Riddle me this...Who the hell makes a pill that floats?  I have a sinus infection and finally got some antibiotics to combat the evil going on in my face.  But this antibiotics are super light.  And the float.  So when you put them in your mouth with water, they just bob around in there like a little antibiotic float toy.  And then when you swallow, it stays on top of the water and doesn't let said water do it's job of flushing it down your throat.  In fact it rides on top of the water sticking to your throat the whole way down.  So now I have a sinus infection and I feel like I have a pill stuck in my throat.

Happy Birthday to me!

Mall Rats

Alex's aunt and uncle from Platteville were in Madison last night doing some shopping.  Platteville's a cute town, but if you  need to any shopping that doesn't involve Wal-Mart you are shit outta luck.  So they either go to Dubuque (barf) or Madison (YAY!).  I happened to be talking to his aunt before they left and really maturely just kept yelling Madison!Madison!Madison! until she agreed they would come here so we could meet them.  Gee...I wonder where Alex gets his mad negotiation skills from?

As we are pulling out of the garage, Alex excitedly yells from the back seat, "Look Mom!  It's a banana moon!  The moon is a banana!"  If you try to tell me that isn't the cutest description of a crescent moon you have ever heard, check your pulse, you're dead inside.

We got to the mall first so we headed in to JCPenney's to hopefully exchange Travis's new wedding ring.  Why does he need a new wedding band?  Because he didn't listen to his super smart wife that is always right and he didn't get it sized after he lost 50lbs, 'cause, ya know, why would you get a ring sized that falls off your finger when your hand is hanging at your side.  Aaaand he lost it.  And I didn't loose it.  I simply gave him an I Told You So shrug and left it at that.  And then I didn't like him not wearing his ring.  And he didn't like not wearing his ring.  And he whined about it a lot.  So I surprised him with a new one.  Buuuut in total winning at life fashion, I bought the wrong size.  Lucky for us, last night they had the right size! 

We headed upstairs after that.  Up the escalator.  And then we went down the escalator.  And back up and back down.  And then his aunt and uncle got to go up and down the escalator.  That kid loves him some moving stairs.  His aunt and I were going to a girly store, so the boys went to the sports store.  We found them when we were done...in the sports store...going up and down the escalator.

For every journey on the stairs, Alex had his trademark look of determination.  Eyes focused, feet planted, tongue sticking out to the side of his mouth.

Presents part Deux

Our second Christmas morning was immediately following the first, but at my parents' house.  With waaay  more people.  15 people to be exact.  3 of which are under the age of 4.  It was a little nutty.  In years past when we didn't have little present maniacs ruling the family, our gift opening was known to take up to three hours.  This year...I think it was about 45 minutes.

About 15 minutes in, Alex was getting a little overwhelmed.  My mom could see him starting to lose it, so she swooped in with the present of all presents.  A vacuum.  I have been waiting for this present for so long.  This kid loooooooves to vacuum.  Almost every day he asks to vacuum at home.  Usually he is cool with just using the regular vacuum which is loud enough, but some days he want to use the shop vac like he used to.  And he wants to use it for an extended period time.  And I am quickly reminded how much I hated it when he wanted to use it every single day and I want to pull my hair out while shoving giant earplugs in my head.  But I digress.

So, he opens the vacuum and immediately turns it on and leaves the room.  He went down the hall and started vacuumming one of the back bedrooms.  He was done with us and our silly presents.  He had work to do.

The other presents topping the list were a Shake and Go Mater and some Cars stickers.  The Mater is constantly zooming around our living room and I got to go to the zoo with a pocket full of Cars stickers on Monday.  Livin' the dream baby.

Besties

We had two Christmas mornings this year.  Due to the lack of space at the Zinniel Inn, Travis, Alex and I stayed at my sister's house.  So we had our first Christmas morning at her house.  Her kids woke up around 5:30 to open presents.  Alex was right there awake with them, but not out of excitement.  He was awake because he was sleeping with Travis and I.  And although he can still easily fit in his crib, a queen size bed was not providing nearly enough room for him to sprawl while sharing it with us.  This lack of space was demonstrated by his feet being jammed into my chest, stomach and face at various points throughout the night.  So, we were all up at 5:30 ready to tear into some presents.

In the middle of opening presents, Alex looked at his cousin and said, "Abby, you my best friend."  And she wasn't even currently en route with a present!  I was juuuuust about brought to tears.  I didn't even realize he knew what that meant, much less have a best friend in mind.

Travis then reminded me of the scene in Cars where Mater tells Lightning he is his best friend.  Which at first kinda took away some of the sentiment of the moment for me.  But now that I think about it, it makes it that much better.  That kid knows that movie inside and out, forward and back.  And he is very versed in the relationship between Mater and Lightning.  He gets what friendship means.  And he decided his cousin is his best friend...even before she took him for his first horse back ride.  I'm guessin' that only solidified his choice.

Sure footed

While we were home, my nephew that is 3 months younger than Alex needed to borrow a pair of pants and some socks.  Since we had already borrowed 2 diapers from him, I thought it only fair to let him use Alex's clothes.  Granted I wanted the clothes returned...and not in the state the diapers were when Alex was done with them.

Any way, on went the pants and socks.  And my nephew immediately told my sister that the socks were not good.  That would be because they are big enough to fit my child's fat ogre feet.  And my nephew's normal child sized feet were left uncomfortably wearing the baggy socks of his ogre footed cousin.

Pretty sure this can't be explained away by the age difference.

Thanks Santa!

So the only benefit of this over week long stomach bug/cold thing I have goin' on...losin' weight baby!  I really don't have to much of an appetite, but when I do I am only eating a normal size portion.  It's like magic!  Currently at -27lbs.  I will take that little Christmas present and run with it.

Also, I have committed to running a half-marathon. And just recently talked the girls running I am running with into doing a different race.  A race later than March 3rd.  Because if we did the March 3rd one, we would have to start training on Monday.  The day after Christmas.  The Monday that is in like 4 days.  And frankly that scares the shit out of me.  So, we're are going to do the practical and sensible thing...procrastinate!  Yay!

I am really excited about it though.  I think it is going to be a huge challenge and it is something I have wanted to do for quite some time.  But wowsers, it is intimidating.  I have only run one "race" and that was only an 8K. This one will be 13.1 MILES.  Yeeeeaaaahhh.  Scary.

Winter WonderYUCK

We have had one night of snow so far.  And that only produced about an inch.  Which is almost all gone already.  So everything is brown and boring and not Christmastastic.  This is the only time I want snow.  Just doesn't feel right without it.

Our new neighbor from California was very excited about the minimal snow we did get.  So excited in fact, he shoveled his sidewalk and half of ours.  When Travis thanked him, he said he was having so much fun shoveling for the first time, he just didn't want to stop.  Travis just responded with, Yeah...the first time pretty much uses up all the "fun" of it.

Alex was also very excited about the snow.  Mostly just walking around in it making tracks.  But then Travis introduced him to the devious side of snow.  There I was, innocently unloading the dishwasher while the boys were outside getting the grill ready.  Due to the location of the dishwasher, my back was to the door.  So, I didn't have the luxury of seeing the little brats when they came in.  Didn't look at them until I felt it.  A big ol' snowball exploding on my ass.  The eruption of laughter and high fives was a nice touch too.

Made my day

Alex woke up way too early this morning.  I went down to get him and more than happily suggested we lay down on the couch.  He was all about it and fell asleep within a couple minutes.  I snuggled with him for a bit, but eventually I had to get up and get ready for the day.  So, I gently slid my arm out from under him and tucked him in with his blankets.

When it was about time for him to wake up, I continued with my morning routine, but with less of a conscious effort to be moderately quiet.  But he slept on.  So I was surprised to hear him say something after I sneezed in the kitchen.  I couldn't hear what he said and he repeated it, but I still couldn't hear him so I went in the living room to find him with his blankets snuggled up under his chin and him looking up at me, smiling like a goofball.  I leaned over and asked him again what he said.  He snuggled in a little tighter, closed his eyes and said, "I said 'Bless you Mama.'"

Sweet Dreams

Last night as soon as we walked in the door, I found myself saying, "I cannot wait until 8pm when he goes to bed."  Not that he was being hard to deal with, but just because I wasn't quite over the stomach thing I had and I was tired and I just didn't have it in me to be a good parent.  All I wanted was my couch, my blanket and my eyes closed.

And I immediately felt guilty about that little wish.  Mostly because he was being really funny and sweet last night.  But also because that is a pretty selfish thing to wish for.  How selfish do you have to be to want your kid, who is managing to not piss you off at every turn, to just go to bed and leave you alooooooone.  I did quickly forgive myself for it though.  I am not SuperMom, but I am a pretty darn good mom in my opinion and even pretty darn good moms don't want to be moms all the freaking time.

