diaper bag diary

Starting Again

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Fri, 09 Mar 2012 20:38:00 +0000

I can't believe 23 people are still followers on this blog! It's been a few years since my last post. It felt too long to go back and the name seemed outdated so I started a new blog called Superheroes Wearing Tiaras. It's still very rough but I decided to just go for it. I hope you'll check it out!

Barbasol... Not Just for Grandpa's Beard

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Fri, 31 Jul 2009 15:20:00 +0000

I have vague memories of my dad using Barbasol shaving cream. Does anyone still use that stuff? It reminds me of dads and grandpas. We, however, found a more exciting use for this can of Barbasol. (Perhaps I should have used it to shave my hairy legs, you know, since it's summer and all.)

This summer has been basically craft free. Out of guilt and boredom I decided to pick up a recent issue of Family Fun. I LOVE this magazine and the Family Fun website, by the way. I highly recommend it for activity suggestions. It's always full of fun activities that are easy to execute. Just my style! After a quick trip to Walmart, we were set for our shaving cream craft project.

Everything about this craft project screams fun. First, you get to cover a baking sheet with shaving cream. Big One exclaimed, "I never knew shaving cream could be so much fun!" How often do you get to squirt shaving cream haphazardly?

The next step involves placing drops of liquid food coloring on top of the shaving cream. Big One struggled with the urge to squeeze the entire bottle of food coloring on top of the cream. Ultimately, he conquered the urge and placed a few large drops on the cream.

Next, a craft stick is used to swirl the food coloring in fun patterns.

Place a piece of card stock on top of the shaving cream, pressing gently. Or, if you're 3, go ahead and shove that piece of paper down as hard as you can.

After lifting the paper out of the shaving cream, scrape the excess off with a craft stick or other flat edged implement.

The result? Some fun patterns on the paper which can be used for other crafts.

Of course, when the craft is done, it's fun to squish around in the shaving cream. Be prepared for colorful hands even after the shaving cream is washed away! Big One still has blue hands. With the exception of the skin tinting, this craft was very easy to clean up.

Little One didn't get to join in on the fun. I'm such a mean mommy! (Or I just wanted to avoid a trip to the ER for excessive shaving cream consumption by my 1 year old.) Either way, she entertained herself with a book and some toys.

Such a Wean-ee

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 21:01:00 +0000

Oh, Little One. Such a ~~demanding~~ sweet soul. She is persistent, I'll give her that.

After the decision to stay home with the kids once she was born, I also decided she would be breastfed until a year. At that time, she would simply wean herself and begin drinking whole milk like her big brother.

Or not.

She will soon be 14 months old and shows no signs of weaning. In fact, over the last few months she has added feedings to her schedule, despite the fact that I feed her three solid meals and snacks. A growing girl needs her milk. And her comfort. The original goal was to wean by 1 year. The new goal is to be done by 18 months. Little One may have other ideas.

I'm torn because it's not that big of a deal to continue nursing. I just don't want her tugging at my shirt when she's 5 expecting to nurse. (No offense to anyone who still nurses their 5 year old. It's just not for me.) I have a fear that the longer I nurse, the harder it will be to wean her. And, occasionally, it would be nice to not have to schedule my life around her bedtime, since the only way she will go to sleep is after a belly full of warm breast milk, straight from the source. Bottles are chew toys at our house.

I thought I got away with no nursing after nap time this afternoon. She woke up screaming (typical) but was quickly smiling at the sight of Elmo. We played for a while and I gave her a cup of milk. She humored me by taking a few sips. At least 15 minutes passed with no signs of nursing. But then the urge struck and she wouldn't be denied. She climbed into my lap and cuddled up into nursing position. I tried to just cuddle or sit her back up but she wasn't falling for it. I gave it.

The biggest issue is that the nursing is a big comfort thing for her. She often nurses longer than she actually needs to just for the comfort factor. I hate denying my baby the comfort that she wants and needs. She's such a mama's girl. This could be a long, difficult process! My new mantra? I am not a human pacifier. I am not a human pacifier!

Baby E's Magic Toilet

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 14:32:00 +0000

Big One's fear for the longest time has been pooping on the potty. We've struggled with it for over a year now. As he nears 4, we feared he would always need the security of his diaper to go number 2. We've tried bribing, coercing, punishing, begging, pleading, bribing some more. The kid just wasn't going to do it. Until yesterday.

We went to visit a high school friend of mine and her daughter, Baby E. Big One declared that he had to poop. I informed him he would either have to hold it or try going on the potty. He decided to hold it. For about a minute. He then decided to give the potty a try.

