the store with the wailing kid.

What does he want? A yogurt cup. Fine. Phew, crisis averted. Until the little rat gnaws through the foil lid and is trying to drink the yogurt. I take it away.

He screams as if I have just cut one of his digits off.

With a dull knife.

I give him back the yogurt.

He is happy. For a sec.

Then he starts shouting "Yum, yummmy!"

So, what do I do? I dig into my diaper bag and get a spoon. I proceed to stand in the middle of the grocery store and feed my child an unpaid-for Dannon.

I am so THAT mom.

(And, yes, I did pay for the yogurt that he ate.)

What the Haiku?!

Illness struck me down
Also took a toll on house
Laundry multiplied

Toilets are icky
Floor covered in dirt, debris
Must clean; can't torch it

It's A Booby Day

In my vomit-induced stupor of late, I nearly missed out on talking about 2 of my favorite things in the world: Boobs! Thanks, Lotus, for the opportunity!

My girls are suddenly facing retirement as my son just cold turkeyed on breastfeeding last week during an ear infection. I am typing this right now with cabbage still stuffed in my too-tight bra, praying for relief from engorgement. TMI? Well, click elsewhere, my friend, 'cause there is more boob talk to come!

I intended from the earliest days of my first pregnancy with my now 8 year old to nurse. It was very chic and the "right thing to do". Of course, no one in my family had ever! done it! Okay, that is obviously wrong but no one in the memorable past had so I was going to be a pioneer! a trailblazer!

Well, that was all well-intentioned but I didn't count on 2 failed attempts at induction and a c-section 72 hours later after failure to progress. I was drained- physically and emotionally. The writhing being removed forcibly from my abdomen held no interest to me. I resented it for the pain it had caused and the exhaustion that I felt. I also felt a failure. Of course, I was the first and only! member of my family to have a c-section, too.

I immediately drifted into PPD. RxMan had to make me hold the baby. I tried to nurse but she sensed, evidently, that I didn't like her and she screamed as the LC held her to my breast and encouraged me to continue. I cried. She cried. I sank further and further into the darkness of PPD.

Four days later, I gave up at the urging of my OB, who saw the cloud that hovered around me. Instead of relief, I felt this was yet another way my body had failed me. So, I bottle fed her. She had terrible trouble with formula and we switched it 6 or more times, finally settling on Alimentum, which cost $7 a pre-made quart, which she drank every day. It was very expensive to feed this child.

She then developed asthma, allergies, reflux and chronic sinusitis. Every doctor and specialist that we have seen over the last 8 years has asked the question, bottle or breast? And, knowingly shaken his head when I embarrassingly answered bottle. I hated the initial meet and greet with these know-it-alls who have never had to make the choice on how to feed a child birthed from their loins.

So, as we decided to try for a second child, I decided breastfeeding was going to happen for me this time. Come hell or high water, my choice was not going to be held over my head as the cause for hereditary ailments for another child. I began reading the minute my stick turned pink. I read books, online journals, I went to classes, I talked to people. I steeled myself for the hell that I felt I was staring down. My pediatrician kindly told me that I HAD to nurse this child. Without question. He gave me books, numbers of LCs and his wife's cell number.

No. Pressure.

I opted for a scheduled c-section. There are pictures of me with make-up, earrings and a morphine-induced smile instead of teary and bleary-eyed from being awake and having the hand of every passing Tom, Dick and Larry shoved inside my vajayjay. The boy went to breast about 15 minutes after delivery. He loved nursing.

In the hospital things seemed okay. He was interested. We had latch issues but I thought I could persevere. We went home. It went downhill. I called the numbers. I went to the appointments. We got the latch fixed.

Then he started nursing all day long. Now, I don't mean cluster feeding. No, I mean this child nursed for 6, 7, 8 hours at a time. When he wasn't nursing, he was screaming. And I was crying. I quit wearing shirts, I just moved from the toilet to the chair with a robe, undies and a bra on. My boobs bled, cracked and ached. I knew I was thisclosetobreaking.