And then I realized this whole thing was something I wanted to write down.  But I knew I would forget by the time I was sitting in front of my computer the next day.  So I grabbed our fancy new Samsung Galaxy tablet thingy, pulled up the ol' blog, and tried to jot down a few notes.  The following is the outcome:

wantIng hIm to go to bed...not beIng able to waIt untIl 8. feeling

I could not figure out why every time I typed the letter "i" it was capitalizing itself and asked Trav if he had any ideas.  Apparently this tablet thing is set up for "Swype" typing.  It's a fancy touch screen way of typing words and I suck at it so I don't use it.  I learned that when it is set that way and you don't use it, the letter "i" will always be capitalized.  Dumb.  Any way, all of this learning spurred an impromptu debate between Travis and I about using Swype.  And during said debate, Alex was jabbing his chubby little fingers at the screen of the tablet.  By the time I gave up defending my stance of using old school letter by letter typing, Alex had done something that disengaged the virtual keyboard entirely.  And try as I might, both with Swype and without, I could not get another word on my screen.

The whole time I was trying to figure out what my IT mastermind of a child had done, my ears were being beaten with a constant stream of, Whatdoingmamawhatdoingmamawhatdoingmama.  I couldn't help it and answered, Trying to figure out what the heck you did to my computer!

And from then on, I was blessed with a 2&1/2 year old saying, "The heck you doing!"...very excitedly...on repeat.  And it was only 6:45.

bleeeck

Being sick sucks.  Being sick with a 2&1/2 year old that likes to bounce on you and use you as a personal jungle gym really really sucks.  And going back to work while you still kinda feel like poo, also sucks.

But coming back to work and having every person you talk to tell you how happy they are that you are back...eases the suckage of being a sick a little bit.

Helper Elf

We put up our Christmas tree on Saturday.  I got the lights on after a horrible first attempt that would have resulted in a very bright top half of tree.  And when I plugged it in, Alex was suuuuper excited.  So I figured he would be excited about putting ornaments on the tree.  Which he was for a little bit.  This is as far as he got before he was done and wanted to build a fort.

Six, count 'em, 6 ornaments, all strategically placed in one elegant cluster...and then he gave up.

It's gonna be a fancy Christmas at the Julius house this year, no?

I just want enough time to write instead of working at this silly job that pays me money that my writing does not in fact do.  Is that too much for a girl to ask?

All I hear when I see this....Try it. I dare ya.

I laugh at your time-out

So, time outs aren't having the lasting effect I was hoping for.  They have proven useful for immediately stopping whatever horrendous behavior is happening, but so far the threat of a time out holds no power whatsoever.  So the old "Do you want to sit in a time out?"...nothin.  He even said yes once when I asked him.

I don't know if he really isn't getting the fact that actions have consequences, if he is testing me each time to see if I will really do it, or if he just straight up doesn't give a shit if he sits in a time out.  I truly don't think the first option is even a viable one, but I figure if I throw it in there, it leaves at least one option that doesn't include him being a jerk.

Since those are the cards on the table, I have changed the game.  Sooner or later I will find a game that I can win, right?  When the situation permits, instead of putting him in a time out, I take away whatever thing he is interested at that moment.  You don't want to stop swinging the vacuum cord over your head?  The vacuum is suddenly sleepy and needs to be put away.  You don't want to lay still so I can change your soaked diaper and clothes?  Cars is no longer a viewing option.  And, dude, I do not care at all  that you wanted to have the privilege of turning the tv off.  That option was gone the first time you landed your fat little foot in my stomach.  We shall see what kind of results this attack produces.

And just when I think I cannot possibly deal with him anymore, he does something like this...

This would be his newest "silly face".  He sits in the backseat of the car and says, "Mama, look at me!"  And when I turn around, this is the face he makes.  And then he laughs and laughs.

Sunshine and smiles

Nothing like starting your morning accidentally smacking the leg of your fit throwing toddler while trying to change his diaper and having him fa-reak out.  Lots of gasping for air in between sobs.  He did stop kicking me though...

Decisions

Alex is now actively not listening.  Super duper.  Sometimes he even looks me right in the eye and does whatever it is I have told him not to do.  So infuriating.  He is however quickly learning the definition of consequences.

Sunday evening, he was running around with a Push-Up Pop.  I had told him he could have it, but he had to sit with me while he ate it in an effort to save my parents' white living room carpet while simultaneously not missing the Packer game.  For a short time, he agreed to this arrangement.  And then the sugar hit his blood stream and he took off.  I went after him and told him twice if he didn't sit with me I was going to take the Push-Up away.  Both times he ran away even faster.  I would have only told him once before taking it away, but I couldn't catch the little jerk.  So, he got two warnings.  And then I caught him by the back of his shirt.  And I took the Push-Up and threw it in the garbage.  My walk to the garbage can was set to the "Alex Throwing a Giant Fit" soundtrack.  At which point, I explained to him that had he listened to the instructions I had given him, he would not be in this predicament.  His response?  "I want to listen now!"

Too late sucker.

Good night sweetheart

After we read stories, Alex usually asks me to sing him a song while I hold him, standing in front of his crib.  We have to stand there.  If I try to be lazy and sit with him for the singing portion of the evening, he is very quick to request a new venue.  I pretty much spoil him during pre-bed time, so standing at his crib is where it's at.

Last night, the song he requested?  The ABC's.  Awesome.  So I start singing.  I get to E, and he puts his little hand up and says, "Stop please Mama.  Sing like this..." And he starts singing the ABC's.  Pretty much exactly like I was.  There's not a ton of available variation or artist interpretation allowed with that one.  So I tried again.  Only to get the same response.  So, once more I tried to exactly mimic his singing.  This went on four times until I was laughing so hard I couldn't sing and he was shaking all over in arms because my whole body was shaking with laughter.

Tough crowd at the Julius house.

Lost & Found

We have been missing one of Alex's juice cups for about two weeks.  I found it this morning while retrieving his other juice cup from under the back seat of my car while simultaneously picking up the scattered cheerio/froot loop mix that had just moments before been spilled everywhere because my darling boy doesn't like the lid on his snacktrap that is there specifically to stop the snacks from spilling out.

Found:  a zillion pieces of cereal and 2 juice cups.

Still missing:  my sanity.

Fun with X-rays

So, the dry cough the beast had turned into a deep chest cough which turned into a visit to the doctor to make sure it is just a cold and nothing nastier is growing in his lungs.  The doctor listened to him breathe, poked around a bit and decided she didn't think it was anything bad, but wanted chest x-rays to be sure.

Chest x-rays.  Of a 2&1/2 year old.  This outta be good.

As soon as we got in the x-ray room, Alex very obviously knew something was up.  And all hell broke loose when I started to take his shirt off.  He was not cool with being in a weird room and not being completely clothed.  Luckily, they only had to take two x-rays and since I am not knocked up with a second coming of the beast child, I could stand with him which helped.  He was still upset, but at least I could keep him looking at me and, although he was crying, he would hold still.

We went back to the regular exam room to look at the x-rays with the doctor.  She didn't see anything other than run of the mill congestion in his lungs.  So she isn't worried.  Good good.  I have to tell you, it freaked me out to see my baby's little skeleton on that x-ray.  I don't know why, but I did not like it.  I also wasn't a big fan of the fact that from that picture you could tell that kid was gonna poop at any minute.

So as the doctor is telling me she isn't concerned by what the x-rays show and telling me that we should just keep doing what we have been doing, I realize I am sitting on my knees on the floor looking up at her like an obedient little puppy.  I was down there entertaining Alex while we were waiting, but apparently did not see it fit to get up and sit in a chair to talk to a woman that has more knowledge in one brain cell than I have in my entire block head.  Stay classy Julius.

I pack up the boy, drop him back at daycare, and head back into the insane bee hive that is my computer and phone at work.  As I am unpacking my stuff at my desk, my coworker and I are catching up on the morning.  And I notice he is looking at my chest a lot.  Not a normal occurrence.  So finally I look down.  And there is a giant Tonka Truck sticker of a semi-truck plastered over my left boob.  C-l-a-s-s-y.

To sweat or not to hurt

Ok people, the train is off the track.  I am all of a sudden gaining weight.  At a pretty good clip too.  What's that you say?  The 127lbs of Thankgiving food I ate has something to do with it?  Pish posh.  Those meals are calorie free.  There is no way something so delicious should punish you.  Man, I love food.

I have noticed that the mornings after I work out (pssst...that is not every morning anymore), the red number of doom on the scale is higher than on days I don't work out.  Based on that, and the spiky rock in my butt cheek that appears the days after, I am thinkin' my leg is not back in fightin' shape.  I am thinking/hoping the higher number is because things are swelling in there because it STILL HASN'T FIXED ITSELF.

We are going on 5 months and my patience is done.  I had tucked it away in my running shoes to wait until my leg was ready to go.  But it got all cramped up and lonely in there and is being all up in my face about it.  And patience is not one to be tested, so I gave in and started back up with Jillian the Terror and running.  Silly patience should have eaten a few sock fuzzies to hold itself over a bit longer me thinks.