As soon as he sat down, he started going. No begging or pleading required. There was no clenching of his butt cheeks and whining that it was scary. He just sat down and went. I can't tell you how shocked and happy I was. Only a parent could be this excited about poop. Isn't it amazing how your priorities change? I declared Baby E's toilet the magic toilet.

On the way home, I asked if Big One would start pooping in our toilet now that he knows it's not scary. This is where my words came back to bite me.

"No, because Baby E's toilet is the only magic toilet. Ours isn't magic."

Shoot! Luckily, I was quick on my feet.

"Guess what? I took the magic from Baby E's toilet and brought it home for our toilet. Now you can use ours, too!"

Apparently, he bought it. He went again last night at home. He even mentioned something about not needing magic anymore. Small victory! This morning he used the toilet yet again to do his number 2. We're on a roll. I'm hesitant to say he's completely over his pooping issues. But at least it's a good start!

Change of Scenery

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 01:16:00 +0000

Before embarking on our latest adventure, I foolishly called it a vacation. A few days into the "vacation", my opinion changed. I decided to call it my "change of scenery" instead. My everyday life in a new location. Dirty diapers, temper tantrums, entertaining the kids, making sure no one fell down the stairs, feeding, clothing, and all of the other little things that make up the average mom's day. The thing about the mommy gig is you never get to turn it off.

Still, I can't complain. This is where our change of scenery took us...

Not a bad view to see each morning. Our cabin was located just outside of Gatlinburg, TN. We shared the cabin with my parents, sister, brother, sister in law, niece and nephew. It was a spacious cabin, with each family having their own bedroom.

Big One and Little One handled most of the car ride very well. But the last leg from Paducah, Kentucky to Gatlinburg was rough. And it was on Father's Day. Happy Father's Day, Hubs! I got you a relaxing day of driving with two screaming kids. I even threw in a mental breakdown just for you. Did you like it?

We were all happy to arrive at the cabin.

Except that the first night at the cabin was almost as rough as that day's car ride. The kids didn't sleep well. Little One kept waking up. Big One flopped around in the bed we shared. Hubs tried to sleep in the van until I begged him to come in so he wouldn't be eaten by a bear. None of us slept well.

Monday morning we all decided to take a hike in the mountains. Little One was whiny. Big One was whiny. I was on edge and exhausted. We finally made it to the beginning of the trail to find all of the parking spots were full.

But wait, someone was backing out. We were going to park in the spot and my brother was going to drive a quarter mile back down the hill to park his car. Hubs moved forward slightly to let the other car out of the spot. Out of no where, another car speeds up and slips right into the spot.

That was the straw.

I got out of the van with Little One and Hubs drove down the hill with my brother. I lost it. Tears. Cursing. Threats of packing up and heading home that day. I made sure to throw out a comment about rude people stealing parking spots as I stood right next to the car that had taken the spot. And yes, they were out of the car. Passive-aggressive tendencies at their finest. I needed to make my point. It took a little of the edge off.

My dad took Little One and I paced the parking lot crying.

We finally started up the trail. A nice woman who was pushing a stroller down the trail stopped us. There was a tree down over the trail about 100 yards from the end. A stroller could be lifted over it. Don't stop. It's worth it to go on.

I know she could see how psycho I was that day. My face said it all. "Psycho out of control mommy on the verge of a complete mental breakdown right here. Everyone stand back."

I wanted to throw myself in her arms and cry. She would understand. She's a mom. But I resisted for fear she would pull out some pepper spray or try to push me over the edge of the trail.

Instead we forged ahead. I stifled the tears, but the raw emotions still lurked near the surface.

Half way up the mountain, Big One got tired. Little One was sound asleep in the stroller. And it started pouring down rain. Drenching rain. I picked up my muddy, soaking, 43 pound son. I carried him up the mountain. I forced myself to keep taking steps. Put one foot in front of the other. Don't think about your burning arms. Keep going.

We made it to the tree across the trail. Stroller went over, despite warnings from every single party coming down the mountain (except the first mom) that we would not be able to make it through. Tell me I can't and I will. (OK, so technically it was Hubs and my brother that lifted the stroller over the giant tree.)

The kind mother at the bottom of the hill was correct. It was worth it.

Little One woke up half way down the trail so we stopped for a family picture.

We're all soaked, muddy and tired but not defeated. I was even able to muster a smile. More to come on our change of scenery...

One Year Ago...

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Thu, 28 May 2009 05:21:00 +0000

Dear Little One,
One year ago, you graced us with your presence. I still remember so many of the details. How is it possible that it was one year ago?

