Taming Insanity

No Accent

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

Listen, if you're not reading Late Enough, you're missing out. That's all there is to it. She's had me completely addicted since she wrote a post about hiding from zombies in trees and on top of that, she's mega-watt awesome all the time. I was lucky enough to con her into guest posting.

And for the record, I'm from Chi-CAH-go. Make no mistake, no matter what my mom tells you.

Alex Iwashyna blogs at Late Enough about life, parenting, marriage, zombies, culture, religion and her inability to wake up in the morning and not hate everyone. She also runs a collaborative review site called This Blogger Makes Fun of Stuff (because she does). Feel free to find her on Facebook or @L8enough on the Twitter. But don’t call. She uses her phone to manage those accounts while avoiding real human interaction.

Insanity Rerun: Proud Mommy Moment

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

Since I recently gave birth, I'm re-running some guest posts I've been proud of. This is the first time they're appearing on my site. So, these may be new to some and re-runs to others. Either way, I hope you'll enjoy.

There are many thing I like about our son. Which is lucky since it seems once you have the child, it is frowned upon if you don't love and raise him. So I'm glad that in addition to loving him, I genuinely enjoy his company.

That said, it's not that the child is without fault. He roars at other children at the playground when he's mad at them. He's mad at them...pretty much when they touch anything at the playground that he has played with, would like to play with, or may consider playing with in the future.

We're working on it.

Still, while we work on it, I've worried. We have another little guy on the way and frankly, our son is already rather possessive of his mommy. So I've been having casual conversations with him about what to expect when the baby is born. He knows the baby will cry when he needs something. He knows the baby will only drink milk when he's born. He knows the crib where he once slept will become the new baby's domain. Most of these things took time to get him acclimated to. But we keep talking so that at least, he knows it's coming.

Still, I worried. I do that.

See, even though I loved our first born for months and months before he arrived, it was a huge shock to me to see what adding another person to our household did. It took me months to feel us gel together as a family unit. Previously, it had just been the two of us. Having a baby fractured that twoness - it took us months to feel that everyone was connected again. I hadn't quite anticipated the hugeness of it. I know there's no way to prepare him for that. So, I worry.

I'm not sure how much he can truly understand at two years old, but I keep talking.

So one day, laying in bed, I couldn't help but burst with pride. Our son was trying to buy time to stay awake. Quickly he kissed daddy, then mommy, then my belly. Daddy, mommy, belly. Daddy, mommy, belly. Round and round he went. Carefully, he articulated, "I wubv you daddy." Kiss. "I wubv you mommy." Kiss. Then, in a burst of emotion, he wrapped his arms around my stomach and hugged it tightly. "I WUBV you baby. I WUBV you." Kiss.

It was the first time I felt like a family of four.

I was so proud of our son for including his little brother.

Will they be perfect together? No. Will there be an adjustment period after the baby is born? Sure.

But I'm proud that he remember to include his little brother even before he's born. I'm proud that he brings all of us closer together.

Blessings

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

When we arrived at our new house, I was surprised to be greeted by this:

The pile included astoundingly thoughtful gifts like this gem from @missmarinastar :

And this cute, awesome set from our friends in Philadelphia:

A keepsake from a belle, a bean, two Chicago dogs and their parents:

The packages that piled up were reminders that in the midst of much havoc, love poured out to us from across the country. The blessings, of course, are all of you.

Thank you for your love and support through all of this. We truly are really blessed to have you in our lives.

PS @ginkafied I miss you and love you. I just don't call to tell you because I know it makes you uncomfortable. So now it's on the blog instead - booyah!

Perfectly Mediocre

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

I continue, just barely, to be deemed worthy enough to write for Aiming Low. Which is a dubious honor as the site's motto is "perfectly mediocre".

That said, I'm still pretty excited about it. If you'd like to check it out, you can find my posts below:

Men Get Fat Too

My Ankle is a Murderous Traitor

Vampires Make the Best Fathers

How to Deal with Negative Blog Comments

Reply All is Not the Devil

You'll notice a distinct lack of posts about my boobs. But I SWEAR it's still funny writing.

Maybe.

At a bare minimum, it's mediocre.

View all posts by KLZ at Aiming Low

Tips to Sell a House While Living with a Toddler

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

1. Do not let the toddler into their room
Not ever. The room will instantly be demolished. Toys will be everywhere. You will never keep up with the toy tornado. In fact, do not let the toddler anywhere in the house where there are toys.

