Thursday, April 30, 2009

Figuring Out the Rules

I love watching Michael grown and learn. It's fascinating how much children are capable of learning in just a few short years. It's amazing to me that a child can go from having very little ability to move to running around like a maniac in two short years. Just think about how many skills they need to develop to be able to stand, maintain their balance, and then move forward rapidly. And, the whole time they are learning how to do that, they are also learning how to talk, eat, and other complex things. No wonder babies and toddlers sleep so much. It's exhausting to think about doing that much work.

Now that Michael is getting older, the skills he develops are not as obvious as taking his first steps, but when I think about the complexity involved, wow are some of them impressive. Take rules, for example. Three year olds can become very rigid and stubborn because they are starting to understand the rules of interaction. They start with things like saying please and thank you, and then quickly branch out into the complex social rules that we all follow. They become conditioned to their social surrounding with very little guidance. They recognize patterns and incorporated them into their behavior.

Michael really surprised me by vocalizing one of these "rules" the other day.

Andy and I have been together for a while, and over time we have developed this tendency to call each other "piggy" anytime one of us burps without excusing ourselves. It's one of those cutesy things that couples do that you swear you'll never do, but somehow end up doing anyway. My Diet Coke habit and poor manners contribute to me being the lead piggy in the house, and also ensure that Michael gets lots of exposure to it.

The other night, while we were doing Michael's bedtime routine, Andy tooted* and did not excuse himself. My immediate response was to say, "Daddy's a piggy."

Michael quickly corrected me. "Daddy tooted, he didn't burp."

Well, excuse me Mr. Precise. I'm sorry that I broke the "piggy" rule. In the future, I will reserve "piggy" only for burping situations and will use "eww, your gross" for tooting situations.

Andy and I got a good laugh out of it, but I must say I'm impressed that Michael not only picked up on our teasing one another, but that he managed to establish the rules behind it as well. Kids are pretty smart.

It makes me wonder how many other crazy things he's figured out about us. Oh my.

*Which do you think is more embarassing? The fact that I'm talking about Andy's bodily functions, or the fact that I'm saying he tooted rather than farted?

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Mission Completion

I've mentioned several times lately that Michael has been much more willing to try new foods than he has ever been before. The most exciting new food has been chicken. This means he can actually get protein from things other than milk or hot dogs. It was this development that made me feel pretty comfortable with having the Bottle Fairy come and take away Michael's bottles.

And you know what, I think I might have been right.

Last night, for the first time ever, Michael actually ate the meal that Andy and I were eating. I figured he would eat the corn, he's pretty good about veggies. The rice, was questionable, he's about 50/50 when it comes to rice. And as usual, I added some chicken, even though he has refused it over 100 times in the past.*

When I put the plate down in front of him, he asked for bread with butter. I've discovered that by placating his requests, he will often try what I serve him as well. It worked last night. After several bites, he reached for the plate. To my amazement, he started to shovel rice and corn into his mouth. I was doing my little mental happy dance over this. Wow! He was shoveling food into his mouth. Amazing.

After a little while, I decided to push my luck. "Aren't you going to eat your nuggets?" This had a huge potential to backfire because it wasn't really nuggets. If he took a bite and decided I had tricked him, it could take months to build up his trust again. Fortunately, he bought it. He ate all three tiny pieces I had served him and then started demanding - DEMANDING - more off of Andy's plate.

Sorry, I'm so excited I need to say that again. Michael demanded chicken off of Andy's plate.

I don't even know how to explain how wonderful this was. I've been serving him these foods for 2 years now and he finally ate them. I really wasn't sure this would ever happen. It gives me hope that someday he may eat some other foods, like eggs or fish or sandwiches.

Don't worry though. I know in about 10 years I'm going to be complaining about the fact that he's eating us out of house and home...but I'll deal with that went we get there.

*Yes, I'm that stubborn.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009


Michael had chocolate all over his shirt yesterday when I picked him up. Normally, I don't care, but I was wearing an off white shirt that I really didn't want to ruin, so I stripped off his shirt and then tried to replace it with a clean one. Well, the little stinker decided he wanted me to chase him, so he ran away from me. He also ran straight into the sunlight. When I went to corral him, I noticed a little dark spot on his back near his arm pit. On closer inspection, I discovered it was a deer tick.