I remember the contractions starting and not being concerned. Big One took FOREVER to join us. You weren't so patient. 5 hours from the first contraction to your birth.

I remember waiting for Grandpa & Grandma to get to our house to watch Big One. We watched one of those late night celebrity gossip shows as we waited. They kept talking about pregnant celebrities.

I remember running a red light on the way to the hospital. We stopped first. But it was 1am and no one was around. The light wasn't changing so we went.

I remember stopping on the steps of the hospital to breathe through a contraction. The security guard shooing us to the elevator. The secretary that took forever. The long wheelchair ride to my delivery room. I remember them wheeling me past several open rooms wondering why they wouldn't just stop at one.

I remember them telling me I was progressing quickly and may not have time for an epidural. I remember crying. Pleading. I got my way. It kicked in quickly. The anesthesiologist didn't think it would. He was wrong. I won.

I remember you having difficulty breathing. I held you for a minute. Off to the nursery. An hour of recovery for me before I could join you on the mother/baby floor.

I remember your Daddy going home after we were settled in the room. Then the doctor on call came to tell me that you were on your way to the NICU. That was not in the plans.

I remember crying. A lot. Feeling cheated that all the other moms had their babies in the room while I had to rely on others to wheel me up 2 floors to the NICU.

I remember the first time I saw you in the NICU. You were crying. I held out my fingers and told you mommy was here. You grabbed my fingers and stopped crying.

I remember the guilt I felt. Not being with you constantly. Being torn between you at the hospital and Big One at home. Wanting to pick you up and carry you out of the hospital. What did the doctors know? I wanted my baby.

Looking back, I realize how lucky we were. You only had to stay in the NICU 5 days. It was more precautionary than anything. We were blessed to bring home a healthy baby girl. I know not all families are so lucky.

With tears in my eyes, I want to be the first to wish you a Happy Birthday, my sweet little girl. I can't wait to snuggle with you when you wake (and wipe your runny nose, my little sickling!). I can't wait to help Big One decorate your birthday cake. I can't wait for that smile to flash across your face.

Happy Birthday, Little One! It has been one crazy year full of laughter, tears and memories. We love you more than words can express. You added a piece to the family that we never knew was missing!

Love,
Mommy

Wordless Wednesday: Sesame Street Live

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Wed, 20 May 2009 18:50:00 +0000

100 Calorie Packs

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Wed, 20 May 2009 01:50:00 +0000

Does anyone else see a major flaw in all of the 100 calorie packs that overrun the snack aisle? In theory, they are great. You can fulfill your snacking desires with only 100 calories. And there are so many possibilities. I can eat chocolate for only 100 calories? Count me in!

So you throw a few boxes in your cart, speed through the rest of the aisles, and rush home so you can dive into your new snacking friend. You put away the cold groceries so they don't melt and/or rot. You dig through the bags to find the 100 calorie packs.

And then you open the bag.

Is this some kind of sick joke? Did someone with willpower to spare think up the 100 calorie packs to torture the rest of us?

I bought the chocolate covered pretzels. I adore chocolate covered pretzels. And I adored the ones in the 100 calorie pack. All 10 of them. Tiny ones too. Not a full sized pretzel. If I had the willpower to eat 10 chocolate covered pretzels would I be buying 100 calorie packs? Would I be trying to lose 50 pounds?

I can eat one of my 100 calorie packs but I'm not satisfied. All I can think about is eating another one. I want more of those chocolaty, yummy pretzels. I could easily polish off the entire box in one sitting. Suddenly, I'm eating a 600 calorie pack, not a 100 calorie pack. (I haven't actually done this. But I did have 2 bags in one sitting.) I'm better off not buying them because once I start with the chocolate I don't want to stop. If I avoid it altogether, I'm much better off.

My theory is that the 100 calorie packs are a gimmick. If you ate such a small amount of most snacks you would probably only consume around 100 calories. These companies are using the health food/dieting/weight loss craze to their advantage to make money. But then again, I suppose every company who sells anything preys upon some weakness in its target audience.

From now on, I'm sticking to my Skinny Cow (or as Hubs calls them, Happy Cow... at least he didn't call me a happy cow!) ice cream treats. At least I can enjoy a full sized treat for 3 WW points!

Wordless Wednesday: Sleepy

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Wed, 13 May 2009 13:53:00 +0000

For more Wordless Wednesday, go here, here or here.

What Is This Strange Fruit?

