Grandpop took us out to a very fancy dinner tonight. No, actually fancy. Like, the waiter was wearing a tux fancy. Yeah, that fancy.
Billy decided to break out his big boy shoes today and show off. He sat well-behaved at the table (who is this kid?). He drank water from a footed glass (no, seriously...who IS this kid). And he genteely ate his tiramisu (really, Grandpop?) with a fork.
Yes, that's right. No screaming. No getting up from the table, minus a brief stretch of the legs after a 2 hour dinner. He only threw toys a few times and only raised his happy voice a few times. It was unusual.
Maybe it was the outfit. He got to wear a new shirt today. He loved it so much that he whispered "wow" over and over this morning while gently touching the new shirt. And Grandpop gushed over his new shoes. He was definitely feeling dressed up.
Nope. I'm pretty sure an aliene clone went to the restaurant with us. No other way to explain it.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Thursday, April 26, 2012
April 26, 2012 ~ FML...The Microwave Edition
My microwave died tonight. I could care less about the machine itself, but how am I supposed to live for another week until Daddy has time to go out shopping with me to buy a new one? Yes, I could go get one myself, but Daddy would kill me if I bought something that plugged in without his input.
Look, I know people can live without microwaves. Hell, I was three when we got our first one. BUT... Grandma was used to living without a microwave. She'd never had one before. It falls into the category of living without a car. If you're used to having one, then getting by without it a major life adjustment. Or living without electricity? 100 years ago people did it without any problem. But they were used to life like that and the infrastructure existed to support an energy-free lifestyle. For example, having milk delivered daily. I've only ever heard of a milk man. Do you know how I would bend over backwards to have someone deliver milk to my door? (Yes, I could pay through the nose to have a grocery delivery service- but that's still not fresh milk).
Even without a kid it's going to be a rough go, but I also have an impatient toddler that wants his dinner when he wants it and I mean now. This means having to heat everything in the oven or stovetop AND more dishes for all of the bakeware and pots to do that. FML. That's just what I need. I made popcorn today (the final microwaved item around here for awhile) and had to heat the butter in a saucepan on the stove.
I think I'm just going to pretend that it's 1950. It's no big deal to be without the microwave. I cook dinner all of the time anyway. I'll just have my maid clean up the dishes and the extra pots. And, being 1950 I'm magically a SAHM and didn't have to work today so I have bundles of energy. Oh wait. Crap. I'm exhausted because I did work today. And I don't have a maid. FML.
Look, I know people can live without microwaves. Hell, I was three when we got our first one. BUT... Grandma was used to living without a microwave. She'd never had one before. It falls into the category of living without a car. If you're used to having one, then getting by without it a major life adjustment. Or living without electricity? 100 years ago people did it without any problem. But they were used to life like that and the infrastructure existed to support an energy-free lifestyle. For example, having milk delivered daily. I've only ever heard of a milk man. Do you know how I would bend over backwards to have someone deliver milk to my door? (Yes, I could pay through the nose to have a grocery delivery service- but that's still not fresh milk).
Even without a kid it's going to be a rough go, but I also have an impatient toddler that wants his dinner when he wants it and I mean now. This means having to heat everything in the oven or stovetop AND more dishes for all of the bakeware and pots to do that. FML. That's just what I need. I made popcorn today (the final microwaved item around here for awhile) and had to heat the butter in a saucepan on the stove.
I think I'm just going to pretend that it's 1950. It's no big deal to be without the microwave. I cook dinner all of the time anyway. I'll just have my maid clean up the dishes and the extra pots. And, being 1950 I'm magically a SAHM and didn't have to work today so I have bundles of energy. Oh wait. Crap. I'm exhausted because I did work today. And I don't have a maid. FML.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
April 24, 2012 ~ Big Boy Bedtime
Tonight at bedtime I let Billy pick out the stories for me to read to him. He doesn't get stories every night and he doesn't always get to pick them. But he loves it when he gets to pull the books off of the shelf and find he one he wants to here.
First up... "Elmo book!" Actually, it a book about Sesame Street monsters and doesn't include Elmo. I think it might even be from before Elmo moved to Sesame Street. But according to Billy, any muppet-like creature is Elmo, regardless of size, color or monsteriness. He sits down in my lap on the floor, as usual, and I read his book to him. Well, most of it. He got bored 6 pages in to the 10 page book.
Next up... "Truck book!" This would be Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site. It's one of his favorites. But would he sit in Mommy's lap? Oh no. Billy is a big boy. He noisily dragged his Billy-sized rocking chair over next to Mommy and sits down. He waves at me like an old business tycoon used to getting his way. "Read on, Mummy dearest, read on." He's never sat in the rocking chair for a story.
First comes the crane. "Mommy, isha truck truck!" Yes. I keep reading. "Mommy, Pooh!" Yes, the crane has a teddy bear. All stuffed animals are Pooh, regardless of size, color or general poohiness. Then we read about another truck. "Mommy, Mommy!" he tugs on my arm. "Isha truck truck!" It is a truck truck. You're right.
