tales of grace

here we go again...

2014-01-31T23:17:00.002-08:00

I recently watched a video on 'the art of gratitude'. When I first saw this video trending on my Facebook feed, I'll admit, I was annoyed. Generally, if I'm perusing the social network, I'm looking for raw, trashy, mostly fictitious gossip. I want to see the people I went to high school with making bad choices, updates on Kim Kardashian's epic life fails, and Bieber. Keep it light, right? But this one stuck out. The thumbnail on the video was a chick crying, so I thought, "what they hell, this could be good".

The video went on to interview several people about their current state of happiness and what they thought might make them happier. Every person said variations of the same answer. More money, more stuff, less work and more fun. The guy who led the "experiment" looked like a 15 year old serial killer but he wore a lab coat, so I just went with it.

He goes on to ask them to think of someone who was really important to them, and write down their thoughts and reasons for picking that person. They go on to make the subjects call the people they chose and read them their thoughts. Naturally, as an emotional basket case, I was hysterical pretty quickly. But the video succeeded in provoking thought to the things and people I have in my life, instead of that which I don't have.

Since I last wrote, quite a bit has changed. Ryan and I are engaged and getting married in just under 4 months. Grace is three and a half and I'm filling out preschool registration forms and t-ball league packets. We have a 40lb. beagle who can't tell his ass from a bag of Doritos, and a house with approximately no closet space. Grace is sassy, Ryan's working on a ton of cool projects, and I'm failing miserably at a wedding diet. We're surrounded by family and our hearts are full of gratitude. Ryan and I are closer than we've ever been and our little girl is arguably the coolest person either of us know (seriously, she's way cooler than you). Life is so good.

In reality, the video was about a 6 on a scale of 1-10, but something about watching that really made me stop and think. Give it a watch if you have a few minutes, might make you count your blessings a little more often...

I am Mother, hear me ROAR!

2013-08-23T12:12:00.000-07:00

I officially have a three year old. A preschooler. An adorable little human who resembles me and and acts out like Ryan. She is like 4 feet tall and is rocking a pretty serious 80's rocker mane. She is fiercely driven and unbelievably stubborn. Three years ago, I birthed this human being.

Parts of last few years have flown by, leaving behind small rattles and toys, which I'm still tripping over, and spit up stained onesies that I'm too sentimental to part with. Other parts have leisurely dragged. I haven't slept the night in THREE YEARS and that menacing feeling that some horrific catastrophe or certain doom is waiting just around the corner, has yet to go away. I'm serious when I say that I've just accepted that Sudden Infant Death Syndrome is no longer a rational worry. That doesn't mean I don't watch her breathe or check for a pulse nightly.

Three years and TEN months ago (yes, Grace was late), in an incredibly unforeseen twist of fate, Ryan and I found out we were going to be parents. Those first few weeks didn't really play out the way I always imagined they would. Finding out I was expecting wasn't theatrical like you see in television sitcoms and there was no big reveal. It was closer to an 'after school special' than a romantic comedy.

The tears that were shed were mostly out of fear and uncertainty. Everyone embraced us, just as we knew they would, and that which has started as a shocking surprise became a perfectly fitting piece of our puzzle.

The first few months were tough. It was winter, snowy and miserable, and I was constantly suppressing the urge to vom. My mom dropped off weekly care packages of folic acid loaded groceries and sought to it that the little sea monkey inside of me would have a healthy start! I've never eating so many sunflower seeds. We began to slowly see evidence of the fact that I had something living inside of me. It wasn't but a flutter at first and a suspiciously thick stomach. As the trees began budding I was feeling much better and was starting to actually look pregnant.

We found out our baby was to be a girl, as the sonographer affectionately pointed out her little ovaries that were full of eggs. Talk about mind blowing. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around that one.

By summer, I was a full blown water buffalo. Gone was the young sprightly young lady off yesteryear. Now my mobility consisted of an unsightly waddle that typically only occurred as I made my way from couch to fridge to bed (and repeat). My preexisting cankles has morphed into ham hocks, and it appeared that my stomach could explode baby at any moment.

My delivery was intense. It was long and hard, and at the conclusion when I was handed my beautiful daughter, Ryan summed the experience up perfectly by saying "I looks like the end of Braveheart in here." What can I say, the man has a way with words.

It difficult to remember the ins and outs of those first few weeks. Hell, months. From where I'm sitting now, it seems impossible that Grace was ever as small as she is in the photos we have of that time. Grace has grown out of all of her baby features. Her face is still soft and her complexion is straight out of Snow White, but she is maturing every day. She carries conversation and has lots of opinions. She likes things in their place and demands that she have the final word on absolutely everything.

Three years ago today, my life stopped being all my own. I was given great purpose and the ultimate reward. Today I have a beautiful, smart, hilarious three year old. Happy Birthday Grace. We love you to the moon!

Goodbye, Charlie.

2013-06-18T20:14:00.004-07:00

This week has been a miserable, stressful, no good, f*#k fest; with each new day equally as nightmarish as the last. If I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all.

It began about a week and half ago, Friday. Father's day was on the horizon and I was reeling over what to get Ryan from Grace. When I'm not taming a toddler, refolding laundry for the eighth time, or working, I'm moonlighting as G's personal shopper.

So, I sat there asking myself "What does Ryan like?". I nailed it down to three things. Guitars, musical gear, and beagles. Having scant knowledge of the first two, I began to peruse Petfinder. (Mistake #1).

Meet Simba (who would soon be renamed Charlie) and brought to join our crazy little family.

