Playgroups are No Place For Children

New Digs

2007-12-04T06:00:00.000-06:00

I'm bidding Blogger farewell.

Good riddance.

Come visit me at my new digs. It's still under construction, so watch out for jagged nails and live electrical wires.

November Perfect Post

2007-12-03T07:13:00.000-06:00

I knew as soon as I read this post from Swistle that I would give her a Perfect Post Award. As a person who has her own "anger issues", this post truly hit home for me.

Swistle described the build up of anger, the outburst itself, and the remorseful aftermath in such a way, that I wondered if she lived in my brain.

"It was an ugly, ugly temper tantrum. Part of me was watching it happening, eating popcorn and saying, "Oh, girl, you are not going to say THAT. Oh you DIDN'T! Oh, girrrrrrrrl." The rest of me was like a tower of flame. There is nothing like rage for feeling SO GOOD and SO HORRIBLE at the same time. Sickeningly exhilarating."

I nodded my head in agreement and understanding so often while reading her post. Her words helped me realize that I am not the only one.

Lightning is a perfect post.

For more Perfect Posts visit Petroville and Suburban Turmoil.

Haiku Buh-Bye and Hellllloooooo

2007-11-30T07:16:00.000-06:00

Bye, NaBloPoMo
I've written too many posts
Many were quite lame

I beg your pardon
December will be better
I'm taking a break

I will be reading
Just posting less frequently
You are most welcome

**********

New mag subscription
Thank you People Magazine
So glad I signed up

The Sexiest Men
Matt Damon, McDreamy, Clive
Praise you sweet jeebus

Visceral response
My pulse quickens, feel faint
Save me Johnny Depp

To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What's a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL). We will delete your link if it doesn't go to a haiku. If you need help with this, contact Christina or myself.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above.

Bless Her Heart, She Can Be Such an A*sshole

2007-11-29T07:15:00.000-06:00

This is a post that I really, really wish weren't true. I'd take it back if I could.

Yesterday, I went completely ballistic, as in totally bat shit crazy, at the library. (And it had nothing to do with the mommies at storytime.)

If there is one thing I hate, it's late fees. And if there is one thing I hate even more than late fees, is being charged a late fee that I did not actually incur. So when the librarian told me when I was attempting to check out that I had $8 in late fees that I'm certain was an error, I lost it.

Lost it.

Yelling. (I'm pretty sure I said things like, "I'm going to give THEM a piece of my mind." And, "This place is so stupid. We're NEVER coming back." *cowering*What do you have to do, return books a week early to avoid a late fee?" Oh. Yes. I. Did.)

Rolling my eyes.

Stomping.

Huffing.

Name calling.

At the librarian.

In front of the storytime mommies.

In front of my children.

It's as if my wack-job alter-ego, Trixie LaRue had taken over.

As I'm writing this, it's only been about two hours since the incident and I'm extremely remorseful and embarrassed. This part of my personality, the part that can blow a fuse without a moment's notice, is something I hadn't seen in a long time. It's something that I'm ashamed of and something that I wish I knew how to control.

There are several instances that I've completely lost my cool. Yelling at the man who said some off-color things to my friends and me in an LA restaurant at 2:30 AM, at the beyotch cashier at Kroger, at a friend who changed plans on me. Each of these incidences I had reason to be angry, but my reaction was completely uncalled for. Recalling each of these events still puts a knot in my stomach, I can feel my cheeks flush from the embarrassment.

I wish I could describe what happens in these moments where the anger portion of my brain suddenly becomes unleashed from the logical and sane portion. When I say suddenly, I really do mean suddenly. It's not as if I was already angry or stewing from another injustice, but without warning I'm shouting and making a complete ass of myself. In an instant I can go from perfectly calm to raging lunatic. As I'm in the throes of my tirade, I realize I should stop. Somehow I just keep ranting, though, knowing how idiotic I am acting, wishing I could stop acting like a childish two-year-old.