2. Make the toddler wear mittens
Let's face it, if you don't, everything you own will be covered with tiny smudgy handprints and a smattering of a cheeto dust. And your toddler doesn't even eat cheetos.

3. Stop eating
Eating is a major crime when it comes to trying to sell your house. Not only does it create horrible things like DISHES that you have to WASH, but it means you will have food in your house. Food the toddler can break. Food the toddler can pour onto the floor. Food that, heaven help you, means you will regularly have to clean the fridge.

4. Realize sleep is for the weak
If you sleep in those lovely, comfortable beds you own, it will actually make you less rested. For you will have to make those beds, while wrangling a crabby two year old and trying to get out of the house in time for work. This will happen every morning because you never know when there might be a showing. You NEVER KNOW. So it will be less stressful to just quit sleeping. Vampires have the right idea. It's how they get so rich.

5. Leave the House
Realistically, in order to sell the house, you and the toddler need to leave as much as possible. This is counter intuitive since moving is expensive and you'd think you should be staying in to save money. Don't. You will ruin the house you are trying to sell. Go to the library instead. In fact, just go ahead an move in to the library. It's free and stocked with bedtime stories, even if there are no beds.

Hyperbole and the Blog Comment

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

Dear sweet Julie from By Any Other Name has guest posted here before. I asked her to stop by and entertain you again during my maternity leave because 1) I think she's that entertaining and 2) I didn't think she'd remember she'd previously posted. The lady is busy, you can't expect her to keep track of these things. In any event, the light-hearted post below sheds some light on something we are ALL prone to doing. Don't lie. You do it too.

I’m here today with KLZ, one of the most straight-forward bloggers I know, to get real about a subject that’s dear to my heart: Blog comments.

To me, this is one of the most entertaining aspects of blogging. But it also can be the most baffling.

I assume most of us read a variety of blogs and at least occasionally glance at comments left at other sites. So perhaps you too have noticed that certain well-intentioned commenters - including me - have a tendency to dabble in HYPERBOLE.

Indeed, exaggerating for effect is like nose-picking; we all do it when no one’s looking.

Unless you don’t and then neither do I.

Either way, let’s explore this issue and see if any of the following sounds familiar.

1. Comments on sad/nostalgic posts:

Characterized by admissions that “I’m sobbing” or “You got me all weepy” these statements may include requests to “Please pass the Kleenex.” Extreme circumstances may render a gently sarcastic “Thanks a lot. I’m drinking my mascara.” And sighing. There’s usually a whole lot of sighing.

2. Comments on funny posts:

Characterized by phrases like “I just wet my pants!” or “I snorted coffee all over my keyboard!” and variations of that ilk purporting, “These are the most hysterical words I’ve ever read in my entire life!” Such compliments increase exponentially at sites where the blogger is smarter than everyone else and no one knows what he/she is actually saying.

3. Comments on cute posts (often augmented by pictures):

Characterized by ironically morbid claims such as “I die” or “I just exploded from the preciousness.” See also: “I want your baby” which is borderline creepy, if you ask me. Extra credit offered for any and all references to Hearts and/or Swooning. (Side note: Occasionally, the pictures are not that adorable. Shhhhh.)

4. Comments on posts regarding achievements:

Characterized by claims that the blogger is “Amazing” or a “Rock star” or “The most gorgeous/talented/hard-working specimen on the planet.” Of course there are a lot of bloggers doing seriously impressive work. Then there are those of us receiving accolades for accomplishments like “I remembered to put on underwear!” Rock star, indeed.

5. Comments on posts mentioning alcohol:

Characterized by statements that imply we should all be living at Charlie Sheen’s Sober Valley Ranch. Variations include references to wine (a favorite and harmless!) or the more insidious suggestions (and therefore hopefully in jest) that all problems can be solved by “taking a bath in Jose Cuervo followed by a Jack Daniels shower. And repeat.” Extra points allotted to those competitive souls who outdo the booze-related references in the original post or in the comments that’ve already been published.

6. Comments on sexy posts:

In which offers of three-ways and boob-flashing abound, alongside promises of future conference orgies scheduled for next year. I’m pretty sure I’ve offered to “virtually” feel-up at least three dozen bloggers and I can’t calculate the number of girl-crushes and make-out sessions I’ve seen planned. (Side note: These comments may overlap with those praising us for remembering to put on underwear.)

7. Comments on posts featuring recipes:

Are any of you truly “licking the computer screen” or “totally making this for dinner RIGHT NOW!”? I’ll admit that many bloggers’ dishes resemble the greatest meals in the history of eating. But unless someone’s gracing my kitchen to cook for me, it’s Campbell’s soup or bust for the Gardners.

