Friday, February 19, 2010

What You Don't Expect

The "What to Expect" book series are very helpful...while pregnant, the first time, I often turned to "What to Expect When You're Expecting" very frequently. Am I having a heart attack?? Flip, flip, page 239...nope. Just heart burn.  I hate my husband. Should I get a divorce? Flip, flip, what page? Oh. Here it is. No divorce. It's just hormones. "What to Expect The First Year" was also very helpful in reminding me that I was doing everything incorrectly. At first, I cared. Then I didn't. I will take my child to bed with me if I damn well please, thank you. Why yes, I do pick my baby up when he cries.  Bite me. Shortly there after, I stopped reading the "What to Expect" books, because all I'd come to expect was being told how wrong I was doing everything. And I already have no doubt that my parenting skills are...um...well, less than what you'd expect. I don't need a book to tell me that.

But, there are several things that these wonderful books failed to mention. There should have been a "What You Don't Expect and No One is Going to Tell You Because You're Going to Have a Baby Anyway" section. There are a few things I would have liked to have added.

It goes into quite the detail when telling you the layette requirements, even to how many safety pins one might need if cloth diapering. But it doesn't say anything about ear muffs.

But you need them. Of course, before you have children you are aware that they're loud, that they cry and scream. You just don't realize the power behind that noise. A child's scream has the ability to clear a room of dogs, cats and husbands. And not only do they have volume, they have incredible staying power. It can go on and on and on...and on.  Ear muffs, I think, may be the answer. You can even get some for the dog.

Mutt Muffs!


Then there's poop. Again, the books go into great detail about the color and the various textures of  poop. But it fails to mention just how much there will be. It's great that breastfed babies poop will be yellow in color. But when it squishes out of the back of the diaper and all over the onesie, your shirt, your hands and arms, it doesn't offer any advice on the best way to remove the soiled onesie from the soiled baby. Nor is there advice on the most effective way to remove poop from baby hair after you've pulled the onesie up over their head. Some sage advice on what to do when the baby starts pooping while you're changing the diaper would have come in handy as well. Some alternate baby-safe swear words would have been a nice addition for when the above incidents happen in the mall or the grocery store.

Oh, there are so many more. Perhaps I should write a book.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

I did a guest post!

I volunteered to do a guest post on Sincerely, Jenni's blog several weeks ago. Then I forgot. And in an effort to remain an upstanding woman of my word, I couldn't just blow it off. So I used an old post of mine, from when I was just starting out in the blogging world. Some of you may have read it before, but the majority have not and when I posted it on Blogher last summer, it received some...well, not so nice feedback. So, go to Jenni's, read it and then you can call me names, too!

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Monster Truck Cake

Because I know you're holding your breath, waiting by the computer, dying to see the cake...Here it is!

Friday, February 12, 2010

From the mouth of babes...and the Undertaker.

This week I helped out in Nick's kindergarten class.

It's always highly educational.

For me.

This week, I learned several notable things that I did not know before.

A friend of mine's son shared this with me:
"We were walking our dog and he pooped in someone's yard! So, we walked away really, really fast."
 I'll have to ask his mom about that.

Or:

One particularly sweet girl looked at me and said:
"My daddy drinks beer, but he's not supposed to."
While another innocent 5 year old pretended to be chugging beer from his juice cup.

And:

"Bet ya don't know my name!" says boy.
"Sure I do," I said. "It's Vince!"
"NO! It's Vince the Undertaker!"

And I feel bad when I let my kid watch Spongebob.

It makes me worry about my reputation. What is my child saying about me? I really was kidding when I mentioned opening up that "medicinal" pot dispensary.



I am also in the process of revamping my blog. I'm tired of the way it looks so be prepared for some under construction traffic the next few days, or, um weeks. I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing or what I want to do, so it may take awhile for me to settle on a look. And any input is welcome! I know occasionally I'll read a new blog and hate something in the design so much, that I will be annoyed and leave. I don't want anyone to feel like that here, so if it's too busy, too messy, whatever, please let me know what you think, ok? Ok.

And I'm really writing this just to waste time. I have a cake that I need to have done for tomorrow and I'm not in the mood to do it. I'm kind of putting it off. I still have to make frosting, fondant, then sculpt the cake, decorate it...I guess maybe I should get to it. I'll be posting pictures of the final result on my cake blog this weekend. Unless it turns out really bad, then we'll just pretend we never had this conversation.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

No wardrobe malfunctions here!