Ewww, yuck, gross, ick!

When I was a kid, we used to get ticks all of the time. But, back then we only ever found the big kind. Now, on the gross scale, the big ticks are much, much grosser. Every time I think about them I remember the day my mom found 12 of them on me. I cringe just thinking about it. The only "good" thing about them is that on the East Cost, they rarely cause any harm other than nightmares and the occasional skin infection. So, we used to just pop them off and burn them in the sink. (I know it's not necessary to burn them, but it's oh, so rewarding.)

Despite both my father and sister having had Lyme Disease, I've actually never seen a deer tick. With the amount of time I spend outdoors, I'm sure I've had some on me, but I've never noticed one before, so I've never worried about what to do if I find one. Chances are, I'd pluck it off, destroy it, and watch for symptoms.

I tend to be a little more cautious with Michael, so I decided to give the pediatrician's office a call to see what they would recommend. They must have been having a busy day because it took about 15 minutes to get through. Once I got through, the receptionist put me on hold so I could speak with a nurse. Instead of using Musak for hold, they play the local news radio. Normally, I prefer that, except that yesterday they were discussing Swine Flu. Like I didn't have enough to worry about with tick borne illness, I also got to worry about pig borne illness. Nice.

The nurse suggested that I remove the tick, clean the site, and keep an eye out for symptoms. It's good to know that I am up to date on my tick bite care. Michael was very cooperative and I removed the tick without any problem. So far, the site looks good. I'll keep an eye out for the rash and other symptoms. Hopefully it won't be an issue. I hate having to fight antibiotics into Michael.

You know what's interesting though? My reaction to the little critter. I really am horrified of the big ticks. I really do cringe when I think about them. In fact, I'm sitting here feeling little creepy crawlies all over me as I type this. But, I was perfectly calm with the deer tick. It was so tiny. I had no problem examining the site or removing the bugger because it just didn't seem that bad.

It just goes to show how irrational my fear of creepy crawlies is. Big, harmless ticks? They freak me out and make me panic. Tiny, potentially harmful ticks? Eh.

Hey, I can't be logical all of the time.

Monday, April 27, 2009

The Bottle Fairy


I have a secret. A big, bad, ugly mommy secret. I know I've reveled it on here in at least one picture, but most of you were polite enough to roll your eyes at me and "tsk" without leaving any snarky comments. I thank you for that.

But, I'm coming clean. Michael, who will be three years old in two weeks, still drinks from a bottle. You know, the kind with a nipple. The kind that we are supposed to take away when they turn one. I'm one of those moms.

I know how it happened, and I don't feel bad about my decision, despite some snide comments from my mom. But, when I think back to Michael's one year appointment I know that I made the best decision that I could at the time. That's when I learned that he had dropped from 99th percentile for weight at birth to 10th percentile for weight at one year. The doctor wasn't concerned, but that doesn't mean I wasn't. My kid was skinny and he wouldn't eat. So, the logical thing for me to do was to keep providing him with the one source of nourishment that I could count on. The bottle.

And yes, I did know at the time that if I didn't take it away NOW, that it would be harder to take away when he turned into a raving, contrary two year old. (Which he did at 18 months). I knew I had signed up for the bottle battle down the round, and decided to deal with it when the time came.

Well, the time came about a year ago. Michael's weight had stabilized and he was actually eating on occasion. It was time. Well, except for that raving, contrary two year old thing. That was kind of a problem. A big problem. A scream and yell and cry kind of problem.

I'm a strong woman, but I'm not strong enough to deal with a scream and yell and blubber like I've massacred every last one of your stuffed animals kind of problem at 5:30 in the morning. I'm sorry if that makes me a bad mother, but at 5:30 am if my choice is to hand him a hot bottle of milk or face the wrath of a ballistic two year old, it's a safe bet that I'm going with the bottle.

We have been noticing some changes recently. First, Michael doesn't always want milk. He wants water sometimes, and that only comes in a straw cup or a real cup. Michael has been OK with that. Second, Michael is actually eating food. I can now count chicken nuggets as a food that Michael will normally eat. He's also eaten some bites of steak, pizza, various forms of crackers, and lots and lots of Mac 'n cheese. This is huge! And third, and most importantly, sometimes Michael is actually a reasonable person. I hate to say it because I don't want to jinx it, but he's been really pleasant lately. Rational even.