To be clear, I’m as guilty as the next blogger of spicing up my comments with claims so over-the-top, people know I’m joking. (Probably.)

For example, you can find me typing, “I may or may not be wearing a Batman costume and whistling Dixie,” when it’s nowhere near Halloween. Or my lips are super-chapped.

However, if I say your post is “so hilarious I want you to raise my kids,” this may not be a stretch.

(I mean the part about wanting you to raise Jack and Karly. No one’s actually that funny.)

Still. If you believe that “I’m currently standing on your front porch naked ringing the doorbell,” you may want to…oh forget it.

Such gullibility is too severe for me to address.

And anyway, these Batman tights are making me stabby.

Now go nakedly ring Julie's doorbell as payback at By Any Other Name.

Insanity Rerun: On Belonging

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

It seems as though it’s become cool to say you don’t belong. Cool to claim you’re a geek, or to declare yourself an outsider. At least online, this is a badge of honor, a way to connect with other outsiders and thus, belong.

As much as I value the connections I’ve built online, I sort of hate this trend. The reality of the situation is this: people are people everywhere – even online - and people like to be in groups. There is safety in numbers. As proof, the first blogging advice you get almost anywhere is: find your tribe.

I’ve never done well in groups. I can find individuals with whom I share a deep, emotional, heartfelt bond. But groups? I’ve never understood how to navigate their dynamic. Invariably I make a misstep and ostracize myself from the group.

When I was in high school, I tried valiantly to fit into the group. I didn’t want to be popular – I just wanted to belong to a group. Any group would do. I desperately wanted and needed a true support system.

So, I tried to be nice, to not make sarcastic jokes that could be taken wrong, to help everyone. The effort of trying to be everything to everyone just heaped strain on me. I’d try harder just to fail better. I always failed. I couldn’t do it all, I couldn’t be it all. These failures would pile upon me until I hated myself. I hated turning someone down for a simple request because I was too busy doing other things. They hated me too. Because I helped everyone else, so why wouldn’t I help THEM?

Inevitably, the stress of trying so desperately and failing so miserably would cause me to implode. I’d snap at someone who didn’t deserve it, I’d cry for no good reason, or do something else that would make me an outcast once more. So, I’d start over. I’d try harder to be nice which created more stress. It was a vicious cycle fueled only by my own unrealistic expectations of myself.

I hated me.

I don’t want to go back to hating me but I lately find myself mirroring that high school girl. I try to visit every blog that hits my email, every blogger that comments on my blog, every interesting link I see on Twitter. I want so badly to be supportive. For isn’t supportiveness the price we pay to belong?

But I can’t be everything to everyone. I’ve tried. And I hate that person.

I have a place where I belong and people with whom I belong. I’m not a natural networker. I’m built for deep, intense relationships. I’m built for relationships where you know everything about the other person and stay with them through thick and thin. I’m built for marriage, not casual acquaintanceships or one-night stands. I can’t be married to a group of 20 people. I am built for monogamous friendships. That’s where I belong.

I don’t belong as part of a group. And that’s ok.

As long as I remember where I belong, I’ll be ok.

Operating Instructions #iPPP

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

Before giving birth to Evan, I read Operating Instructions by Ann LaMott. It's a great book for new moms, real and funny and tense and heartbreaking. So, it's just like motherhood.

Ann had her son on her own but this paragraph about what she imagines it may have been like to have a newborn and a husband made me think "Yes. This." as soon as I read it.

For what it's worth, things have been way easier with this baby than with the first. But while I was reading the book before giving birth, this really spoke to me - totally reminded me of the tension of completely altering our marriage irreversibly.

Link up below to share your camera photos with us in iPhone Photo Phun.

Preparing Your Blog for Maternity Leave

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

As I prepared for my maternity leave, I found myself slightly overwhelmed. I had all these things to do: prepare for a baby, prepare Alex for a baby, prepare at work for my maternity leave and oh, right, sell a house and move. The one thing I found I actually wanted to do was write, which worked out well in preparing this blog for maternity leave. I wrote and wrote and wrote. The words flew from my fingertips like bats fly out of caves.

Just so we're clear, in this analogy:

words : fingertips :: bats : caves

Alas, not everyone gets possessed by this urge to endure a form of "blog nesting", so I thought I'd mention a few great ways to prepare your blog for maternity leave.