Ok wait. Hold on. He's awake again. Let me go put him back to bed. Ok I'm back. Whew. Easy Peasy bad to sleepy.
Next up, the dump truck. He falls asleep and starts to snore. I affect the best zzzzzzzzzzz I can manage. Billy breaks into fits of giggles. Well, I probably looked pretty silly.
Here comes the bulldozer. I read all about it and get to the part where he makes noise. As load as I can without screaming I ROAARRR!!! Billy leaps out of his chair and falls into my lap as fast as he can. He wraps his arm tightly around me and picks his feet up off the floor, tucking them under him as though the floor might just crawl up and bite him. He huddles in a little ball curled against my chest. Better watch out for Mr. Bulldozer. He might just leap off that page and come get you, looking all cute and cuddly as he does.
We read about the last truck while he's still in my lap and then send them all off to bed. And then it's time for him to go to bed too, still cuddled up in my lap.
Maybe he's not quite a big boy yet.
First up... "Elmo book!" Actually, it a book about Sesame Street monsters and doesn't include Elmo. I think it might even be from before Elmo moved to Sesame Street. But according to Billy, any muppet-like creature is Elmo, regardless of size, color or monsteriness. He sits down in my lap on the floor, as usual, and I read his book to him. Well, most of it. He got bored 6 pages in to the 10 page book.
Next up... "Truck book!" This would be Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site. It's one of his favorites. But would he sit in Mommy's lap? Oh no. Billy is a big boy. He noisily dragged his Billy-sized rocking chair over next to Mommy and sits down. He waves at me like an old business tycoon used to getting his way. "Read on, Mummy dearest, read on." He's never sat in the rocking chair for a story.
First comes the crane. "Mommy, isha truck truck!" Yes. I keep reading. "Mommy, Pooh!" Yes, the crane has a teddy bear. All stuffed animals are Pooh, regardless of size, color or general poohiness. Then we read about another truck. "Mommy, Mommy!" he tugs on my arm. "Isha truck truck!" It is a truck truck. You're right.
Ok wait. Hold on. He's awake again. Let me go put him back to bed. Ok I'm back. Whew. Easy Peasy bad to sleepy.
Next up, the dump truck. He falls asleep and starts to snore. I affect the best zzzzzzzzzzz I can manage. Billy breaks into fits of giggles. Well, I probably looked pretty silly.
Here comes the bulldozer. I read all about it and get to the part where he makes noise. As load as I can without screaming I ROAARRR!!! Billy leaps out of his chair and falls into my lap as fast as he can. He wraps his arm tightly around me and picks his feet up off the floor, tucking them under him as though the floor might just crawl up and bite him. He huddles in a little ball curled against my chest. Better watch out for Mr. Bulldozer. He might just leap off that page and come get you, looking all cute and cuddly as he does.
We read about the last truck while he's still in my lap and then send them all off to bed. And then it's time for him to go to bed too, still cuddled up in my lap.
Maybe he's not quite a big boy yet.
Monday, April 23, 2012
April 23, 2012 ~ Freaking Me Out
I'm not the Mom who calls the doctor after hours. It's just not my thing. I'm a natural worrier, but I work really hard at not freaking out. Okay, I am freaking out.
This afternoon Billy started doing this thing with his eyes. He tracks them over to one side- so far that all I can see are the whites and then shakes his head and looks at me. Then he carries on with whatever he's doing. I've seen him do it before, usually when eating, and very rarely. He's always fine right after so I never bothered to worry before. But he did it all afternoon.
Have you ever stared into your baby's eyes and seen only the whites?
He's fine otherwise. But he's freaking me out. And I relented and called the doctor. I've only ever called the doctor once before after hours and that resulted in a trip to the hospital. You can read all about it in my post A Trip To The Hospital. I waited until after he went to bed. No use freaking him out over nothing- if it is nothing.
The doctor thinks it's probably nothing. At least, not worth a trip to the ER today. I have to try to get video of the behavior to show her, which she would then show to a neurologist if necessary. But she said not to worry. It's probably him trying to purposely freak me out. Awesome. But don't worry.
So I've checked on him every hour because I'm worried. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?
This afternoon Billy started doing this thing with his eyes. He tracks them over to one side- so far that all I can see are the whites and then shakes his head and looks at me. Then he carries on with whatever he's doing. I've seen him do it before, usually when eating, and very rarely. He's always fine right after so I never bothered to worry before. But he did it all afternoon.
Have you ever stared into your baby's eyes and seen only the whites?
He's fine otherwise. But he's freaking me out. And I relented and called the doctor. I've only ever called the doctor once before after hours and that resulted in a trip to the hospital. You can read all about it in my post A Trip To The Hospital. I waited until after he went to bed. No use freaking him out over nothing- if it is nothing.
The doctor thinks it's probably nothing. At least, not worth a trip to the ER today. I have to try to get video of the behavior to show her, which she would then show to a neurologist if necessary. But she said not to worry. It's probably him trying to purposely freak me out. Awesome. But don't worry.
So I've checked on him every hour because I'm worried. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?