Andy got up with Michael on Saturday morning and he failed to ask for a hot bottle. (He actually asks for a "Hot bottle, but not too hot. And make sure it's filled all the way up.") When he finally got around to it, I gave him a straw cup and distracted him. It worked! That afternoon, I took Michael to Target and picked out some new cups for him. I explained that the Bottle Fairy came and took Michael's bottles for little babies that need them to eat. Then I handed him the new cups.

Every time he asked for a bottle after that, I'd remind him about the Bottle Fairy and then ask if he wanted his milk in a straw cup or a mug. He tried to tell me that he took a bottle from the Fairy. Then he tried to tell me he took one from a baby. But, he didn't really fight it. This morning, when the issue came up at 5:30 am I was prepared for a battle. However, after he shed all of two tears, I distracted him with a yellow straw in a mug. He cheered up and drank his milk. I'm hoping this continues.*

Michael is doing well, but I have to confess, the Bottle Fairy added insult to injury this weekend. Not only did she take away Michael's bottles, she also told the Laundry Fairy to wash the beloved stink out of Shirt. I'll tell you, that Bottle Fairy is a real bitch.

*I'm also hoping to keep my unrealistic fears of dehydration and starvation under control. Sometimes being a mom can be hard.

Friday, April 24, 2009

It's a tough job, but someone needs to do it.

This is what I discovered when I went to pick Michael up yesterday. I guess my mom, Michael and Morgan had a long day. It must be rough.


Thursday, April 23, 2009

The Perils of Stimulating the Economy

First things, first. Yes, Michael really did line up F CKED on my dishwasher. It was a complete fluke. I was on the phone with my mom when I glanced over and saw it. I busted out laughing so hard that my mom thought something had happened to me. I have no idea how those specific letters got there, but I'm glad I snapped a picture.

Second, this post is not for the faint of heart, or the jiggly of tummy either. Please proceed with caution.

I've spent the past several months working on losing weight, and I'm happy to say that I have been successful. For the first time in many years, I'm finally down to a size 10. This is wonderful, and I'm really proud of myself.

The downside to losing so much weight is that none of my pants fit. A few weeks ago, I went shopping for some work pants, because it's not terribly professional to walk around the office hiking my pants up every five minutes. However, I wasn't able to find any jeans that fit at Kohl's. This wouldn't be a big deal if it was still cold out, however now that it's warm I'm spending time outside with Michael, and the neighbors. If I have to crouch down or bend over, I'm afraid I'm going to flash half a moon at the neighborhood. That's not ideal.

Last night I decided to treat myself to a shopping trip at the King of Prussia mall (the second largest mall in America). I walked in feeling very good about myself. A little over a year ago, I was busting out of my size 16's. Today, I'm buying some size 10! I'm awesome!

The Levis store is one of the first stores I came to. It seemed like a safe place to do some jeans shopping. They should have some basic jeans appropriate for my lifestyle. Right? I was greeted by a very pretty boy who clearly spends more time on his hair and fashion that I do. He seemed very eager to help, and with his fashion sense, how could I go wrong? So, instead of blowing him off and looking on my own I decided to put my style challenged self in his care.

"Can I help you find anything?" He asked.

"Well, I'm looking for something that..." and that's when I realized I've never articulated this before and that my less than subtle approach to things might shock this sensitive young man's sensibilities. I paused and tried to find a polite way to say I wanted something that wouldn't show my butt crack. "I'd like something that doesn't expose too much of my backside."

He nodded and giggled. "I know just the jeans for you." And he showed me to the section with the mid-rise jeans. They had a great selection of sizes and washes. More than I've ever seen before. I was stoked. This was going to be so exciting. Size 10 jeans in whatever color or length I wanted! I grabbed an armful of jeans and headed for the dressing room.

There was another pretty boy in charge of the dressing room. He also had lovely hair, but personally, I thought his scarf was a bit much. Maybe that's why he was in charge of the dressing room and not the sales floor. Anyway, he showed me to a dressing room and left me with reassurances that he could get me anything I needed. I felt so important.

