Feasting on Cereal

This makes me so sad.






Today Elizabeth is six months old. It's been half a year since my last baby was born. In half a year she will be one. One means walking and talking and toddlerhood. It also means my days with a baby are numbered.

When Jacob was a baby I could not wait to shop the baby food aisle. In fact, I started him on cereal a full seven weeks earlier than recommended because I couldn't wait anymore. By the time the pediatrician gave us the okay to start the solids, he was already gobbling three jars of stage two a day. I was so proud of my little eater and couldn't wait until he could sit up, pull up, walk. Every milestone he attained was photographed and videotaped and then we pushed him towards the next one. Why did we do that? We weren't as forceful with Adam, but he was so gung-ho to be big, he just never seemed little. He crawled at four months so solid foods at six seemed long overdue and although he received his fair amount of fanfare over it, it really didn't seem like that big of a deal.

It sure does feel like a big deal this time though.

I no longer love the baby food aisle. In fact, I avoid it like the plague. When different pediatrician said we could start cereal at four months, I refused to hear her, telling myself that my regular, out on maternity leave, doctor would say six months and I waited. When the husband would tell me to pick up a box at the store because "she seems ready", I would always pretend I forgot, or they were out, or I could save a whole quarter getting it at another store. Today, though, she is six months old. As much as I would like to think she isn't ready, the fact that she grabbed a donut off my plate this morning and shoved into her mouth before I could blink, is kind of a sign that, yeah, she might want to try that good stuff.

So I took a deep breath, pushed back a few tears, and pushed my way into the baby food aisle today. I did it. It sucked, but I did it.

So tonight she feasts. On runny, bland cereal. At the table with the big boys.

Give me strength.

I can't even tell you about how she started rolling and scooting this week. That will just send me right over the edge.

The Happiest Baby on the Block?

I am forever grateful to Dr. Karp, author of The Happiest Baby on the Block, for introducing the five s's, most specifically swaddling, to our lives. He truly saved our sanity in some wretched, horrid times. The miracle blanket became Elizabeth's best friend during "the colic" and really, if I could have married that green thing, I would have. Love, love, loved the miracle blanket! But, alas, all good things must come to an end. I think it is time we break up with our soft, snuggly, wraparound sleep inducer.

Elizabeth will be six months tomorrow. How? I don't know because I swear I am still recovering and shouldn't there be meals coming? Flew by. Anyway, Elizabeth has grown some in that time and the same blanket that swallowed her whole four months ago now has trouble covering all of her body parts. Fold it up and pack it away you say? There's just one wee problem with that. Elizabeth has no idea how to sleep without him since they've been together so long. Oh, we've tried, dear Lord, have we tried, but the minute her little back hits that bed it's like her arms have taken on a life of their own. Oh, the flailing. Then, the crying. Then, we're back scrolling the now playing list on the tivo until my eyes begin closing involuntarily and I dig out that groovy miracle blanket and give her a fix. You'd think that would be good and fine and we'd all sleep happily afterward, but no. MB, bless his heart, can no longer restrain those restless arms for long. Sure, he gives it the old college try, but eventually Elizabeth breaks free from the once wonderful relationship and, usually, winds up bopping herself in the head until we are once again consoling our sorrows downstairs with our old buddy Alton or our new buddy Chuck.

I would really like to make a clean, quick break for everyone's well being, but it seems that this might be one of those long, drawn-out, just-one-more-time break ups that really aren't good for anyone.

Help me Dr. Karp! What do I do now?

Maybe It Is Time for Solid Food

My Life in Pumpkins

The Peace Offering

So the husband comes in last night with two bunches of flowers (Kroger specials which are my favorite yet have no idea what they are) and a bottle of Pepsi (which he hates and I adore). He said he thought I was having a bad week and they might make me feel better. In other words, he knows I have stomped around in a snit ever since he and his mom concocted their devious plan and he thinks a preemptive gift is the way to buy my silence and slavery.

Yeah, it was truly sweet of him, especially when he equates buying flowers to flushing money down the toilet, but I will be the one to sweep the dead leaves off the table next week and the pepsi, well, it didn't last long.

But I would never tell him that. I thanked him and gushed over it all (especially the Pepsi. Can't get enough of that good stuff) and let him know that I would tolerate absolutely no smoking or reachable lethal medications in or around my house and if I found it, the kids and I would be staying at the lake for the remainder of "the visit" and he agreed. So there. She's still coming, but at least I've made my stand.

And as for a positive spin on the whole thing (as if the Pepsi weren't enough), I will not be at a loss for posting material during November's NaBloPoMo.

It's My Lucky Week

A while back, Janeen so nicely gave me some kudos in her blog by passing along this:
I am sure she thinks I have forgotten about it, but I haven't. It really felt nice to know that someone out there finds my daily drivel to be interesting and thinkable, especially when I don't make special effort to be that way.