Charlie was a rescue from a high kill shelter in Kentucky, who was saved by a couple of great women out of Roseville. Him and his sister (Nala, naturally) where 9 weeks old and looking for a family. He was clearly part beagle, and totally chill. The instant we meet him, he just fit. Grace ran up to him like the insane little girl she can sometimes be, and he fell over on his side and took in her rambunctious petting and rambling. We knew right then that Charlie was ours. Like I said, it just fit.

So, we take Charlie home the following day and then promptly to the vet for an proper puppy exam. The vet said he looked great and had a great demeanor, and with a light antibiotic for a touch of kennel cough, we we off. Charlie was coming home and we were thrilled.

Fast forward to late Tuesday night. Grace wakes up complaining of a tummy ache and has a low grade fever. We don't really think much of it because she is acting totally normal otherwise and having no other symptoms. With a dose of tylenol and an exorbitant amount of cuddles, she was back in bed and resting.

The following day, the fever broke and stayed away. She carried on as normal and so did we. Throughout the day Grace would complain of a tummy ache for a minute or two and then get back to her business. Within the day came diarrhea and I started to get a bit concerned.

The presentation was bizarre. She wasn't tired or whiney, and she appeared to be hungry and thirsty as usual. We decided to give it a day and call the pediatrician if symptoms didn't improve by the following morning.

As luck would have it, she only got worse. More pain and more poops. We visited the doctor and with a quick exam we were told it was probably just viral. No need to worry. I insisted that they test her poop (which fortunately wasn't in short supply), just to be sure that the puppy hadn't passed something to Grace. Poop was taken to be sampled, but presumed to be nothing.

Late that evening things got even worse. I'll limit you the details, but blood was involved, and Ryan and I totally freaked. Early that morning we were off to the ER. I was a wreck, clearly assuming the absolute worst and naturally blaming myself. What the hell was I thinking getting a puppy? This was my fault.

Test results came back pretty quick and they diagnosed Grace with Campylobacter, a bacterial infection in her intestines. They assured me that the bacteria was self-limiting and typically didn't require treatment. I would spend the next two days doing nonstop research, scouring every article I could find on children and this bug. Turns out it is fairly common, but can be pretty nasty and have some serious (although rare) complications. Campylobacter is found on almost 50% of grocery store poultry, in the stool of tons of animals, and can be carried by dogs and cats, puppies in particular.

Almost miraculously, Grace seemed almost 100% by Sunday. She was such a trooper. We followed up at the pediatrician on Monday for no other purpose that to watch her scratch her head and read us an article from Web Md. Turns out she'd never really heard of this and was pretty surprised too. She was suspicious of the puppy and suggested treatment to insure there would be no reinfection. She again told us it was self-limiting but to watch for a slowly ascending paralysis over the next two weeks. Evidentially Guillain–Barré syndrome has been linked to Campylobacter infections. It's rare, but really scary.

So today, some tough decisions had to be made about Charlie. I spent today arguing with vets who also seemed to have little knowledge of this bacteria, insistant that my puppy be treated with an antibiotic to insure that the bug is killed if he has it. They went on and on about antibiotic resistance and lack of symptoms and I went on and on about my sick toddler and my concern of reinfection, to no avail. They said that it would be over $200 just to test if he had the germ, and then even if he did have it they wouldn't treat him for lack of symptoms. If there is one thing that we don't have a lot of, its extra cash, so coughing up that kind of loot with no promise of him being clear - wasn't an option. The germ can remain in the stool of an infected animal for months and months, sometimes longer. The germ is passed fairly easily and for anyone who has a toddler - the prospect of keeping a toddlers fingers out of their mouth is virtually impossible. I just can't see myself spending every day wondering if Grace is getting reinfected from Charlie. It's just too hard. I'm sure that makes me a bad person or a lazy, irresponsible pet owner - but Grace's health comes first and now I just need to play catchup and remedy the situation.

Feeling totally heartbroken and helpless, I called the rescue folks and told them we would be forced to return Charlie.

I had the best of intention when looking for a dog. We don't spend a lot of money on ourselves or treat ourselves to much of anything. We live a pretty meager lifestyle and I was hoping that bringing a little pup into the family would bring us a little bit of excitement and really add to our little family. The unforeseen expenses and health problems aside, Charlie is an absolutely amazing little fella. But now, I have a sick kid, who is fortunately on the mend, and a man who is totally heartbroken. Ryan is much more the animal lover than I am and I feel absolutely terrible for getting him attached to the dog.

I spent a fair amount of the drive to Roseville crying and blaming myself as I watched Charlie sleeping soundly on the back seat. Grace seemed totally unaware and we thought that was best. The rescue people where really bummed for us and didn't want to see us part with Charlie. The rescue woman was kind enough to offer to pay for the test to see if in fact he is carrying the bacteria and then pending the results, hold him for us. If Charlie comes back negative, we'll bring him home, and if it is positive - they will find another family to take him.

I'm sitting here with a toddler up at 11pm, listening to Patsy Cline radio and praying she doesn't ask where Charlie is. I feel absolutely terrible. I just hope things work out for the best, one way or the other.

My kid is cooler that yours.

2013-06-03T18:48:00.000-07:00

So my kid is kind of a comedian. She has a way of picking up the vibe, particularly when nothing is going right and we really need a laugh, and just drops a hilarious bomb on us. Today, somewhere between dinner and bath time, Grace was roaming stark naked in her natural habitat, surrounded by toys, books and left over green beans, and took me out.

"I have a hole in my butt!!!! I have a hole in my butt, Mama!!!!!!!!!!!!" - Grace

I'll be honest. I wasn't really sure how to properly address her discovery and how to defuse the slight panic in her voice. Obviously I died laughing. Then told her that we all have holes in our butts. Momma has a hole. Daddy has a hole. And Gracie has a hole. This felt weird, but seemed to set her mind at ease.