Sunday, April 22, 2012
April 22, 2012 ~ This Weekend in Photos
I will give ten points to the commentor that tells the best story based on the photos. The points don't actually count for anything, except awesomeness. :)
And yes, he's wearing Caps gear. For Daddy...Go Caps!
The Sunday Post ~ Little Tykes Swing Review
Last year around this time I purchased the Little Tykes 2-1 Swing. Same as the one on this link:
http://www.amazon.com/Little-Tikes-Snug-Secure-Swing/dp/B001G92I04
This is, by far, one of my son's favorite toys. We have it tied into a tree in our back yard. It's a go-to toy for outside play. And this from a kid that hated his baby swing.
Here's why we love it:
~ Easy to clean: We let it live outside all summer long. Besides catching leaves on the seat it stays clean. And because it's plastic, I can just wipe it down and it's ready to go.
~ Easy to attach harness: Seriously, one of the things I hate most about all of the child safety gear are the harnesses. And kiddo doesn't like them either. Some are better than others. This one is a cinch to use and he's snugly in the swing without issue. He even helps, which is great.
~ Well made: We left it outside all spring, summer and fall and it's not discolored and the ropes are in perfect shape. After a cleaning it looked just as it did right out of the box, even after 8 months outside. That's pretty durable.
~ It's a swing...what's not to love?
Ok, seriously, here are some of the downsides:
If you leave it outside, like we do, it catches leaves and other tree debris. It also fills with rainwater to make a nice leaf soup. It can get pretty gross. It's still easy to clean, but when you head out to swing, a toddler doesn't want to wait to wash it down and let it dry. I'm going out on a limb here and say that's going to be a typical problem with a bucket seat. Also, it only comes with the swing and no other hardware for hanging it, which has led Daddy to create some interesting knot arrangements in our tree with a piece of rope. I wish it did come with a hanging pack.
Our son really loves this swing. He spent the afternoon in it, giggling on every upswing. As far as toys go, this one definitely gets a two-thumbs-way-up from me.
http://www.amazon.com/Little-Tikes-Snug-Secure-Swing/dp/B001G92I04
This is, by far, one of my son's favorite toys. We have it tied into a tree in our back yard. It's a go-to toy for outside play. And this from a kid that hated his baby swing.
Here's why we love it:
~ Easy to clean: We let it live outside all summer long. Besides catching leaves on the seat it stays clean. And because it's plastic, I can just wipe it down and it's ready to go.
~ Easy to attach harness: Seriously, one of the things I hate most about all of the child safety gear are the harnesses. And kiddo doesn't like them either. Some are better than others. This one is a cinch to use and he's snugly in the swing without issue. He even helps, which is great.
~ Well made: We left it outside all spring, summer and fall and it's not discolored and the ropes are in perfect shape. After a cleaning it looked just as it did right out of the box, even after 8 months outside. That's pretty durable.
~ It's a swing...what's not to love?
Ok, seriously, here are some of the downsides:
If you leave it outside, like we do, it catches leaves and other tree debris. It also fills with rainwater to make a nice leaf soup. It can get pretty gross. It's still easy to clean, but when you head out to swing, a toddler doesn't want to wait to wash it down and let it dry. I'm going out on a limb here and say that's going to be a typical problem with a bucket seat. Also, it only comes with the swing and no other hardware for hanging it, which has led Daddy to create some interesting knot arrangements in our tree with a piece of rope. I wish it did come with a hanging pack.
Our son really loves this swing. He spent the afternoon in it, giggling on every upswing. As far as toys go, this one definitely gets a two-thumbs-way-up from me.
Friday, April 20, 2012
April 20, 2012 ~ Chasing Shadows
This evening Daddy set out to make a mockery of knot tying by rehaning the baby swing in the tree. I had asked him to do it so that the swing was more secure... I was just expecting the boy scout in him to have a better rig. But anyway, as soon as he was done and wanted Billy to try it out, Billy lost interest and ran out to the front yard.
I thought he wanted to see the BeepBeeps. Nope. Those are boring today. Let's chase shadows! He ran down the sidewalk screaming "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!" after his own shadow. When he was done he turned around and ran back the other way. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!" Down the hill. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!" Around the bend. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Back up the hill. "Aaaaaa..." Oh, wait. Mommy pick me up, running up the hill sucks.
Yeah, right. Running up the hill is no problem at all. I can do it barefoot with a 25 pound weight strapped to me. And I did.
The moral of the story? Don't chase your shadow if you can't run back up the hill. :P
I thought he wanted to see the BeepBeeps. Nope. Those are boring today. Let's chase shadows! He ran down the sidewalk screaming "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!" after his own shadow. When he was done he turned around and ran back the other way. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!" Down the hill. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!" Around the bend. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Back up the hill. "Aaaaaa..." Oh, wait. Mommy pick me up, running up the hill sucks.
Yeah, right. Running up the hill is no problem at all. I can do it barefoot with a 25 pound weight strapped to me. And I did.