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Tue, 12 May 2009 04:57:00 +0000

I'm on a healthy eating kick (more on that soon) and decided to try this quinoa recipe today. We headed to Super Target (my home away from home) to pick up limes. Big One easily spotted them and helped me place them in the bag.

Apparently, the cashier is not so good with his fruit identification. He picked up the bag of limes, turned them over a few times, and then said, "What are these?"

Seriously.

You've never seen a lime before?

Or you've seen it but you're struggling to come up with the word... for a lime?

I can only imagine the conversation he had with his wife when he got home.

"Honey, you'll never guess what I saw today. A lime. In real life. Right before my very eyes. It was sort of like those yellow fruits with the peel. What are they called again? Shoot. I always forget. Oh, lemons. That's right. Yeah, they're sort of like lemons except they're green. Can you believe it?"

I shouldn't make fun. I was just so amused by the fact that he asked me to identify a lime. I often get asked what my cilantro is when I buy it. I get that. Could be cilantro. Could be parsley. But a lime? That's a first! Fortunately, the grapefruit we picked out had a sticker on it or things really could have been confusing.

Just Right

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Mon, 11 May 2009 03:54:00 +0000

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there! My day was great. Nothing too exciting. Just the way I like it. Lots of happiness and love as well as time spent with my family. That's always been my Mother's Day wish! I don't need a fancy gift. Just time with my family. And maybe a personal secretary since I forgot half the things I was supposed to bring to my parents' house. Including my Mom's gift that the kids and I made. And the camera. At least I remembered both children. Let's hope it never gets to the point of leaving children behind. I promised myself I'd be in bed 9 minutes ago so I will close with one last HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY! It's a ridiculously difficult yet supremely rewarding job and I couldn't imagine my life any other way!

Stay Little

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Sat, 02 May 2009 03:23:00 +0000

This is one of my favorite photos of Big One as a baby. One day after he was born. Snuggling on Mommy. I love this picture.

How is it possible that this is the same child who is now 3 1/2? Energetic. Telling stories. Laughing. Throwing temper tantrums. Hugging his Mommy.

Tonight I spent a little extra time with my big guy at bed time. We sang and cuddled. He ended up snuggling up with me similar to the photo above. As soon as he snuggled up to me, my mind instantly went to the photo.

I don't usually get sad about the kids getting older. I cherish the memories we have but I also love seeing their new tricks and all of the things they learn each day. But moments like tonight remind me just how fast they grow. I want to keep them little forever. I don't want them to outgrow their chubby little fingers. I don't want them to avoid my hugs in public because it's embarrassing. I don't want them to feel like they don't need Mommy to fix their boo boos. And I don't want to forget all of the little moments of their childhood. The emotions I feel. The laughs we share. Even the tears that are shed. I don't want to lose it.

WW: Pudding Painting

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 17:42:00 +0000

WW: Easter Fun

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 23:17:00 +0000

***I just wanted to be clear that not ALL of this stuff was for my kids! My niece and nephew were here over Easter weekend so this was the stuff for all 4 kids. I just realized that it probably looks like we totally spoiled them but really it's not as bad as it looks!

Terror at the Mall

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 00:07:00 +0000

Tonight I encountered the most terrifying scene I've ever witnessed at the mall. It was ugly. Brutal even. At the center of the storm? Big One, of course.

Don't worry, no children were injured in the making of this blog post.

Tonight was supposed to be our family swim class. Unfortunately, the instructor that doesn't really instruct was sick. No sub. So no swim class. (They waited to call until after I shaved my legs, by the way. But that's a different ~~rant~~ post.) Big One was bummed so we decided to take him to the mall to play and possibly ride the Easter train. The only requirement? He had to eat dinner at the mall with us.

Can you guess how that went? Read the title of the post. You may be able to hypothesize about the events that unfolded next.

Big One refused to eat. We warned him no less than 20 times that he would not be playing at the play area or riding the train if he did not eat. Yet still he refused. Just when I think he's getting to the age that he can understand cause and effect he reminds me that he is only 3 1/2. The temper tantrum started at the table. The drama. The kicking. The screaming. I had to excuse myself before I totally lost it.

Little One and I abandoned Hubs with Big One and his fit. Sorry, Hubs. But the scene would have been a lot worse had I stuck around. We hung out on a bench and waited for them. Big One walked along willingly for maybe 50 feet. Then all hell broke loose.

The child was literally kicking and screaming in the middle of the mall. We tried the "walk away and he'll follow" technique but I just can't let myself get too far away from him. I've read too many stories about pedophiles stalking the malls.