Grace is a freakin' rock star. This kid makes friends where ever she goes, is smart a whip, can count to fifteen in Spanish (which is a struggle for me after years of Spanish), always leads the pack at the playground and is outrageously hilarious. God, I love her.

Dear Grace

2013-05-30T21:45:00.000-07:00

Dear Grace,

It has been SO long since I've written. I barely remembered I had this blog. It is currently midnight on a Thursday night and you're upstairs reading books to John-Boy (you're favorite mangy, vanilla scented stuffed dog), up way too late. But I love to hear your little voice up there just talking away.

You'll be three soon, in just a few more months. I barely recognize you these days. My baby is officially gone, and so is most of my toddler. You're so beautiful, I could just stare at you all day. You're hilarious too, which might even beat the insane cuteness you've got going on. You're brilliantly mischievous and always getting into some sort of trouble. Dad and I spend a lot of time saying "No, Grace!". You have your Dad wrapped around your little finger. He is so into you, Grace. I can tell how proud he is of you everyday. You're his pride and joy!

We just got back from an awesome trip to Florida to visit your Grammy and Grampy. You had a blast! Between the pool and the ocean, you were a little fish! You weren't nearly as fearful of the ocean as I thought you would be (you get that from me - Mama loves the ocean). You took off running towards to waves and never looked back. The trip flew by, but we had some unforgettable times.

I'm worried I'm making you a worrier like me. You caught me freaking out about a few spiders on the ceiling in the bedroom and have been totally petrified of them ever since. You woke up at 6am today, hysterical babbling over "ants, spiders, and birds in your hair!". And it hasn't stopped yet. I feel terrible.

I'm slowly accepting that I will never feel like I'm doing a perfect job at motherhood. This is the hardest job there is. The stress is unrelenting and the pressure to always do the right thing is totally maddening. There are no days off and there isn't some sort of light at the end of the tunnel marking a job well done or a well deserved break. You just keep on keeping on and pray that you stay safe, healthy, and happy. It isn't all stress and pressure, though. The pay off comes in hugs, "i love you, mommy"'s, and the sweet snoring of an exhausted little girl, tired from a hard days play. Those are the things that make me feel less guilty about feeding you a happy meal or skipping a bath here and there. You're doing just fine!

I haven't decided if I'm sending you to preschool this fall or next fall. To be honest, I'm a little worried about leaving you. Oddly, I know you'll do fine. You're totally fearless! It's me who will struggle. I have a really difficult time letting other people look after you, out side of the family. I guess I just worry that the one time I take my eyes off you, something bad will happen and I'll blame myself for not being there. (See where the neurotic/worry gene comes from? Sorry in advance.)

You're Dad and I love you to the moon Grace, even if we seem stressed out sometimes. You are worth all the worry and stress in the world, and more.

Love,
Mom

Oh, Grace.

2012-11-30T21:55:00.003-08:00

"Oh, Grace" weren't my exact words. Perhaps shit was said, or the ever popular f-bomb. Maybe both. If ever there were a day that demanded a slew of poorly strung together unmentionables, today was that day.

Yesterday was surgery day and today I'm left with a Vicodin hangover and an over sized q-tip in place of an operational middle finger. What (outside from flipping the bird) do you so desperately need a middle finger for? On your dominate hand - everyfuckingthing.

And so, Grace picked tonight to have her biggest tantrum/meltdown to date. It lasted a full 20 minutes in the car and a kept on going when we arrived home. I'm not talking ''hissy fit" I'm talking full sobs with intermittent 'crying so hard I might vomit' gagging and incessant thrashing about the back seat. It didn't stop once home. After dragging a seriously pissed of miniature Exorcist up the drive way down a finger, I was mystified as to how grace punches, kicks and bites all at once. Totally Mommy beat-down.

Ryan greeted us at the door, not realizing what he'd be facing. Enter hysterical toddler and totally fed up mother. I tried to calmly talking to her and got slapped in the face. I tried letting her cry it out and she threw our kitchen chair at the wall. I put on my firm "thats enough" voice and tried an old fashioned time out (a first in this house), and Grace attempted to rip my already ailing finger off. What happened next surprised even Grace. I sat right down with her on the kitchen floor and sobbed.

Oddly, this calmed Grace. Ryan stepped in a took Grace upstairs. Clearly, I was cashed out. The next 20 minutes were filled with blissful giggles coming from the upstairs tub. At one point, after my own blubbering had commenced, I went upstairs to join the fun.

Queue the hysterics. Grace. Hates. My. Guts.

After a brief "she only does that when you're around" I was just about good on today's bullshit.

Looking forward to another victorious day in nine fingered Motherhood tomorrow and praying that Grace wakes up of the ~~i love mom and don't want to drive her crazy~~ right side of the bed.

My favorite days are SICK days.

2012-10-19T21:16:00.000-07:00

Grace has two speeds - 100% health, totally crazy toddler mode, which involves very little listening, quite a bit of whining and more Yo Gabba Gabba than a sane adult can take. Then, there is sickly Grace. Sickly Grace intermittently smiles, trys to boogie to Yo Gabba Gabba, and only has taste for bananas and Ritz crackers. That particular brand of Grace involves a lot of snot, 10-20 diapers and a whole lot of "it hurrrrts" and "no morrrrre"'s. Yo Gabba Gabba still occupies the air waves, but it doesn't bring the normal giggles it usually does and that is when you know Grace is under the weather.

There is only one thing that can make Grace feel even remotely better on days like this and its cuddles; head on the shoulder, soft cooing, overly warm and a little sweaty, cuddles. Add a slightly matted nene (g's name for her special blanket) to the equation and some seriously bad toddler halitosis and you've got my favorite kind of day. Something about the intense love this kid dishes out and the way she needs me when she's under the weather just melts my heart and I secretly wish it would last forever.

