Going to my happy place

Photo courtesy of Pioneer Woman

Today I'm trying to:
Embrace the mess.
Breathe deeply.
Not panic.
Pray for patience.
Slap a smile on my face
  and then make that smile come true.
Believe in a better plan than my own.

I'm not going to lie: This is difficult.
But:
It's Friday.
I'm healthy. My family is healthy.
And we love each other.
And that's a lot.

Dear Keds

You kill me.

Found here.


Thanks bunches.

Love,
Suz

You make me giggle

Today I left my baby in the Kid Zone at the gym with her fish lips pressed up against the glass door and a twinkle in her eye.

She's my favorite thing in the whole world. Her, and her daddy.

Speaking of her daddy, she has started calling out to him from her crib in the morning:
Dad-dyyyyyyy!
Dad-dyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! 
she says.
And while we're both still trying to steal snoozes in the early morning light, we can hear her, still in her crib, answer for him:
Yeah, baby? 
Yeah, baby?

There goes my Mother of the Year Award

See, it all started when I set out to make MB these whole wheat flat bread pizzas for dinner.

I had good intentions, you see?

But the closer it actually gets to dinner/bed time, the less MB cares about doing anything except exactly what she wants to do. Usually this can be temporarily solved by letting her help, so I pulled up a chair for her.

So this is what she did while I sliced and marinated and sprinkled.

Even if she had stopped with brushing her hair with the bottle brush, my Mother of the Year award may have been compromised.

But then she took out a gigantic knife.  This was not such an awesome plan.

And that was the end of that. I mean, after some shrieking and grabbing and a barrage of NO, MA'AMs.

But it was a small consolation that she loved the pizza.

The perfect diaper bag?

After my last diaper bag post, my sister, total buzzkill that she is, pointed out that any diaper bag without a cross-body strap was just asking for frustration.

Much as I hated to admit it, she is right. At least, she is right for people like us who have very little patience for clunky diaper bags falling off of our shoulders with a baby in tow.

And so, I present for your opinions what may be the perfect solution.

The Timi & Leslie Hannah Bag $154

Comes with a clutch, bottle bag, changing pad, and--AND-- an attachable cross-body strap. And--AND--stroller straps.

BOOM.

For the record, I will say that I can't find it in stock in this particular color. But it does come in bronze.

Which I also love.

So, what do you think? Too flashy for a diaper bag? It IS kind of shiny, especially for a person such as myself who rarely finds herself wearing anything other than jeans and spit-up soaked T-shirts for months postpartum.

But perhaps if I carried a shiny diaper bag, I would be shamed into actually--I don't know, something crazy--like washing my hair on a daily basis after Baby Boy comes.

Thanks in advance for your help and advice on this terribly important matter.

Daddy sometimes does know best

As a full-time mom, I take pride in knowing all of the tricks that work for my baby. How to get her dressed when she's said no to every article of clothing in her closet except her winter coat [in July], for example.

I hold on tight to this knowledge. I've earned it the hard way, after all, so sometimes it's hard for me to take advice. Especially from someone who comes home five nights a week to a fed, bathed, read to, kissed and sleeping baby.

But after Lee saw this post yesterday he says to me: You know, he says, as I brace to roll my eyes at his advice, she never cries like that for me.

Now, I would argue that since most of my waking hours are spent alone with her, that the odds of her never crying are just not in my favor.

But before I can open my mouth to make my case for statistics, he continues: Crying babies get The Worm.

And what do you know? He was right.

I'm sure there will be a time when she will scoff at The Worm. But for now, it's magic.

If my baby turns out a genius [and we highly suspect she will ;)] she will have gotten it from her Daddy.

How about this for MB's big girl room?

Petit Retro via Spearmint Baby

Sounds like a project for Rachel, if you ask me.

I'm feeling guilty for having whined earlier today, so I thought I would end the day with some happier words.

My Mommy did not show up to take care of us, but we did Skype her this afternoon. Almost as nice.

And I didn't send See You Later, Alligator to the Land of Lost Books [which really exists, by the way, and shhhh-- is under her crib], but I did switch it out for a book from the super special non-board book section in the tippy top of her closet.

I could never read this without crying when she was a baby-baby, and I still can't. But I'm sort of hoarse and raspy from the sore throat, so I don't think she noticed. [At least, she didn't point out the "rain" on my face like she normally does when Mommy weeps over children's books. But maybe she was just being nice.]

Even on days when the only thing she does more than whine is cry, my baby is making me into a better person. More patient, less yell-y. Less bored, more creative. More appreciative of small things, like holding her hand, and less in a hurry to complete petty tasks.

It's a big job for a small baby.  But I'm pretty sure she can tackle it.

She just needs another snack first.

Message on a Ta-ble

In the interest of honesty, I will admit that today has sucked so far.

The only thing MB has done more today than whine is cry.  And I wish I could say she's been the only one. But I said we were being honest, so.

First of all, we're both sick. And bored. And still in our pajamas at lunchtime.

And I am seriously contemplating sending her See You Later, Alligator book to the Land of Lost Books because we have read it fourteen million times and it's still the only one she wants at nap time. 

I'm hopeful that this day can be redeemed somehow, but short of my own mommy showing up to take care of us, I don't know how that will happen.

Ok, I'm done whining. You may now continue about your business.

Dinner with a side of nostalgia

Tonight while Mary Bullock ate her dinner, I snapped green beans. 

