So, we won't talk about the fact that I've neglected this blog for months. Eh, life happens and I've been busy doing things, like gestating another human...
Since Mia discovered her ability to run, it has become nearly impossible to take her anywhere where there would be even a slight expectation for her to remain seated for more than 30 seconds.
I needed to have new tires put on my car today. I had an appointment and decided to take Mia with me, thinking how long can that possibly take? Apparently it was going to take about an hour. Okay, no problem I thought, We'll just walk to a coffee shop and hang out for a bit. Normally, this particular coffee shop is not that crowded on a Monday at 10 am, but today it was packed. Mia loves people, noise and being the center of attention, so I immediately knew this would likely not end well. I found an empty couch, took our coats off and ordered a chai and a slice of blueberry spice cake. Of course, Mia is running all over the place while we're in line, but I tried not to worry as I had brought along plenty for her to do.
I sit her down with me on the couch and before I can even get her a forkful of cake she is trying to get down. I block her in with my leg and share my cake with her as she squirms and climbs all over the place. I get out books 1, 2 and 3 that I brought...not interested. Same story with her doll, play phone and her favorite beaded necklace. I get her sippy cup and some more snacks, still not interested. All she wants to do is run around and she is starting to let out little high pitched shrieks of protest. In a moment of desperation I hand her my cell phone. I turn to take a sip of my chai and she leaves the phone on the couch and takes off. Normally, she will sit for long periods of time and play with any electronic gadget you give her, so her ignoring the phone was a big deal. To the front of the shop she ran, where she found a studying college girl to entertain, waving at her and dancing...then on to the man with a newspaper...then the group that looked engaged in some sort of business discussion...then to the glass door to leave her slobber and crumb covered hand prints. I pick her up and take her back to our spot. I try to settle her on the couch and distract her with anything I could think of. She takes off again and repeats the above...four times until I decide it's time for us to make our exit because she has captivated many and they are all staring. I put her in the stroller and try to put her coat on, she stiffens like a board and tries to slide out onto the floor. I try again, only this time she manages to get down to the floor. Now she is lying on the floor wailing and I am forced to wrestle her coat on her as she tantrums away. I want to throw a tantrum too. I manage to get her strapped in the stroller and on our way out the door my bag gets stuck, knocking my chai out of the cup holder and sailing to the ground, fortunately it landed outside. I look at my phone, it's been exactly 18 minutes since we left the tire shop.
What are we going to do for 45 minutes?!?! Shopping was out, as most of the stores where we were have very narrow aisles that make navigating a stoller difficult, as well as giving little hands lots of breakable things to reach out and grab. And have I mentioned that Mia doesn't really like being confined in a stroller, or anywhere else?? So we just started walking. Eventhough it was a nice day for November, it was still a chilly 37 degrees and breezy...at this point I felt like we had no other option, so we just kept walking. I kept getting disapproving looks from people as if to say "why are you out walking in the cold with a baby?" I thought to myself as I smiled back at them, trust me, you don't want us wherever it is you're going.
And then it starts to rain, perfect. I dash into a nearby baby store and find to my delight that there is not a single other person in there, and they have a large selection of Sandra Boynton board books. So now, since there is no one she feels compelled to entertain, Mia decides to accept the snacks I brought and happily flip through books. The tire shop calls, my car is ready the end is in sight.
As I'm paying for my new tires the guy behind the counter informs me that I have a wheel bearing (whatever that is) that needs to be replaced and it will cost approximately $431...I thought about asking him if he just wanted to keep my toddler and call it even.
Early
The Baby has become a morning person...a very early morning person. I am not. I don't know how this relationship is going to work.
Oh, and she's teething like a beast, AGAIN, which is also super fun.
Oh, and she's teething like a beast, AGAIN, which is also super fun.
Starbucks, you rained on my parade
So I left Target today without spending $100...seriously, people, this is like a Christmas miracle. I'm all happy like and decide that I deserve a latte and a cupcake for my efforts...off to the Starbucks drive thru I go...
Barista: How can I help you?
Me: I'd like a grande latte and a vanilla cupcake, please
Barista: a grande vanilla latte and a vanilla cupcake?
Me: NO, a PLAIN latte and a vanilla cupcake
Barista: Ok
sitting in my car at the window waiting to pay...