1. Ask for guest posts - this is self explanatory. Ask your friends to guest post for you. Ask strangers. Ask your mom. It doesn't matter, just ask them.

2. Repurpose your old guest posts - take posts you've previously written for other people and put them up at your own site. It's like brand new content! Just go with it and hope no one notices. (Except the person whose site it ran at. Ask them in advance if you can re-run it because that last thing you need on your maternity leave is someone being crabby about words you wrote yourself.)

3. Participate in #iPPP and Wordless Wednesday - let's face it, you're going to have tons of photos of the kid anyway. You've probably taken most of them with your phone. Use them. Pretend it's new content. This counts.

4. Participate in Just Write - this is a weekly writing meme that let's you write whatever you'd like, stream of consciousness style, no editing. Let's face it, when you've got a newborn, editing is the devil.

5. Do nothing - it's not called maternity leave for nothing, suckers.

Things to Do on Skype When You're Two

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

While your husband is living in another state and you're taking care of a toddler at home, you tend to spend a lot of time on Skype together.

The toddler, however, does not really find the concept of having a conversation all that fascinating. Here are some alternate activities you can use to entertain yourself should you find yourself on Skype and two years old.

1. Kiss your daddy. He'll like it.

2. When you get bored of giving daddy kisses (because let's face it, you can't even feel him kiss you back) take an alternate route and lick his nose.

3. Press that nifty "End" button and marvel that daddy disappears.

4. Demonstrate to daddy that you remember how to execute that pile driver he taught you last time you saw him. Be surprised that your pregnant mother does not appreciate this.

5. Remove your clothes and repeatedly yell "I'm naked! I'm naked!"

6. Put on a dance show for anyone who might be interested. If no one watches, dance anyway.

7. Drink your milk. Ignore daddy.

8. Shout "That's my daddy!" with glee ten minutes into the conversation. Relish the fact that you've just confused the adults. Wonder who they think you thought you were kissing earlier.

9. Jump on your bed. Your pregnant mother is too distracted by your distant daddy to even consider putting a stop to this.

10. Pick your nose. When asked if you are digging for gold, nonchalantly reply "Yes."

Tricks To Staying Alive When You Know Everyone's Casing You

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 17:56:00 +0000

Folks, have you met The Empress? She blog at Good Day, Regular People and has been featured on BlogHer and CNN. More than that, she's a damned Empress. The post below made me laugh heartily because, as long time readers of my blog will know, I am highly paranoid and this is the perfect post for me.

I did not arrive at the ripe age I am by taking my survival lightly.

On a daily basis, I am more than aware of the circumstances I must remain en garde to.

There are tailers, wallet grabbers, purse nabbers, kidnappers, and grocery grabbers.

Oh, yeah...there are. And everywhere. You don't see them because you don't have the third eye that I've developed for these things.

Want to increase your odds of being around for your grandchildren? Take a quick tour of my world, and all that I do that has become second nature, in it:

oCarry cash elsewhere on your body other than your purse. That way, if they grab your purse, meh.

oCarry your credit cards in your pants pockets or in your bra. Again, you want my purse? Have at it.

oAlways wear shoes that allow a quick getaway. Carrie Bradshaw is me in her nightmares.

oDevelop a walking gait that is somewhat aggressive, with a side of crazy.

oIf someone wants your purse, let them have it. Now is not the time to be feeling your prozac kicking in with shouts of "Oh, yeah, mofo?? Show me what you got!!"

oIf someone tries to get you out of the public eye, fight like a woman who hasn't had chocolate in five days. Be Trinity. Start to day dream about the chance to kick full blown ass now. Dream daily -- when the time comes, hell hath no fury like a long anticipated ass whoopin a la Wal mart.

oPay attention to your surroundings. If you go for a walk, then only go for a walk. Don't make it into joyful time alone just you and Maroon 5. Leave the iPod at home.

oWhen in a strange, new place, refrain from the country mouse visits city mouse act. Let your body say you've seen it all before. Eyes on your surroundings, people.

oDo not pay attention to strangers on the street claiming to be housing demons within and asking for a dollar for a good hot cup of coffee that they know will send Beelzebub on his way. No. Keep on walking. Someone else can buy the debil his one way ticket home.

oChange the way you look throughout the day. Sunglasses here, floppy hat there, yoga mama by eleven, skinny jeans at three. The ones following you will think you've got sisterwives.

oMake one left turn, go straight for three blocks, then make one right turn, go straight for half a block, then U turn and make two right turns. Signal for another right turn, but go left instead. That will lose anybody tailing you.