It reminded my of my grandma's garden when we were little. The beans smelled like earth. And summer thunderstorms. And The Young and the Restless on TV and Grandma at her sewing machine.

You just can't get that from a can.

I wonder: what will Mary Bullock smell when she snaps green beans for dinner one day?

I was doing the freezer a favor

See, our freezer is jam packed. Mostly because our ice maker can never quite contain all the ice it makes.

But also because we buy too much stuff and forget we have it.

And by we I mean: me.

I don't mind taking the blame.

So my first Snickers Ice Cream Bar of the day was a simple matter of space. There was only one left in the box, and that box was taking up far too much freezer real estate than was practical.

I think it's only fair that my second SICB of the day be for pure enjoyment.

Don't you?

Five things I've learned lately

Plus some photos, because I hate a post with no photos, don't you?

These are in no particular order--just the way in which I can extract them from my brain.

#1. If you leave a carseat outside in the summer for any length of time, ants will find every last bit of Cheese-It your baby has ever dropped into the crevices. Just, FYI.

I didn't add this picture here in order to assign blame [who could blame the guy in the cute half-apron?].

#2 Applesauce for dinner night = hair washing night.

Come to think of it, Peanut Butter for breakfast morning ALSO = hair washing night. Actually, there is virtually nothing I feed her these days that does not equal hair washing night.

#3 Life is so much better when Lee is within a 25 mile radius.  It just is.

#4 Ingle is 100% more annoying when he's on a diet. I think this is because when he looks at me he sees a very large doughnut.

#5 There is no substitute for a memory foam pillow and a Tylenol PM for a good night's rest.

Cookie Monster

My mom was a home economics teacher at my old high school for more decades than I have been alive. For most of those years she taught child development, which meant that she embellished information in her textbooks by telling embarrassing stories about her children.

Thanks, mom.

The one story that my classmates always heard and took joy in reiterating to me was the story of the time when I was five or six and got caught standing in a chair with my hand in the cookie jar. My mom had warned me numerous times--no cookies before dinner. But I wanted a cookie. And that's what chairs are for, right?


******

Mary Bullock is still not feeling well. She has dark circles under her eyes, which concerns me. So instead of running the usual errands, we stayed in and made cookies today.

The gourmet kind. Of course.

As soon as the batter was ready, Mary Bullock started squeaking. EAT! EAT!! EEEEAAAAAT! But we managed to get them in the oven somehow.

And then we sat down. And waited.

I'm not going to say we waited patiently. That would be a fib.

Finally they were ready.  I allowed her three cookies, which were really three parts of the same cookie. But what she doesn't know won't kill her, now will it?

When those were done, I said no more. And I thought she took this strangely well, until she came running back into the study holding another cookie in her hand. She didn't even need a chair--I think she has Go Go Gadget Arms stashed away expressly for cookie stealing purposes. You never know with a girl like her.


At least she comes by it honest.

Big Girl Room

I've got a while to think about MB's big girl room, especially because we are most likely not going to be living in our house when the new baby comes. So there will be lots of shuffling in the next six to nine months, during which time I can hem and haw over fabric and generally keep myself busy surfing the internet for ideas, like I have nothing better to do.

Today's internet surfing brought me to Premier Prints, and whoa. Can I just take one of each?

I'm thinking either a painted or upholstered headboard, either way in turquoise, and one or more pink prints for pillows and sheeting. I can keep her Dash & Albert rug which I don't think Baby Boy will appreciate as a handmedown:

I know which one Mary Bullock would like best!

Edit: Wait Wait! Add this, too:

Little Besties

Sorry Molly and Kaylan, I think that MB has a new BFF.

But I think it's mostly because he's her own size. Don't take it personally. One day, if you get shorter, perhaps she'll revisit her decision.

Or if you can manage to squeeze yourself into the double stroller with her. That really gave Baby Ben the edge.

Maybe then she'll hold your hand in the backseat. It's the sweetest.

The house is much quieter and the messes are much fewer since the end of Cousin Week '10, but the bathtub sure is lonely.

Hot Mess

Pretty much sums up how things have been around here since last weekend! Both Lee and I came down with a stomach bug on Monday and were down for the count until today. We are thankful that MB has such a willing and helpful grandmother who stepped in when we couldn't lift our heads off of our pillows.

We're slowly catching up, so bear with me while I get myself together!

I've been meaning to share this little video with you for a few days. Among other precious tidbits, Lee has taught our baby how to say HOT. MESS.  I know there will come a time very soon when this is completely inappropriate, but for now it just makes us giggle. Or snarf. Depending on whether or not there are beverages around.



Happy Wednesday!

My Head is Spinning

We've had a crazy [but good, and busy] week, and I'm still sorting everything out. But I'm coming with a post tomorrow.

Hopefully.

One quick photo, though...

Mary Bullock already misses Benine.

I [Heart] Amurica

Really, I do. Sometimes I don't [heart] the people making decisions around here, but I like to think they're trying their best. Maybe naively do I think this.

But still.

I definitely love July 4th festivities, though. And this July 4th the MB Fan Club is all set to assemble, which should make a regularly great holiday like, the best ever.

Safe travels to Aunt Jen & Baby Bennie and Uncle Kirby and Monniiiiieeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

And I hope all of you have some corn on the cob, sliced tomatoes, and riiiiyubs this Sunday. [And some cold beer if you're not gestating like some lame people we know.]