The moral of the story? Don't chase your shadow if you can't run back up the hill. :P
Thursday, April 19, 2012
April 19, 2012 ~ Prehistoric Baby
How is it possible that men are born like cavemen? Is it really ingrained? Even Daddy for all of his education and worldliness has a man cave where he goes to do battle with computerized foes. Are we just cave people walking around in suits and heels?
So there I am this morning dropping Billy off at daycare. It's the usual toddler chaos. Here I think that he's going to play with the BeepBeeps on the floor. Instead he runs over to a cute little girl on the other side of the room. She's just standing there. Now, in my head I see this going down: he runs up, does the cute little foot shuffle and then maybe offers a toy or says "hay-yo!" It would be so cute, wouldn't it?
So what does Billy do?
He runs over to that cute little girl in her pigtails and punches her right in the chest. She just stands there deciding whether or not to cry. I, or course, run over and scold him. Seriously? Seriously. So, then I tell him to go over and apologize. So he runs up and gives her a big hug. I'm pretty sure he engineered the whole event just to get to the hugging part.
And here I am imagining Billy's ancestor 40,000 years ago wandering through the woods of Europe. Ooh, he spots a cave woman walking along in her very sexy ill-fitting animal skins. He walk up to her. "You pretty. Me like you." Crash! He whacks her over the head and then drags her off to his favorite cave to make him mammoth stew and raise his brood of cave babies.
We all knew that kid on the playground that would pull a girl's hair to get her attention. I was just hoping that wasn't MY kid.
So there I am this morning dropping Billy off at daycare. It's the usual toddler chaos. Here I think that he's going to play with the BeepBeeps on the floor. Instead he runs over to a cute little girl on the other side of the room. She's just standing there. Now, in my head I see this going down: he runs up, does the cute little foot shuffle and then maybe offers a toy or says "hay-yo!" It would be so cute, wouldn't it?
So what does Billy do?
He runs over to that cute little girl in her pigtails and punches her right in the chest. She just stands there deciding whether or not to cry. I, or course, run over and scold him. Seriously? Seriously. So, then I tell him to go over and apologize. So he runs up and gives her a big hug. I'm pretty sure he engineered the whole event just to get to the hugging part.
And here I am imagining Billy's ancestor 40,000 years ago wandering through the woods of Europe. Ooh, he spots a cave woman walking along in her very sexy ill-fitting animal skins. He walk up to her. "You pretty. Me like you." Crash! He whacks her over the head and then drags her off to his favorite cave to make him mammoth stew and raise his brood of cave babies.
We all knew that kid on the playground that would pull a girl's hair to get her attention. I was just hoping that wasn't MY kid.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Book Reviews
I'm an avid reader. I usually read a book a week, even with a toddler. Before Billy I usually read two.
So, I'll be leaving my comments over on the discussion board after I finish each book. Sorry, I don't often get to the NYT list books that are current. I read everything from modern mysteries to historical romance.
I just posted my thoughts on Wicked. Stay tuned for more posts on the Hunger Games Trilogy, Don't Let's Go To the Dogs Tonight, We Bought A Zoo, Water For Elephants, Sarah's Key and the other dozen or so books I've read this year.
My comments are on the discussion board, located here:
discussion board
So, I'll be leaving my comments over on the discussion board after I finish each book. Sorry, I don't often get to the NYT list books that are current. I read everything from modern mysteries to historical romance.
I just posted my thoughts on Wicked. Stay tuned for more posts on the Hunger Games Trilogy, Don't Let's Go To the Dogs Tonight, We Bought A Zoo, Water For Elephants, Sarah's Key and the other dozen or so books I've read this year.
My comments are on the discussion board, located here:
discussion board
April 17, 2012 ~ Baby's got a new pair of shoes
Yep. New shoes. Sorry, no pics yet.
Inevitably, Billy has changed size again. This time he changed shoe size, clothing size and diaper size all at once. It's a cornucopia of new things around here. Like the new outfit from yesterday (see yesterday's post).
I swear, every time I turn around the kid has outgrown something. I'm always ripping clothes off of him because they are too small, even though they fit yesterday before I washed them and the zillion times before that. And of course, once it's ripped off and tossed into the "Don't Fit" pile (read: entire floor of his closet) he starts screaming and running around madly wanting to put the too tight clothes back on. Sometimes, he wins and goes to school with his belly hanging out like he's nine months preggo. Then I wash them and hide them before he freaks out again.
So today we introduced new shoes. These are shoes to make Pierce S. proud. (If you don't know who that is, then you're not my cousin.) Red plaid with navy blue accents. I can't describe men's shoes. So I'm probably making them sound crappy when they're super cute.
Anyways, he wanted to go "oush-shide" and was carrying around his old shoes. I had his socks. I broke open the new box of shoes. Ooooooooooooooooooooh! Quickly he chucks his old shoes over his shoulder. So yesterday. We sit down and I put them on. More oooooooooooooooohs! Immediately, he has to try them out.
Smack. Smack. Smack. I have a vision of a clown stomping. They're so big. He's so small! (In a not-so-much-anymore kind of way).
