Yesterday, Mary Bullock and I ventured out to Connor's A-Maize-Ing Acres in Hilliard with some mamas and babies from MOPs. I thought Mary Bullock would be in heaven, and she was.
First there was a little playground. I think she would have been content to play there all day, and that was before we even got to the good part.
Lee didn't get to go with us, but he is now determined to have a pedal tractor for our backyard!
The tub o' corn [there may be an official name for this contraption, but I don't know what it is] was also a hit. We had to drag the kiddos out of there to actually get to the corn maze.
This was definitely the most common view of MB of the day. My baby loves to run, and she ran and ran and ran. Which meant I did a lot of...fast walking. Because I am so past running at this point, you know? But luckily she didn't go too far or wander off into the corn, which was my biggest fear.
There was also a cow train, which gave me pause. I said some serious prayers when that thing disappeared around the corn.
But she came back safe and sound and still sucking on her lollipop.
She sat with the big girls on the hayride, which I'm sure thrilled her just as much as petting the cows.
We'll definitely make this trip again next year, and hopefully Lee can join us. Although, I'm not sure who I'll have to drag away next time: Mary Bullock or her daddy. The Connors might want to count their tractors after we leave. :)
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Brain Dump
So there are lots of things I have had on my mind this week, and this is the post wherein I empty them all out tumble-bumble, pell-mell, and see where it all lands.
*Begin Dump*
I learned a very important lesson this weekend: I am no good without Lee.
The last few weeks have been crazy for him at work, so I have been what we call OMO [on my own] around here for much of it. By the end of last week, I was so frustrated and stressed, and I couldn't even really articulate why that was.
By Sunday it had dawned on me. Life just doesn't work as well when he's not around. And it's not about helping with diapers or making breakfast. With Lee around, joy is doubled and problems are halved. Actually, when he's home, some things that initially seem like problems turn into joys.
Like this:
This, my friends, is my very first attempt at using the sewing machine that I got for my birthday back in August. In case you can't tell, it's a burp cloth. This little bit of sewing took me four hours, one trip to Laura's house, and several tearful skype calls to my mother. When I finally finished, I took it to show Lee, still sort of sniffling from my last meltdown. And we started laughing. We laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants. And y'all, I'm 32 weeks pregnant. It wasn't a long shot. I was lucky not to have wet the couch.
But knowing Lee, even if I had wet the couch, we would have laughed about it for the next decade.
So there's that.
And this:
Just because it made me laugh.
I'm trying to laugh more at [with?] Mary Bullock. So much of this new age is not really so funny, you know? The tantrums, the complete lack of rationality [hers and mine, I guess], the defiance-- it's enough to wear anyone out, I think. But at 8+ months pregnant, my funny bone has gone missing. Maybe under mounds of flesh. Who knows? I'm working on finding it.
Speaking of my belly, I don't have any new pictures. I'll try to get one soon. I am shocked daily by its mere existence. Every night I look in the mirror while putting on my pjs and say: WHERE DID THIS THING COME FROM? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?
And then Lee rolls his eyes. Because we really do have this conversation every night.
The FAQ on the street is What does Mary Bullock think about the new baby?
A: It's hard to say, really. She has started calling her belly button her baby button. When I ask her if she knows what's in mommy's belly, she will sometimes say brover. Other times she stares at me like I have three heads. Mostly, though, she will point to her own baby button.
When I ask her if she has a baby in there, she says YESSSS.
What are you going to name your new baby brother? I ask.
First it was Caroline.
Then it was Nap.
Then it was Nap Playground [which we loved and have moved to the top of our list].
She came up with something else this week, but I can't remember what it was.
Lord, I love this baby. And here is my last MB story of the day:
Perhaps you know this already, but MB has gotten a little choosy about her diapers. Since our latest box had no Big Bird, she prefers the Ernie diapers, which she calls Burp diapers. She knows the difference between Ernie and Bert, but persists in calling them Burp diapers. Whatever. I'm picking my battles, and anything related to diapers is already a big one.