Thank you to everyone and their sweet comments on my pictures. I regretted posting them as soon as I hit “publish” but your comments were lovely. Who doesn’t like to hear that they look fabulous?? Of course, I only posted a few of the more modest ones. I saved the good ones for my husband. Who, I ended up showing the pictures because I’m terrible at keeping secrets. I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. And, um…he kind of liked them. You know. Just a little. Ahem. I did a series in his firefighter helmet and bunker gear and we will just say that he was quite happy with them...

And so...I’ve bared my soul and my body on this blog. What’s left?

How about the silly things my kids say?

OK then.

Nick: “Mom? I can see your thing,” he says, pointing at my bra.
Me: “What thing?”
Nick: “That thing that you cover your pimples with.”

Delaney, watching me put acne cream on.
“Is that for your nipples?” she asked.

Nipples, pimples. It all the same.

Daddy: “You’re going to get cold! Button your coat!”
Delaney: “I can just hold it shut.”
Daddy: “How are you going to keep your hands warm?”
Delaney: “I have skin.”

Nick: "This place is a complete pig style!"

And on that completely unrelated note... yet another picture from the same photo shoot. I was going to post it yesterday with the other ones but I was so busy making sure there weren't any wardrobe malfunctions that I forgot. But I wanted to post it. It's one of my top 5 favorites of me, ever (possibly because there is something over my face). But just humor me, OK?

It seems like the photo should have a story. It's mysterious. What is she looking at? What is she thinking? (And well, I know the answers and it's not terribly mysterious or even slightly interesting. Perhaps I should make something up.)

Monday, February 8, 2010

Pin up pictures!

Awhile back I mentioned that I was having some boudoir pictures taken by the lovely Heather at Fortuitous Photography. She came to the house and spent four hours taking pictures. She was so much fun and it was such a good time. (If you are in the Denver area, I really recommend her. Not only for the boudoir type pictures, but for family, baby, whatever type pictures. She's got a great eye and is full of good ideas!) I got to see the results of our photo shoot (187 pictures!) and I am so impressed! They turned out really nice. I'm thinking about making a calendar for my husband with some of them. I'm not sure I pulled of the pin up look though. I had a hard time with the sexy, pouty look. Do you know how hard it is to look sexy when someone is telling you to look sexy?

And so...the inspiration:And the result:
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The inspiration:

The result:

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The inspiration:


The result:

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And a few that I liked...


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And there you have it...The Girl with the Flour in her hair, scantily clad. At first, I felt weird posting these and almost didn't, but then realized that I actually wear more in these pictures than when I wear my swimming suit. And I like these a lot, it was so much fun to do. I like the props, the feel of the photos. I like how my wrinkles and flaws are buffed out and my teeth are whitened, my pimples erased...why, it doesn't look like me at all! I love it!

Friday, February 5, 2010

Musical beds

I played a rousing game of musical beds last night...this is always conducive to an excellent night's sleep. I am considering inventing the "Emperor" size bed, because a "King" is simply not large enough for a family of five.

Of course, the children have their own cozy, well appointed beds in their own cozy, well appointed rooms. But, of course, my bed is more comfortable/warmer/colder/harder/softer than their own. There are no coyotes/ghosts/monsters/goats or other assorted barnyard animals in my room. Apparently all of these things reside in my children's rooms. Should I call an exterminator? The ghost busters? Monster Buster Club? A farmer? I'm not sure.The baby co-sleeps with my husband and I, but since he's not really a "baby" anymore (I figure he looses that title as soon as he's able to say it) it may be time to move him into his own bed. Although, I'm not sure why, since he will no doubt end up right back in our bed with the rest of the family.

After Delaney's screams woke me, I went and lay with her in her bed for awhile. The screams woke Nick as well, so he joined us in Delaney's bed. After I thought they were asleep, I crept back into my bed. Only to be joined by Nick shortly thereafter. Then Delaney started screaming again. See a pattern here?

I'm considering just giving them my bed and then I'll take over one of their rooms.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

That Great Dog of Destiny

Yesterday was one of those days when I wonder if the universe somehow lost my life map...if the great dog of destiny ate it and I wasn't supposed to be a mom at all.