I stepped into the room, closed the door and gazed at the jeans I was about to try on. I went for a dark wash first. I prefer them for casual days at work. I stripped off my old stretch size 12 jeans, which I can pull off without unzipping, and stuck my leg into the first pair of pants. Then, the second leg. Then I wiggled them up over my butt and reached for the zipper. I had to suck in a little to get them on, but not too much. I exhaled and looked up into the mirror.

Oh my freaking goodness! Every ounce of fat in my body, plus some of the fat from the girl in the next dressing room, was hanging over the mid-rise waistband of the jeans. ALL. OF. IT. And I'm not talking that cute chubby baby fat that you see on some teenagers who need to pull their shirts down. This was not muffin top, it was fallen souffle! Add to that the stretch marks I have from carrying a ten pound baby, and it was not a pretty sight. It was, in fact, a disaster.

I dropped my shirt down and turned around. Damn, those jeans made my butt look good. I thought maybe I could get away with them if I kept the waistband covered, but then I turned around and looked in the mirror. The fallen souffle was so big that it was bulging through the shirt. I really wanted to just sit down and cry, but I had to be honest with myself, those jeans weren't going to let me.

I suppose I could have called pretty boy two over and asked him to get me a size 12, but at that point I didn't feel like it. I accepted defeat and peeled the jeans off, replacing them with my saggy size 12s. I pulled myself together and exited what had become the seventh level of hell. As I tried to slink, unnoticed, from the store, pretty boy two asked me how it was going.

I know he can't help it that he's prettier than me, I know he can't help it that he has better fashion sense than me, but at that very moment I hated him. I wanted to grab his strategically placed scarf and strangle him with it. Instead of stringing him up by his pretty little neck I mumbled something about needing to do a little more working out and bolted out the door.

There are only two things that will ever get me into jeans like that again. Madonna's personal trainer or surgery. I was just as deflated as my souffle top was when it was hanging over the waistband of those jeans.

Don't worry. In the end, I did have a good shopping experience. Once I calmed down I managed to find some lovely size 10 jeans at Eddie Bauer that I love. They aren't mid-rise, but they aren't mom jeans either. I'm ok with that.

And the next time a stylish gay man offers me fashion advice, I'm just going to walk away. They just have no idea what a real woman's body is shaped like.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Dinner Time

Dinner time is a very simple concept to me. You sit down with your family and you eat your food and talk about your day. That's what it's been like for most of my life, so I would I expect anything different?

But wait, tucked in the back of my mind, something is nagging at me. What could it be? Let me try and figure this out. I need to go back in time. Back before the days when goofing on my dad's nose. She would pretend to duck every time he looked at here, and it left us all in stitches. Back before the days when we leaned back in the chairs so often that we loosened all the spindles that held the chairs together. I think I need to go back even further than the temper tantrums I used to throw over having to clear my plate and do the dishes.

I know what it is. If I go way back in time, I remember the days before my parents gave up the fight to get my sister to eat, well...anything. Dinner time wasn't filled with jokes and being reminded AGAIN to not lean back in the chairs. Dinner involved crying and fighting. My sister was the one that was crying and fighting, but it stressed out everyone at the table. When I was about 3 or 4 years old the stress got to be too much for me. So, one night while my sister was screaming and crying about not wanting to her green beans, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I got up, walked around the table and ate them all for her. You should have seen the look on her face when she finally stopped crying, looked down at her plate, and wondered where the hell those disgusting beans went. We still laugh about it to this day.

I don't remember any fights about food after that. My parents just gave in an let us eat what we would eat, and ignored the rest. So, I never expected to be involved in those kinds of battles again. Until I was gifted with the fussiest child on the face of the earth. Once or twice I've pushed it, but it never works, so we now keep things pretty loose at dinner.

I say all this to explain why this goes on at my dinner table.

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He's eating quiche here. QUICHE! Do you hear me! With bacon in it. He's eating MEAT! I can live without the use of a fork.

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Look, I did at least give him a fork. One of these days he may use it.

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Yeah, just push that last little bit in with your fingers. I'm OK with that.

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Oh wait, look, he's using the fork! In the milk. Kid, you might be a little confused about what's supposed to be going on here.