Then, she was nice enough to give me this:



When, honestly, it's you people who are nice to me!

Then, the other day, Janice sent this my way:





So, my mission following these bestowals, was to pass it along to five other bloggers who make me think, are really nice, and really give thought to what they write about. I have tried all week to narrow it down to five and I just can't. Picking a "winner" makes me kind of feel like those snotty girls at the grade school sleepovers who insisted upon having beauty contests where they were deemed most beautiful and I always came in last or got some sort of consolation prize like best reader or something. I didn't want anyone out there to wish Bloody Mary would actually show up in the mirror and cart me to hell, so I decided not to decide.

I have a blogroll full of people who make me think everyday. I have learned about life-threatening allergies, limb differences, ADD, speech delays, adoption, autism, and homeschooling. I have made connections with other moms and dads who try the best they can to raise their children and the fact that they sometimes struggle, makes me feel better about the fact that I sometimes struggle. I have made friends with people I might pass on the street and never recognize, yet know that they will be there to comfort me should something bad happen and share in my happiness when something good does. I got more comments and well wishes and concerns from my net friends when my mom was sick and when we found out we were having a baby than from my real life friends. That says something. Maybe that I don't have many friends and should step away from the computer, but it was appreciated nonetheless. So, see friends, there is no way I could choose just five bloggers. I consider you all to be nice, reflective, thinking bloggers as you make me think and laugh and relate every day.

It's a Major Award!

Okay, maybe not as tantallizing as the fra-ge-lay leg lamp, but even better!

A three month supply of Luvs diapers courtesy Plain Jane Mom.

If you haven't been to her new blog yet, you're missing out. She's just giving stuff away over there. Check it out.

My very own Columbus Day present.

As G*d is my witness, I will never buy diapers again! Well, except for Elizabeth and after all 960 of these babies run out, but still 960 diapers in my garage! It's like the lottery for poor parents. Thanks Erika!

How Can I Get Out of This One?

I'm not going to leave this one up very long, so read it while you can.


I'm mad today.

Well, maybe mad isn't the word.

I can't really put my finger on the right word.

Overwhelmed, maybe? Confused? Angry?


My mother in law is coming. Here. To my house. I am not happy about that.


I'm not going to get into my husband's family logistics here, it's not my place. But, I will be spending two weeks with a woman a barely know, with my children who do not know her.

Oh, and did I mention that she hates me?


I am trying so hard to find some positive spin in this situation, but so far I can't. What began as a few days, turned into a week, and now it's two weeks, and I'm afraid of how long it will actually be when she gets here on Halloween. When my husband mentioned she wanted to come, like three weeks ago, he was planning on taking a week off work to spend with her, so really, no biggie for me, other than the extra plate at the table and extra laundry to fold, but I heard him telling her last night he was going to take a half day off while she was there and she'd be spending the rest of the time with me. What? I know he thinks I sit on my ass all day long, but in the harsh reality that is our life, I run this place. I am up early to cart the kid to school, I clean, I cook, I diaper and clothe the children (many times throughout the day I might add), I buy groceries, I discipline, I help with homework. On top of that, we have Little Gym, speech, MOPs, field trips, and playdates to a point that I am rarely at home anymore. When in hell does he expect me to entertain his mother. Oh, I know what you're thinking. My dear MIL can help with these things! But, no, she can't. I am not going to get anymore into it other than to say that she has some mental illnesses. Pretty much, I'm going to have another person to take care of for two weeks in November. I am exhausted now. I get about three hours of sleep a night and then I'm on the go all day. I am overwhelmed with the sheer amount of things I need to do to keep a family of five going, especially now that one of those five is in school. This is just not a great time for me to be dealing with this. The last time she came, Jacob was eight months old. She stayed one night. That one night was plenty, for us and for her. Just dealing with a baby crying and such tore her nerves apart. Why does my husband think it's going to go peachily with two more kids and less room?

AARRGGHH

But, I can't do anything about it.

She's my husband's mother. Sure, she's not like my mom and she's not like most moms, but she is his mother. Since my mom comes here whenever she darn well pleases and he's happy to see her, I can't very well tell him that entertaining his mom for two weeks is a going to be a chaotic freak show. I couldn't even remind him that he will have to keep an eagle eye on all her medications without him accusing me of hating his family. Again.

Oh, and did I mention she smokes?

Did I ever mention how much I detest cigarette smoke?

Yeah, my husband is under the impression that she has quit smoking (she hasn't) and even if she is smoking, she can smoke on the porch. When she was here the last time, my house smelled like smoke for days just from her hair and clothes (she smoked on the porch). Can you imagine what it will be like after two weeks? I do not want her holding my baby because I don't want my baby having to snort that shit off of her. Criminy! What if she were to chew on her yellow fingers? Man, I am going to be a drunk before she leaves, but damn, I won't be able to drink while she's here since she is so uber religious and drinking is a sin and the drinking might send her into a fit of anxiety and, oh man, this is going to suck.