The real kicker...if I don't work out I feel all jiggly and tired.  If I do work out, I don't feel jiggly, but I have a spiky rock in my butt cheek and the scale makes me sad again.  At this point, I might be giving in to jiggly and tired.

Yay work!

Ever have to pee really badly, but you are super busy so you forget how badly you have to pee for like EVER until all of a sudden you have to go RIGHTFREAKINGNOW and you stand up to walk to the bathroom and your bladder is so swollen with pee that you appear to be well into your second trimester?

Happy heating season everyone.

Home is where the heart is.

The past month or so, about every couple of days, Alex will be upset about something and will start whining that he wants to go home.  Aside from the whining being annoying, the only problem with that is that we have been at home each time.  So one of us will say, But Alex, we are at home.  Only to elicit a bigger whine about wanting to go home.

Finally on Monday night, I asked him why he wanted to go home.  He said he wanted to see Jessica.  She is the director of the day care.  He thinks day care is home.  Yeeeeaaaahhh...Feelin' like a really great mom that totally spends plenty of time with her son.

I am happy that he loves it there so much it feels like home, but damn kid...you sure know how to hit where it hurts.

Total control

So we got home last night to find the dog had shredded two mini blinds.  Who knows why...my guess?  The leaves were making too much noise, they were disrupting her sleep, and she needed to intimidate them into silence by showing off her power of destruction.  Now that it is as dark as midnight by 5pm, it was bothering me that the blinds could no longer do their job.  So I really wanted to change them.  But Alex really wanted to finger paint.  Guess whose want won.

While he was finger painting, he teasingly told me he was going to eat the paint off of his fingers.  I told him not to.  Which was stupid.  He is 2...when Mom says not to do something it is like lighting a firecracker under Do It!'s ass.  So he did it.  And immediately started gagging and in turn threw up.  Finger paint portrait ruined.

Shockingly, he didn't want to continued finger painting.  So I pulled a chair up to the sink so he could wash his hands and arms and belly.  At which point, I brilliantly thought that I could take this opportunity of him being occupied to hang some new mini blinds.  I got one of them hung and I came back in to check on him.

Everything appeared fine until he told me he needed to find the money.  Instantly my memory had a flash of a penny that was sitting on the window sill.  So I asked him where the money went.  "I eat it."  When I asked him if was serious, he assured me he ate it and that it was in his belly.  I took a deep breath and about 30 seconds to regroup and I innocently asked where he put the money.  "In my mouf."

In review, my dog shredded about $7 worth of mini blinds, my kid ate finger paint and puked only to later eat a penny.  And, no joke, we had been home for 45 minutes.  I did find the penny under his chair later.  So at least I won't have to look for it in a less than preferred place today.  Win?

Showers

Travis showed Alex that our shower head is one of those removable ones and you can use it like a sprayer.  So guess what bath time has evolved into.  Yep, a 2 year old standing in the bathtub, taking a shower.  Since I know he would stand in there until we ran out of hot water, I plug the tub when he gets in and once the water is deep enough, I turn off the shower and he can play in the tub.

In theory that is a very good idea.  In reality, it sucks.  I spend the first ten minutes diving behind the shower curtain in a sad attempt to avoid getting soaked while continually reminding him to keep the water in the tub, all while trying to wash this kid.  And it doesn't matter how agile and speedy I am with the shower curtain.  I end up getting soaked almost every time.  And it doesn't matter how long he gets to shower before it is time to turn the shower off.  He ends up screaming and clinging to the shower head hose while I pry his fingers off it almost every time.  About 1 in 5 times everything goes smoothly.  And that one time is enough to trick my brain into thinking this is still an ok idea.  Stupid brain.

I figure since Travis is the one that introduced him to the shower, he can be the one to cram his ass in our tiny bathroom and fight the shower fight.  That's fair right?

Yep, worth it.

Saturday morning I got up with Alex.  At 6:30.  In the morning.  On a Saturday.

We snuggled on the couch for a bit and then the inevitable...Mama, I want cakes.  Pleeeeeeease.  So off to the kitchen we went.  Alex is really really into helping lately.  Especially in the kitchen or any vacuuming that needs to be done ever anywhere anytime all the time.  So of course he pulled up a chair next to the stove so he could help me.  Which makes me incredibly nervous, so I put my foot up on the chair and put him on my hip/leg with an arm around him to keep him corralled and safely away from the burner.

He helped me stir the pancake batter and flip the first one.  And then, totally unsolicited, he looked up at me, gave me a huge hug and for the first time said, "I love you, Mama."

Pancake provoked statement or not, it was pretty awesome.

Killin' me.

Couple things about this pictures:

1.  Seriously, can you handle how cute this kid is?
2.  Do you see how tall he is?!?  He takes up almost the whole length of the tub!
3.  Those swim wings he's wearing?  Yeah, those would be the ones he flat out refused to put on all summer long.  Refused with limp body tantrums.  Pulled at them like they were burning his skin.  Last night...wouldn't get in the bath without them.

Adventures of Office Kitty

This damn cat loves loves loves my chair.  The second I get up she/he jumps into my chair, curls up, and is magically instantaneously asleep.  And then I feel bad moving her/him.  She/he is just a lonely office kitty that didn't choose to live here.  Pretty sure she/he was someone's pet.  The idiot next door to our office found her/him, but didn't bother to ask around the campsite he was at to see if anyone was missing a cat.  And, said idiot isn't at his shop every day, so about half the time, Office Kitty doesn't have anywhere to get inside.  Which in turn makes me feel even worse about moving her/him.

Currently I am sitting on the forward most 3" of my chair with Office Kitty asleep behind me.  It does make me sit up straighter though...so thank you for that Office Kitty.  Because of my better posture, I will let the fact that my ass is asleep slide this time.

Why?

I have been finding myself questioning what it's all about lately.  This usually happens on my way to work after dropping Alex off.  And almost always when it is a bad drop off.  When he is screaming and I am sad.  I find myself driving to work and thinking, What the hell are we all doing this for?  What is the point of it all?


I saw the following excerpt on Drink Your Juice and hot damn, THIS is what I am talking about.


I’m talking about the individual US citizen’s deep fear, the same basic fear that you and I have and that everybody has except nobody ever talks about it except existentialists in convoluted French prose. Or Pascal. Our smallness, our insignificance and mortality, yours and mine, the thing that we all spend all our time not thinking about directly, that we are tiny and at the mercy of large forces and that time is always passing and that every day we’ve lost one more day that will never come back and our childhoods are over and our adolescence and the vigor of youth and soon our adulthood, that everything we see around us all the time is decaying and passing, it’s all passing away, and so are we, so am I, and given how fast the first forty-two years have shot by it’s not going to be long before I too pass away, whoever imagined that there was a more truthful way to put it than “die,” “pass away,” the very sound of it makes me feel the way I feel at dusk on a wintry Sunday… And not only that, but everybody who knows me or even knows I exist will die, and then everybody who knows those people and might even conceivably have heard of me will die, and so on, and the gravestones and monuments we spend money to have put in to make sure we’re remembered, these’ll last what — a hundred years? two hundred? — and they’ll crumble, and the grass and insects my decomposition will go to feed will die, and their offspring, or if I’m cremated the trees that are nourished by my windblown ash will die or get cut down and decay, and my urn will decay, and before maybe three or four generations it will be like I never existed, not only will I have passed away but it will be like I was never here, and people in 2104 or whatever will no more think of Stuart A. Nichols Jr. than you or I think of John T. Smith, 1790 to 1863, of Livingston, Virginia, or some such. That everything is on fire, slow fire, and we’re all less than a million breaths away from an oblivion more total than we can even bring ourselves to imagine, in fact, probably that’s why the manic US obsession with production, produce, produce, impact the world, contribute, shape things, to help distract us from how little and totally insignificant and temporary we are.

—

David Foster Wallace, The Pale King


Kinda all around depressing, but whatchagonna do?  Keep on plugging along...and share depressing thoughts with people so you can all be sad and defeated together.  Yay!

Welcome!

The house next to us has been for sale for well over a year, and as of late has also been vacant.  Tuesday night, I came home and there was a moving truck in the driveway.  Yay!  and  OhgodIhopetheydon'tsuck!  Our backyards are right next to each other and if you are outside at the same time, it is very awkward if you don't at least say hello.  And if your neighbors suck, this situation would be even worse.

Anywho, they don't suck.  They are very nice.  Burt and Carlos.  A lovely couple from California.  But, when Burt introduced himself to Travis, Travis nicely said, "Great to meet you Kurt!"  And before I could correct him, Burt said, "Oh no, it's Burt.  You know, like Bert & Ernie."