I'm not sure I can face going back to storytime next week. I made an ass of myself and I don't know how to get past that embarrassment. Also, I owe the librarian an apology, but I'm not sure if I have the 'nads to tell her how sorry I am that she was on the receiving end of my tantrum. The sad thing is, is that Carson had actually really enjoyed storytime yesterday, participating during the songs and interacting with the children. Also, the other moms and I actually had a conversation and I was feeling really great about the day. Then I go and act like such a jerk. Because of $8.

I've been imagining all day that after I left, the librarians were in the break room saying, "Bless her heart, she was being such an asshole!" That at least puts a little smile on my face.

Balance

2007-11-28T07:49:00.000-06:00

The night before we left Missouri to return home to Alabama, a 12+ hour trip, thankyouverymuch, both of my children decided that sleeping was for sissies and that screaming their lungs out was what all the "cool" kids were doing. Tate took the first shift with Carson, trying to calm him. After over an hour, I reluctantly went in to rescue Tate since I could hear the tone in his voice getting angrier by the minute. He seemed both relieved and irritated by my rescue attempt, but I think just my presence helped to settle both Tate and Carson.

I was able to return to bed, and Tate finally got Carson to sleep about an hour later and returned to bed. Literally within seconds of lying down, Ella started fussing. I heard Tate mutter "DAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMIIIIITTTTTT," under his breath, and since he'd just spent the last two hours with Carson, I got up with Ella to calm her. She finally fell back to sleep after what seemed like four hours, but was probably something like 20 minutes.

Being a person who desperately needs her beauty sleep, I was so incredibly pissed when after about 30 minutes, Ella decided to wake up again. This time I muttered something (NOT under my breath) about throwing her out the window and letting her fend for herself.

"At least it will be quiet in here and we can finally sleep," I huffed.

Sensing my obvious frustration (Tate is quick like that), he offered to take this shift with Ella. Unfortunately, she wanted only Mommy and Mommy's boobies to fall back to sleep. I ended up feeding her and getting her back to sleep around 3 AM, an hour before our alarm was set to go off.

Both Tate and I were exhausted on our drive home. Even the tiniest of irritations could have sent each of us over the edge. Somehow, we were able to take turns having our own tantrums while the other remained calm, cool, and collected.

Tate and I seem to know how to balance the other's mood. He (usually) seems to know when I'm at my wit's end and ready to snap. Even when I adamantly deny needing a break, he'll take over kid duty or cooking duty or whatever duty, and let me simmer down. The same thing is true when he is obviously about to lose it. I sweep in, take over, and give him the much needed break. Often, I feel somewhat resentful when I have to be the sane one, since I spent the majority of everyday attempting this sane facade. I suspect he feels the same resentment when he's just returned from a stressful day at work and immediately has to take over when he walks in the door and finds me teetering on the edge of chaos.

Somehow we maintain this completely necessary balance. We're a good team, Tate and I.

Hopping on the Name Post Bandwagon

2007-11-27T07:51:00.000-06:00

I really enjoyed reading all of your comments in relation to my post about my name being Jen/Jenny/Jennifer. Apparently name posts were big while I was gone. Swistle and Shelly Overlook had a really fun posts about names also. Swistle's post was about regretting the name you chose for your child. I commented that I LOVE my children's names and do not have any regrets for the names Tate and I chose. Shelly Overlook wrote about whether or not you like your own name and if not, would you change it. I jokingly commented that if I weren't Jen/Jenny/Jennifer, I wouldn't mind being called Trixie LaRue.

All of these posts got me thinking about what my name would have been had I been a boy. I'm pretty sure I would have been Shawn Scott. Blech. Not the greatest combination of names in my opinion. I like the names individually, but not paired together. Also, I prefer Shawn to be spelled S-E-A-N. My brother, had he been a girl, would have been Elizabeth Lane, Beth for short. I think it's interesting that my parents didn't keep the name Shawn Scott and bestow it upon my brother. Of course, when Ella was born, I didn't keep the girl name we'd chosen if Carson would have been a girl (Emeline Siobhan).