I Don't Know Why I Bother

Your Turn......

Come out, come out, wherever you are!

Public Service Announcement

Never leave your toddler and baby alone together even for one minute.

Sure, the first time it's just a highlighter.

If you're not careful, it could turn into a sharpie.

Don't let this happen to your family.

Take your children into the bathroom with you. It's for their own good.

Sick, Just Sick

Dear West Virginia Football Team,

You Suck.

Some Advice for next week:

-Get a new center

-Run forward

-Throw the ball now and then

-Learn your uniform, those are your teammates.

-Did I say run?

Sincerely,

A New Scarlet Knights Fan

Wanna See a Pretty Girl in a Bikini?

It Wasn't The Wine

Good News!

I am not a lightweight!

Bad News.....

It wasn't food poisoning either.


At 1:24 this morning, I was awakened from an awesome Brad Paisley dream to Jacob standing over me in a panic. "I have puked!" he continued to bellow until I finally returned to reality. Yes, yes he did puke. All over that top bunk. Did you know that if one pukes on the top bunk that it will somehow end up on the bottom bunk? Now you do. I HATE the bunk bed!!!! So, being the good wife that I am, I woke the husband who promised to love, honor, and change the bunk bed sheets and it was a complete family affair! Well, except for Adam, who slept through his sheet change and Elizabeth, who only slept last night during the times I was awake. It was loads of fun I tell ya!

So, Jacob missed school today. He was pretty sick for about six hours. Can you believe this is only the third time (knock on internet wood) he's actually had stomach bug? He seems fine now, curled up in front of Game Show Network with a bunch of pencil puzzles and books. He asked to go for donuts so I think the worst has passed. Adam seems to be okay, although he has a touch of something going on the other end. That's all I'll say about that. I am worried to death about Elizabeth. I really did think I was sick on wine so I didn't limit my access to her and even if I did it wouldn't have kept those boys from licking her pacifier and poking their fingers in her mouth. I just hope and pray she stays well.

Excuse me now while I bid adieu to some of my favorite pillows.

I am, most definitely, a vomit lightweight.

Careful What You Wish For

So the day wasn't a complete bust. Sure, I mopped up more soda, milk, and poop yesterday than seemed humanly possibly, but we did get out and enjoy the evening.

We ate at a restaurant on the lake. The kids were eaten alive by mosquitoes, but there was wine involved, so it was fun.




Oh, and many boats. Many, many boats. Did you know Adam loves boats? I have only pictures of the side of his face as a result.

Then, because Mommy had too much wine and was feeling generous, we went to the overrated, expensive, paved-paradise-with-a-parking-lot amusement park down the road.



You can just feel the fun can't you?

No, he wasn't scared. He was just mad because he thought we were taking out a loan for buying tickets for the roller coaster. How dare we spend his college tuition making him ride that asinine baby ride!

And there was cake!



Never mind that I had to drag three screaming kids out to pick it up myself.

And it was purely coincidental that 26 is on it. We are too cheap to spring for new candles and, duh, my kids are 2 and 6.

But the real fun came later in the evening......

When I met that entire carafe of red wine again in my bathroom. And my tortellini. And that wonderful cake. Surely I had food poisoning because if 39 makes you a lightweight, I want no part of it.


Geez, I don't even like wine.

Yes, I am 26

When I was employed, like, by an actual place that gave me a paycheck, I always took my birthday off. I mean, really, it's my day after all, the only day I get all year long, why should I spend it working? I remember some of those birthdays. Sleeping until ten. Spending money with reckless abandon. Eating greasy diner breakfasts and desserts for dinner. Those were some fun times.

I think you should not spend your birthday:


waking before nine

cleaning hairballs off the carpet

mopping rice krispies and spilled soda from the floor

scrubbing lipstick from your fancy duvet

being pooped on

washing your brand new twenty dollar body wash off your two year old

cleaning pee off the bathroom floor, yet again


I do think there should be a clause in the marriage vows that states the husband will take the day off on your birthday and take over all child-rearing, housekeeping, errand-running activities and, just to be fair, vice versa on the husband's day......oh wait.....I already do that.


On your birthday you should:


sleep late

skip school

use a clean bathroom

eat out breakfast, lunch, and dinner

purchase $110 shoes without feeling guilty

use your fancy body wash before it ends up washed down the drain

watch Last Comic Standing on your tivo before someone tells you who won

dress your baby in ladybugs and red gingham just because you can

What's In A Name?

Elizabeth wasn't my first choice for my baby girl's name.

Actually, I really didn't have a choice as I was still cruising the name lists the day she was born.