And with that statement I immediately saw something that is going to terrorize me and I am positive eventually lead to a very embarrassing moment....They kinda look like Bert & Ernie.  I swear.  Burt is tall and skinny and has kind of a tall thin head.  And Carlos is shorter with a round face.

You guys...this is not good.  I am totally gonna call Carlos "Erinie".  I give myself a week.

House of Parrot

In an effort to make sure I am understanding the "words" coming out of my darling boy's mouth, I have acquired an incredibly annoying habit.  He says something, I repeat it, but with a question mark.

Example:
Alex:  I want ald khfoai hvfa norjf...pweeeeeeease.
Me:  You want another piece of ravioli?
Alex:  Yay-esssss.

Now, this wouldn't be too much of an issue..Well except for the people around us that have to listen to me constantly repeating my kid.  But here's the thing.  He has started to repeat everything I say now.  Remember that game we all played as kids where you would repeat everything someone else said to make sure you were annoying the ever loving shit out of them?  Yeah.  It's a lot like that.  Except in this version of the game I am not allowed to get annoyed because my kid is just imitating what he sees.  There is no malicious intent in this game.

I guess I should be happy he is making sure he understands what is going on around him and isn't just being a shit.  Silver lining, right?  Very thin silver lining.

Sure.

My son is bipolar.  Or he is just a normal 2 year old lunatic.  Whatever.

We went from happily hanging out at home to screaming about getting in the car (complete with whacking me in the face) to playfully running into daycare to screeching and clawing at me while I tried to leave.  Multiply that by 2.5 and you have the last two mornings and one afternoon.

I get that he is a toddler.  I get there is a reason it's called the Terrible Two's.  I get that 3 years is even worse.  But man oh man would I like to be better at dealing.  I just wish I could get myself to not be so frustrated.  To not let it get to me and affect my entire day.  Admittedly, having a wrecking ball with legs screaming and flailing at you at 7:15 in the morning is not my ideal way to start my day, but c'mon Jackie.  Let's move past it.  He's 2.  You are a grown ass woman.

All that being said, I do not want to be a parent that just serenely ignores the tantrum and takes the mental and sometimes physical beat down.  I don't think that slowly and calmly and deliberately telling him his behavior is not ok is teaching him anything.  How will he gauge how it really feels for other people when you hurt them if I take all emotion out of my behavior?  Isn't that just setting him up for interpersonal failure?

What's that you say?  Happy medium?  Yeah, I'm workin' on it.

It's MY food kitty!

This afternoon, I had a very sincere conversation with the cat that lives in our office part time.  The conversation was regarding my lunch.  And that if she/he got any closer to it, she/he and I were going to throw down.  She/he meowed in response, so I told her/him that I was happy we could come to a civil agreement.

Not sure if this conversation is proof of my lack of ability to share food with anyone or anything, but I am sure that I am happy I was the only one in the office during said exchange.

Sorry!

I was kneeling on the floor next to Alex and he asked me to hold him.  So I went to scoot over and sit down so I didn't kill my knees.  And it was then that my knee bent his big toe backwards with pretty much all of my weight on it.  And I felt it crunch and roll.  And he started screaming and I felt sick.

I grabbed him and held him tight and asked if he was ok while apologizing profusely.  My mom and sister heard this all go down and were quickly on their way to the living room, pausing only to fulfill my yelled request of an ice pack.  I thought for sure I broke his toe.  He cried for a bit, but as usual, it was a pretty quick recovery.  Once he settled down, he absentmindedly grabbed my hand with his toes so I knew it wasn't broken, just a big owie.  You know, because his giant mom just squished his tiny toe.  Way to go, Mom.

A while later I said something to my mom and sister about feeling bad and they both said that when they heard me actually asking him if he was ok and not just telling him to shake it off, they knew something was really wrong.  See?  I am a totally compassionate and nurturing mother.  If it ain't broken, shake it off.

Better?

I have been doing a good job at cleaning up my dirty mouth in front of Alex.  I now employ an arsenal of Darn it!'s and Fudge!'s and Oh Sugar!'s.  Good good.

Yesterday we were at my parents' house and Alex asked for some chocolate.  Figuring there must be chocolate chips in the pantry, we went to get some.  As I was looking and moving things around I was naming off the things I was moving.  "We've got walnuts, oatmeal, sugar..."  Immediately my darling little boy says, "Oh sugar!"  Cute.

About 4 minutes later, he is out in the living room, "dropping" toy cars and exclaiming Oh SUGAR! with each one.  I am a glowing role model, no?

Totally Prepared

It's snowing.  Big flakes.  And the flakes are sticking.  To the ground and more importantly to my car.  Barf.  I realize I either need to move out of WI or get over the fact that winter is gonna come every stinkin' year, but I just can't.  Winter sucks.  It's cold and wet and wet and cold.  Every once in a while it's pretty.  Oh, and Christmas.  But other than that...full suckage.

Upon waking this morning, it was pouring rain.  So I sent Alex to day care in his usual jacket as of late..the zip-in part of his two part jacket.  I am sure they won't be going outside and even if they do, with mittens and a hat, he will be fine.  It just looks so bad to have a little monster running around in a thin liner coat...in the snow.

My lack of acceptance of the fact that winter in an unavoidable occurrence has posed another problem.  I had to take the ice/snow scraper out of my car a while back.  Not because it was gloriously not winter, but because Alex would always find it and then I had an armed 2 year old in the car with me.  Buckled into a car seat or not, that is not a situation in which I want to continually find myself.  So, I took it out and leaned it up against the garage wall so I would be smart and put it back in the car when there was snow in the forecast.  Guess what didn't happen?

I would love to continue to blame this on Alex and play the helpless victim of having a toddler in WI; alas, I cannot.  Yesterday, Alex saw the scraper and asked for it to come along with us.  And as scenes of scraper-whacked temples and shattered back windows raced through my mind, I said no.

So, to recap...my child is not wearing weather appropriate clothing and I have no snow removal utensils.  I am super good at being an independent adult.

Get away from me!

New goal.  I need to lose 6lbs by Christmas.  I would really like to lose 10 to get me to my -30lb mark that has been alluding me for so long.  But, the scale this morning revealed I am going backwards on that journey and I am now -20, not -26.  Lamesauce.

I am really hoping today's number is due to the extreme number of chocolate Halloween candies I consumed while chatting with Brent & Kari last night, and that with a little restraint the next day or so we can get things a little more in check.  However, the scale read out has been very slowly creeping away from -26 and was holding steady at about -23.  And then WHAM-O!...-20.  No good.

So, I am back to paying attention to portion sizes and swearing at Jillian.  Here's to hopin' my leg can keep up!

Aaaaand this is why they are building a taller wall between the toddler and big kid rooms...

Hoover

Drop offs at day care have not been so good lately.  When I get lucky, his teacher is able to distract him with something in a spot where he can't see me leave.  When I don't get lucky, he screams and cries while clawing at my clothes or the door, if my mad dash to the door before he can reach me is a success.  On those days, I get to hear him screaming MAMAMAMAMAAAAAAAAA all the way out the front door.  Such a good way to start your day.

He did not sleep well last night, and was a bit emotional this morning before we left.  So I was expecting the worst drop off scenario.  Screaming, crying, limp body flailing.  But I found my saving grace.  When we walked in, one of the little girls was playing with the toy vacuum.  Alex immediately said he wanted it.  So we asked the little girl and she agreed that when she was done, he could have a turn.  My kid sat there watching her like a hawk stalking a mouse while she took her turn.  We avoided meltdown when she was prompt with bringing the vacuum to Alex as soon as she was done.  And that kid took off vacuuming every bit of carpet as fast as his little feet would carry him.

So, I went to leave and his teacher said, "Say good-bye to Mom, Alex."  He looked up with a giant smile, waved at me like a maniac and yelled, "Bye Mama!  Have good day!"  And immediately returned to the task at hand.  I think I am going to start bringing a toy vacuum everywhere I go.

Yes.

Yay-es

That is how Alex says Yes now.  Every time.  With a sing song voice and a giant smile.  It's like he knows he has to do cute things every once in a while so I don't strangle him.  He's advanced like that.

Oh C'mon!

In today's edition of The World's Least Shocking News:

The shoes that I searched and searched for and finally found and ordered and waited for and was so excited once I got them for my child's ridiculously shaped feet, DO NOT FIT.

Couch Crashin'

Around midnight Alex decided he was done sleeping.  He wasn't happy about being done sleeping, mind you, he was just all done.  He wasn't happy about anything as a matter of fact.  Things that caused the continual meltdown to get worse and worse:  me not taking him out of his crib; once I took him out of his crib, me sitting with him in the rocking chair instead of him sitting there by himself; me not letting him walk to the refrigerator to get his milk and even worse, not letting him walk back to the chair.  It was bizarre.  Everything just made him scream and cry harder.  So finally I told him I would lay on the couch with him.