What would your name have been had you been the other gender? What names would your children have been had they been the other gender? Did you use the other name chosen for your first child when your second (or third, fourth....) was born?

***********

By the way this is my 301st post and sometime in November was my one year blogiversary. It's hard to say the exact date since I deleted lots of my original posts and pre-dated others.

I appreciate all of you out there in BlogLand and credit you with helping me feel like "me" again.

My Eyes Feel Like They're Gonna Bleed

2007-11-26T07:55:00.000-06:00

I guess Google Reader can't count past 1000. For the first time since last the Friday before Thanksgiving, I checked Google Reader to find 1000+ unread items.

In between laundry, house cleaning, going through a weeks worth of emails, and deprogramming my children's new found belief that there is always someone available to play with them, I'll do my best to read a few blogs and attempt to catch up.

In the event that in the past week you've written an unbelievable, earth-shattering post that you are certain I can't live without reading, leave me the link in the comments so it doesn't feel the wrath of the "Mark all as read" button.

Thank you and good day.

Remote Blogging

2007-11-25T07:48:00.000-06:00

It's 8 AM and I've already been in three states. I'm currently in Tennessee desperately hoping to find a Cracker Barrel soon.

Also, I may be putting my children up for auction right here on this very blog. Bidding will begin at a penny.

Are we there yet?

No Cheesy Coffee Cups For Me, Thank You

2007-11-24T08:32:00.000-06:00

You know those cheesy gifts you get people when they turn 40 (or 50, or 60...) that say stuff like "over the hill?"

Sure you do.

(On an aside, my 40th birthday is coming up in a little over 7 years, you may want to be begin party planning now to assure a prime location for all attendees. Sushi would be an excellent choice for the party menu. As for gifts, no cheesy coffee cups for me, thank you, but I'd adore a convertible.)

My in-laws have a coffee cup that says:

Life begins at 40.
And so does cosmetic surgery, bladder trouble, high fiber diets, liver spots, hair replacement treatment, sitz baths, eczema and senility.

With the exception of liver spots, how is this any different than what happens after you become a mother?

Cosmetic surgery? F*ck yeah I need it. My boobs will be to my ankles after breastfeeding Carson and now Ella. My stomach will never be flat again without surgical intervention. There are a few other things I could think of that need work, but in the interest of not disgusting you all, I'll stop there.

Bladder trouble? Sneezing, coughing, laughing...all make me pee in my pants. Just a little.

High fiber diets? Not that I know anything about hemorrhoids, but I hear that high fiber diets are excellent in helping with this little (or enormous) gift of motherhood.

Hair replacement treatment? You know, from pulling it out in frustration over sleep issues, toddlers using poop for fingerpainting, and other "joys" of motherhood.

Sitz Baths? See high fiber diets. Also a definite must after childbirth.

Eczema? Am I the only one with weird skin issues after having a baby?

Senility? Pregnancy brain, coupled with the remainder of my brain leaking out of my boobs at each feeding, has made conversations with me sound like, "Can you get me that thing? The one over there in that thing? What? I'm supposed to be where right now? Shit."

See? Motherhood. It's the new 40.

Hungover Haiku

2007-11-23T08:48:00.000-06:00

A caged animal
freed! Bring on the beers, bar maids!
Live band, beer, heaven!

Blue Moon, so tasty
1 beer, 2 beers, 3 beers, 4
Room begins to spin

Everything's funny!
Everyone's my new best friend!
Let's drink some more beer

A wise husband stops
"No more drinks, Jennifer"
Party is over

Three beers too many
Seemed like a good idea
Cold bathroom floor waits

Thanksgiving Happy Style

2007-11-22T09:57:00.000-06:00

I am thankful....

that I am not in Alabama right now.

that I won't be venturing out into the madness that is Black Friday.

for Sweet Potato Casserole.

for Target.

for my camera.

for DVR (although I hear TiVo is far superior).

for baby yawns.

for baby cuddles.

for baby breath.

for the thrill that Carson got playing with his little buddy's Thomas train set.

that my children are healthy.

for Pottery Barn and Pottery Barn Kids.

for the Internet.

for footie PJ's

for a great haircut.

for my friends and family.

for Tate.