I'd like to add here that Grace ONLY wants to cuddle with me when she's sick, which is a super diss to Ryan. Normally I don't like to brag, but something about this just makes me want to shout from the roof top "Na Na Na Na POO POO!". Sorry ~~sucka~~ babe!

This type of magical day only works if I'm not sick as well. Of course yesterday's snuggle-a-thon had repercussions and I'm paying the piper today. Grace is back to her old tricks and I'm concerned that they may have to amputate my nose due to excessive stuffiness. I've been in PJ's all day, moving from the couch only when absolutely necessary, like to pay the pizza guy. Grace wants nothing to do with me, understandably so. Who wants to snuggle with a sick person. Oh, wait.

The Importance of Family

2012-10-10T18:42:00.003-07:00

I'll be the first to admit that generally speaking, I'm a bit of a Negative Nancy. I spend a fair amount of time dwelling on how much better my life would be if I just had . The blank is often filled with money signs, faster cars, sprawling homes with room to spare, and eager babysitters. The aforementioned luxuries aren't things we're terribly lost without but on any given Wednesday, it doesn't hurt to wish a little.

This past month and a half has felt a little like one catastrophic fuck fest after the next. (sorry for the language folks, but this is real and I say fuck - a lot.) Without going into too much detail, I'll sum it up in a few words and you can fill in the blanks: job loss, oral surgery, panic attacks, terrible twos, stolen wallets, broke down cars, overdraft fees, and more oral surgery. Am I leaving anything out? Oh yeah, contaminated cortisone shots a la Michigan Pain Specialists and a spinal tap to boot for my poor dad. Like I said - fuck fest.

If there is one minutely not totally fucking shitty thing about times of crisis, it's their inherit ability to bring people together. I've said it before and I'll say it again, my family is seriously legit. We pull together and help each other out when things get bad and usually come out things pretty alright. These shitty times also serve as a reminder of how good we really had it, before what ever adversity ensued. By the end of the week, I'm longing for our small house and empty bank account.

This month was particularly crappy, but I'm sure it beat the hell out of someone else's week. Fortunately, surgery went well and Dad's test came back good. For the first time in a long while, I'm feeling really happy. Happy to be sitting my warm house with my little girl nibbling crackers next to me. Happy to have a family who supports and loves me and a fella at home who will make soup and fetch me medicine. It's so difficult to be thankful in the moment, but I'm working on it.

2012-09-18T19:07:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow marks yet another first for Grace and I. This one is much more enjoyable than many of those that have come before it; better than the first diaper, the first ER trip, the first curse word or the first spanking. Much better. Our first "Mommy and Me" class is tomorrow, and I'm geeked!!

I've laid G's clothes out and prepped her bag and snack. Yes, I'm taking it a little too seriously and treating it more like her first day of elementary school instead of the chaperoned hour and a half of mommy and me madness that it is. But, I'm still super excited.

The excitement isn't without a little anxiety. Grace isn't the best share-er. Sometimes she gets a little slappy and she has been know to let out an unintentional, ill-advised "shiit". Sometimes she rips her clothes of and runs around nude yelling "OK!", and if she's bored with you or whatever activity you're peddling she might give you the death stare. Remember this gem? - Not much has changed, she's only perfected it.

That being said, she is adorable and funny and totally fearless. A school like environment should be a welcomed change for Grace. If she doesn't bitch slap, bite, or curse out any of the other 2-4 year olds, we're good.

back to what matters...

2012-08-29T20:04:00.000-07:00

It occurred to me today, while picking pieces of dinosaur spaghetti out of my daughters hair, how little time I spend doing things I want to do. I'm not talking about going to the movies or the long forgotten ladies nights, but I'm talking about just relaxing and savoring the few moments in life that are truly enjoyable. There are so few things these days that aren't a total drag, that it seems a damn shame not to take a second for myself and soak in the not so sucky.

Lets take Grace for instance; my adorable two year old handful. If only evident by the lack of blogging or baby booking I've done over the last year, I'd say I'm too busy for my own good. I work 4 days a week, and have side jobs the on my two days off. Family day is supposed to be Sunday, but I usually turn into a Momzilla well before noon. Between grocery shopping, cleaning, laundry, and the scant few moments of strained relaxation, I barely have time to stress the whole family out by cramming in a trip to the zoo or a play date at Jungle ~~Hell~~ Java. The phrase "Well Grace deserves a fun family day.." always comes into play, typically right after a missed nap or a series of catastrophic bank overdraft fees. By the time said forced family outing begins, everybody is pissed and Grace is giving me the "why are my parents so crappy" look.

And tonight before bedtime, after a grueling day of last minute baking and preparations for this weekend's work commitments, it hit me. Flustered and annoyed, and ready to put this day behind me, I noticed how delicate Grace's little face is. Her tiny little nose and pouty lips, and perfectly pink cheeks. She won't be like this much longer; young and needy. And as we exchanged our little goodnight rituals, tucking in each other with her beloved nene and a few "eyyye luu you!"'s, I realized that this was the happiest I'd been all week.

I can't be certain what the next few weeks or months will bring, but I need to be around Grace more and spend less time stressing things that aren't important. I have the rest of my life to work my ass off, but G will only want to cuddle her Momma for so long.

Sayonara Babies R Us!

2012-07-23T20:07:00.001-07:00

It been a really long time since I regularly posted here, and it makes me feel like a pile of ~~shit~~ crap. Plenty of stuff is happening; G is growing, talking up a storm, and constantly getting into trouble. She has changed so much over the past few months and I have so many little gems to write about, but have NO time! Between work, side jobs, trouble shooting the toddler years, and the on going potty training battle, I'm really crapping the ol' bed on recording the precious moments. And this just in, Grace turns two in less than a month!! WHAT THE HECK!!!