This list will keep you ninety percent safe.

But this piece of advice will take care of the other ten percent: TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS. DON'T SECOND GUESS YOUR GUT.

Oh, sorry...was I shouting? Just thought I remember you saying YOU WANTED TO LIVE TO SEE YOUR GRANDKIDS.

Good luck. Stay safe. Happy risk assessment.

Now, go revel in Good Day, Regular People.

Before and After

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

Before: I picked Alex up with ease, accustomed to carrying his weight on my body. Even the day before I gave birth, I hefted his weight and stared at people in confusion when they questioned my ability to lift him.

After: I spent two days holding a 7.5 pound baby. Then went home to find that my toddler had gained a million pounds. Picking him up was something akin to tearing a phone book in two. It required freakish amounts of strength.
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Before: I thought Alex was a particularly good sized baby.

After: Evan looks like an ant in comparison to his giant sized brother. Even though Evan's head is 1 cm larger than Alex's was when he was born. I'm constantly worried I am going to accidentally squish him.
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Before: Alex looked like a sweet, innocent, tiny, tiny person.

After: Alex appears large enough to menace New York City or battle Godzilla as needed.
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Before: We had getting out of the house down to a 10 minute routine. We could go from sleeping to out the door in 10 minutes, no exaggeration.

After: It takes an hour. AN HOUR. AN HOUR.
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Before: When we got bored, we'd run to the store to get some stuff to make cookies or jot over to the library to shake things up. Places where there was no TV and lots of opportunity for us to bond.

After: We've all memorized the words to The Polar Express. And we're all covered in breast milk.
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What can I say, life is good.

Moving A Life

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

Our move started last Thursday.

It has been exactly two months to the day since the first time we went to our new home...by which I mean, we've house hunted, purchased and moved in less than two months, including a quick sojourn to have a baby. Luckily for me, David's relocation package included some awesome guys from Arpin Van Lines who packed and moved our belongings.

It was still a long day. And included sad scenes like this:

The move concludes on Friday when the boys and I trek through the countryside with my mom. Many tears will be shed, both happy and sad.

.

Link up below to share your camera photos with us in iPhone Photo Phun.

Cooking Tips from Taming Insanity

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

We just went through the holidays. It's a special time of year. The time where we all pretend we can bake.

In order to help you through this stressful ordeal, I thought I'd help and provide you with some cooking tips like any good fairy blogmother would do.

1. When making toast, it is helpful to be sure you have plugged in the toaster.

2. The only thing better than butter is more butter. Or perhaps bacon.

3. When roasting vegetables, it is best to use a roasting pan.

4. When you boil water be sure to add salt or oil. I'm not sure why but everyone on the cooking shows does it.

5. Dicing fruit and serving it as a side rather than vegetables is not only perfectly acceptable but also a time saver since fruit doesn't need to be "cooked".

6. Be careful with knives, blenders, food processors and other sharp objects. No one wants to eat food you've bled on.

7. Your toddler doesn't want to eat what you've made, so don't cook to appease them. Also, including your toddler in the cooking process will ensure your food is creative but still won't convince them to sample their own delicacies.

8. Sweet potatoes and squash are really difficult to slice through. That starch will really give your arms a workout. Save yourself some time and buy 3 small sweet potatoes rather than one huge one that you can't easily dice.

9. Not an experienced cook? It's ok to start your cooking adventures with easy stuff, like soup. You don't need to start with a souffle. While you think it will be an impressive feat to make a souffle, what you will end up with is a lot of frustration and a collapsed souffle. Plus a spouse who is upset that you are weeping on the floor rather than making dinner.

10.Unsure your dish is any good? Put some cheese on it. Then, add some more cheese. Note: be sure the cheese is not moldy.

All joking aside, I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you: NEVER put water on a grease fire. THIS IS NOT A JOKE. Don't do it. It will cause an inferno. Seriously.

NEWBORN ONESIES: A REALITY CHECK

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

Y'all, I love The Flying Chalupa. So much so that I dueled banjos with her last February, and wrestled minds with her as well. She also recently had her second son, so we've been sort of swimming in the same haze recently. I'm lucky that she's shared a brilliant marketing strategy with me below. Which I, in turn, will share with you.

NEWBORN ONESIES: A REALITY CHECK

With KLZ's second little bundle of insanity on the way, I thought it only appropriate to address the outright lies and offenses being printed on newborn onesies these days.