I tried the tough love approach. He continued his kicking and screaming. I picked up my 45 pound flailing preschooler and started through the mall. Of all the nights for him to wear his McQueen crocs. One flew several feet, fortunately avoiding any fellow shoppers.

Hubs and I basically took turns swapping the kids. Tonight also happened to be a night I forgot the stroller so both kids had to be carried. I'm sure the reactions ranged from "Glad it's not me!" to "I've been there before" to "What horrible parents!" I was too pissed to even look at anyone too closely.

Until we reached Old Navy. An employee standing in the window glared at me. Excuse me? Obviously, you either have no children or are delusional enough to think they would never act this way. It really drives me nuts when people judge others. If there's one thing I've learned from being a parent it's never judge!

I'm just so frustrated because in many ways he is self sufficient and acting like a big boy. And then he brings me back to reality with something like this. I know he's a preschooler and this is normal. But man it sucks when you're the one dealing with it.

And I promise I'm never going to laugh when I see another parent dealing with a monster tantrum in the store. That did not help, fellow mall shopper. But thanks for trying!

Despite the fact that we both wanted to break something by the time we got home, I am proud of us for sticking to our guns. I would rather be that family with the child throwing a tantrum than the one who gives in and lets their child get away with things (don't get me wrong, we've been that family too).

I guess the bottom line is, we're all "that family" at some point. Some of us more than others.

There was a humorous point in the evening after we got home. Little One started some drama after her bath and I lost it. I started crying. Hubs and Big One were also in the room. This is what happened...

Me: sobbing
Big One: Mommy? Are you crying?
Me: Yes.
Big One: Why?
Me: Because I want just one day when EVERYONE is happy. All day long. Just one day. ONE DAY!
Big One: (whispering) Daddy, I think we should leave now.
Hubs: Why?
Big One: Because I think Mommy's getting angry.

I almost started laughing. But I still needed to cry. Just a little. By myself. Hubs knew just when to send Big One in to hug me. And then we were back to good.

Every Time!

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 03:34:00 +0000

We are fortunate to have a great science center in town. The family pass we purchased was well worth the money. Big One can stretch his legs and really dig into the interactive displays throughout the building.

He does, however, have difficulty remembering that he is supposed to walk from room to room as opposed to breaking into an all out sprint. Hello! Overweight mommy over the age of 30 here. Slow down, Son!

One of the displays is a weather stage sponsored by one of the local news stations. It has the green screen with a camera and TV. The kids can stand on the stage and see themselves on the TV with the map and everything. Pretty cool, huh? Yeah... except for the fact that they actually broadcast the weather from the stage for the noon news. Whose idea was that?

"Hey, let's slap a weather stage in the middle of a giant room in the middle of a science center full of preschool aged children. We could even broadcast the weather from the location. But let's not put a door on the room or anything. Let's just leave it out in the open. Where any child who happens to break out into a sprint and slips away from his 30 year old overweight mom can jump up on stage."

Big One has never made an accidental appearance on the weather segment of the local news but he has come close. More than once. The first time they were actually doing the weather at the moment he ran into the room. Fortunately, he kept sprinting right past the stage and checked out the snapping turtle instead. At that point, I caught up with him and steered him clear of the stage.

The second time, the meteorologist was standing there waiting to go on air. Lucky for everyone involved, the cameras weren't rolling because Big One headed straight for the stage. After some coaxing, I was able to get him to go visit his beloved snapping turtle. Another crisis averted.

Today it's very possible that some audio of me screaming at Big One was picked up. But I can't really be held responsible. After all, it was 12:40. The news should have been over. It's like they know we're in the building and intentionally go on air when we're in that room. Big One did not make it into the shot thank goodness. But I did yell after him as I chased him past the stage. And I caught up with him just outside the room and informed him that we were done for the day. Let's hope the microphones they use aren't very sensitive because he wailed with despair after learning his fun was over for the day.

Oh, I forgot one more thing. This one qualifies me as Mom of the Year. As I'm chasing Big One out of the weather stage room and pushing Little One in the stroller, I happened to look down at her. Just in time to see her head slip under the tray on the stroller. That's right, folks. My daughter slid right out of the stroller as I was chasing my son through the Science Center. Fortunately, I stopped before I ran over my own daughter with the stroller she had just been sitting in. Seems I forgot to strap her back in after I took her out in the toddler room. Oops.

Screw You, Friendly Toys R Us Employee

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 04:09:00 +0000

Big One had a birthday party to attend tonight. Being the organized mom that I am (ha!), I spaced off the party until this morning. Hey, at least I remembered today and not tomorrow morning! That meant we had to make a quick trip to Toys R Us for a gift.