Today, while on my way to the dreaded Kroger, I passed Babies R' Us and got a little emotional. Don't get me wrong, I'm absolutely frickin' thrilled to be post baby. Babies are cute and cuddly, they dish out the 'ohh's' and 'goo's' like nobody's business, and they smell like sweet milk. Toddlers who sleep the night, feed themselves, and poop in the potty at least 12% of the time are even cuter. It took a long time for us to get Grace to this place of minimal self sufficiency and we love it. Oh, and I'm like the anti-christ on anything less than 7 hours of sleep.

But, passing Babies R' Us still touched a nerve. I really don't need much from that store anymore. No more bottles, no bibs or cute little newborn clothes. Grace walks most places we go and usually sits at the table, eliminating the over priced boosters and strollers. Jars of food, Puffs, and formula are long gone. Grace shops at Target, just like her Mama, and enjoys a happy meal from time to time. We're almost out of the diaper stage, and already wearing some little girl's clothes. Could this be the end of an era?

Grace isn't a baby, she's a kid.

But as they say, the grass is always greener, and you always want what you don't have. Suddenly after battling our way through the last two years, one sleepless night after another, scarlet fever, scrapped knees, and bottle after frickin bottle, how could I be feeling the urge to go back? Probably because that crisp green grass is fertilized with bullshit, oh and motherhood amnesia.

Making it through the first two years of parenthood demands a metal of honor, or at least one of those cheesy girl scout patches. Getting through the trials and tribulations of interpreting baby shit and pacifying the colicky baby isn't for the faint of heart. Sure they're adorable; who among us would disagree? But no amount of cute makes a five night sleepless crying bender any less sucky.

I'm sure at some point the scars of the baby years will fade and I'll forget just how painful the miracle of life was, and I'll be ready for another. But until then, I'll continue to fantasize about cuddling babies, the smell of newborn hair, the toothless little grins and the soft coo's of a sleeping infant, sans the sleepless nights, vomit stained shirts, and irrational screaming fits.

Oh, and if I could just skip the whole labor and delivery bit next time too, that would be terrific. K, thanks.

Sleepy Cuddle

2012-06-25T17:44:00.000-07:00

It isn't often these days that Grace offers up a ton of cuddles, but when she does - we totally soak them up. This afternoon's cuddles came around nap time after Grace passed out on our way back home. Miraculously, we were able to transport her from car to crib pretty seamlessly, but not before snuggling the crap out of her. If this doesn't make you want to grab the nearest tyke you can and hug your heart out, I'm pretty sure you're rockin' the old the tin man special. For those of you with a soul, check her out.

COOL WHIP Tartlets!

2012-06-14T18:59:00.002-07:00

Thank you COOL WHIP for sponsoring this post. Join us on Facebook for inspiration and recipes for everyday treats. What you add makes it. #coolwhipmoms

As the resident cake decorator/pastry person in the family, I always find myself biting off more than I can chew in the dessert department. And with BBQ season in full swing, I almost always have flour on my face and something in the oven. For those of you with little ones around, you understand how difficult getting anything done is with them at your feet, let alone slaving over a hot oven. And so, I've concocted an absolutely scrumptious BBQ must have, that doesn't require a whole lotta elbow grease and is sure to please everyone who gets their paws on it.

First things first. No summer dessert would be complete with out some COOL WHIP whipped topping. In fact, I'm pretty sure COOL WHIP makes every type of dessert better! My Fresh Fruit Tartlets are no exception. The best part of this summertime dessert? People can't believe you didn't spend hours putting them together. Even better part? Takes about a half an hour from start to finish. Follow these steps and you'll have yourselves a dozen of these babies.

For the flaky tart dough, I whipped up a quick pastry - made primarily of items I already had in my pantry. If you're short on time, you can use frozen puff pastry dough or ready made tart shells.

After preparing and chilling your pastry dough, roll it out and press neatly into greased tart shell tins. If you do not have tart shell tins, feel free to press dough into the bottom of a greased cupcake or muffin pan. Same effect, but a little less fancy.


Bake @ 350º until slightly brown (approx:12 minutes)

Once your tart shells have baked and cooled, you're ready to dress them up a bit. Pull out the remainder of your ingredients and get artsy.

I found that using an ice cream scoop was the best method of filling the tart shells with COOL WHIP. From there, I sliced and diced and prepared to impress! Take a look at the finished product!

Sponsored posts are purely editorial content that we are pleased to have presented by a participating sponsor. Advertisers do not produce the content. I was compensated for this post as a member of Clever Girls Collective, but the content is all my own.

Hellllo, Terrible Twos.

2012-05-21T13:19:00.001-07:00

It has been quite awhile since I've blogged and it makes me really sad. Between working nearly full time and early onset terrible twos, any free time we get is spent folding laundry, grocery shopping, scrubbing crayon off the walls, or begging for an early bedtime.

Since I last wrote, things have taken an interesting turn here in toddlerville. Grace is really testing us lately; pushing any and every limit we impose. She will be two in August but seems a little ahead of the curve on the whole 'terrible two' business.   I've done copious amounts of reading on the subject, looking for effective ways of 'disciplining' (so to speak) our little girl, in a way that she'll respond to. So far, I want to punch Dr. Spock, What to Expect, and the folks over at Baby Center in the face. The last gem I read suggested that I make 'home a place where the number of "no's" isn't overwhelming". I'd like to offer the author of this article the same thing my 19 month old offered me, a nice hard slap to the face. Tell me about 'seeing the humor in it' with a stinging red imprint of Grace's hand on your cheek.