And that is where we "slept" for the remainder of the night.  As much as I love cuddling with him on the couch, the quality of sleep when this happens is no where in the same universe as anything acceptable.  I am exhausted and my back and my neck hurt.  Aren't you glad you checked in today?

So good at life

I just remembered I have two bags of oyster crackers for the chili for our pumpkin carving party...that was on Saturday.

How do you size a straightjacket?

Friday:  Alex's cough seems to be gone.
Saturday:  Cough revisits briefly, but then leaves.
Sunday:  Alex slams a bunch of juice and then coughs so hard he barfs all over his car seat.
Monday:  Cough seemingly on its way out.
Today:  If I have to say "cover your mouth please" one more fucking time, I just might maim my child.

Seriously, it is not a hard concept to grasp.  When you are expelling air and spit particulates from your mouth at Mach 7, put your hand over your mouth.  Also, when you have an insane woman saying "cover your mouth please" over and over and over to you, it's gonna stick in your mind.  If you can figure out when to exclaim Shit! at the appropriate time through simple observation, you can figure out when to cover your mouth.

I tried everything I could think of this morning.  Sweetly reminding, sternly asking, angrily losing my patience and yelling, acting goofy and crazy while dancing and singing a reminder for him to cover his damn mouth.  Nothin'.

This seems to be right in line with a new behavior.  Apparently my darling 2 year old has situational deafness.  Not a real thing you say?  I disagree.  That kid will be at my side within seconds of me opening a candy wrapper.  I.e., not deaf.  However, he will continue touching something I told him to stop touching while standing right next to him...suddenly deaf.  But obviously only deaf through active choosing.  And when this situation arises, and I get down on my knees and tell him to look at me in my feeble attempt of reversing the chosen deafness, he looks at me with this fabricated clueless expression and plainly says, "What."

I will tell you one thing..situational deafness for sure leads to temporary insanity.  I will keep you posted on its long-term side effects.  My projection:  full blown psychotic break.

Halloween

Due to the fact that Alex has a great dad, he had a Halloween costume this year.  Superman has never looked better...

And yes, sometimes the Man of Steel needs to wear a hat and mittens.  Cold weather's super power ruining ability is right up there with Kryptonite.

He also got to play with some of his cousins this weekend.  Do you think they had any fun?

Addict

We keep our Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies in the freezer.  It makes them even more delicious.  Alex discovered these little treasures this year and my Thin Mint supplied dwindled faster than normal.  But then I remembered those crafty little Keebler elves have a Thin Mint replica cookie.  It's no Thin Mint, but it will scratch that itch.  So, I bought a package and into the freezer it went.

About 50% of mornings, Alex requests a cookie.  And here is my thinking...they are tiny.  He is only allowed one.  He still eats a normal healthy breakfast.  That one little treat makes him very happy.  And...it is so freaking cute when he pulls two cookies out and asks if I want one.  Travis, on the other hand, does not think this routine is cute.  Or harmless.  He apparently thinks it is decidedly not ok for the boy to have "that much" sugar first thing in the morning.  We haven't really discussed and agreed upon what should happen so the difference in opinions has just kinda been ignore.  But clearly Alex is hip to what's going on because he very rarely asks Travis for a cookie on the mornings Trav gets up with him.

Last night, Alex was crying and yelling in the middle of the night and I went down to check on him.  He was still mostly asleep and was pretty obviously having a bad dream.  So I quietly asked him what was wrong.  "Daddy took my cookie!!!"  The kid was having a nightmare about his dad stealing cookies from him.  The only way I could get him to stop crying was to tell him that he could have a cookie when it was time to wake up.

Now, some might say this is proof for Travis's side of the argument.  That clearly if the child is dreaming about cookies, he is too obsessed with cookies and should not be eating cookies first thing in the morning.  I, however, am choosing to believe Alex is reacting to Travis being stingy with the cookies.  Holding cookies hostage is totally the things nightmares are made of.

I bought these pajamas for Alex a couple weeks ago.  Every time he wears them, he runs around the house yelling, Rock 'N' Roll Baby!  Except he's 2 so it comes out like Wok 'N' Whoa Baby!

This kid cracks me up.

Behold, the power of KitKat

There are many times Alex proves he is my kid.  His love of pillows and blankets, his dislike of wearing shoes, his extreme dislike of getting out of his pajamas and into appropriate day time clothes.  All things I take credit for.

The not wanting to get out of his pajamas is the only one that is getting on my nerves.  Just about every morning, when I bring his clothes for the day out of his room, he dives under his blanket on the couch and starts whining Nooooooooooooo!  No clothes!  And just about every morning, I beg, plead, sternly tell him I am not asking him I am telling him, and usually eventually end up holding him down to change him.  Yay!

But this morning, I just didn't have the time.  Enter:  bribery.  Travis introduced Alex to KitKats.  And holy man does this kid love himself some KitKats.  When he wants one, you don't hear, Mommy, may I please have a KitKat?  You hear, Mamamaaaaa, I neeeeeeeeed a Kat.  Not sure quite yet how I feel in general about this intense love of KitKats, but hot damn I loved it this morning.  I brought his clothes out and the usual routine started.  Without any of the fight, I asked him if he wanted a KitKat.  All fit throwing ceased.  He laid down, let me change his diaper, helped me put his pants on, and didn't kick his feet once while I was putting on his socks and shoes.

Judge me if you like, but I walked into my office at 7:59 this morning.

New workout

Like I said before, I am slowly getting back into working out regularly.  I'm pretty sure my leg is healed enough for it, but for the rest of my body and my mental state, I have to do something.  The only thing that really has me concerned is that it still feels like there is a pointy rock lodged in my right butt cheek.  But it's not there all the time, so I figure we're good.

So I am once again trying to figure out when to work out.  The boy goes to bed around 8 or 8:30, so I could work out after I put him down.  But...he is hungry, like really hungry, at about 6.  We get home around 5:15.  45 minutes with a 2 year old trying to help every single step of the way, is not even close to enough time to make dinner usually.  Some nights I can do it, but most nights, I end up heating up some leftovers for Alex, playing with him until he goes to bed and then making dinner for Travis and me.  And by the time all that happens and we eat, I am way past any sort of mindset that would encourage me to workout.

Last night I tried working out while Alex ate.  Which was totally fine..until he was done eating.  At which point he immediately came into the living room to watch.  And the dog came in with him.  And then Travis came in trying to get Alex and the dog out of my way.  What I wouldn't give for a bigger house!  With a rec/workout room!  Or more than 1009 sq ft!

Needless to say, between the boy asking me to hold him while I did lunges or bounce sitting on me while I try to do crunches, the dog alternating between trying to jump up on Alex and trying to hump on Alex, and Travis trying desperately to control this circus...not a good workout. 

Alternative picnic

I made mac 'n' cheese last night.  But the yummy homemade kind that my mommy makes.  I added broccoli to try to combat the Velveeta.  When I make this particular recipe I always make a little bit more noodles than will fit in the dish I bake it in.  I looooove the cheese sauce and noodles before they are baked.  It's a little pot of cheesy gooey heaven right there on the stove top.

This little pot of heaven also brings out a trait I am not exactly proud of...I am really really bad at sharing food.  Well, I am really bad at sharing my food.  I am perfectly adept at sharing other people's food, but keep your grubby fork off my plate.  So, when I make mac 'n' cheese we have a problem.  Travis really likes the pre-baked stuff too.  And he wants to eat some too.  He wants to eat MY gooey cheesy heaven.  I really do try my best to not be a snot about it, but every time I find myself quietly eating the gooey mac in hopes he won't notice it is there.  Isn't he lucky to have such a wonderful wife?  And yes, I realize I could just not bake the dish since we like the gooey stuff so much.  But we really like the baked stuff too.  The gooey stuff is just a little treat.

Aaaaanyway, last night Alex saw me eating the gooey stuff.  And he wanted in on the goods. Macaroni is by far Alex's food of choice.  Actually any pasta, not just macaroni.  So, I picked him and we took turns scooping up bites.  But then I remembered he is really heavy, so I told him we were going to sit on the floor and have a kitchen floor mac 'n' cheese picnic.  He looked at me and asked, "It's gonna be fun Mama?"  Ummmm...clearly you do not grasp what is happening.  We are going to sit on the floor with a big ol' pot of gooey mac 'n' cheese...no bowls...no napkins.  Just you, me and this wonderful food of the gods.  Yeah...I am pretty sure it's gonna be fun.

*Cough*

Our of nowhere, Alex has a cough.  It's raspy and persistent and he plays it up sometimes to the point of gagging himself.  The gagging only happens if I acknowledge the coughing.  Then it becomes a whole body experience. Speaking of that...coughing, sneezing, jumping, etc. have all become whole body experiences since I had a kid, if you get what I mean.