Today is also my dad's birthday (happy birthday, Dad!) so he was on his way to our house. I told him we would be home by noon. I knew we would probably not be home by noon. But I thought if I told him that I may actually make it. Again I say ha!

Big One was warned that it would be a quick trip. But he's 3. And 3 doesn't understand "quick" especially when we're talking about a trip to the toy store. I quickly lost patience and started snapping at him, trying to hurry him along.

Out of nowhere, like a stealth ninja, we were attacked with sugary kindness of a friendly Toys R Us employee.

"What are you looking for, little buddy?"

As if to break up our little mommy-son feud, he poured on the sugar. What the heck? When I want a helpful employee, there's none to be found. But on a crabby day when I just want to be left alone, Mr. Employee of the Month with his bright smile and perky personality is lurking. I don't even think he was actually working. I think he planted himself, pretending to stock a shelf, waiting to pounce on some poor mom who was having a rough day. Or has a 3 year old.

He led us to the Cars toy section. And then he hung around, pointing out all of the different Cars toys to Big One. As if we don't know about every. single. Cars. toy. ever. Ever. There was a strange tension between myself and Mr. Happy Go Lucky Toys R Us Employee. I felt him judging me. (Or was it me judging me?) I willed him to leave the aisle so I could sulk in my "bad mommyness". He finally left us alone.

I suppose there is a slight chance that he was just a genuinely nice person who truly wanted to help. He may have even been judging my crankiness. Perhaps the tension was all in my head.

The thing about my impatient snapping is I know I'm doing it. And I don't want to do it. But I do it anyway. And then some happy, perky, childless person comes along trying to help out. And then I feel even worse about my snapping.

So, friendly Toys R Us guy, thank you for leading us to the Cars toys (even though we already knew where they were). Thank you for rubbing in the fact that I was impatient and snappy (even though you didn't actually say the words or even shoot me a look.... your over the top kindness was criticism enough). Thank you for ruining a perfectly mediocre trip to the toy store with my 2 young children. I'll remember this trip when I actually need some assistance and the only thing I will find are grinchy trolls donning Toys R Us uniforms.

Dear Hubs,

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 22:12:00 +0000

Dear Hubs,

Happy birthday! I fully intended to write a witty, sweet letter to you in honor of your 31st birthday. But as it's after 4 already, the house is a mess, I haven't showered, your cake isn't decorated, Little One is stirring from her nap and the kids shared their cold with me, you'll have to take what you can get!

Thank you for dealing with all of my quirky little habits. My whining. My temper tantrums. My recipe experimentation. My craziness when I have a few too many drinks. And lots of other stuff that I can't think of right now (or am choosing to leave off of my blog so as not to look bad... hey, it's my blog, my rules).

Despite what I say about you (kidding!), you are a very sweet husband. I love that you go out at 10pm to buy me my favorite $5 wine. I love that you do sweet little things when I don't expect it. I love your sense of humor. I love that in the end, you're always there for me.

The kids wanted me to tell you that you're a wicked cool dad. Big One made up a song for you this morning while banging on my stand mixer as music. I don't remember much of it but the last line was, "And I love him very, very much." How sweet is that? He may be the master of temper tantrums but he's a sweet kid. And the way Little One looks at her Daddy? Anyone can see she's Daddy's Little Girl.

So, old man. Bottom line? We love you! We don't know what we'd do without you! And we hope your birthday is the very best ever. Even though you already know all of your presents (thanks Big One!).

Love,
Shelley & The Gang (aka Big One & Little One)

My Apologies

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 15:36:00 +0000

I'm always amused by the searches that lead people to my blog. But I feel that I owe some of you an apology. Most of you, actually. For it seems that somehow Google has led you astray by bringing you to my blog. I highly doubt that most of you found your answers. But I hope you at least found a little enjoyment! Just for the record...

To the reader looking for a Flirty Girl Pole review: I hope my assessment of the Flirty Girl Pole was in no way offensive to you. I have no actual experience with the pole, and I hope my comments didn't deter you from pursing your own Flirty Girl Pole experience. I can guarantee no one would want to see me attempt to dance myself thin, particularly with a pole involved. Perhaps I should contact the makers of the Flirty Girl Pole to see if they would like me to do a blog review/giveaway for their product. It could be big (and no, I'm not talking about my back end).

To those of you looking for directions to make your own diaper bag: Obviously, I have been of no assistance to you considering my sewing machine was used exactly 1 time before it was tucked away in the basement, never again to see the light of day.