I often wonder if the neighbors are keeping track of the amount of times I shout "No!" throughout the day. Lately it feels like that is the extent of our conversation over here. Grace has figured out how to jimmy all of the drawer locks in the kitchen, unlatch the toilet seat lock, and mastered the art of dropping valuables down the heat vents. I've tried distraction and have calmly explained to her why whatever mischief she's into isn't okay. We encourage Grace to explore her freedom and have as much fun as humanly possible, but safety is a concern when she's deep sea fishing in the downstairs bathroom.

I'm aware that there isn't a lot to be done about this behavior when they're so young but it's really hard to deal with. We have tantrums ever 15 minutes, I'm hit in the face at least twice every time we're out in public, and Grace is getting more and more particular about how she likes things by the day. Are we raising a little monster or is this just par for the course?

As always though, there is a silver lining. Sometimes its difficult to locate on days like today, but she seems to know when to let it shine. Mid mischief, just when I'm about to excuse myself to the bathroom for an afternoon cry session, she throws me this look.

potty on head, mom's shoes on feet <3

I spend A LOT of time wishing these difficult days away and looking forward to a more reasonable Grace, but I know I'll end up missing these days terribly. I mean, could she be any more freakin adorable?

Here's a little peek at what we've been up to lately.

Shit. Shat. Shot.

2012-04-12T17:02:00.001-07:00

There was a time, well before pregnancy and Grace and before I gained 50 80 lbs., that my energy level wasn't in the shitter. I know that sounds crass, but my ever plummeting motivation resides just there. Does this listlessness coincide with my return to work? It doesn't really matter. What ever is causing this total lack of vigor really sucks.

I feel like I'm being pulled in 247 different directions. I don't want to miss a second of Grace's little existence, but know I need to be working. After staying home with Grace for 18 months, I relish the time I have away from the house. It feels good to have the freedom and Ryan is supportive and appreciative of my drive to work. But after a long day at work, I'm having difficultly finding the time and energy to do all of the fun Mommy/Daughter stuff that means so much to me. Lately, I feel like DJ Lance of Yo Gabba Gabba has done more parenting than I have.

There was a time, again well before Grace made her debut, that money wasn't really a huge concern of mine. I didn't need much and haven't ever been overly concerned with the finer things. It's no secret that child rearing is costly and I want the absolute best for Grace, by any means necessary. I'm working two jobs now and Ryan is working his usual gaggle of jobs. Truth is, it's a lot. I'm gone before those two wake up and when I walk in the door, Ryan's off. The door is constantly swinging and it's hard to catch our breath.

My biggest fear is that I'm failing Grace is my efforts to contribute financially. (annd I'm crying) It has always been important to me to raise my kids. I don't want a nanny and I don't want her spending more time at a day care than she does with us. I want to do the finger painting, I want to dish out the snacks, and I want all the hugs and kisses. We've avoided any type of childcare thus far and plan to continue on that path. Trouble is, between the stress from work, insufficient sleep, and the constant financial struggles, I feel myself losing patience with the wrong people - Grace included.

But, we'll carry on, realizing we have it better than most. What other choice do we have? If constant exhaustion is the name of the game, pass me the Red bull and set the alarm. Grace deserves the world and we intend on providing it for her. Until then, we'll pray to the Mega Millions fairies and keep on keepin' on.

Easter!

2012-04-09T11:22:00.000-07:00

I love this kid so much. Seriously. I can hardly remember how we got on without her. She makes every part of our lives so much richer. Without getting into too much boring detail, I will report that our Easter was amazing. Grace was spoiled (as per usual) and we all enjoyed our day. Here are a few shots from yesterday that I'm absolutely in frickin' love with.

G's got Scarlet Fever.

2012-04-02T10:21:00.001-07:00

For the past 19 months, G has been the picture of health. Aside from a cold or two and a diaper rash here and there, we've been pretty lucky in the illness department. ((knocking on wood)) I attribute Grace's good health to up to date vaccinations and her OCD Mama, but Saturday night - we got our first real scare.

Grace has had a rash for the past few weeks, starting in her diaper area and gradually spreading to her back/legs/chest. I took her to her pediatrician a day or two after the rash presented itself and was told it was viral and to wait it out. Over the next 10 days, it got a little better and what rash remained didn't seem to trouble her too much. We assumed she was on the mend.

Saturday, after a grueling 12 hour workday, I arrived home to a seriously broken out little girl. A sand-papery rash covered Grace's entire back and stomach and had moved onto her face. She was running around as usual and wasn't showing any other symptoms. Her neck and back were red and her face was pretty startling too. Ryan had to work that evening, so Grace and I were on our own. We headed to my parents house and were met with a pair of very concerned grandparents. At first I was hesitant to take Grace in, assuming that it wasn't anything serious, but after a brief Google session it became clear that Grace's rash looked a lot like Scarlet Fever. In the moment, I didn't think to take a picture of what G's rash looked like - but here's the image that sent us on our way.

At 9:30pm, we were off. Pop, Grace and I headed to urgent care.

The wait was brief and Grace was cheerful. Every person that came in or out of the waiting room was greeted with a red faced smile and a jovial "Hi!". By the time it was our turn, Grace knew she was in for it. Grace HATES the doctor lately, and this visit was no exception. After a thorough examination and a strep screen, we were on our way with Penicillin on tap for the next 10 days.

Grace is doing great and is already improving after only 4 days of medication. Grace's symptoms were not those of the classic strep throat presentation. She had no fever and there was no indication of any throat infection. We think that G's diaper rash progressed into Impetigo, a skin strep infection, ultimately leading to Scarlet Fever.