My husband took me to the LC and we discovered that my supply was inadequate. He had only gained 4 oz. in 12 days. Red flags! Scary words! Starving my baby? What? All I have been doing for 2 weeks is feeding it!

So, onto formula he went. Yep. But mixed with breastmilk this time. So, I started taking fenugreek and blessed thistle. I ate oatmeal. I guzzled water. I pumped 24/7 for 6 weeks straight. I thought happy thoughts of milk flowing from my breasts as the LC told me to. I did all the stuff they said.

And, thank God, it worked this time. After those six weeks, we went back to 100% breastmilk. And after about 5 months, my little buddy refused the bottle; only the breast for him.

We successfully nursed until the day he turned 14 months old when he decided it was time to quit. I am proud of sticking it out but MY GOD it was hard.

Karmic Revenge

'Member how I was making fun of my husband last week for being the sickest man alive?

Yeah, that was a mistake.

'Cause on Sunday afternoon, fate threw me and my little guy a nasty case of the stomach bug out of nowhere. It snuck into my gut and made a happy little home that put me straight onto my back where I stayed until today. (Straight onto my back, that is, after I vomited all over myself, my son and my bedroom carpeting. Any thoughts on stain removal?)

That bug?

Yeah, it was bad. And I mean bad as in badass. As in praying for death. As in crying for my mommy. (Which I did.)

I was in such sorry shape I had to call my mom and ask her to come care for my kids while I spent a great deal of time communing with my least favorite porcelain god.

And my husband, whom I insinuated was the world's biggest baby?

Took the best care of me and my little man EVAH!

Without even one "I told you so" mixed with the ginger ale and saltines.

In sickness and health, indeed.

Haiku-versary

A decade ago
Dressed in champagne silk, black tux
We pledged our love

This love has blossomed,
Grown with each passing challenge
Knit us together

We are connected
by law, God's eyes, our children
For now, forever

Thursday Thirteen #14: Anniversary Edition

Friday, March 7th is my 10th wedding anniversary.
Here is a list of 13 things I like about being married.

• Having a built-in date for functions.
  
• Having someone to kill the bugs.
  
• Having someone to mow the lawn.
  
• Having someone to sleep with.
  
• I tell my husband all the time this is why I stay married to him. I love having another person in my bed. Unfortunately, this one snores really, really loud...
• Designated driver!
• Someone to cook.
  
• I am not a cook. Fortunately, my husband is!
• Someone to set the clock on the electronics.
  
• Someone to keep me grounded.
  
• I am a spaz and a drama queen. I worry like crazy about stupid things. My husband is very easy going and keeps me sane.
  
• Someone to deal with the stuff I don't want to.
  
• Like contractors and repairmen; I hate calling these kinds of people and having to talk to them.
  
• Someone to laugh at my blog, even when it isn't funny.
  
• A shoulder to lean into and cry on.
  
• A hand to hold during good and bad times.
  
• Someone who loved me in a wedding dress and still loves me in my mismatched, threadbare pajamas, with morning breath and Medusa hair.
  

Of course, the silly ones are meant to be silly but the truth is I am blessed with a wonderful partner. Truly blessed.

Chillin'

Plagued

So, every single member of my family is ill.

The girl has a cough that would make most 3 pack a day smokers envious.

My son has an ear infection and a faucet for a nose.

I am still hacking and enjoying my Puffs with Vicks.

My husband spent most of Friday and Saturday vomiting and on the toilet.

Oh, have you heard about vomiting? Well, apparently it is a new illness that only MY husband has experienced. It hurts. It causes aches and pains unlike any other on earth. NO ONE else has ever had a sickness of the magnitude of this one. Nosirreebob.

This is good news for all of you because MY husband has endured the worst case of vomiting and diarrhea on record. Thus, none of us- especially ME- will ever have an illness to compare to this one. It's true.

His puking set new records. The belly ache which accompanied it was the worst ever felt by a human. His experience was simply the worst ever.

Just ask HIM.

The end.