Anywho, the boy has a cough.  And last night I was transported back to childhood with one single cough through the monitor.  All I could think about was how I would try my hardest to stifle my coughing by any means necessary in hopes that my dad wouldn't hear me.  Because if he did...?  Codine cough syrup was on its way.  AKA, nasty bitter yellow-ish foul-ness.  Man that stuff was naaaaasty.  So I would bury my face in my pillow and try to swallow a million times to quiet the endless tickle in my throat.  But it was no use.  I would cough and then hear his bedroom door open and know my fate was sealed.

So this morning, with the cough still present, I questioned my actions.  As I left him at daycare, I had to ask myself if I am one of those asshat parents that have no regard for spreading illness at daycare.  On the one hand I don't think that I am, but on the other this kid sounds like a hobo hooked on Marlboro Reds.  But that is the only thing wrong.  He has no fever.  He has no snot freeway running down his face.  Should I be keeping him home with what is simply a cough due to cold?  I'm a big germ spreading jerk, aren't I?

Or not

I have made my feelings about Halloween very clear before so I won't beat that zombie horse.  Although, I will beat that thing if it tries to scare me.  Due to my dislike of the holiday, I haven't been a very good parent in the costume department for Alex.  But here's the thing, he is 2.  He gets costumes for dress-up and stuff, but there is not a candy corn's chance in hell this kid is going trick-or-treating.  I can't even get him to say hello to his grandparents most times without him burying his face in my shoulder.  No way he is going to go up to some stranger's door and ask for candy.

Any way, I failed last year and he went trick-or-treating with daycare in his regular clothes.  So this year, Travis intervened and bought him a Superman costume yesterday.  Cape and all.  Travis was super pumped about this purchase.  And Alex was all excited when Travis told him he had a costume for him.  So much so, he did a little excited dance/question session for me while Trav went out to the car to get it.  "Daddy get costume?  Costume for me?  Where Daddy go?"  And that excitement immediately turned to fear when Travis showed him and he refused to try it on.  Like a lot of, Nooooooooo....I no wanna try it.

I am guessing he will come around since that was also his reaction when I tried to get him to try on a winter coat in Target.  But man oh man did that little boy crush his daddy last night.

Attention span

The television is my saving grace in the morning.  It is almost always just me, Alex and the dog in the morning and I seem to be the only one interested in getting the day started on time.  So as previously mentioned, Alex gets to snuggle up on the couch and watch some tv while I scramble to get ready.  Some mornings he will sit for a whole episode of whatever is on, some mornings not so much.  Today was one of the not so much mornings.

I left him in the living room all snuggly, watching Chugginton.  The whole seven minutes I was in the bathroom it seemed as though nothing was amiss in the living room.  It seemed as though my little angel was quietly watching talking trains zoom all over the place.  Things are never what they seem.  I walk into the living room to him saying, "I put it on my bewwy Mama."  Without glancing up from the stack of laundry I am sorting through I ask, "You put what on your belly?"  "The cream.  Cream make it feel better."  I look up to see him standing next to the coffee table with his shirt pulled up to his chin and a giant swirl of A&D covering his stomach, radiating out from its belly button starting point.

So, now we don't have to worry about diaper rash on his stomach.  Good good.

Yawn

Alex woke up four times last night.  The first time I am pretty sure he had a nightmare since he was all sorts of upset.  The second and third time he woke me up by yelling that he had a booger and needed a tissue.  But refused to keep said tissue in bed with him either time.  And the fourth time I have no clue what the issue was.  He was crying a frightened type cry.  I went in and he was all curled up, said something incoherent, and immediately fell back asleep when I covered him up.  So happy to serve you, Sire.

I haven't been able to stay asleep lately and having the beast child screaming in the monitor sure as shit didn't help last night.  And then to top it off, by the time I got back to bed after the first round of wake-ups, the dog and Travis had completely taken over my side, his side, all sides of the futon.  Why were we sleeping on the futon you ask?  Because my asshole dog decided that my side of the bed was an awesome spot to empty her very full bladder at some point yesterday.

I was so mad at the dog, at the fact that Alex wouldn't stay asleep, at the fact that I can't seem to stay asleep, I gave up and just went to lay down on the couch....and promptly knocked over a glass of water that was left out  on the coffee table right next to three piles of clean laundry.  I'm just gonna go ahead and turn in my letter of resignation.

Not Sleepy

Alex's new way to get me to come get him in the morning...Mama, I all done sleepin'!  Usually in a sing-song voice, sometimes in a crabby groggy voice.  Either way it is ten zillion times better than the Maaaaamaaaaa that he used to employ.

Saturday, the "I all done sleepin'" wasn't quite as cute since he was repeating it over and over and over shortly after I laid him down for his nap.  We had read a couple books and when I went to put him in his crib, he asked if he could take a book with him to bed since he was certain he wasn't sleepy.  So Alex, his three blankets of choice, and Brown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See all snuggled in.

He laid in there and "read" his book to himself a couple times and then started singing loudly that he was all done sleeping.  I wholeheartedly disagreed and refused to go back in his room.  After I didn't come in to get him, he started calling out "Ooooh Toooooodles!"  Toodles would be the little Mouskatool holder thingymabobber from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  Any time Mickey and the gang have a problem, they all call out "Oh Toodles!" and this little guy comes flyin' in with 4 different Mouskatools from which to choose.  And one of those tools will help solve the problem.  Apparently upon the realization that his mom wasn't going to be of any assistance, Alex quickly moved on to other resources.

After Toodles didn't show up, he started loudly singing that he was awake.  I finally just gave up and went in to get him.  And when I opened the door he was sitting there with a huge smile, crossed legged in the middle of his crib, with his socks on his hands.

And then, about an hour later, the kid that wasn't sleepy at all and was awake and didn't want to lay down because he was in no way, shape or form tired..?  Yeah, that kid?  He fell asleep in under three minutes when we got in the car to go to Target.  Of course he did.

Loss of security

When we were deciding how to go about the gaga removal process, Kari reminded me she had her son wrap up his gaga's as a present for a new baby.  We just happen to have an adorable new baby in our group so I ran the idea past Alex.  He responded with a flat out No.  And he looked at me like, Lady...you and that new baby keep your grubby mitts off my gaga.  So we moved on to the cutting the gaga idea.

In the car a day or two ago, Alex looks at me with a very worried expression and says, "No blankie for baby Mama?"  It took me a substantial amount of time and questioning to realize what he was actually asking.  He was making sure I wasn't going to make him give his blankets to the new baby.

And there's another one for his future therapist's couch.

I give up

So I think I really am losing it....

Last night I prepped all the stuff I needed to throw into the crockpot this morning to ensure I have delicious beef stroganoff when I get home.  I cut the meat, onions and mushrooms, set out the beef broth and cream of mushroom soup.  Only thing I had to do this morning was throw all that into the crockpot, add a little white wine, give it a stir and set on low.  And I did just that.  And then I double checked the recipe I was using to make sure I hadn't missed any spices.  And that is when I realized cream of mushroom soup is no where to be found in this particular recipe.  No where on the 8.5"x11" paper I had hanging right in front of my face above the stovetop do the words Cream of Mushroom Soup appear.  The only mention of mushroom anything is the amount of mushrooms to be sliced.  Which, as previously stated, I had already sliced.

I am guessing the addition of the soup is not going to do anything other than make it a bit saucy-er and delicious-er...But seriously?  I am the type of person that has to read a recipe a zillion times while making even the easiest thing.  So every time in those zillion times, I somehow tricked myself into thinking there was an extra ingredient?

Losing. It.

Memory Skillz

I made myself a little list of the things I needed to buy at Target over my lunch break.  I put that little list on a little sticky and stuck it right in front of my keyboard so I would be sure to see it and take it with me.  I went to Target.  Got out of my car and realized apparently in front of my keyboard wasn't an obvious enough placement of the sticky and I had left it in that exact spot on my desk.  Perhaps next time I will sticky it to my eyeballs.  Might make getting to the store a bit of an issue, but who doesn't like a challenge?!

I was immediately beyond irritated.  I have the memory span of a gnat and it drives me crazy that I can't remember anything...especially a list that was made to specifically remind me of the things I need.  My memory capacity has dwindled to the point that I have to have a list of meals I have planned for the week on the refrigerator.  Because the ingredients in said refrigerator are not enough clues for the meals I have already planned on making.

I am proud to announce, I remembered everything on my list.  Well, everything except one item.  Dish sponges can suck it.  

Sure. Yeah. Ok.

Alex has started doing a new thing that in confusing the hell out of me.  It started when something exciting would happen, he would yell "3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8!!!"  But now, he will not only yell that when he is excited, but he will also calmly get my attention and just say, "Mama...3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8."  My only response is to nod my head with a "Sure, whatever you say honey!" expression on my face...because I have no fricking idea what he is talking about or how this even became an expression for him.

The fun part about this is that if you say it to him really quickly, he screeches with laughter and runs away.  Or if he is in the car, he screeches and kicks his legs while flailing his arms.  I do not know what is so amusing about those 6 numbers, but I'm just rollin' with it.