Happy Turkey Day everyone! And for my Canadian, British, Australian, non-U.S. resident readers, Happy Thursday!

Wordless Wednesday: Home

2007-11-21T09:15:00.000-06:00

For more Wordless Wednesday, go here.

This Lame Post Brought to You By NaBloPoMo

2007-11-20T06:00:00.000-06:00

Have I ever told you all how much I loathe David Caruso?

Well, I do.

His character, Horatio, on CSI: Miami makes my skin crawl. I'd like to kick him and his sunglasses wearing, dramatic slow-talking, one-liner self in the balls.

That is all.

This lame post was brought to you by a brain-dead NaBloPoMo participant.

Reminiscing

2007-11-19T07:20:00.000-06:00

The other day when I was finishing up the final post about how Tate and I came to be, I read through several pages of old emails that we'd sent back and forth.

I copied a few of them and re-emailed them to Tate with a note saying something about "remember when you used to write me these sweet emails."

That night, we reminisced about the things we used to do in early love.

"Remember when we could sit and just stare at each other for hours?"

Oh yeah. I do remember.

"Remember when we used to talk for hours on the phone and never run out of things to talk about."

Yeah (said dreamily).

"Remember when we didn't fart in front of each other?"

[Insert Beavis and Butthead laughing]

"Remember when you didn't nag me so much?"

Ahh, those were the days.

"Remember when I didn't mind it when you touched me?"

[Sigh]

"Remember when we would rather do it instead of sleep?"

[Verrrrry heavy sigh]

"Remember what is was like before kids and we could sleep in, leave at a moments notice without packing for an army, or when our lives weren't dictated by naps?"

Meh. This life is far better.

***********

I currently have very limited access to a computer. I last checked my email on Saturday at 3:30, cannot view my site on this computer, and am having severe withdrawal symptoms that include interacting with people face-to-face rather than on the computer.

See you all in a few days.

In The Beginning, There Was Beer. And Lots of It. Part 3 of a Love Story

2007-11-18T06:25:00.000-06:00

Need to catch up? Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. The prequel to all this is here.

Tate and I began emailing back and forth. Our email topics included thrilling subjects such as hockey, the weather, and our weekend plans. Nothing romantic, just friendly get-to-know you kind of stuff. In November, I was surprised to get a call from Tate inviting me to a party with his friends that he was coming back to Missouri for. Luckily my very busy social and hot date calendar wasn't already filled (ha!) so I jumped at the chance to go and spend the weekend with him.

There was never an awkward moment between us. He was kind and considerate, always making sure to introduce me and (not surprisingly) keeping me well supplied with beer. A lady never kisses and tells, but since I've never been accused of being a lady, lemme tell ya, he was an excellent kisser. And that's all I have to say about that.

I told my mom after I got home, that I thought he'd be the guy I would marry.

Here's the email he sent me after the weekend. I have saved every email from him from November 9, 1998 until now.

Jenny, Hello and good morning. I am glad to hear you had a good weekend, because I had a wonderful time. It was so good to finally get to see you after so long. The only negative to the weekend is the fact that it went so fast. I did not want you to leave on Sunday. I guess that is a bit selfish, but I enjoyed your company. It's good news your drive back went well. Thank you so much for doing all the driving this weekend. [My friends] started in on me soon after you left, but it was expected. I knew they were just chomping at the bit to rib me while you were there. I am surprised that they didn't tease you anymore then what they did. My flight was quick and painless mostly because I slept the entire flight. I hope you do call this week, but if I have not heard from you don't think you are off the hook because I may have to call you. I work second shift all this week 3p-11p. I usually get home around midnight my time. Jenny thank you again for coming to Rolla this weekend I had a great time. Talk to you soon. Tate

Within 10 days, the emails included words like "darling" and "sweetie."