This morning we were down to the last five diapers in the box. Four Elmos and one Burp. She wanted the Burp [duh]. But then she realized that Violet needed her diaper changed, too.
And here is where you will now melt.
She gave her Burp diaper to Violet. Even after I explained that she would have to wear Elmo if she gave her last Burp diaper to Violet.
Greater love hath no baby.
*End Dump*
*Begin Dump*
I learned a very important lesson this weekend: I am no good without Lee.
The last few weeks have been crazy for him at work, so I have been what we call OMO [on my own] around here for much of it. By the end of last week, I was so frustrated and stressed, and I couldn't even really articulate why that was.
By Sunday it had dawned on me. Life just doesn't work as well when he's not around. And it's not about helping with diapers or making breakfast. With Lee around, joy is doubled and problems are halved. Actually, when he's home, some things that initially seem like problems turn into joys.
Like this:
This, my friends, is my very first attempt at using the sewing machine that I got for my birthday back in August. In case you can't tell, it's a burp cloth. This little bit of sewing took me four hours, one trip to Laura's house, and several tearful skype calls to my mother. When I finally finished, I took it to show Lee, still sort of sniffling from my last meltdown. And we started laughing. We laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants. And y'all, I'm 32 weeks pregnant. It wasn't a long shot. I was lucky not to have wet the couch.
But knowing Lee, even if I had wet the couch, we would have laughed about it for the next decade.
So there's that.
And this:
Just because it made me laugh.
I'm trying to laugh more at [with?] Mary Bullock. So much of this new age is not really so funny, you know? The tantrums, the complete lack of rationality [hers and mine, I guess], the defiance-- it's enough to wear anyone out, I think. But at 8+ months pregnant, my funny bone has gone missing. Maybe under mounds of flesh. Who knows? I'm working on finding it.
Speaking of my belly, I don't have any new pictures. I'll try to get one soon. I am shocked daily by its mere existence. Every night I look in the mirror while putting on my pjs and say: WHERE DID THIS THING COME FROM? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?
And then Lee rolls his eyes. Because we really do have this conversation every night.
The FAQ on the street is What does Mary Bullock think about the new baby?
A: It's hard to say, really. She has started calling her belly button her baby button. When I ask her if she knows what's in mommy's belly, she will sometimes say brover. Other times she stares at me like I have three heads. Mostly, though, she will point to her own baby button.
When I ask her if she has a baby in there, she says YESSSS.
What are you going to name your new baby brother? I ask.
First it was Caroline.
Then it was Nap.
Then it was Nap Playground [which we loved and have moved to the top of our list].
She came up with something else this week, but I can't remember what it was.
Lord, I love this baby. And here is my last MB story of the day:
Perhaps you know this already, but MB has gotten a little choosy about her diapers. Since our latest box had no Big Bird, she prefers the Ernie diapers, which she calls Burp diapers. She knows the difference between Ernie and Bert, but persists in calling them Burp diapers. Whatever. I'm picking my battles, and anything related to diapers is already a big one.
This morning we were down to the last five diapers in the box. Four Elmos and one Burp. She wanted the Burp [duh]. But then she realized that Violet needed her diaper changed, too.
And here is where you will now melt.
She gave her Burp diaper to Violet. Even after I explained that she would have to wear Elmo if she gave her last Burp diaper to Violet.
Greater love hath no baby.
*End Dump*
Monday, October 4, 2010
One day very soon...
One day, when we have a few children in private school and consequently are completely and utterly broke, [which is different from the present only by subtracting one dramatic adverb] you all are going to discover that underneath this professionally colored hair is a mass of gray. And I'm getting grayer by the minute.