I was supposed to be a mechanic. A nice, non-stressed out mechanic whose charges are metal and grease and if you get really pissed at them, you can kick them and no one cares.

I can't kick my kids. ARGH! God, I wanted to. Actually I wanted to get in my car and drive far, far away. I went outside at one point, just to get some air and I could hear them screaming through the door. All three of them. It's usually one. Two at the most, but today all three of them were in on it. Screaming and crying and whining. And fighting. Over everything. Who had the most bubbles in the bath tub, who got their banana first, who got the blue cup, who had more milk in said cup...they were making me insane. I don't know where I was when sweet little Delaney was kidnapped and replaced with the tiny diva that lives here now.

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"You need to get dressed, get your pants on. We have to leave."
"No. You do it."
"You can put your own pants on."
"No. I hate them."
"Then go pick out some other ones. Get your shoes and coat. Come on, we're late."
"No. I don't want to wear a coat."
"There's snow on the ground."
"I DON'T CARE! I want to wear wings!" How about horns?


Then there's my six year old...He looks innocent, but really should come with a warning label.

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"Sight" words are not the only new words he's been learning in kindergarten. I'm so glad he's in public school.

And this little guy...

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He tries so hard to be good. But the other two are teaching him everything they know. And apparently they're gifted teachers.

I don't have a favorite kid, but I do have a favorite age and it's not 6, 3 or 18 months. Maybe 7, 4 and 2 will work out better for me...

Apology to my family

Several of my blog posts have gotten me in trouble with some people who are important to me and I want to apologize. I am so sincerely sorry for any feelings that have been hurt.

I love my in-laws. I really, truly do. Of course, we are a family and we are going to have problems, but I am lucky that they are who they are. I'm very fortunate. I love my sister in law, Darrin's step sister. She is an incredible woman and I am crushed thinking that I may have hurt her feelings with my careless words. For the sake of (not so funny) humor, I said some unnecessary things and I've deleted all the posts that caused offense. Again, I am sorry.

I do want to clarify that I consider myself a writer. Also known as a liar. I make up things, I exaggerate things. This blog is made up of as much exaggeration as it is real life and the posts in question are no exception. But either way, they are gone and I will be careful of what I write in the future.

I insult my own family as well, if it makes things better. And you're supposed to complain about your in laws. It's just what you do! :) (But it won't happen again...)

So, so sorry. Love you guys.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Monday Minutiae

I am currently on Vicodin for a fractured rib. Apparently having a fractured rib makes it difficult to laugh, blow your nose, do the bunny hop in your daughter's dance class, carry children, reach into the washing machine (good excuse, yes?) and well, breath. It also requires one to get creative while engaging in intimacies with one's husband.

"How do you fracture a rib and not know it??" my husband asked.

The same reason the toenail on my big toe is bruised and falling off. I have no idea. I don't have time for pain. If I stub my toe, I can't sit down and cry and roll around on the floor, holding my foot like I'd like to. I probably stubbed it while rushing into the kitchen to remove the baby from the knife drawer and any pausing on my part may result in disaster. By then, I've forgotten about it, because I now have to rush into the bathroom before my daughter tries to wipe herself. And then the someone knocks on the door and I realize it's the Schwan's girl and I really, REALLY need ice cream. Then the phone rings. And so on and so forth. I figure the same thing applies to my rib. Either that or my husband kicked me when I was asleep.

My husband and I just finished billing for his hours for the past two weeks. A mere 162 hours in 15 days. Yeah. 162 HOURS IN 2 WEEKS!! I try not to complain. Fortunately, it is a job and he does get paid. Unfortunately, he doesn't get paid for overtime. And that's a helluva lotta hours. It makes family time...difficult. Last month he had 288 hours. I try not to complain.

But I frickin' hate his job.

Anyway...

Today is my little brother's 31st birthday.
Born with a collapsed lung, he then developed a staff infection and after a lengthy hospital stay, he was able to come home. But he's never been normal...*snicker* (Kidding Andy, just kidding) He is one of my favorite people and would be, even if he were not my brother. He's one of my best friends, and someone I can always go to when I need to talk. I could call him at four in the morning and I know he'd be there. My kids adore him; he is the perfect uncle. He lets them drink pop, play violent games and eat candy. (Revenge is sweet, brother...just wait until you have kids!)

Happy Birthday kid! I love ya! And now I'm off...I have a cake to bake!

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