It took very little time for us to become a couple. Whenever he could, Tate came back to Missouri and we spent time together. In January, I flew to Knoxville. By February we decided that when I graduated that May I'd move to Knoxville so we could be together.

Even with my lackluster long distance relationship history, I knew that this time was different. We just WERE meant to be.

Reading through the old emails makes me feel that butterfly, ooey gooey, sloppy in love drunk feeling. I miss that.

This concludes only the beginning of our love story. There are many, many years to go.

***********

In reference to yesterday's post about my multiples names, I am somehow not offended when my blogging comrades call me Jen. I just don't like it when I've recently been introduced to someone (as Jenny or Jennifer) and they just start calling me Jen.

There. I feel better now.

You Can Call Me Al

2007-11-17T06:02:00.000-06:00

Most Darling Internetz,

Those of you with un-nickname-able names are lucky. With a name like Jennifer, I have a plethora of nicknames of which to choose. Perhaps "plethora" is a bit of an exaggeration, but there are at least two nicknames that I've been called.

When I was a baby, I was called Jennifer. Sometime during my childhood, Jennifer was reduced to Jenny. Most everyone I know from my childhood, all the way up through college and a few years beyond knows me as Jenny.

My parents call me Jenny. My husband calls me Jenny.

A few years ago, I decided that I'd prefer to be called Jennifer. This wasn't a decision that I announced like, "hey people who've called me Jenny for over 20 years! Yes, you! Call me Jennifer now, mkay?" Nothing like that, I just started introducing myself to new people as Jennifer. Whenever Tate introduces me to new people, he does so as Jenny. This has caused some hard to explain moments.

At Carson's recent birthday party, my people-who-call-me-Jennifer friends were brought together with my people-who-call-me-Jenny friends. Each was surprised to hear me called by the other name. "But I thought you hated Jenny?" (I do kinda.) "I didn't know you preferred to be called Jennifer?" (Yep) While I'd prefer to just go by Jennifer, it would be odd to hear my childhood friends or my parents to start calling me Jennifer at this point. This seems to make people feel weird, though, when they find out about my double name possibilities.

To further complicate manners, there are people who call me Jen. The funny thing about this is if complete strangers automatically ASSume they can just shorten my name and call me Jen, it irritates me to no end. I don't feel this way if a friend up and decides to call me Jen, even if they've never asked.

A final thought on names...since Ella has become a thumb sucker, can I keep the "Binky Bitch" moniker? Is that breaking some sort of sacred Internet rule if I'm continued to be called by a name that no longer accurately describes me?

Your (hot as hell) friend,
Jen
Jenny
Jennifer
Binky Bitch

Haiku Blanket Sleeper

2007-11-16T07:02:00.000-06:00

Footed pajamas
So warm and cozy for kids
Silly on adults

Those blanket sleepers
Make me want to snuggle up
Cuddly babies

Safe, secure, and warm
On a chilly winter night
Pilled blanket sleeper

The epitome
of childhood, these sleepers
Night, night my babies.

Prequel to My Beer Soaked Love Story

2007-11-15T06:35:00.000-06:00

Before I can go further in my beer soaked early romance with Tate, I have to 'splain a bit about my history with boys and long distances.

Prior to Tate, I'd had two "serious" relationships. Two relationships that at the time seemed like the be all, end all. I'd never "love" another person kind of relationships. Funny to look back and remember how real that love felt, but how it wasn't really real. Does that make sense?

So my first boyfriend was Brice (real name). He and I dated my sophomore, junior and senior year of high school. During those years we were inseparable. My senior year, he went away to college. It seemed that my life would end without our constant companionship. He wrote me letters nearly everyday, putting an upside down stamp on every envelope as a way to say "I love you." Ahh. (Actually I think an upside down stamp means the country is in trouble or something like that. Or I just dreamed that up and have accepted this little bit of info as fact. Either way.)

I went to visit Brice once my senior year and to check out the college. Of course, I had plans to attend the same university where we would could be together all the time and alienate ourselves even more. Whee! While visiting, we got engaged in his room at the fraternity house. Ahh. I was a senior. We got engaged. As in engaged to be married. And I was a senior. You know, in HIGH SCHOOL.