Ok, imagine you're one. You've got new shoes. What do you do? Clearly, the first thing to do is smack smack over to your old shoes and... stomp on them! Take that, too small shoes! Ha! And that! "Ok, Billy, enough shoe carnage." Wait, they're still twitching. A few more stomps for good measure. Alright, got 'em!
And now the question for the day: put those old shoes (now dead and mangled thanks to a thorough toddlering) in the "Don't Fit" pile or in the trash pile. Hmm.
Oh yeah, and when I tried to take the shoes off at the end of the day? Massive tantrum. Tears. "Noooooooooooooooo! Shoooooooooooooooes! Miiine!"
I think he likes them. Glass slipper? ruby slippers? Nope. Plaid shoes.
Inevitably, Billy has changed size again. This time he changed shoe size, clothing size and diaper size all at once. It's a cornucopia of new things around here. Like the new outfit from yesterday (see yesterday's post).
I swear, every time I turn around the kid has outgrown something. I'm always ripping clothes off of him because they are too small, even though they fit yesterday before I washed them and the zillion times before that. And of course, once it's ripped off and tossed into the "Don't Fit" pile (read: entire floor of his closet) he starts screaming and running around madly wanting to put the too tight clothes back on. Sometimes, he wins and goes to school with his belly hanging out like he's nine months preggo. Then I wash them and hide them before he freaks out again.
So today we introduced new shoes. These are shoes to make Pierce S. proud. (If you don't know who that is, then you're not my cousin.) Red plaid with navy blue accents. I can't describe men's shoes. So I'm probably making them sound crappy when they're super cute.
Anyways, he wanted to go "oush-shide" and was carrying around his old shoes. I had his socks. I broke open the new box of shoes. Ooooooooooooooooooooh! Quickly he chucks his old shoes over his shoulder. So yesterday. We sit down and I put them on. More oooooooooooooooohs! Immediately, he has to try them out.
Smack. Smack. Smack. I have a vision of a clown stomping. They're so big. He's so small! (In a not-so-much-anymore kind of way).
Ok, imagine you're one. You've got new shoes. What do you do? Clearly, the first thing to do is smack smack over to your old shoes and... stomp on them! Take that, too small shoes! Ha! And that! "Ok, Billy, enough shoe carnage." Wait, they're still twitching. A few more stomps for good measure. Alright, got 'em!
And now the question for the day: put those old shoes (now dead and mangled thanks to a thorough toddlering) in the "Don't Fit" pile or in the trash pile. Hmm.
Oh yeah, and when I tried to take the shoes off at the end of the day? Massive tantrum. Tears. "Noooooooooooooooo! Shoooooooooooooooes! Miiine!"
I think he likes them. Glass slipper? ruby slippers? Nope. Plaid shoes.
April 16, 2012 ~ Going Carters Cute
First off, a big super duper thank you with an extra dose of awesomeness to Grandma. She rocks. It's true.
So, I've been trudging through the wilderness of baby clothes for about a year and a half now, trying to make sense of it all. Every company seems to have different sizes. Styles are completely different. Some clothes are for long babies, some for fat babies, some for short babies. I mean, seriously, what DOES 0-6 months mean? Zero, that oh-so-cute-I'm-a-week-old-and weigh-7-pounds. Versus 6 months old, which could mean 15-20 pounds. The best I've seen is the 0-12 month size. I think they just couldn't figure out what size baby would fit into that and shot for the moon. I'm going to go out on a limb here- clothes for a newborn aren't going to fit a one-year-old. At least, in my world. Maybe baby clothes manufacturers live in a different reality.
So, here's my plug for my favorite brand. They have always fit Billy in the age range suggested (when you know how to read it aka 3months= 0-3 months). Are super cute. And while pricey sometimes, I'm always able to come up with a bargain. Let's face it: Billy looks cutest in Carters. Oh, and I'm not being paid to say it either.
So, I've been trudging through the wilderness of baby clothes for about a year and a half now, trying to make sense of it all. Every company seems to have different sizes. Styles are completely different. Some clothes are for long babies, some for fat babies, some for short babies. I mean, seriously, what DOES 0-6 months mean? Zero, that oh-so-cute-I'm-a-week-old-and weigh-7-pounds. Versus 6 months old, which could mean 15-20 pounds. The best I've seen is the 0-12 month size. I think they just couldn't figure out what size baby would fit into that and shot for the moon. I'm going to go out on a limb here- clothes for a newborn aren't going to fit a one-year-old. At least, in my world. Maybe baby clothes manufacturers live in a different reality.
So, here's my plug for my favorite brand. They have always fit Billy in the age range suggested (when you know how to read it aka 3months= 0-3 months). Are super cute. And while pricey sometimes, I'm always able to come up with a bargain. Let's face it: Billy looks cutest in Carters. Oh, and I'm not being paid to say it either.
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| Mommy's little fan |
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| Cutest. Hat. Ever. |
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| My favorite onsie of all time. |
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| 28, as in the year he'll graduate high school... |
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| Love this dinosaur shirt. And who doesn't love plaid pants? |
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| Rockin the Carters |
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| today |
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| today |
Now, we've had plenty of other cute clothes from other companies. But after the cuteness of today's new outfit, you have to admit, sometimes it's worth going Carters cute.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
April 15, 2012 ~ When Billy goes missing...