Barista: We don't have vanilla cupcakes today, how about chocolate?
Me: No thanks, do you have red velvet today?
Barista: No, we only have those for Valentines day, how about a chocolate cupcake?
at this point in the convo, I realize she must be new or totally dense, or maybe both...see, I just had a red velvet cupcake a couple of weeks ago
Me: no thank you
Barista: How about a donut with birthday sprinkles, those are just like cupcakes.
um, I am a conniseuer of cupcakes and I can assure you that donuts and cupcakes are not even on the same playing field
Me: no, just the latte
Barista: Are you sure, they're really just like cupcakes
Me: JUST THE COFFEE, PLEASE
Barista: If you're feeling adventurous you could try our raspberry swirl coffee cake
seriously lady, you are really starting to annoy me greatly
Me: JUST. THE. COFFEE. PLEASE. I. WANTED. A. VANILLA. CUPCAKE
Barista: here you go
as I drive away, I breathe a sigh of relief and take a sip of my plain latte...except it's a freaking VANILLA LATTE!!!!! @#$&%*(!&^^)
It's probably good that I didn't ask for a fat free, sugar free caramel macchiato sub hazelnut instead of the vanilla...because there is a strong possibility I would have been given a dirty kitchen sponge in a cup, along with a stupid birthday donut.
Barista: How can I help you?
Me: I'd like a grande latte and a vanilla cupcake, please
Barista: a grande vanilla latte and a vanilla cupcake?
Me: NO, a PLAIN latte and a vanilla cupcake
Barista: Ok
sitting in my car at the window waiting to pay...
Barista: We don't have vanilla cupcakes today, how about chocolate?
Me: No thanks, do you have red velvet today?
Barista: No, we only have those for Valentines day, how about a chocolate cupcake?
at this point in the convo, I realize she must be new or totally dense, or maybe both...see, I just had a red velvet cupcake a couple of weeks ago
Me: no thank you
Barista: How about a donut with birthday sprinkles, those are just like cupcakes.
um, I am a conniseuer of cupcakes and I can assure you that donuts and cupcakes are not even on the same playing field
Me: no, just the latte
Barista: Are you sure, they're really just like cupcakes
Me: JUST THE COFFEE, PLEASE
Barista: If you're feeling adventurous you could try our raspberry swirl coffee cake
seriously lady, you are really starting to annoy me greatly
Me: JUST. THE. COFFEE. PLEASE. I. WANTED. A. VANILLA. CUPCAKE
Barista: here you go
as I drive away, I breathe a sigh of relief and take a sip of my plain latte...except it's a freaking VANILLA LATTE!!!!! @#$&%*(!&^^)
It's probably good that I didn't ask for a fat free, sugar free caramel macchiato sub hazelnut instead of the vanilla...because there is a strong possibility I would have been given a dirty kitchen sponge in a cup, along with a stupid birthday donut.
Foodie Friday
Grilled Asparagus with Balsamic Glaze
You need:
some fresh asparagus
a lemon, zested and juiced
some olive oil
1 clove of garlic, minced
balsamic vinegar
kosher salt
pepper
Directions:
1. mix together 1/2 to all of the lemon juice (depending on the size of the lemon and your taste), some olive oil (a few Tbsp) and the minced garlic 2. Thread your asparagus onto skewers and brush with the lemon mixture, sprinkle with salt and pepper 3. Add some balsamic vinegar (around 1 1/2 cups) and the lemon zest to a pan and reduce it over medium heat until it becomes the consistency of a glaze 4. Grill your asparagus and drizzle the balsamic glaze over it before serving.
Note: Be careful when reducing the balsamic that you don't get it too thick, or it will become the consistency of tar and have a bitter taste once you remove it from the heat (not that I've done this or anything)
You need:
some fresh asparagus
a lemon, zested and juiced
some olive oil
1 clove of garlic, minced
balsamic vinegar
kosher salt
pepper
Directions:
1. mix together 1/2 to all of the lemon juice (depending on the size of the lemon and your taste), some olive oil (a few Tbsp) and the minced garlic 2. Thread your asparagus onto skewers and brush with the lemon mixture, sprinkle with salt and pepper 3. Add some balsamic vinegar (around 1 1/2 cups) and the lemon zest to a pan and reduce it over medium heat until it becomes the consistency of a glaze 4. Grill your asparagus and drizzle the balsamic glaze over it before serving.