By the end of my senior year, thank God I came to my senses and realized I was sick of this long distance relationship business and having to spend hours yammering about NOTHING on the phone and getting seriously sappy letters every few days. And the thought of getting married for all of time and eternity made me want to hurl. I had beer to drink, boys to kiss, and a LIFE to pursue.

So I broke up with him the day after he took me to my prom. I'm a sweet gal like that.

While on spring break in South Padre Island, TX several years later, I met a boy who lived in Cincinnati, OH. Jerry was his name and we were instantly in love. Ahh. Really it was just lust, spiked with a whole lotta tequila shots over the border in Matamoros and beer bongs on the beach. After spring break ended, we continued our relationship for nine months. My parents thought he was an immature dweeb, my friends wondered what the hell was wrong with me. I wonder now what the hell was wrong with me, too, since he was a dip shit. We traveled back and forth between my hometown and Cincinnati, talked on the phone for hours on end, and I made plans to move there to go to graduate school. I only filled out one application to graduate school in Missouri, but five in the state of Ohio.

A few days after visiting me at Christmas, he broke up with me over the telephone. See? Dip shit. Jesus and Mary were smiling on me, though, and I was luckily accepted to the one Missouri graduate school to which I'd applied. Moving to Ohio to attend grad school, eight hours from home, with no boyfriend would have sucked big hairy donkey balls.

This history with long distance relationships made me leery of Tate. With him living in Knoxville and me living in Missouri, I couldn't imagine how this would work.

Stayed tuned.

Hey! You Know What I Love?

2007-11-14T07:22:00.000-06:00

I love picking up Ella, feeling wetness on my arm and realizing I'm covered in shit to my elbows.

Speaking of poopy diapers, I adore when I change a poopy diaper and within minutes it's filled again! Yay.

I also love when I make Carson's favorite lunch and he proceeds to pitch most of it on the floor and tells the dogs "sank sou" (thank you) when they gobble it up. Ahh. Gee. Manners.

My favorite is when I stumble groggily back to bed at 4 AM after feeding Ella only to nearly pass out from the noxious odor that awaits me. It's even better if Tate starts giggling like a school girl and I get to punch him in the back.

I love shopping at Walfart, running errands in traffic while listening to the same Thomas DVD over and over and over, balancing the checkbook, sitting on hold with the ~~comcastic~~ shitastic cable company, trying on clothes in dressing rooms and having the fluorescent lighting cast a lovely glow over my cottage cheese...

What do you love?

I am not in a bad mood, I am not in a bad mood, I am not in a bad mood. I am not in a bad mood. I am not in a bad mood. I am not in a bad mood.

Award post

2007-11-13T20:43:00.000-06:00

Here's a list of excuses.

1. I've been busy
2. I keep meaning to
3. My dog ate it
4. I've been watching too much Family Guy
5. My brain has slowly been leaking out of my boobs
6. I don't own an IPod
7. My expertise with html is limited
8. I am unable to drink hard liquor without severe consequences
9. Rome wasn't built in a day
10. If you ask me anything I don't know, I'm not going to answer.

This post is a loooooong time coming. To those of you who've bestowed awards upon me, I thank you and beg your forgiveness for being so remiss in my acceptance. Choose from the above list an excuse that will serve as my absolution.

I certainly don't deserve 2 awards from Nap Warden, but I'm definitely appreciative.

I'd like to pass this award onto MamaDB who had some issues adjusting to the time change. Her blog is Out of this World.

For this award, I'm passing it along to the Milk Maid. Her quotes at the end of her posts make me chuckle.

Heidi from Hydes Like Us gave me this:

I shall pass this one along to Mandie at Quintessential Quentin.

I got this one from Magnolia Mama:

I love the comments AndreAnna from Diary of a Diapering Madwoman leaves. She makes me smile.

Kara from You Can't Reason with Crazy thinks this blog kicks [donkey] butt.