Every weekend Daddy and I take turns on who gets to sleep in. This morning was my turn. Since Billy will usually break down the door to get to me, Daddy decided to take him out for breakfast around 9:30. Awesome, I get quiet and I get to sleep in. What more can a girl want?
I got up, made myself some french toast and coffee and ate breakfast out on the porch with my book. It was warm, there was a nice breeze and I was uninterrupted. I was apparently sitting still enough that I got to see a badger wander through the yard (Buddy, you're a terrible guard dog!) and a red-headed woodpecker was only a few feet from me (don't peck on my house, you gorgeous bird!) It was a lovely morning.
But, I really can't sit still all that long. I opened up all of the windows, cranked the stereo and started cleaning the house from top to bottom. It's hard to clean with a Billy around- takes twice as long- but I was cranking through the chores. Even got two loads of laundry done.
By now it was Billy's naptime. "Huh...where are my guys?" I thought. But Daddy isn't good with time and is probably out running an errand or looking at tools in the hardware store and not watching the clock. "No biggie." I clean until I'm tired of cleaning. I still need to vacuum, but if Daddy comes in with a sleepy Billy I don't want the noise to jar him awake (and it's happened before). Besides, it's a great excuse to avoid vacuuming. Again.
So I grab my book and go back out to the porch to read more. By now I'm watching the clock. Still no boys. So I call Daddy. No answer. So, I read more, wait a half hour and call again. No answer.
Ok, so now we're overdue for a nap by an hour and a half. So, I start checking around. The big diaper bag is still here. Both strollers? Still here. The trike aka the Green Piece of Awesome? Still here. That's one awfully long breakfast. So I call again. Still no answer.
A cornucopia of emotions and thoughts run through my head as two hours past naptime approaches. Is Daddy a big dork who doesn't have his phone on him? I might have thought something stronger than "dork", but let's keep it classy. Are they ok? What the hell are they doing? Has my baby had a diaper change or slept? Are they in a ditch? Kidnapped by men wearing blue gloves from the Alliance? Ok, probably not that last part.
We had plans for this afternoon, so there's no way Daddy would want to miss out- those were his plans. Where is he? Where is Billy? Why won't they/can't they/don't they answer? I call again. Still nothing.
So, I do the only thing that a grown woman can think to do when her husband and son went out for breakfast and it's nearing dinner. I called my Mom. Grandma talked me off the ledge and then called up Daddy herself. He answered immediately. Grandma never calls him, so if she's calling he picks up.
After breakfast Daddy took Billy to the camping store where he had some money to spend there (only usable at that store). He saw a hiking harness for a baby, thought it was cool and bought it. Then he decided to try it out. So they went hiking. And he got lost on the trail. In the woods. Out of cell phone range. Grandma called when they had just made it back to the car, which was in cell phone range.
So, as it turns out, Daddy is a big dork. Again, I might have used some stronger vocabulary, but I think I just won't mention that string of niceties here. He was stunned that I was worried.
"I thought I'd give you the day off," he said.
"Without telling me? We had plans. How about a phone call. I was worried. It's late."
"What, did you think I ran off with our kid?"
"No, your iPad is still here."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
And we're back to that big dork. It's a good thing he's cute.
So, we did get to our plans later today. Billy got to try fresh squeezed lemonade. His thoughts? "Yummy!" His exact word. And at dinner he also bit me and drew blood during a tantrum.
All in all, a stellar day. But, hey... at least the hives are finally gone!
I got up, made myself some french toast and coffee and ate breakfast out on the porch with my book. It was warm, there was a nice breeze and I was uninterrupted. I was apparently sitting still enough that I got to see a badger wander through the yard (Buddy, you're a terrible guard dog!) and a red-headed woodpecker was only a few feet from me (don't peck on my house, you gorgeous bird!) It was a lovely morning.
But, I really can't sit still all that long. I opened up all of the windows, cranked the stereo and started cleaning the house from top to bottom. It's hard to clean with a Billy around- takes twice as long- but I was cranking through the chores. Even got two loads of laundry done.
By now it was Billy's naptime. "Huh...where are my guys?" I thought. But Daddy isn't good with time and is probably out running an errand or looking at tools in the hardware store and not watching the clock. "No biggie." I clean until I'm tired of cleaning. I still need to vacuum, but if Daddy comes in with a sleepy Billy I don't want the noise to jar him awake (and it's happened before). Besides, it's a great excuse to avoid vacuuming. Again.
So I grab my book and go back out to the porch to read more. By now I'm watching the clock. Still no boys. So I call Daddy. No answer. So, I read more, wait a half hour and call again. No answer.
Ok, so now we're overdue for a nap by an hour and a half. So, I start checking around. The big diaper bag is still here. Both strollers? Still here. The trike aka the Green Piece of Awesome? Still here. That's one awfully long breakfast. So I call again. Still no answer.