Note: Be careful when reducing the balsamic that you don't get it too thick, or it will become the consistency of tar and have a bitter taste once you remove it from the heat (not that I've done this or anything)
A Lot of Nothing
I have basically have a whole lot of NOTHING today...
So as I was backing out of my drive way this morning I noticed the guy across the street was mowing his lawn...again. You see, he just mowed his lawn yesterday on a riding lawn mower and now is out with a push mower...probably trimming the edges of the lawn, I thought to myself. Nope, wrong...it seems his purpose is simply to be mowing perfectly diagonal lines in his already mowed grass. Dear God, I sincerely hope I find fulfillment in way cooler things than diagonal grass lines when I am retired...
As I was driving to get a cup of coffee, I noticed a woman running down the on ramp to the interstate chasing ducks, yes she was chasing ducks. I naturally just assumed she was crazy...then I saw an animal control vehicle parked along the interstate and it made more sense...wait, no it doesn't, I still don't get why she was chasing ducks.
It seems the Baby may have inherited my love for Target. Whenever we pull into the Target parking lot she starts squealing with delight as soon as the car stops. She doesn't do this when we arrive at other destinaions.
I love the smell of bleach. It makes me think sterile, happy, clean thoughts. I KNOW it's terrible in many ways...but I can't help myself. I only use it for two things...to get the stink out of my cloth diapers and to clean the kitchen sink. Bleaching the kitchen sink never fails to lift my mood and make me happy. I am convinced it is the dirtiest place in my house.
So as I was backing out of my drive way this morning I noticed the guy across the street was mowing his lawn...again. You see, he just mowed his lawn yesterday on a riding lawn mower and now is out with a push mower...probably trimming the edges of the lawn, I thought to myself. Nope, wrong...it seems his purpose is simply to be mowing perfectly diagonal lines in his already mowed grass. Dear God, I sincerely hope I find fulfillment in way cooler things than diagonal grass lines when I am retired...
As I was driving to get a cup of coffee, I noticed a woman running down the on ramp to the interstate chasing ducks, yes she was chasing ducks. I naturally just assumed she was crazy...then I saw an animal control vehicle parked along the interstate and it made more sense...wait, no it doesn't, I still don't get why she was chasing ducks.
It seems the Baby may have inherited my love for Target. Whenever we pull into the Target parking lot she starts squealing with delight as soon as the car stops. She doesn't do this when we arrive at other destinaions.
I love the smell of bleach. It makes me think sterile, happy, clean thoughts. I KNOW it's terrible in many ways...but I can't help myself. I only use it for two things...to get the stink out of my cloth diapers and to clean the kitchen sink. Bleaching the kitchen sink never fails to lift my mood and make me happy. I am convinced it is the dirtiest place in my house.
Mission Statement
I have mission statements on the brain. Our local doula group, Cedar Valley Doula Group, was just formed back in January and we've been working on trying to develop a mission statement. I seem to be at a loss for ideas, however, I've decided that the Baby has a mission statement of her own that I'm nearly certain goes something like this...
"I strive to harness the power of my inner baby and make you question, at least once a day, whether you ever want to ovulate again. My daily shenanigans will begin promptly at 5 am and I will employ a variety of tactics to ensure that your day is off to a fantastic start. These tactics include, but are not limited to, shrieking like a teradactyl, pulling your hair, using you as my personal jungle gym, repeatedly kicking you in the gut and clawing at your face. When I am out in public I will make sure that at least one person looks at you and lavishes scorn and incompetence upon you, as I utilize a combination of the above tactics. I vow when you set me down in a room, I will immediately crawl toward whatever is most dangerous, destructive and disgusting, especially if you have surrounded me with toys and safe things to keep me occupied. And just when you are at your breaking point and contemplating driving off of a cliff, I will look up at you and melt your heart by sweetly saying 'mama.'"
"I strive to harness the power of my inner baby and make you question, at least once a day, whether you ever want to ovulate again. My daily shenanigans will begin promptly at 5 am and I will employ a variety of tactics to ensure that your day is off to a fantastic start. These tactics include, but are not limited to, shrieking like a teradactyl, pulling your hair, using you as my personal jungle gym, repeatedly kicking you in the gut and clawing at your face. When I am out in public I will make sure that at least one person looks at you and lavishes scorn and incompetence upon you, as I utilize a combination of the above tactics. I vow when you set me down in a room, I will immediately crawl toward whatever is most dangerous, destructive and disgusting, especially if you have surrounded me with toys and safe things to keep me occupied. And just when you are at your breaking point and contemplating driving off of a cliff, I will look up at you and melt your heart by sweetly saying 'mama.'"