To the visitor hoping to find a red zebra diaper bag: I am 100% certain you did not get what you bargained for when you stumbled upon my post about red zebras. All I can say is I'm sorry. Blame Google.

To the visitors looking for one of many different character diaper bags: Again, not so much what you were looking for, I suppose. I sort of feel as if I should change the name of my blog. All of these poor moms come here looking for the latest in diaper bag gear and they find... me.

To the reader who has poop too big to flush: Unfortunately, I am of no assistance here. My son prefers not to poop in the toilet. Our toilet must have enough power behind its flush because Hubs, who always seems to clog the toilet at my parents' house, doesn't have any problems here.

To the person looking for magic touch bags: I'm not sure what that is. Should I? Is it family friendly?

To the visitor searching for "mall play areas ok": If you are seeking mall play areas in Oklahoma, I can't help. If you are wondering if mall play areas are ok? That's a matter of opinion. All I can say is last week when we took the kids to the mall play area, a little girl came up to Little One and put her little hands all over my baby. As she was touching Little One's head, the other mom realized the little girl's finger was BLEEDING. I generally try to suppress my germ-o-phobe tendencies in public but that was a bit much for me to handle. So if you don't mind blood, germs, head lice and bullies, then sure, the mall play area is ok.

To the visitors searching for diaper bag diary: Is this to say you've actually heard of me before and are looking for me? Or perhaps there is another blog with the same name and you ended up here by mistake. Either way, welcome!

To the visitor wondering if Jerry Trainer wears diapers: I have so many questions about this one. If you became a reader of my blog, please speak out! Who the heck is Jerry Trainer? And why do you want to know if he wears diapers? I must be out of the loop on this one. This was an older search but it still has me perplexed.

To the non-swimmer wanting to snorkel: Yes you can! You may not want to read about my experience ahead of time but it is possible!

The Solution to All My Problems...

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 04:41:00 +0000

Many an infomerical has caught my eye recently. The Slap Chop. The Point 'N Paint. The Pancake Puff Pan. All very handy tools which would surely get hours of use and be worth their low, low price (plus shipping & handling, of course). But tonight, the solution to all of my problems spoke to me through my television.

The Flirty Girl Pole.

It, along with the Flirty Girl Fitness Program, will melt away those last few (20) pounds of baby weight. What? Of course I don't still have baby weight at 9 months post partum. Or maybe I do. (Does it count as baby weight if the reason it's still hanging around is heavy consumption of chocolate, Mountain Dew, cheese, and bread?)

Whatever the source of my cellulite riddled thighs, the Flirty Girl Fitness Program is going to give me a "sexy, slender, fabulous" body. The best part? I'll also learn some sexy new moves for the ~~strip~~ dance club. Because I frequent many a ~~strip~~ dance club these days. Right after I nurse my 9 month old and tuck my 3 year old into bed.

On top of the sexy dance moves and hot bod, I can also get the Flirty Girl Pole. Haven't you always wanted your very own ~~stripper~~ fitness pole? I'm fairly certain it's every girl's secret fantasy (or maybe it's every HUSBAND'S fantasy). Now that we FINALLY took down the Christmas tree, we have an open spot in the corner of the living room. I think it's the perfect spot. Having a ~~stripper~~ fitness pole in my living room will definitely elevate me to the coolest mom on the block. I'm ordering mine now.

DISCLAIMER: This post is in no way meant to offend strippers, dancers, or frequent visitors to either type of club. I suppose deep down I'm a bit jealous because my weak attempts at dancing look more like I'm having a seizure.

Oh, and I really do want the Slap Chop and the Pancake Puff Pan. Seriously.

Wordless Wednesday: Crawl Baby Crawl (or Get Mad Trying)

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 15:49:00 +0000

Visit 5 Minutes for Mom for more Wordless Wednesday. Enjoy!

If You Like It...

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 04:19:00 +0000

I've been known to break into song at random times (but only in the safety of my own home... I know my limits). I'm a HORRIBLE singer but I can't help myself. Big One is my biggest fan. He often breaks into song with me or by himself. I love it! He is so much like me it's not even funny. Actually, some days it is funny. Like tonight.

I tend to get one song stuck in my head and sing it. Over and over. And generally it's just one line that I sing. Over and over. Hubs LOVES that. Just ask him. Loves it. Today it was Beyonce's If You Like It Then You Shoulda Put a Ring On It. (Is that the title? I'm not so good with song titles. I just label a song by its most prominent lyric.) I heard it on the radio on our trip to Borders and sang it most of the day.