"My Mom Rocks?" "Boob Man?" "Future Quarterback?" "Santa's Little Helper?"

Cut the bullshit, Carters.

Parenthood is a battlefield and as Bill Shakespeare used to tell his kids, "The truth will out." KLZ is a big proponent of truth and I know she will fully back my efforts in starting "The Onesies Crap Stops Here And I'm Not Talking About Meconium" campaign.

I've already sent the following slogans to my second cousin who works at the t-shirt kiosk in the mall, so I'm confident you'll see these soon on a baby near you:

* I Was Swaddled By An Armless Baboon.
* Stop Donating To Your Alma-Mater, I Don't Want To Go There.
* That Nursing Cover Makes You Look Like Jack Black.
* My Mom Cries So Much Because She's Blissfully Happy.
* 'COLIC' Spelled Backwards Is 'Flight To Mexico'
* Pooping Makes Me Smile. Not Your Elmo Voice.
* If I Root For The Packers, Will You Still Love Me?
* Daddy Goes To Work Early And Sleeps Under His Desk.
* Daddy Stays Late At Work And Sleeps Under His Desk.
* Grandpa's Little Bundle Of Terrorist Demands.
* I Hate My Middle Name. Thanks.
* Lay Off The Chili, I'm Gassy Enough.
* My Reflux Is All Your Fault.
* That Guy Over There? Is Totally Watching You Nurse.
* Sleep-Training Is For Pussies.
* Daddy, I'll Take The Bed, You Take The Couch.
* Burp Me Like That Again, I Call CPS.
* Don't Leave Me Alone With My Sibling.
* Already Rejected By Four Preschools.
* Future Graduate Of The Preschool That Accepts Un-Pottytrained Biters.
* I Would Latch Better If You Were Angelina Jolie.
* Five Generations Of THIS Nose!

KLZ and I are going to be so rich off our philanthropic efforts to make onesies more REAL and less ADORABLE.
You want adorable? Bust out the ultrasound photo.

Pre-reflux.

Pre-colic.

Pre-The-Poor-Kid-Looks-Just-Like-Uncle-Hal.

So, go check out The Flying Chalupa one more time, because I told you too.

What? Moms can do that.

Brothers

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

Yeah, my photos are going to be baby oriented for awhile. Just so you know what to expect on Wednesdays.

Link up below to share your camera photos with us in iPhone Photo Phun.

body

Truly. Madly. Deeply.

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

There is something unmistakable about the love of a child.

It is so completely unadulterated. No chemicals or cliches.

A small boy laying next to me, breathing hotly into my ear does not know how much I love the intensity with which he hugs me back. He doesn't know that when he whispers "I love you mommy. I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you," it makes my soul expand.

I sometimes feel that I live solely for these quiet night time moments. There is so much good in my life, so much that I enjoy. But nothing that compares to how content I feel when I tell Alex I love him and he whispers back, "I know. I know. I know. I know.". It is all I can do in this life to make him feel safe and loved while still learning the rules of engagement.

He'll grow up and he'll learn to engage the world outside of this house, this family. Yet, I want him to know that he will always have us to come home to. We will be waiting with open hearts, always willing to help him.

Throughout my own growing pains with my parents, we had fights and battles and epic wars. Yet I always knew that they'd help me. My mother fought our school board without mercy to prevent a class I wanted to take from being cancelled. My father has actively helped in every move I've ever made, insisting on lifting couches and dressers alone on more occasions than I can count. Even when we disagreed, they spent their days, weeks, months and lives helping to make my life easier.

To some extent, having a child means giving up your body. I hear so many pregnant mothers eager for the day they get their body back. Since I got pregnant in 2008, I have yet to get my body back. I'm not sure I want it back. There's something so sweet that my son is comfortable throwing his leg over mine at any time. He finds comfort in my arms and legs. On occasion, I've woken up to find he's used my pregnant stomach as a pillow during a rough night. I simply adore knowing he knows that I will always be there to support him mind, body and soul.

I only hope we can continue to pass this kind of assurance and safety on to all of our children. Because I adore their sweet little behinds.

I love them. Truly. Madly. Deeply.

The Polar Express

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Earlier this month, Alex and I had the pleasure of being part of an interactive family experience. My parents' church recently hosted a showing of The Polar Express. However, it wasn't your average movie viewing experience. As the children in the movie received hot chocolate, volunteers swarmed the aisles to provide hot chocolate to the children viewing the movie. It was a fun and interactive event for the whole family.

This is how a two year old smiles when prompted.