However, when I say it in my head, I feel like he is doing a countdown before a song & dance that is going to involve a lot of jazz hands...he gets that from his father.

So Freaking Proud

We were in Platteville watching two of the nephews play youth football yesterday.  I will tell you this, 8th graders have gotten HUGE.  There is no way the boys were that ginormous when I was in 8th grade.  I know this because I wouldn't have felt like a giant at 5'4" if they were.

Anywho, the third Platteville nephew does not play football yet, so he and Alex were running around playing.  At one point they had this plastic stick with a helicopter blade on the top that they had swiped from my brother-in-law's high school physics classroom.  They were playing with it in the shade of the equipment shed next to the field.  Not shockingly, on the helicopter stick's third flight, it ended up on the roof of the shed.  And the boys both just looked at me like, Now what?  And I answered with, Well, that's a bummer!  Alex tried his hardest to reach the roof.  His effort was complete with a strained face and Eeeeeeeeee!  But as soon as he realized he couldn't reach, he look at me and matter-of-fact-ly said, "We need a ladder Mama."

I have no idea if that level of problem solving is normal for his age.  But I will tell you, I am not going to try to find out.  I am just going to swim around in the immense beaming proud-ness I've got goin' on.  Travis on the other hand has given all credit to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

Gaga to gab gab

We have been on a roll lately.  A roll of great kid.  Believe me, I knocked on every wooden thing I could find when I said this, but it has been a really long time since Alex has had a bad day.  There have been some fits here and there, but aside from the 20 minutes leading up to nap time on Saturday, I haven't had any moments where I find myself questioning why anyone on the face of the planet would want offspring.  That's called progress people.

The gaga removal has gone way better than anticipated.  He stills asks about once a day, but there is no whining screaming fit when I remind him they are broken.  And now that he doesn't have it in his mouth, he is talking nonstop.  It is a good thing he is funny or I think I would be bouncing off of padded walls.  He does not stop talking.  I wonder where he gets it?

The thing I like the most about all this nonstop talking is that I finally get to know what he is thinking about.  Obviously there have always been times I could easily tell what was going on in that little head, but there were also times that would stop me in my tracks and make me so curious about the train of thought that lead him to whatever it was he was doing.  But now that he can express himself better and I don't have to translate his words out of gaga-ese, when I am curious I just ask.  And he can tell me.  By far my favorite answer when I ask why he is doing something, "Beeecaaaaause."  Goes around comes around.

On our way

We have entered the third full day of no gaga.  I am happy to report he only asked for it twice before bed last night and once this morning.  I am also only a teensy bit ashamed to admit, I hate it.  I hate not getting that mischievous from behind the nuk smile when he knows he is being silly.  I miss the game of stealing it from him and cramming the whole thing in my mouth to "hide" it from him and how much it would make him laugh.  And I hate that sadness in his face when I tell him all the gaga's are broken.  It's quick to fade, but it's still there.  And it is heartbreaking proof that I am actively making him sad.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...It's for his own good.  He needs give this up as a habit.  His teeth could get all DURRR if I let him have it forever.  Whatever.  He is my baby and I don't like making him sad.  I know this is just one of a zillion times I am going to make this kid sad and I am sure it doesn't get any easier.  Blah blah blah.  I just wanna keep all the cute things and only let him grow up when it doesn't require intervention from me...or require me to face a new change.  Too much to ask?

She doesn't need help

My leg is pretty darn close to being back to normal, so I need to get back into the work-out swing of things.  Like I said before, the number on the scale hasn't changed, but I can tell I'm getting....squishier.  I don't like squishy.

I have been slowly getting back into running and am about a mile short of my normal route.  But every time, right at the beginning of that last mile, both hamstring connector points tighten up and things don't feel good.  So then I walk home.  Luckily the way my usual route goes, I am only about 2 blocks from home if I don't continue on in a round about way to get that last mile in.  So it's a quick walk of limpy leg shame.

Now that Mother Nature is back to showing us how much she hates us by making it dark ridiculously early in the evening, running is quickly becoming a non-option for exercise.  So I have ventured back into the dark cold scary world of Jillian Michaels.  And once again, Level 1 is pretty much a total bitch to get through.

Since Alex's bed time is now 8 o'clock, he is awake when I do whatever exercise is happening that evening.  After asking a zillion questions, he now understands that when I harness up the dog and grab my headphones, I am going running for exercise.  Last night confused him all over again.  I turned on Jillian and started jump jacking my way to the 7th circle of hell when he strolled into the living room.  "What doing Mama?"  When I replied that I was exercising, he looked at me like I was nuts and asked if I was taking Aiden with me.  And then he sat and watched me work out.  Alternating between watching the video and watching me, all while continually asking "What doing?"

Trav came in and got Alex in his pajamas but immediately released him back into the wild.  The very last thing you do in Level 1 is 1 full horrible excruciating minute of bicycle crunches.  I thought they were bad before.  But last night Alex decided to help me.  His version of help was sitting/bouncing on my stomach for the full minute..laughing like a dinosaur pajama clad maniac the entire time.

Punkins

We went to a pumpkin patch on Saturday...

Too big.

Just right.

Pulling wagons is thirsty business.

Gaga-less

For quite some time now I have been telling myself Alex will eventually give up his nuk on his own.  I will pause for the collective laughter to die down.

...

I finally faced reality and agreed with Travis that we had to motivate the nuk removal process.  But I didn't want it to be something we took away from him.  I thought it would be an easier transition if Alex was part of the decision to get rid of them.  So we took the advice of cutting the sucky part so it wasn't sucky anymore.  Travis apparently was sick of me dragging my feet and poked holes in one on Tuesday, and then just left it on the table for Alex.  When Alex popped it in his mouth he immediately got a funny look on his face and told me he needed water on his nuk.  So I rinsed it off for him and he put it back in his mouth for a split second and then took it out for inspection.  Travis asked if it was broken and when Alex confirmed it was, the suggestion of throwing it away was presented and quickly accepted.  And that conclusion lasted for a couple of hours until Alex found a different one.

Fast forward to yesterday.  While Travis and Alex were playing outside, I did it.  I cut all of the nuks.  And then I put them on the kitchen counter and waited.  Not gonna lie, I had a little panic attack and had to talk myself through it.  And when I was done, I almost cried.

When Alex asked for his "gaga" I showed him where they were.  One by one he tried each one and threw each one in the garbage once they were determined broken.  And then he asked me for another one.  I let him look through the cabinet they are normally in.  Luckily I was looking with him, because I found two more I didn't know were in there and I was able to stash them away without him noticing.  So as far as he knows, our house contains no gaga's.

So far, it hasn't been too bad.  Each time he asks for one, I remind him the gaga's are all broken.  He asks me to find another one and I tell him we don't have anymore.  And then he tells me Daddy ate it.  I am ok with that.

Rude much

When people ask me questions, I very rarely think to ask them reciprocal questions.  I just answer them.  So when you ask me what my plans are for the weekend, don't expect me to ask you..because I won't...because I am apparently an ass.  Because, you know, I am perfectly willing to talk about myself and my plans but can't be bothered with showing any interest in you.

So, someone will ask me something, I answer, I don't ask anything back and then about 15 minutes later it hits me how rude I just was.  So if I am still with that person, I try to slyly ask whatever it was I should have asked 15 minutes ago.  But I am not sly.  Ever.  And then I just feel like more of an ass.

-Hey Jackie!  How's Alex?

-Oh he's good!

...

15 minute pause

...

-Hey...how's your kid?

Quick Tips

When you are rinsing out a Campbell's Tomato Soup can in preparation for recycling it, and it is one of the cool ones with the pull tab lids, do not under any circumstances run your pointer finger and thumb along the underside of the lip of the can to get the sticky condensed soup to release it's ninja grip from the can. You will slice your fingers.  A lot.

And while I am generously doling out home ec advice, do not grab the meat thermometer out of the chicken you just took out of a 350 degree oven.  It is metal.  It conducts heat.  It will conduct all 350 of those degrees right onto your fingertips.

You are welcome.

Sweet calf action

On a happy note, I am currently wearing my black knee high hooker boots.  And they are no longer so tight on my calves that circulation is slowed.  Yeeeeeaaaaah baby!

I am still stuck at -26lbs and I am yet to get back into a consistent workout schedule due to the hamstring blow-out, but my hooker boots fit!  Happy Tuesday.

In plain sight

I know I sound like a broken record, but I promise I am really trying to remember to take my evening keepmybrainsinorder pill.  Really trying and mostly failing.  But sometimes I do remember and everything stays on an even keel.  For a little bit.  Until it doesn't.  And then it sucks.