Tonight while putting Little One to sleep, I heard Big One and Hubs next door getting his PJs on. Out of no where, I hear him sing "If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it". Over and over. I'm so proud! There's nothing like hearing your 3 year old singing Beyonce to make your day!

Dusting It Off

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 05:23:00 +0000

I don't have a grand explanation for my blogging absence other than a lack of inspiration and things going on in my head. I tend to over analyze and worry about things beyond my control. Long story short, I'm forcing myself to blog again if for no other reason than the free therapy. So I'm going to get back on track with the lessons learned/top posts of the (last few) week(s). First, the lessons I learned this week:

Never leave a plant within reaching distance of an 8 month old, particularly one that grows in water. (The only plant we've ever been able to keep alive is a plant that grows in a vase of water. Its roots just hang out in the water. Trust me, we've tried to kill it multiple times. It's been completely dry with droopy leaves and bounces back with a little water. It's a miracle plant. Perfect for me!)
If you insist on leaving the baby within reaching distance of the water dwelling plant, expect to hear a loud crash followed by rushing water. Run for towels. Then laugh when you see the baby grinning proudly, clutching the leaves of the plant.
Never underestimate the reaching distance of an 8 month old.
Sometimes a family trip to Target and Petsmart is just what you need. And occasionally, even a 3 year old can last the entire trip without any temper tantrums or meltdowns. Go Big One!
Don't wait several weeks between posts or you'll get rusty!

Since it's been a while, I have several recommended blogs to visit!

If you're in the market for a hot British man, Christy has all the info. But this is a limited time offer so act fast!

If you need some activity ideas for your tots, visit Chasing Cheerios. I just discovered this blog this week and I LOVE what I'm seeing so far. I found several ideas that I'm excited to try with Big One.

If you want to cry, visit Jessica Kate, Tuesday's mommy. You may recall my post about Tuesday passing away a few weeks ago. I can't begin to imagine what the family is going through right now.

If you're in the mood for a happy ending (or beginning, depending on how you look at it), baby Brayden will hopefully get to leave the NICU tomorrow and finally start his life at home with his mommy and daddy! It's amazing how quickly you become emotionally invested in the lives of total strangers. I've been following Brayden's journey since his birth and I'm so thrilled for the family!

If you really believe it's a small world after all, read Kelly's story about the doctor who delivered her baby, Harper. Very cool!

If you're in the mood to bake, Little Birdie Secrets has the recipe for Amish Friendship Bread. The main reason I posted this link is because I actually received a starter for Amish Friendship Bread on Friday. I've never made it before so I'm very excited. Thanks, Joan!

If you want to be amazed, find out how Matt is spreading the word about the Liz Logelin Foundation. He made a big time TV appearance last week. I watched. I cried. Me crying? Shocking!

If you want to laugh so hard you pee your pants, visit the Barefoot Foodie to read about her mother in law's "accident". It is seriously hilarious.

If you need new art, check out Anastasia's work. She's opening up an Etsy shop!

If you're in the mood for chocolate chip cookies, try this recipe. I'm horrible at baking cookies. Cakes I can handle. Cookies? Not so much. Unless the dough is premade in convenient break apart cubes. And even then I usually burn them or underbake them. Despite my best attempts to ruin this recipe (no vanilla in the house which never happens and I baked them too long), they still tasted good. I can only imagine how they would taste if I actually had all of the ingredients and took them out before they became hard as a rock.

Whew! That list turned out longer than even I expected. I could have added several more but I'll stop there. Enjoy your week!

Dear Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 04:01:00 +0000

Dear Blog,

I love you. I miss you. I just haven't felt the bloggy inspiration lately. It's nothing personal. The mid week migraine did not help. Little signs of an impending head cold are creeping in so our break may be extended. Really, it's not you. It's me. I mean, I know people always say that and usually they're fibbing. But you're just a blog. How can it be you? It's definitely me. And this is definitely NOT a break up. Just a break. I just don't want you to think I've completely abandoned you. I know you'll be here waiting when inspiration does spark. Tomorrow. Next week. Next month. You're loyal like that. That's why I love you so much, Blog.

Warm Regards,
Shelley

Hug Your Babies

noreply@blogger.com (Shelley) — Sat, 31 Jan 2009 15:38:00 +0000

I just found this blog about the Whitt family yesterday. The same day that their precious baby, Tuesday, died from cancer. Please hug your babies and remember how precious they are. How fleeting childhood is. How quickly life can change. Forget about the messes they make. The days they don't nap. The temper tantrums they throw. Just love them and hug them and cherish them while you have them and they you.