This award goes to Miss from Rura and Miss. I love her feistiness.

And finally...VDog and Anglophile Football Fanatic gave me the Egel's Nest Award.

I shall pass this award onto SJSFalter!

Let's Play a Game! Incredibly Helpful or Nagging and Maniacal?

2007-11-13T06:07:00.000-06:00

Let's just say that a certain wife, a very organized and seasoned professional wife/mother/domestic engineer, had plans on a Saturday, leaving a certain husband in charge.

What if this wife offered a few suggestions to make this husband's job of caring for two children easier and more efficient? Having lots of experiences with trial and error, she'd figured out the best procedures to complete the daily tasks related to childcare.

Situation 1: Diaper Changes

Soon after Carson is awake, he needs a diaper change. (As in: as soon as he's out of his crib.) He will fuss and vehemently deny a wet diaper, but it must be changed nonetheless. If the diaper isn't changed, you'll find a giant pee mark on the sofa (making more work later).

When Carson protests later on in the morning about needing another diaper change, it's just easier to bring a diaper and the wipes to wherever he's playing and change him there.

Situation 2: Breakfast

Carson eats out of the yellow bowl because it's sides are high enough that he can actually scoop cereal onto his spoon rather than all over the table and floor (making more work for later.)

He prefers to eat off of the green spoon, but not the green spoon with yellow dots. The plain green spoon. If you give him a red or purple spoon, he'll yell (LOUDLY) and throw the spoon of the floor (making more work for later).

Carson likes Honey Bunches of Oats (1/3 of a bowl...no more than that, it'll just go to waste) and a tiny bit of Kashi Go Lean Crunch. He also gets half of a banana, sliced bananas on his cereal. Eventhough he used to eat bananas without slicing them, now he won't. If you just give it to him without slicing it, he'll smear it on the table and get banana between his fingers and eventually in his hair (making more work for later).

Ella gets 3 tablespoons of oatmeal mixed with the remaining half of Carson's banana, mashed well with a fork. If it's really dry, mix in 1 ounce of formula. You can make just one ounce by mixing just 1/2 scoop of the powder and 1 ounce of water. Use the water from the refrigerator since it's filtered. It's really easy to measure an ounce of water in the blue (or purple) Gerber cup.

Situation 3: Loading the dishwasher

The kids' utensils go in the basket on the top rack. If they're put in the basket on the bottom rack, they'll fall out during the wash cycle (making more work for later).

The bowls go in the back of the top shelf. If they are put in the front part of the rack, they flip over during the wash cycle and don't get washed properly. There ends up being dirty dishwater and nasty food chunks in the bowl (making more work for later).

Situation 4: Getting dressed

Don't ask Carson what he wants to wear! He'll change his mind about thirty trillion times and throw a mongo fit. Just pick out an outfit and put it on him.

The clothes on the right sides of both of their closets are the ones that fit, not the clothes on the left side. Those are too big.

*********
Incredibly helpful suggestions? A certain husband would benefit from and appreciate these ideas.

OR

Nagging and maniacal? A certain wife has deep seeded control issues.

(I'm not saying that a certain wife actually offered these suggestions, this scenario is purely hypothetical.)

Mood Killer

2007-11-12T06:29:00.000-06:00

There's nothing like the sound of your son's voice over the baby monitor to ruin a perfectly lovely, kids napping at the same time, adults only Sunday afternoon.

"Mommy!"

"Daddy!"

"Thomas DVD!"

Those words are just. Not. Hot.

"Get up!"

Hot. But NOT when you hear it over the baby monitor.

In The Beginning, There Was Beer. And Lots of It. Part 2 of a Love Story

2007-11-11T07:02:00.000-06:00

Now where were we? If you need to catch up, here is part 1.

Here's a quick recap...wedding, he thinks I'm cute, I think he's cute. Got it?

So after the rehearsal, we went to a swanky joint for dinner. Unfortunately it didn't work out that Tate and I were seated at the same table. Luckily, though, I could see him sitting at the next table. We made eye contact a few times and smiled. I didn't have butterflies, but I did like the attention.