A cornucopia of emotions and thoughts run through my head as two hours past naptime approaches. Is Daddy a big dork who doesn't have his phone on him? I might have thought something stronger than "dork", but let's keep it classy. Are they ok? What the hell are they doing? Has my baby had a diaper change or slept? Are they in a ditch? Kidnapped by men wearing blue gloves from the Alliance? Ok, probably not that last part.
We had plans for this afternoon, so there's no way Daddy would want to miss out- those were his plans. Where is he? Where is Billy? Why won't they/can't they/don't they answer? I call again. Still nothing.
So, I do the only thing that a grown woman can think to do when her husband and son went out for breakfast and it's nearing dinner. I called my Mom. Grandma talked me off the ledge and then called up Daddy herself. He answered immediately. Grandma never calls him, so if she's calling he picks up.
After breakfast Daddy took Billy to the camping store where he had some money to spend there (only usable at that store). He saw a hiking harness for a baby, thought it was cool and bought it. Then he decided to try it out. So they went hiking. And he got lost on the trail. In the woods. Out of cell phone range. Grandma called when they had just made it back to the car, which was in cell phone range.
So, as it turns out, Daddy is a big dork. Again, I might have used some stronger vocabulary, but I think I just won't mention that string of niceties here. He was stunned that I was worried.
"I thought I'd give you the day off," he said.
"Without telling me? We had plans. How about a phone call. I was worried. It's late."
"What, did you think I ran off with our kid?"
"No, your iPad is still here."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
And we're back to that big dork. It's a good thing he's cute.
So, we did get to our plans later today. Billy got to try fresh squeezed lemonade. His thoughts? "Yummy!" His exact word. And at dinner he also bit me and drew blood during a tantrum.
All in all, a stellar day. But, hey... at least the hives are finally gone!
Saturday, April 14, 2012
The Sunday Post ~ Easter Grass, My Ass
I can only imagine that the person who invented those colorful strands of cellophane for Easter basket bottoms must be a man. Maybe it was a woman, but I'm going with a guy. My husband always tells me when I'm irked about something to write an angry letter. (This hot and humid weather really sucks. So write an angry letter!)
Mr. Inventor of plastic Easter grass, here's my letter:
I am not a fan. Sure, that plastic grass that cost only a buck looks nice at the bottom of my son's Easter basket. If only it would stay at the bottom of my son's Easter basket. No, I'm pretty sure it's breeding. Little plastic strands hiding under the sofa, disappearing into the patterns of the rugs and sticking to the undersides of stuffed animals. Your grass is so light that it wafts through the house with the greatest of ease. But the real insipidness of it is the material itself. The plastic clings to everything- almost like it's made out of cling wrap. You didn't make it out of cling wrap did you? Easter was a week ago and those clingy little strands of Easter refuse are still turning up like a bad penny. I'm not amused.
Sincerely,
Easter grass, my ass... it's Easter trash
Mr. Inventor of plastic Easter grass, here's my letter:
I am not a fan. Sure, that plastic grass that cost only a buck looks nice at the bottom of my son's Easter basket. If only it would stay at the bottom of my son's Easter basket. No, I'm pretty sure it's breeding. Little plastic strands hiding under the sofa, disappearing into the patterns of the rugs and sticking to the undersides of stuffed animals. Your grass is so light that it wafts through the house with the greatest of ease. But the real insipidness of it is the material itself. The plastic clings to everything- almost like it's made out of cling wrap. You didn't make it out of cling wrap did you? Easter was a week ago and those clingy little strands of Easter refuse are still turning up like a bad penny. I'm not amused.
Sincerely,
Easter grass, my ass... it's Easter trash
April 13, 2012 ~ Lucky Friday the 13th
I guess most people consider Friday the 13th to be an unlucky day. There's some historical context to the date, but not much to the superstition. How much bad has really happened to you on a Friday the 13th?
It's a lucky day for me.
Grandma was born on a Friday the 13th. That's lucky for me, because without her, there's no me.
I had my first date with my now husband on Friday the 13th and he proposed to me on a subsequent Friday the 13th... Foreboding? Well, we have a Billy and an upcoming anniversary. Definitely lucky days for me.
So today? Just a normal day. We played outside.
And Grandma dropped by and Daddy came home early. Those were certainly pleasant events- nothing unlucky there. We had a good day all around.
The funniest thing to happen today was that Billy pointed at Grandma, "Baba! Baba!" Then he ran over to her and tried to lift up her shirt. He wanted to see her belly button. (baba, or more usually bell-ba). Yep, Grandma's got one too.
So, Happy Friday the 13th. Hope it was a lucky one for you!
It's a lucky day for me.
Grandma was born on a Friday the 13th. That's lucky for me, because without her, there's no me.
I had my first date with my now husband on Friday the 13th and he proposed to me on a subsequent Friday the 13th... Foreboding? Well, we have a Billy and an upcoming anniversary. Definitely lucky days for me.
So today? Just a normal day. We played outside.
And Grandma dropped by and Daddy came home early. Those were certainly pleasant events- nothing unlucky there. We had a good day all around.