Jacob came up with Elizabeth months prior to her birth in the car during a long trip. I thought it was sent to him from the heavens, but most likely he was watching a Thomas video and Elizabeth, a lorry car, was on at the time. After that, the husband loved Elizabeth and I just kept looking for something else. It's not that I don't like the name, I do, it's just I didn't think it was the name. Plus, I spent most of my time searching for the perfect boy name. I found two I assumed we would be flipping coins over as we signed the birth certificate: Nathaniel Peyton and Ethan Samuel......cool, huh? So Elizabeth shows up and we begin to scramble on a name...well, I began to scramble. Derick had called everyone he knew before they even wheeled me to recovery to inform everyone of Elizabeth Laura's birth. From the beginning, we had planned on using Laura as her middle name, but we dropped the ball and didn't discuss it with my sister until the day of. She said she'd ask her husband and call back but she never did. Since Teresa gets uptight at the mere mention of the word "Laura" we figured it would be too much. We eventually gave up waiting for that call and I settled on Rachel, the name I wanted when I was pregnant with Adam. Rachel Elizabeth. I could live with that. Derick said he could too, but I could tell he was disappointed, so I agreed to swap the names. Once I signed those papers, though, I was full of regret. I liked Rachel. I wanted Rachel. Derick was on cloud nine with Elizabeth. I tried to love it. I tried to use it. I called her Beth and Ellie and even Lizard Breath at times. Elizabeth is just a hard name to coo to a colicky baby. Sometimes I call her Rachel. My friend calls her Rachel. My parents call her Rachel. Jacob informs us all that her name is Elizabeth. I secretly want to hide his Webkinz from him for coming up with it in the first place.

But the past few days I look at her and call her by her name and realize that she has suddenly become Elizabeth.

Elizabeth

Elizzzzzabeth

ElizaBETH

I think I like it. Finally.

Sure beats Lizard Breath.

Show and Tell

Remember when I said that I didn't like Jacob's teacher?

I take that back.

I love Jacob's teacher.

She allowed Jacob to bring his big, stinky, tail-whipping dog to show and tell making him most popular for at least a day.

Ezra's tail hasn't stopped wagging.

Jacob was thrilled! He's been talking about bringing that dog for show and tell since he was three.

He's already planning for next month.

He says he's bringing Elizabeth.

At least she's more portable.

Everybody Loves A Clown.....

I have tons of chapsticks and lipsticks in a drawer in my bathroom. It's a sickness, really, I usually can't make it through the Tarzhay without popping one into the cart. I would venture to say I probably have forty of them stuffed into that drawer.

Adam loves, loves, loves the chapstick. If I forget to close the bathroom door, I know that's where I'll find him. I no longer remember his own special smell as it has been masked by grape, watermelon, and black cherry vanilla dr. pepper scents since he was a year old. I finally gave in, tired of trying to locate things in that drawer after his ransacks, and gave him his own tube to keep in his pocket. Worked like a charm.

Until today.





Apparently the natural look is out this season.

Tuesday Tidbits

So it ain't Tuesday. Sue me.

I got the biggest kick out of watching Jacob and Adam play together the other day. They were running around and acting kind of silly and I thought I might get teary-eyed until I heard Jacob say, " You be Randy and I'll be Earl and we're gonna pretend to go stealing from garages and then take our stuff to the Crab Shack. Ezra can be Crabman." I guess Earl is going to hit my tivo list this year.

On Tuesdays, Elizabeth and I take Adam to The Little Gym so he can run loud and senseless exercise and socialize. Between dropping Jacob off and the beginning of class, we have about a half hour to kill so I have been taking him to a donut shop along the way. Yes, once a week we have donuts. And a Pepsi to wash them down. Don't judge me. Anyway, our new donut hangout happens to be located right next door to a fitness club, a very popular fitness club as the parking lot is always full. I thought it was pretty hysterical to watch the people come in their workout duds all sweaty and take a dozen donuts out the door, but what's even funnier is the workout dudded people all circling the parking lot in their beamers and benzes trying to get the closest spot just like the mall at Christmas time. Geez louise! If you just tried walking a little bit, you might not have to pay the outrageous prices the fitness club charges. Pfft.

Last week after the now infamous chapel performance, Jacob stood up in front of the television to sing Jesus Loves Me. Adam stood right up next to him and sang Mana, Mana. It was hilarious.

What the hell happened to Blue? Jacob loved Blue's Clues as a baby, but he quit watching it right after Joe came to town. A few weeks ago I turned it on for Adam so I could nap so I could tend to the baby and Blue was a life size stuffed animal with polka-dotted brother! Uh, why was there a need to screw with Blue? It's safe to say that Blue's Clues has officially jumped the shark.

I think I watch too much Food Network. Adam has begun referring to Paula Deen and the Barefoot Contessa as Mamaw.