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No, he's got it. Nothing a little trial and error can't work out.

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Hey, guess what? If you close your mouth, the milk won't dribble down your chin.

Well, we may not have the dinner, but at least we don't have screaming and crying. The three of us spend time together and talk about our days, and some food even gets ingested on occasion. It works for me.

...Even though I still end up eating all the green beans...

Monday, April 20, 2009

This Weekend ROCKED

Friday night

It was gorgeous out so we took Michael for a walk in the park. He really wanted to throw stones in the creek, but it's fishing season, so we had to go father into the park than we wanted. Michael was a little tired, so Andy and I carried him most of the way (about 2 miles). When I was carrying him, Michael wrapped his arms around my neck and rested his cheek against mine. Every so often he'd remind me that he loved me. It was great.

Even better was when we got to the creek. Last year I needed to keep a hold on Michael anytime we threw stone in the creek so that I could keep him out of it. This year, Andy and I let him go, and he stayed back from the edge of the water. For once, Michael wasn't the only one to enjoy throwing rocks in the creek.


It was sunny and warm. We played outside with M for a while and then headed over to the zoo for a while. Michael was really well behaved, he mostly listened to us, and for once he actually paid attention to some of the animals!

Even better was that he took a nice long nap once we got home.

Saturday Evening

My mom watched Michael for us and Andy and I went on a date. We had dinner at PF Chang's and it was so good. I love when I don't have to cook.

Even better was that we bought ourselves iPhones. I was hooked before we even made it out of the store.


Once again, it was nice out. Michael and I went to the grocery store and then played outside with M again. In the afternoon I took Michael to the playground and he found several other little boys to play with. For once I was able to just stand back and watch. Sweet!

Even better was that Michael was in the best mood all weekend. Not tantrums, no obnoxious behavior. He was all cuddles and smooches.

I wouldn't mid doing all of that over again.

Friday, April 17, 2009

A nice evening

Last night was the first night of Andy's golf league. He's been playing since before Michael was born, and it was something that I strongly encouraged him to continue once Michael was born. It's tough being a working parent, and Andy certainly does his fair share around the house, so taking one day a week to play golf with his buddies seems like a reasonable way for Andy to maintain some balance in his life.

It's also a great way for me to get out of cooking once a week, but that's just a plus for me.

Since it's been months since the golf league wrapped up last summer, I had forgotten how much I enjoy the evening I get alone with Michael. The weather was gorgeous so Michael played outside with M while M's mommy and I chatted. They rode bikes, played in the sawdust from a tree that was just removed, they found puddles to splash in, and blew bubbles. I love watching the kids play together.

One of the best tings about playing outside is that Michael is almost always in a pleasant mood when we finally come in. He was agreeable about everything last night. It was so pleasant. No fighting, no whining. Just smiles and cuddles. As my dad would say, "It don't get much better than this."

Michael went down for the night easily, and I took some quiet time to exercise and relax before Andy came home. Once Andy came home, we finally got to wish each other a happy anniversary and spend a little time together. Andy replayed the game for me while I enjoyed the fresh spring smell that he carried into the house with him. We chatted about our days and talked a little about how we want to celebrate our marriage.

We haven't decided what we are going to do, or where we are going to eat. I tossed out a few ideas, but Andy didn't respond to them, so I'll keep on thinking. This is just how we do things like this. It's like we have developed our own way of negotiating things in our marriage. We know just how to word things, and just how to respond. It would probably drive other people crazy, but it works for us. It's just one of the many little subtle things that makes our marriage unique. We'll, keep tossing ideas out until we finally decide what we both want to do.

The one thing we have decided on is our gifts. We are going to get each other iPhones. Sweet!

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Happy Anniversary

Today Andy and I are celebrating our fourth anniversary in the way many couples with jobs and a child not spending any time together. It's fine really, my mom is going to watch Michael on Saturday for us so we can go out on a date.

There are so many reasons that I love Andy that I could never do it justice in a single post. So, I won't try. Instead, I'll fill you in on the blond hooker story.