Foodie Friday
Okay, so I originally thought I would deem Fridays "Photo Fridays" and upload some random picture...but I don't want to do that anymore. So instead I am calling Fridays "Foodie Friday."
See, I LOVE to cook. Being in the kitchen is one of those things that makes me VERY happy. I so enjoy just going into my kitchen and rockin' out some sort of yumminess. For me, cooking is so many things...a stress reliever, it brings me joy, it's fun, sometimes challenging and it always makes me smile...except for the occasional cooking miss hap...those usually necessitate a trip to the grocery store at some ridiculous hour and cause me to say naughty words.
So, for Foodie Friday, I will post a recipe of mine every Friday (or most every Friday, or whenever I feel like it). My disclaimer...I rarely use recipes or measurements, most of the stuff I make comes from my head. If I do consult a recipe, I don't usually follow it. So most of the measurements I will post are APPROXIMATIONS.
So then, for the recipe...this is what we had for dinner tonight. It has no name, so if you'd like to name it let me know...it's a chicken/pasta/veggie dish...all I know is that is was really TASTY!
What you need:
2 cooked chicken breasts diced (cook it however you want, I like to grill extra chicken and use it for recipes throughout the week)
1/2 box bow tie pasta (or whatever shape you like)
1 eggplant, sliced
1 zucchini, sliced
1 large tomato, or 2 Romas, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 red bell pepper, sliced
1 green bell pepper, sliced
1/2-1 pint mushrooms, sliced
1 red onion, sliced
1 wedge parmesan cheese, grated
olive oil
butter
lemon juice from 1/2 lemon
balsamic vinegar
salt/pepper
Directions:
1. Place eggplant, zucchini, red pepper and green pepper on baking sheets. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Toss them to coat them evenly and roast them at 375 for 30 minutes.
2. While veggies are roasting, cook pasta according to directions. Add 2-3 Tbsp of olive oil and 2-3 Tbsp of butter to a large pan and caramelize the onion and garlic.
3. After the veggies are done roasting, add them to the onions and garlic. Also add the tomatoes, the chicken, the mushrooms, a few splashes of balsamic, the lemon juice and salt/peeper to taste...cook for about 10 minutes or until all of the flavors combine and the veggies are done.
4. Combine the veggies and pasta in a 9x13 baking dish. Drizzle with olive oil and cover with the shredded parmesan. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes.
See, I LOVE to cook. Being in the kitchen is one of those things that makes me VERY happy. I so enjoy just going into my kitchen and rockin' out some sort of yumminess. For me, cooking is so many things...a stress reliever, it brings me joy, it's fun, sometimes challenging and it always makes me smile...except for the occasional cooking miss hap...those usually necessitate a trip to the grocery store at some ridiculous hour and cause me to say naughty words.
So, for Foodie Friday, I will post a recipe of mine every Friday (or most every Friday, or whenever I feel like it). My disclaimer...I rarely use recipes or measurements, most of the stuff I make comes from my head. If I do consult a recipe, I don't usually follow it. So most of the measurements I will post are APPROXIMATIONS.
So then, for the recipe...this is what we had for dinner tonight. It has no name, so if you'd like to name it let me know...it's a chicken/pasta/veggie dish...all I know is that is was really TASTY!
What you need:
2 cooked chicken breasts diced (cook it however you want, I like to grill extra chicken and use it for recipes throughout the week)
1/2 box bow tie pasta (or whatever shape you like)
1 eggplant, sliced
1 zucchini, sliced
1 large tomato, or 2 Romas, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 red bell pepper, sliced
1 green bell pepper, sliced
1/2-1 pint mushrooms, sliced
1 red onion, sliced
1 wedge parmesan cheese, grated
olive oil
butter
lemon juice from 1/2 lemon
balsamic vinegar
salt/pepper
Directions:
1. Place eggplant, zucchini, red pepper and green pepper on baking sheets. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Toss them to coat them evenly and roast them at 375 for 30 minutes.