Most importantly, it was an event that my whole family took part in. I'm so lucky to have a family who will dress up as conductors to serve hot chocolate to my two year old and me.

Nana and Papa both happily decked themselves out in conductors outfits to serve hot chocolate for the event. Then, they competed to see who could sneak Alex the most treats. I think he got three ice cream sandwiches, two Santa hats and five jingle bells at the end of the day.

Ever since we learned we were moving, I've felt torn in half. I'm thrilled for the opportunities my nuclear family and I will find in our new locale. But I ache that we won't have a gang of family nearby, eager to ride on a magical train with us. I hate that I'm taking that away from my boys and I hate that I'm taking that away from their family members.

Auntie Lauren rode the train with us. She spent the movie whispering jokes in Alex's ear and clutching his hand during the scary parts.

I feel tremendous guilt whenever someone says "Alex won't even remember this". Because I desperately, desperately want him raised in an environment where he knows how much they love him. I wish that my children could continue to be raised in a place where people are jumping over themselves to spend time with them.

We had a magical day enveloped in love while riding The Polar Express and it wasn't because of a visit from Santa. I wish there were a way to remember every single delicious moment. These days aren't something we could ever buy or replace.

Again, the smile. Clearly, this is a very, very happy smiley toddler.

Hello, World

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 18:54:00 +0000

Evan Max

Born December 28, 2011 at 12:54 pm

7 pounds, 10 ounces. 20 inches

Most importantly:

Loved instantly by his big brother.

Making Cookies #iPPP

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Since David has been gone, I've been pregnant, it's too cold to go outside and Alex still has this thing called "energy", we've been trying our hand at cooking.

Alex is quite an excellent helper. He loves stirring and pouring, so really it's quite perfect.

I like it a lot because he works on his fine motor skills, patience, and its gives us something to do during these days when we're trapped inside like rats.

Plus, when we're done, we get cookies.

Lucky for us, we've got a ton of awesome mugs to put milk for our cookies in.

Link up below to share your camera photos with us in iPhone Photo Phun.

Best Books of 2011

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 12:00:00 +0000

I tend to spend a lot of my commute reading. Which is good because I am wholly in love with books and have been ever since I first read "But Not the Hippopotamus" by Sandra Boynton. As a result, I wanted to share a list of the best books I've read in 2011. I want to be clear: these are not books necessarily released in 2011, they are just the ones I read this year. Because those are the only ones I can judge.

Best Books of 2011

1. Before Ever After by Samantha Sotto

"Before Ever After" is an unconventional love story. It's not sickeningly sweet but depicts with complete accuracy the little things that make you fall in love. I loved the story and have shared the book with numerous friends.

2. The Psychopath Test by Jon Ronson

This book was a really interesting look at how psychopaths move and operate amongst us. Typically we think of psychopaths as people who are destined to slice up their family but there is so much more to it than that. For the record, after reading this book, I'm pretty sure I know two psychopaths. Only two. But it's still creepy.

3. Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me (and Other Concerns) by Mindy Kaling

You may know Mindy Kaling from her work playing Kelly on The Office. She also writes for and produces the show. And now she has a book (don't you kind of hate her a little?). Kaling made me laugh repeatedly in the first ten pages of the book. I don't think I'd ever have the energy to keep up with her but I loved the book and would buy it for @L8enough if I were getting her a gift this year.

4. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

A special shout out to @Meegsie for convincing me to read this book. I was initially intrigued by it but has heard that it was a bit descriptive. Since baby brain has rendered me unable to pay attention for long periods of time, I thought I should wait to read it. How I would have missed out if I'd taken my own advice. The book was quiet and haunting, like a melody I couldn't catch all the notes of. I kept wanting more of this book. I was wholly enchanted from start to finish. I can't recommend it highly enough.

5. The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett

How I had never read this book before this year, I have no idea. David (who almost never reads) loves it so much he pestered me for years to read it. I finally caved and found myself transported to a complex, completely accurate portrait of life. No person is just one thing. Follett does an excellent job creating a world of three dimensional characters with intricate motivations and lives.

6. Best Kept Secret by Amy Hatvany

Alcoholism is often a taboo subject that is not well understood by the larger public. Often alcoholism is seen as a failure of will or a poor moral structure. The issues that go with addition are not nearly that simple. I'm grateful that @AmyHatvany did such a striking job capturing all the emotional, psychological, physical and social aspects that accompany addiction. The book packs an emotional punch as it examines a tough, often misunderstood topic. As of December 30, I'll have gone a year without a drink. Which means, for those of you counting, I went dry before I was pregnant. I'm planning to stay dry after the baby is born for lots and lots of reasons. I'd love to see more people actively working to understand how addiction affects all types of people, even those you might not expect.