As I said, Grace seems no worse for the wear. Our little girl is a trooper and we're so happy we caught this before it got worse. Looking forward to a nice Easter weekend, scarlet fever free. :)

people I want to punch in the mouth

2012-03-29T12:44:00.000-07:00

I'd be putting it lightly if I said I was a little short on patience. As if not losing my patience with my toddler isn't difficult enough, I try desperately not to go off the deep end while dealing with the jerks around me. Who are these jerks you ask? I'll tell you a little bit about them and maybe you can avoid them.

People Who I Want to SOCK IN THE FACE

#1. Everybody at Joanne Fabrics - and any other hobby store for that matter. You'd think that with the stakes set so low, visiting a craft store would be a fairly enjoyable shopping trip. You aren't at a gun shop stocking up on ammo for the impending Rapture or god forbid renewing your license at the DMV. You're picking up yarn and a hot glue gun to complete you latest Pinterest project. I'm not a terribly patient person as it is, but standing in a line 15 people deep while the granny at the front tries frantically to load their coupons off the smart phone they have no business operating, makes me want to fashion some malatov cocktails and go nuts. They should have a special line for these cross stitching doofases.

#2. People who count to 10, before turning left on a green arrow. I understand being cautious; looking both ways is elementary. But when you're in rush hour traffic, move it along. You needn't adjust your Garmin, call your uncle, pluck your eyebrows, or count to 10. Perhaps if you were sitting in a car that reeked of vomit, with a screaming kid in the backseat - you'd hasten.

#3. People who don't hold the door. This includes the assholes who don't say thank you when the door is held for them. I have a really difficult time believing that I'm the only person who was taught to say thank you, be polite, and hold the god dang door. Are these unchivalrous assholes just lazy or don't they understand that us kind, thoughtful folks could just let the door hit them in the face? Treat others as you wish to be treated - or prepare to have a door slammed on your beak.

#4. Handicapped parking spots occupied by perfectly able jerks. This one doesn't even directly relate to me, but irritates me none the less. These choice located blue spots are designated for people who really need them, not the impatient diva who refuses to follow the rules. Rules are in place for a reason, and this is one of them that really irks me when it is disobeyed. I NEVER park in a handicapped spot and I sometimes even have a hard time parking in the spots next to the handicapped spots, for fear of a handicapped rush and lack of close parking. To the annoying women and men who believe they're above the rule: Look out. I am the handicap tag enforcer and will NOT hesitate to bitch you out for being a handicap spot scammer. Come on back to section H where you belong.

#5. Bad Parents. God I hate to criticize other people's parenting, and for the most part - I try to abstain. But I cannot stand when parents let their children run a muck without any supervision. Now that I'm back to work, I see it all the time. Women will stroll in with their girlfriends, 5 tykes deep and let em' loose. Kids are shrieking, food is flying, and I'm annoyed. Finally - when the unsupervised children from hell decide to make a break for it and head out the door, the irresponsible women act like its our fault that their kids we're acting out. Next time you go out of a girls lunch, leave the kids at home. You suck at parenting.

And that concludes the people I want to sock, at least for today. Tomorrow will bring on a whole new slew of jerk offs who may be in need of a smack or two in the kisser.

back to work blues

2012-03-26T15:54:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm back to working almost full time, I find myself in a constant state of confusion. It has been a while since I've had to deal with the pressure that comes along with working outside the home, and in conjunction with the n e v e r ending S T R E S S that is Motherhood, I am POOPED out.

I'm almost always ready to crash. With a 7am call time four days a week, sleep has become a distant memory. I leave before the sun comes up and don't even get to say goodbye to Grace, as she is still snoozing. I get to work as the sun is rising and count the hours until I can call Ryan and get my morning G update. I feel so out of the loop. I don't know if she woke up happy or what she'll eat for breakfast. Does she miss me? Did she POOP!?

Fortunately I'm out by three everyday, so I get plenty of G time when I get home. On my ride home last week, my Dad called me just to check in and see how his little Gracie was doing. It broke my heart to have to answer "I think good. Haven't seen her yet today.".

But work is good and the money is even better. I keep telling myself that I'm not working for extra cash or to treat myself to mani/pedi's after a luxurious girls lunch. I'm working for my little girl, and it feels really good to contribute financially.

And so, today is my day off and G and I are kickin' it to some Yo Gabba Gabba. It felt good to feed her breakfast and I even enjoyed changing a seriously shitty diaper. Back in the Mama groove til' tomorrow and loving it.

My kid smells like a dirty hippie.

2012-03-25T20:39:00.003-07:00

G smells like a dirty hippie. Stereotype? Maybe. But seriously. My kid smells like she just got done clambaking a Volkswagon at a Grateful Dead concert. The culprit? Earth Mama, Angel Baby - Bottom Balm.

Grace's bottom has definitely seen better days. We took her to the doctor last week about a little rash she'd developed along with a pesky diaper rash that wouldn't bugger off. The doctor used one of the most irritating words in my parental opinion and told me it was 'viral'. Viral - the blanket term used for seriously annoying things that they can't help you with.

And so, after investing in every type of butt cream, balm, and salve we could find - I decided to take a trip to the local health food store and get in touch with my inner naturalist. As researched by G's Na Na, Weleda baby cream and Earth Mama got rave reviews. $30 later, my little lady is running around nude and reeking of patchouli.

G is snoring now, fast asleep in upstairs. Her bottom is soothed and she is resting peaceful. The smell of patchouli and jojoba oil is soothing and makes me feel a little less crappy about her sore little tush. Hoping this stuff does the trick!

Erin go baby

2012-03-17T18:31:00.001-07:00

It's been over a week since I've posted, but not without good reason. We've been busy! I started a new job last week and am sloooowly getting back into the groove of rising before the sun. It is difficult leaving the house before Grace even wakes up, but it's wonderful coming home to her. In other ~~unremarkable~~ news, Grace has a seriously rough diaper rash. This diaper rash perfectly coincides with my return to the workforce, thus sending me into a spiral of mommy guilt. Oh the delight of feeling like total shit.