On Monday, the Voice of the Philadelphia Phillies, Harry Kalas, passed away. He was a much loved and well respected Hall of Fame broadcaster. He was always a class act and he knew how to call a game without distracting from the game, the way many broadcasters do. He's been the Phillies broadcaster since I was a child, and it will always be his voice I think of when I see pictures of last year's World Series win.

There has been a lot reported about Harry K in the past several days as all of the local reporters reflect on what a wonderful man he was.

At dinner on Tuesday night, Andy decided to share one of those stories with me. Unlike me, Andy rarely swears or uses "objectionable" language. So, unlike me, he doesn't spend a lot of time censoring what he says in front of Michael. He didn't think anything of it when he blurted out, "Did you hear the story about the blond hooker?"

Why is it that kids always pick up on the rare slip of the tongue? Michael had been ignoring us all through dinner, but took that moment to tune in and try to process what was going on.

"What's a blond hooker?" He asked. Andy's face fell while my eyeballs just about popped out of my head. Michael was looking at Andy, so he had to play it cool. I at least got to snicker a little about it.

I could see Andy's mind scrambling for the save. "Ah, ah, it's something that you hook something with...Um, you know, like a fish hook. Yeah, it's something you catch fish with."

Nice one, Honey. I was tempted to ask him what kind of fish you catch with a blond hooker, but I didn't see that going anywhere good. Instead, I distracted Michael and we moved on with dinner.

Later, when Andy told the story, it wasn't even really funny. Harry had messed up some recording before a game once. The guys were giving him trouble about it later on at the bar when a blond hooker walked up and asked them if there was anything she could do for them. The one guy responded, "Can you use a tape recorder?" Or something like that. Yeah, not funny.

But Andy's face when Michael said "Blond Hooker." Now that was priceless.

Happy Anniversary Honey. I love you for all the little things you do that make me smile.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009


I'm at home today vegging out. I've been trying to save up my vacation time but after I caught myself jabbing the mental image of one of my coworkers in the neck during a teleconference yesterday I thought maybe I need a little down time. When I almost called another coworker an imbecile during a meeting I felt like I had made the correct decision. Don't worry, Michael is safe with my mom today.

My first idea for a post was to get some picutres of the worms that I complained about yesterday, but ewww....

My second thought was to tell you all about how Andy and I ended up trying to convince Michael that a blonde hooker was something used to catch fish. But I'd rather leave you wondering.

So, instead I'm going to do the random questions from London's blog.

1.) What do you sing in the shower? I don't sing in the shower. I do math. Really, I do.

2.) What is you least favorite household chore? Vacuuming, I have a two story townhouse and I HATE doing the stairs. (This is London's answer, but I feel the exact same way.)

3.) Favorite superhero? Wolverine.

4.) Favorite color..of undies? Red.

5.) Where do you keep your coffee? In the freezer.

6.) If you could pick just one, what is your all-time favorite song? Bridge Over Troubled Water.

7.) On a scale of one to ten, how crazy do you think you are on most days? An 8. Somedays higher, somedays lower, but the crazy is always there.

8.) You drop something heavy on your toe, what is likely to come out of your mouth? Son of a...

9.) Hey, there was no 9!

10. )What is one thing you do that annoys your husband? I leave my shoes all over the house.

11.) What is your most favorite item of clothing that you own? One of my J. Jill jackets.

12.) What was the last song you heard? "Pride (In the Name of Love)" U2

13.)Someone gives you $100, what do you do with it? Buy books.

14.) What single item can you not live without? My car. I love to drive.

15.) What did you want to be when grew up when you were a kid? A marine biologist.

16.) If you have an hour alone, with no husband or kids, what are you going to do? Listen to music without headphones on.

17.) What is the worst book you have ever read? I don't know the name of it, but my sister lent it to me. I'd describe it, but it was just so bad that I'll spare you.

18.) Favorite scene from a movie? The scene in Return of the Jedi when Leia thaws Han. What can I say, I do math in the shower, of course I like Star Wars.

19.) What is one word you never get tired of saying? Dude.

20.) Last question, what's your favorite IM/Text acronym? Umm...I've never texted and most of myt IMing is done with middle aged, male engineers. So, I'm not really up on the IM acronyms. My favorite military IM is FUBAR.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

April Showers Bring...

April Showers Bring...