This is just a sample of my morning: Mary Bullock decided to paint her toenails before her playdate. This was after jumping across my lap and upending my coffee* onto her head and the sofa. But before wreaking havoc in Chik-fil-a and eating a waffle fry off of the floor. She followed that up with standing on top of her medical kit and falling flat on her face.
At least parenting a toddler is not boring.
No one could ever say that.
*Don't worry--my coffee was not hot. Is there a mama out there who gets to drink her coffee hot? If so, go ahead and give yourself a high five for me.
This is just a sample of my morning: Mary Bullock decided to paint her toenails before her playdate. This was after jumping across my lap and upending my coffee* onto her head and the sofa. But before wreaking havoc in Chik-fil-a and eating a waffle fry off of the floor. She followed that up with standing on top of her medical kit and falling flat on her face.
At least parenting a toddler is not boring.
No one could ever say that.
*Don't worry--my coffee was not hot. Is there a mama out there who gets to drink her coffee hot? If so, go ahead and give yourself a high five for me.
It's a Mystery, Mary Bullock!
Facts:
On Thursday, this peanut M&M jar was full.
They are Mary Bullock's potty rewards.
Mary Bullock has yet to pee pee or poo poo on the potty.
And yet, the stash dwindles.
Weird.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
What She Wore
Because I know you don't care what I'm wearing.
Gator pinafore and hairbow- Blue Whale Boutique
Jeans- BabyGap (purchased with a Groupon)
Tretorns- Lands End
T-shirt- Target
Busted Lip- Neighborhood street
Sweetness- homegrown
Gator pinafore and hairbow- Blue Whale Boutique
Jeans- BabyGap (purchased with a Groupon)
Tretorns- Lands End
T-shirt- Target
Busted Lip- Neighborhood street
Sweetness- homegrown
Friday, October 1, 2010
TGIFF
That's Thank God It's Finally Friday. And thank God it's a date night. Maybe this time we can preempt a sobbing trip around the block with the wagon.
Because y'all, today has been one of those days. Get ready-- this has to do with poop. Feel free to click away if this isn't on your list of acceptable topics.
Our first real outing with pull ups [a library date] was a poop-tastrophe. I think I can reasonably [and not melodramatically] call it this when we spend 20 minutes of a 30 minute story time in the bathroom covered in poop. I probably should have predicted and prepared for this after Mary Bullock failed to poop this morning despite ample time and potty trips. But by the time we finally got out of the house this morning, all faculties of logic were zapped.
I'll save you all the details [actually just re-thinking the details makes me anxious, so I'm really doing myself a favor] and skip to the end, when I stripped her down, washed out her dress in the sink, and dried it under the automatic hand dryer. I wish I could say that I laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of this, but I didn't.
My mother of the year award is so, so far gone.
Dear Mary Bullock, forgive me for all of my shortcomings as your mother.
I promise to keep trying.
If you promise to try limit the poopy messes to times when Mommy has packed spare clothes.
I just said we'd try.
Deal?
Because y'all, today has been one of those days. Get ready-- this has to do with poop. Feel free to click away if this isn't on your list of acceptable topics.
Our first real outing with pull ups [a library date] was a poop-tastrophe. I think I can reasonably [and not melodramatically] call it this when we spend 20 minutes of a 30 minute story time in the bathroom covered in poop. I probably should have predicted and prepared for this after Mary Bullock failed to poop this morning despite ample time and potty trips. But by the time we finally got out of the house this morning, all faculties of logic were zapped.
I'll save you all the details [actually just re-thinking the details makes me anxious, so I'm really doing myself a favor] and skip to the end, when I stripped her down, washed out her dress in the sink, and dried it under the automatic hand dryer. I wish I could say that I laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of this, but I didn't.
My mother of the year award is so, so far gone.
Dear Mary Bullock, forgive me for all of my shortcomings as your mother.
I promise to keep trying.
If you promise to try limit the poopy messes to times when Mommy has packed spare clothes.
I just said we'd try.
Deal?
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