But today, Ryan and I both had the day off and wanted to make the best of it - red bottom and all. Years ago, he and I could have been found at the local pub, hanging with our buddies and drinking green beer. But today, we took our little Irish girl to the petting farm for some real fun. I speak for both of us when I say that this year beat the hell of out of the latter.

Getting back on the blogging bandwagon this week hopefully. We have a ton of pictures of G playing outside now that it has finally warmed up! Here's a peek at Grace down on the farm.

Our little guppie has guppies!

2012-03-08T21:06:00.001-08:00

Grace has fish!! Four "highly resilient" little guppies, who the woman at Pet Smart assured me they were hard to kill. For Christmas, G's Nana bought her an aquarium nightlight, which Grace absolutely adored. Sadly, after many a night left on - the thing broke, leaving G fishless and fussy. We figured what better way to remedy this than with the real thing!

moving the tank upstairs tonight!

We found a great kit at Pet Smart that came with almost everything we needed to get G's first tank off and running. Light, filter and tank for under $40!! We're planning on adding a few more plants and another couple fish, barring that we get through the first week without any casualties. Grace seems to love the little guys and can't stop yelling "ish!". And the way I see it, anything that doesn't have poop that I have to clean up is a-okay in my book! :)

my kid LOVES to shit the bed

2012-03-08T09:31:00.000-08:00

At G's last check up, our doctor mentioned that it might be time to introduce a potty chair into Grace's everyday life. I know a lot of parents say this, and maybe I'm totally full of it, but for an 18 month old - G seems advanced. Grace's favorite hobbies this month include organizing the shoe bin and tidying up the kitchen. She loves being part of the team and really looks happy when she's 'at work'. This being said - we're pretty sure potty training Grace will be a breeze.

The doctor mentioned that one of the best ways to introduce the potty chair is to place it where your kid likes to go #2. She mentioned that some kids like to poop standing behind a chair and others will go stand in the corner. She said that placing the chair where they already go to do their business will encourage them to give the chair a shot. Problem is - my kid LOVES to shit the bed.

Grace's preferred dumping zone is her crib. Everyday at nap time, we've come to expect the telling grunts immediately after we shut the door. We're not totally sure why Grace prefers things this way, but I like to think she likes her privacy. And what young lady wouldn't? Like I said - she's advanced.

So this presents a problem. Placing a potty in the crib isn't an option, but she doesn't seem to get it otherwise. The concept of teaching a kid to stop crapping their pants and to instead sit on a chair and do their business, is draining. I'm still trying to teach her the difference between Goldfish crackers and cedar mulch.

Fortunately, we're not in any hurry to get her potty trained and I'm not sure I'm ready to let go of the diaper stage. The idea of Grace being grown enough to use the potty makes me feel a little weepy. ((and yes, I weep about everything)). Diaper changes and fixing dinner are some of the few things Grace still needs me for and I secretly enjoy our diaper changing convos.

Will update more on the status of the potty introduction, but am anticipating a long and poopy road. Til then, its crappin' the bed and pampers.

Windy Wordless Wednesday :)

2012-03-07T13:41:00.002-08:00

The mitten is warming up and spring is definitely on it's way. Today it was 65º here and Grace and I took full advantage of the sunshine (and WIND!) :)

Time for #2?

2012-03-06T14:46:00.000-08:00

I can't believe I'm writing this, but it is the truth. I've got baby fever. I want another one. Like now.

For those of you who don't know me personally, I'll fill you in on a little back history. Back when Grace was in the ol' womb, I was a hot mess. For me, those nine months were a mix of magic and mayhem. It seemed that with each magical pregnancy milestone , I got further in touch with my inner demon. When I wasn't starving, uncomfortable, or weeping, I was typically making any number of my loved ones miserable.

As a lifetime hypochondriac and OCD extraordinaire, nine months felt like an eternity. When I wasn't terrified of getting listeria from Subway or checking for a fetal heartbeat @ 4am, I was neurotically assisting in the planning of my baby shower (sorry Mom and Amanda). Towards the end of my second trimester, I was informed that I'd only gained 11lbs. to date. That appointment gave way to the deep and disgusting spiral into a full blown McChicken addiction. I couldn't get enough of these processed chicken sandwiches. My total weight gain at the end of my 40th week was just under 60lbs. I was quite literally super sized.

I was due on Friday, August 13 and went ten days post date. Labor was a nightmare and the kid took just under 5 hours to push out. It seemed like everything that could go wrong, was really trying to. After 27 hours, G joined us and filled us with more joy that we could have ever asked for.

Grace was a great baby and only really had a couple of bad weeks. I remember thinking that I couldn't wait until Grace could eat 'people' food and sleep the night; when Grace became a little more independent, the fun would really begin. Now I look back to those cuddly days and can literally smell the Enfamil. I long for baby urp and snuggles. And nothing compares to that baby smell.

Grace sleeps the night now and really gives back. She's always waiting at the door for us, ready to dish out hugs and kisses. I realized today when someone asked me how old my baby was, that I didn't really have a baby anymore. Grace is a kid. She likes bananas, hates bread, sometimes says shit, and loves Yo Gabba Gabba. She'll play for hours in the yard and will dance her butt off to anything with a little rhythm. She is definitely not a baby.

I hesitate to say that I'm ready to go back and start again, but I think I might be getting close. A few more things need to happen before I feel like baby #2 can join the party, but I think we both know Grace needs a playmate in the next few years. In the meantime, I need some of my friends (and sisters!) to pop out a few so I can steal snuggles til' it's our time again! :)