  • Cooped up children bouncing off walls
  • Bad hair days
  • Lush green misty mornings
  • Grass and mud stained laundry
  • The discovery that I need a new umbrella
  • The quiet drumming of rain on my roof lulling me to sleep
  • Messy floors that need mopping
  • Double rainbows
But mostly, April showers bring...worms.

Monday, April 13, 2009

I gave in...

...And watched Twilight.

I know, I know, I haven't posted in a week, and my return post is about Twilight. Sorry, but it really must be some kind of sickness.

I haven't been gone, nothing exciting has happened, the only reason I wasn't posting is because I just needed a break. It happens sometimes.

Anyway, back to Twilight. Not long after it came out, I casually mentioned to Andy that I was interested in seeing it. I told him I had heard that it wasn't very good, but I'd like to give it a chance. To be honest, what I really wanted to tell him was that I really wanted to see the stupid movie and could he please move it up to the top of the Netflix list. But, that would have been embarrassing.

Andy clearly understood my message. He informed me on Thursday that he thought Twilight was sitting in the mailbox, just in case I was interested. I played it cool and didn't get the mail until Friday. Sure enough, he was right.

I spent more time than I'd like to admit thinking about the movie on Saturday. After I got Michael to bed, Andy ask me what I wanted to do. "I don't know. I'd kind of like to watch Twilight, but I know it's bad and I hate to put you through that." Is what I said. What I wanted to say was that I really wanted to watch Twilight and I didn't care if he liked it or not. But, that would be embarrassing.

So we watched it. Andy and I did get a good giggle out of the "sparkly" thing. Well, maybe a belly laugh really. I mean, it was silly enough in the book, but the poor special effects made it down right pathetic.

Other than that, it was ok. Well, maybe I really liked it and got sucked in just like I would have when I was 15. But confessing to that might be embarrassing.

One thing that is fair to say is that the guys were hot. It's a good thing Edward is really 108 years old, because I would certainly never think that way about a 17 year old. Oh my. Of course, it's possible that I was showing my age by finding Charlie to be attractive, but admitting to that would definitely be embarrassing.

It would be almost as embarrassing as my response to Andy when he asked me if I wanted to hold onto the movie to watch the deleted scenes. "Um, no. I think I may just buy it."

But one thing is for sure...Nothing, and I mean nothing, could be as embarrassing as spending an entire movie looking like Shirley Temple with a stick shoved up her butt.

Good lord, man! Fire your stylist! And for heaven sakes, blink once in a while! Those gold contacts are going to stick to your eyes if you don't get some moisture going.

Friday, April 3, 2009

I Certainly Wasn't Expecting That

I just received a message from my mom asking me to give her a call. I'm never sure what to expect when she does that. My mom rarely makes phones calls, so I figured it must have been important.

When I returned her call, she put Michael on the phone and told him to tell me what he had done.

"Gram gave me M&Ms" he announced.

"Michael, why did Gram give you M&Ms" I asked.

"Because she opened them up!" That's not quite the answer I was looking for, however, technically it was correct.

My mom finally came on and informed me that Michael, completely unprompted, had asked her to help him get his pants off so he could go pee pee. She helped him and got his potty. He sat down and peed.

Holy cow! How did that happen? As of four days ago, he refused to even sit on the potty with his pants on. Two days ago he surprised me by walking into the bathroom, opening the lid to his potty, and then sitting on it fully clothed. That was a huge surprise. If you had told me this morning that Michael would use the potty today I would have laughed myself sick. I don't even know what to make of this.

It's not April Fools day, is it

Thursday, April 2, 2009

The Best Unintentional April Fools Prank Ever

I'm sure every mom out there knows just how hard being a mom can be. You work 24/7. The house is always a mess, errands always need to be run, dinner always needs to be cooked. You never get enough down time. It can be very stressful.

It's been even harder on me lately because in addition to the normal stuff, I've also been exercising 5 times a week trying to get my weight down. That extra hour a day really cuts into my already busy schedule. I've taken to doing small 15 minutes cleaning projects each night just to try and catch up.

The good thing about exercising is that it has worked. I've lost enough weight that I'm now trimmer than I've been in many years. At this point, my wedding dress would be too big for me to wear. I'm thrilled.