Books I'm Looking Forward to in 2012

1. The Ruins of Us by Keija Parssinen

Set to release on January 17, 2012 I already have pre-ordered this book. I'm so excited to read the debut novel by the lovely and talented Keija Parssinen that I can hardly stand it. Hurry, go pre-order it too so we can stay up all night discussing it.

2. Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter by Seth Grahame-Smith

Because: hell, yeah.

What did you read this year? Any books I should add to my 2012 list?

Christmas Magic

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Happy Holidays folks! Just thought I'd share our 2011 holiday card with all you lovely, lovely people.

Enjoy the end of the year, for soon 2012 shall be upon us.

Stationery card

View the entire collection of cards.

Merry Christmas Abed

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Hey NBC? Please don't cancel Community. Comedy gold like this isn't easy to replicate.

Antler Up: The Winner

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Today we announce our baby....I mean, the winner of Antler Up. As of this writing, there's no chance of a baby appearance. It was a very competitive field this year as even antlering your ass only gets you an honorable mention.

Although it will get your ass featured in this post.

Poppy had a very tough time choosing. She had to decide between antlered cats, a nod to the Grinch, an antlered egg and a sneak attack antlering (which I was partial to as I love scheming).

The winner of our extremely sought and very fictional ceremonial crown of antlers is none other than Ali from My Suitcase Full of Tricks. Ali sang to her version Baby Insanity who may have sported our guest judge Poppy's face.

Congrats Ali!! Send me your address and I'll fill you full of $10 worth of Starbucks for your trouble.

And the joy of winning, of course. Which is the greatest gift you can get at Christmas, right?

Insanity Re-run: Holiday Cusswords

noreply@blogger.com (KLZ) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Because of the whole pregnant/baby/Christmas fiasco going on over here, I'm re-running some guest posts I've been proud of. This is the first time they're appearing on my site. So, these may be new to some and re-runs to others. Either way, I hope you'll enjoy.

Some things just scream holiday.

While other things scream family.

And sometimes families just scream on the holidays.

As I’ve mentioned before, my mother is not much of a cook. And neither am I. We have no patience for it. Which makes us less than stellar in the kitchen.

My father, however, is a great cook. As is my husband.

This often proves to be problematic as neither wants to cook when they get home from work. Understandable, certainly, but fight inducing for sure.

Which is why it was a nice change when my father started cooking our Christmas dinner. But if he was gonna do it, by damn, he was gonna do it his own way.

We don’t have turkey or ham or mashed potatoes.

We have ribs. And fried potatoes. And peas because they are my father’s favorite. He makes his own BBQ sauce.

This leads to a lot of swear words emanating from the kitchen.

Not that that surprises us. When we head out for our other Christmas tradition, cutting down our own Christmas tree, we are met with a cacophony of cusswords that lasts all day.

It sounds something like this: “What jackhole thinks we can use a crooked saw?”

“This potlicking ground is motherfraking wet! Son of a molehill!”

“Get out of the motherpucking way! I’m wielding a saw on everloving muddy ground!"

"Son of a motherloving popdrinking sporkholding bunsmoker!”

Um, I translated that very, very loosely.

I should mention here that my father tries very hard not to swear in front of us. He just isn’t ever successful. Which makes him cuss more.

He doesn’t like us to enter the kitchen while he cooks for two very insane reasons. First, he doesn’t want us to distract him even momentarily from the task at hand. In his eyes, the food is sacred and no harm must come to it. Second, he is convinced that if we step into the kitchen for even a moment while he is cooking, we will somehow manage to stab or impale ourselves on these things called “knives”. Hey, I didn’t get my paranoia from nowhere.

So when my father is cooking our tradition Christmas dinner of ribs and taters, we try to steer clear of the kitchen.

Except that it takes him all everloving day to cook that food. And he’s cooking in the kitchen. Which is in the middle of our house. And, more importantly, is where the food is.

Eventually we have to go in there.

And we are met with an initial death glare for our distraction. Followed by a slow build of swearwords.

Eventually, because all families have an evil streak in them, we begin to venture into the kitchen just to see who can make him swear the most.

We poke the bear and we wait. We wait until he turns purple and inappropriate words fly from his mouth. And then we run when the swearing reaches a fever pitch.

Or when mom finds out.