The funniest thing to happen today was that Billy pointed at Grandma, "Baba! Baba!" Then he ran over to her and tried to lift up her shirt. He wanted to see her belly button. (baba, or more usually bell-ba). Yep, Grandma's got one too.
So, Happy Friday the 13th. Hope it was a lucky one for you!
Thursday, April 12, 2012
April 12, 2012 ~ Budball: the newest, hottest game... Coooooool!
Billy and Buddy have invented a new game, sure to be a smash hit (to them)!
Requirements:
~ Two teams and one ref. One team is comprised of a toddler. The other team is of the canine persuasion.
~ Two tennis balls
~ An obstacle course, and if you don't have on in your house, then a room like an obstacle course, with say... a sofa and toys everywhere
How It Works:
The ref randomly throws both balls up into the air and out towards the obstacle course. The two teams chase after the balls. Once a team gets a ball, they may chase after the second ball. A team can steal an already caught ball from the other team. If one team doesn't have a ball and becomes sad about it, the other team must automatically give up a ball. Once the balls are caught and the chasing ends, the balls are returned to the ref to begin a new round. Sometimes, the ref needs to chase down one or both teams to retrieve the balls.
The result of this game is a hilarity of flying fur, bouncing balls and a giggling Billy.
Requirements:
~ Two teams and one ref. One team is comprised of a toddler. The other team is of the canine persuasion.
~ Two tennis balls
~ An obstacle course, and if you don't have on in your house, then a room like an obstacle course, with say... a sofa and toys everywhere
How It Works:
The ref randomly throws both balls up into the air and out towards the obstacle course. The two teams chase after the balls. Once a team gets a ball, they may chase after the second ball. A team can steal an already caught ball from the other team. If one team doesn't have a ball and becomes sad about it, the other team must automatically give up a ball. Once the balls are caught and the chasing ends, the balls are returned to the ref to begin a new round. Sometimes, the ref needs to chase down one or both teams to retrieve the balls.
The result of this game is a hilarity of flying fur, bouncing balls and a giggling Billy.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
April 10, 2012 ~ Watching the News
Today Billy wanted to color so he was sitting at the coffee table with his crayons (crow-yos). On the news they were talking about the issues in Syria and Turkey. Images of tanks on dusty terrain came up. He jumped up and ran over to the tv, "beepbeep! beepbeep!" But then they suddenly showed images of men shooting off guns.
"No. No. Billy. Uh, oh. No. No." I said to him.
He came over and sat down at the coffee table and watched intently. It seemed he realized the gravity of what he was watching. "No, no," he whispered to himself.
Then they showed a photo of the leader of Syria and began talking about his negative points regarding the ongoing strife in the region.
"That is a naughty man. No, no. Ok?"
"Mommy. No, no."
Then there were more war images and he continued to rant, "no, no!"
(Score 1 for the mom team. We're working on the violence=bad thing. It's a little to hard to explain to a toddler the economic, social and political motivations to war. But at least he now believes violence is a real "no, no!")
Next the news started talking about the East Coast wild fires.
"Oooh.... hot!" he yelled at the tv.
"Uh, oh. Hot! No, no." I said.
"Hot! No, no, " he repeated.
Then he got really emphatic with each new image of the fires. "Mommy, no, no!" his voice cracking a little.
"Ooooh! Beepbeep!" Yeah ok, on to the pictures of fire trucks. All things with wheels are beepbeeps, and all beepbeeps are cool.
Then a commercial came on.
"Mommy, hot!"
"No. Not hot." I don't remember what it was for. Could have been denture paste or toilet bowl cleaner. Something mundane, anyway.
"Mommy, hot! Coooooooooooooooooool." He said it with swagger.
Look out folks. We're in trouble now.
"No. No. Billy. Uh, oh. No. No." I said to him.
He came over and sat down at the coffee table and watched intently. It seemed he realized the gravity of what he was watching. "No, no," he whispered to himself.
Then they showed a photo of the leader of Syria and began talking about his negative points regarding the ongoing strife in the region.
"That is a naughty man. No, no. Ok?"
"Mommy. No, no."
Then there were more war images and he continued to rant, "no, no!"
(Score 1 for the mom team. We're working on the violence=bad thing. It's a little to hard to explain to a toddler the economic, social and political motivations to war. But at least he now believes violence is a real "no, no!")
Next the news started talking about the East Coast wild fires.
"Oooh.... hot!" he yelled at the tv.
"Uh, oh. Hot! No, no." I said.
"Hot! No, no, " he repeated.
Then he got really emphatic with each new image of the fires. "Mommy, no, no!" his voice cracking a little.
"Ooooh! Beepbeep!" Yeah ok, on to the pictures of fire trucks. All things with wheels are beepbeeps, and all beepbeeps are cool.
Then a commercial came on.
"Mommy, hot!"
"No. Not hot." I don't remember what it was for. Could have been denture paste or toilet bowl cleaner. Something mundane, anyway.
"Mommy, hot! Coooooooooooooooooool." He said it with swagger.
Look out folks. We're in trouble now.
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