The bad part is that I got rid of any pants that would actually fit about 10 years ago. I've been wearing the same three pairs of pants for the past two weeks, and one of those is now big enough that I'm afraid they may fall off at work. Clearly, it's time to buy some new pants.

I received a 15% off coupon for Kohl's over the weekend and decided that I would take last night off from exercising and go shopping. I was so excited. A night off AND shopping, what a treat.

At 12:30 yesterday my sister called me at work. We normally email, so I was a little surprised to see her number come up on caller id. The first thing out of her mouth was, "Mom called me. It's nothing serious."

That's never good.

My sister proceeded to explain that my mom had called her from the Natural History Museum in Wilmington, DE. My mom would have called me except that she forgot her cell phone and couldn't afford to make a long distance call. My sister works in Delaware, so she called her instead. In addition to having my sister tell me that they were at the museum, she wanted her to tell me to expect them home around 7:00 pm.

So let me spell this out a little. My mom, on a whim, decided to take my son to a museum in another state. Not only did she fail to ask me if this was OK first, she also didn't take her cell phone with her. She drove from the top right red circle to the bottom left red circle, across state lines, in a ten year old car, WITHOUT HER CELL PHONE! If anything had happened, I would have no idea where they where because she didn't tell me!


And what's this with not getting home until 7:00? That's an hour past Michael's bedtime! It meant one of two things. I either wouldn't get to spend ANY time with him or he would fall asleep on the ride home and be WIDE AWAKE at 7:00 pm. This is not acceptable.

And then it hit me, my shopping trip was toast.

This is one of the short books I purchased last week. It really resonated with me for some reason.

Add in a little PMS, and I wasn't just mad, I was fuming. I was so livid that I actually had trouble focusing on my work. I had been stewing for over 2 hours by the time I left work, so I was pretty worked up by that point. Well, it was raining and my drive was a nightmare. I had an hour of rough traffic to ruminate over just how irresponsible my mom was.

How dare she? She has no right to decide on a whim to take MY child out of state. With no cell phone! In an Old car! IN THE RAIN! Grr...Arg...%@*&!!!!! ALL I WANTED WAS ONE %^#@ING NIGHT OFF!!!! WAH!!!! I was tantruming to rival Michael's best fit. I was FURIOUS!!!!!

Finally, after my tense ride home I pull into my community. I rounded the corner to my house and there, in front of my house, was my mom's car.

What the...?

My anger quickly turned to confusion. I got out and talked to my mom and it turns out that it didn't take her nearly as long as she though. They had a nice time. Everything was good.

"Mom, are you joking me? Is this just an April Fools joke?"

At that, she laughed. "Oh, that would have been a good one."

I'm proud to say that I did not kill her right then and there.

Everything turned out fine. Michael had a great time, we had a pleasant evening, and then once he was in bed I got to do my shopping.

As for my mom, since I can't ground her, I've decided I'm going to print out some blank permission slips for her to use in the future.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

When did that happen

The never ending winter has given us a few outside days recently. Just enough to tease us into wanting more. On Sunday I took Michael to the "good" playground. It's the fancy, newfangled playground with all of the cool equipment. The last time I was there with Michael was in September. He was big enough to play on some of the equipment, but there was a lot that he couldn't. That has all changed. He was all over it. Up and down the slides, over and under the ladders, it didn't matter what it was, he was on it. In addition to being able to play on the equipment, he also didn't want me playing with him. I was finally able to just stand back and watch him for once.

Then, yesterday, we were able to play outside with some of our neighbor's kids. Before it got cold in the Fall, the kids would play near each other or would join in when a parent got something going like Simon Says, but then never really played together. Yesterday, Michael and two other 2 year olds had some game going together. I'm not sure what it was, but it was clear that they understood exactly what was going on. They were running, climbing, giggling and falling together. For once, we were all able to talk without having to run off in different directions to chase down our children.

I know that Michael is growing up, but because I spend every day with him, it's only a subtle knowledge. Seeing him on the playground and with the neighborhood kids again after so many months is a stark contrast. He's not a little baby or a toddler any more. He's a kid! It's very exciting to see such progress. But, on the other hand, it's also a little sad.

Michael, feel free to take your time with this whole growing up business.