The next day was (not so surprisingly) the wedding. Following the joining of two hearts (gag me), the wedding party rode in a limo to the reception at yet another swanky locale. We drank champagne on the drive there. Mere sips of champagne make me chatty. Too much makes me drunk.

Thank goodness it was a short ride.

I was definitely feeling happy when we arrived at the reception. After the dinner and garter/bouquet/cake cutting business (that included another glass of champagne), it was time to part-ay. At the beer table stood Tate, all alone. Feeling confident and somewhat buzzed, I marched over to him.

It felt like hours that we stood at that beer table talking. He was very friendly, introducing me to all of his friends and making sure I was never, ever without beer. I learned that he was a chemical engineer and lived in a far, far away land called Knoxville, TN.

"Damn," I thought to myself. Why can't boys who like me and that I like back ever live close-by? (Next week, I'll tell you all about my history with long distance relationships.)

We had a great time that night, drinking, talking, and dancing. After the reception, we headed to a local bar with a group of his friends to drink more beer. Luckily we didn't stay long or I probably would have passed out before the most exciting part of the evening...Tate invited me back to his hotel room. Normally I wouldn't go back to a hotel room with a boy I'd just met, but we'd been having such a great time, I didn't want it to end. And I was hoping for some major making out.

Back at his hotel room, we sat on the bed and chit chatted some more. And then it happened...the most exciting part of the evening. He turned on Sports Center. We sat and watched Cardinals highlights. Turns out, Tate was a gentleman.

I realized he wasn't going to make a move, so I knew it was time for me to go home. I called my sober brother to come pick me up. Tate asked for my phone number and email address before I left.

I figured that this would be the last I'd see of him. After two previous failed long-distance relationships, I wasn't eager to pursue something like that again.

But Monday morning, there was an email from him. And almost everyday after that.

Stay tuned for details from our first date and how we became inseparable.

Blog Method

2007-11-10T06:35:00.000-06:00

I know I hinted that I'd be liveblogging round two of our orgampage this weekend. Sorry to disappoint. Boo hooing will not be tolerated.

For this second Saturday of GoBloMeMoFo NaBloPoMo, I'd like to talk about how you blog.

I'm posting about posting.

I'm curious about your method for coming up with a post topic, writing a post, posting a post, editing a post, deleting a post, and coming up with a post title. Post, post, post. There.

In the beginning of my illustrious blogging career, I used to dream about topics. Then I'd wake up and think about topics all day long. Now I just come up with a topic whenever the mood strikes. Usually it's based on something funny or interesting (to me) that happened, I do think about situations in terms of their blogability factor. (This highly irritates Tate.)

I usually write my posts the day before I plan to publish. Occasionally, I'll write a post as soon as I get up, but I prefer not to do that since I'll obsess all night long about what I'm going to write. I've found that if I don't publish a post right away, I'll start over-editing it, questioning everything I've written and then I'll just eventually delete the post. Currently I have about five or six post ideas in draft, ready for next week.

I have no method for coming up with my titles. I just think of a title. That's it.

Since I thrive on order and schedules, I like to post in the morning and typically only once per day. Sometimes I'll post twice if I just can't help myself. It's like a compulsion, but I feel like I must post every Monday through Friday. After NaBloPoMo, I may *gasp* skip a few days of blogging, though. I may need to go on a blog diet in December after overposting in November.

So tell me about your blogging methods. Commenters, take your mark. Get set. Go.

Haiku Already?

2007-11-09T06:30:00.000-06:00

Six months old today!
Still only 11 pounds
So tiny you are

First few months were hard
Such a feisty newborn girl
Thought I'd lose my mind

All is better now
Your smile, your charm, your laugh
You make me just melt

I have worries, though
Milestones not being met
Please sit up, won't you?

Baby girl, love you!
I'll keep you safe, gently guide
Stay feisty! Stay sweet!

Oh yeah, one more thing
It's time to sleep through the night
You are six months old!