If you haven't guessed it, I was a little on the crazy side this weekend.  Some really great friends moved back to town this past weekend.  And they brought their new snuggly baby with them!  To avoid them having to rent any sort of moving truck, a bunch of us got our trucks and trailers together to get the job done.  I went on Saturday and then said Travis could help on Sunday.  Awfully nice of me to volunteer him without asking him, right?  But since Travis is Travis, he was happy to help.

So early Sunday morning he got up and drove to Pewaukee to load up the truck and trailer.  And instead of being extra nice since I was the one that volunteered him, I called him at 2:45 and yelled at him because he wasn't home yet.  And what is he doing?!  And why hasn't he called me?!  Yeah....why hasn't he taken time out of moving our friends to call me and tell me that he is still moving our friends and that they are all working to get done before kick-off of the Packer game?  How dare he?!?  When I snottily asked what he was doing, he quickly responded, "Well babe, we just lit the bonfire and were about to start a rousing round of Kumbayah."  I probably deserved that.

Shortly after that horrible conversation where I proved myself to be a nutball, I sent him a text apologizing and acknowledging I had no right to be upset.  He got home and we went about the rest of our day.  After eating ourselves sick while watching the game at Kari and Brent's, we came home.  I put the boy down and came into the living room and asked him if he had solidified his plans for leaving me.  And he asked why.  Which blew me away.  If the roles had been reversed, I would have been stewing about that incident all day.  So, I reminded him of the phone call and told him I was sorry for being psychotic.  And all he did was come over give me a hug and say, "The apology was nice.  You are not psychotic.  Psychotic would have been if you hadn't realized you were being nuts."

I am putting my pills on the window sill in front of the kitchen sink.  Pretty sure he deserves a not crazy wife.

Go Pack Go!

I think the main reason the Packers beat up on those stinky Bears yesterday is because my boys are so frickin' cute in supporting the Pack.

Oh really?

All of a sudden, Alex is waking up in the middle of the night.  Usually just once, but it has been every night for about a week.  And he isn't just waking up calmly.  It seems as though he is having nightmares again.  So that's exciting.

When I go down there to calm him down, he always asks me to hold him and I give him a quick hug and tell him it is still time to lay down.  That it is time for more sleeps and not time to be awake yet.  So far this has been working and back to sleepytime we go.

Last night was no different.  He woke up crying and yelling.  So I went down there, opened his door to see him kneeling in his crib.  He immediately stopped crying and said, "It's time to lay down Mom."  Like I was the reason we were both awake at 1:28AM.

Exciting Good-byes

So I thought Alex's little bon voyage ticker tape parade to toilet bowl inhabitants was something they had possibly taught the kids at day care to get them excited about using the bathroom instead of their pants.  I thought wrong.  My kid is the only kid who loudly and excitedly sends his bodily excretions off to the waste water treatment plant.

1 to 1

I have been doing really well at cleaning up my expletives when the boy is around.  When he isn't around...watch the hellassbitchfuckshit out.  But what he doesn't know/hear won't hurt him, right?  So with his delicate ears in mind, I have been more cognizant of swearing when he is within ear shot.

I have, however, failed with something else.  When someone tells me a bit of information or a story that is surprising or exciting or shocking, my standard response is "Shut. UP!  SHUT UP.  Shut up."  Kinda like Elaine Bettis's "Get OUT!"  Any way, I hadn't really noticed how often I use that phrase...especially while I am on the phone in the car with my child in the backseat.  Alex was kind enough to show me the other day.

He was walking around the back yard with the ipod pretending it was a phone and he just kept saying "Shut. UP!  SHUT UP.  Shut up."  Over and over and over.  And of course Travis was there to witness and hasn't let me live it down.  I will say Alex has only used Shut. Up. in the same way I do.  He hasn't meanly told someone to actually shut up.  Perfect example is the other day when he went upstairs to ask Travis what he was doing and when Travis said he was changing his clothes so they could mow the lawn, Alex responded with an excited  "Shut UP!"  Silver lining people.

As of Tuesday night, Travis can no longer judge me.  I was reading books with Alex before bed and Travis came in to say goodnight.  Travis always says, "Te amo." and Alex always answers, "Amo!"  Sweet stuff all around.  But on Tuesday night after Travis said his line, Alex put on his best "I am totally being a little shit" expression and refused to answer him.  So as Travis was walking out of the room, he dejectedly said, "That's fine Alex.  Whatever."  And for the next 45 seconds, all that kid would say is "Whatever Daddy.  What-Ever."

It's all tied up in the Classiest Parent Competition in the Julius house.

I Give You: Today's Installment of T.M.I.

I have a booger that refuses to come out.  No matter how freaking hard I blow my nose, the little booger bastard will not come out.  I would say it wouldn't budge, but that would be a lie.  It budges.  Oh it budges.  Every time I inhale or exhale.  Which I find both annoying and shocking.  Why does it move with the small amount of air I am taking in and pushing out when it refuses to vacate the premises when I blow air out with the force of an F-16 jet engine?

Am I the only person that experiences these little guys?  I can't be.  People that only want to marry a leprechaun that makes them macaroni and cheese with bologna can find someone that has that exact same thing goin' on.  There must be someone else that has this issue.  Perhaps someone that doesn't feel the need to waste other people's time by writing about boogers on the Internet.  Yes, perhaps that.

Bathroom adventures

Like I have said before, we are slowly working on ridding our lives of diapers.  The only thing that makes the intimidation of this task bearable at all is being in the bathroom with Alex.  The toilet is a thing of magic and intrigue for him.

He is still showing no interest in using the bathroom himself while at home, but he is obsessed when either Travis or I are in there...

What doing Mama?
Going potty.
Why?
Because I have to go potty.
Why?
Because that's what happens when Mommy drinks to deal with answering "Why?" so many freaking times!

Aaaaaanyway, he is more excited because we let him flush the toilet.  And that is where this whole adventure pays off.  He stands there, flushes the toilet, and while waving like a maniac starts yelling, "BUHBYE PEE!  BUHBYE POOP!  BUHBYE EWIES!"  And then he slams the lid shut.  It makes me laugh every single time.

Happy Tuesday

It's been a rough summer for my work.  Normally throughout the year there are jobs here and there that we make mistakes on.  But for some reason this summer we have had a bunch of them all smashed into a small time frame.  Some of them are my fault, some are not, but when there are only 3 people in the whole company, everyone has to deal with them.  Granted my boss is the only one that deals with them financially.

The mistakes I have made are just details that I accidentally overlooked.  But when the details are the dimensions of a unit or the quantity of units on a job, they are pretty important details.  And pretty costly details.  And I gotta admit, it sucks way more when you make mistakes and it's someone else's money.  When we had the bar and one of us screwed something up at least it was our money we were messing with.  Don't get me wrong, it sucks when it's your money too, but when you have to tell someone you made a mistake and it is most likely going to cost them about $500, it stings juuuuust a little bit more.

What sucks even more than making the mistakes is that it has noticeably changed my relationship with my boss.  I am back to being completely unsure of myself and it is quite obvious, and understandable, that his confidence in my performance has plummeted.  Awesomesauce all around.

Stylin

Due to the ridiculous time my beast child wakes up and my love of sleep, I shower at night so as to save time in the morning.  A lot of times I end up going to bed with wet hair...which leads to interesting hair dos in the morning.  Normally, I just put my hair up in a pony tail and SHAZAM! problem solved.  This morning was cold and I wasn't feelin' the pony tail, so I just left it.  I felt leaving it was giving a hippie-esque all natural vibe to my look today.

My boss asked if I was frazzled because my hair is all over the place today.  Perhaps a pony tail then.

Ok, now what?

Once again I am letting day care take the lead on raising my child.  I have no idea how to go about potty training.  And, much like when he started eating solid foods, I am totally intimidated by the task at hand.  I find myself just shutting down when I think about it.  Which is totally helpful.  I have thought about getting a book or two on the subject, but then I get all freaked out trying to decide which one to get.  I have looked on some different "Mom" websites and chat boards, but I find time and time again I just end up wanting to punch those people in the face.  It seems the women on the sites I have explored either are completely uninformational (we are calling this a word for today) or are obnoxiously judgmental and just straight up mean.  Yay for sisterhood.

So here's my plan so far....

Watch what day care does and try to mimic.  And let Alex be my guide.

Solid plan, right?  We shall see.

All of this brings me to another point.  When things like this come up and I find myself looking to day care to help with/take care of the task, I feel more inadequate as a parent than ever.  Initially I feel like allowing them to take the lead is a good idea since they aren't new to this game.  But then I quickly start feeling like letting them take the reigns is just being lazy, and justifying it by saying they know better than I, is a total cop-out.  But right now, I am too clueless and nervous and anxious to not let them show me the potty training ways so I guess I should suck it up.

I did beat them to the punch on one thing...I taught that kid which way is left and which way is right.  Ha!  Take that!

Also, I am ecstatic I made it through this post while only using the horrible word "potty" two times.  Well, three now Lora.