2. While veggies are roasting, cook pasta according to directions. Add 2-3 Tbsp of olive oil and 2-3 Tbsp of butter to a large pan and caramelize the onion and garlic.
3. After the veggies are done roasting, add them to the onions and garlic. Also add the tomatoes, the chicken, the mushrooms, a few splashes of balsamic, the lemon juice and salt/peeper to taste...cook for about 10 minutes or until all of the flavors combine and the veggies are done.
4. Combine the veggies and pasta in a 9x13 baking dish. Drizzle with olive oil and cover with the shredded parmesan. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes.
Survivor
So tonight at dinner the Husband and I were talking about what five things we would take with us if we were stranded on a deserted island...
His first question "Is there a size limit?"...you see, he wanted to take a solar powered generator as his first item. So I decided the items had to all fit in a back pack.
The Husband's list
1. a hand held crank radio
2. a large amount of penicillin
3. a knife
4. flint
5. a book about survival
My response "well that's boring!!!"
My list
1. lip gloss
2. cheese
3. a bottle of wine (I wanted to bring a case of wine, but had the self imposed size limit of a back pack)
4. a hooded sweatshirt
5. a book
The Husbands response "so you're basically going to live it up for about 12 hours and then die!"
um, yeah, well let's just hope I never get stranded on a deserted island
so what five things would you take with YOU?
His first question "Is there a size limit?"...you see, he wanted to take a solar powered generator as his first item. So I decided the items had to all fit in a back pack.
The Husband's list
1. a hand held crank radio
2. a large amount of penicillin
3. a knife
4. flint
5. a book about survival
My response "well that's boring!!!"
My list
1. lip gloss
2. cheese
3. a bottle of wine (I wanted to bring a case of wine, but had the self imposed size limit of a back pack)
4. a hooded sweatshirt
5. a book
The Husbands response "so you're basically going to live it up for about 12 hours and then die!"
um, yeah, well let's just hope I never get stranded on a deserted island
so what five things would you take with YOU?
Good Friday?
So today is Good Friday. But what is so 'good' about celebrating the day that someone dies? It's good because that someone is Jesus, and He died for me and YOU. And through His death I can stand in the forgiveness of His grace...more about that in a bit. But first, do you realize the awesomeness and magnitude of what it means to have someone, Jesus, die for you? That, people, is true love. How many of us have someone that we can say loved us enough to die for us...and not just any death, but an awful, painful, humiliating death? I know I can't.
Standing in the forgiveness of His grace...what exactly does that mean? Forgiveness means that I can wake up every day knowing that my screw ups from yesterday, today and tomorrow are not going to be dangled over my head. Grace means that I didn't and can't do anything to deserve this forgiveness, and that no matter what I do I can't earn it...grace is a free gift...and a concept that is difficult to wrap my human mind around. So since I am forgiven, does that mean I can do whatever I want? No, see because grace is freely bestowed upon me to help me not to do what my flesh wants to do. But I still screw up-every day. And I'm still forgiven- every day. And I still have grace- every day. Sound too good to be true, it's not, forgiveness and grace are there for all who believe. I couldn't make this up if I tried. The Bible tells us the following in Ephesians 2:8-9
For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.
Often times in today's world, believing in Jesus gets some bad press. Some people think that living a Christian life equates to living a life filled with legalism, constraints, harsh rules and a loss of freedom- this could not be farther from the truth. Because of choosing to believe in Jesus I have amazing freedom in my life- freedom from worry, guilt, shame, bitterness, the list goes on. Does that mean that I don't still experience those things, no...what it means is that I am free to not have to carry all of that garbage around if I don't want to- because I have a Redeemer waiting to take it all from me with open arms.
The steps you take to have a life like this are simple, and I would love to tell you about them.
So in the festivities of the next few days- all the family, and friends, and caloric binges...try to remember why it is that you are celebrating. And it isn't because this is the one time of the year that it's socially acceptable to gorge yourself on those disgusting chocolate covered marshmallow bunnies.
Standing in the forgiveness of His grace...what exactly does that mean? Forgiveness means that I can wake up every day knowing that my screw ups from yesterday, today and tomorrow are not going to be dangled over my head. Grace means that I didn't and can't do anything to deserve this forgiveness, and that no matter what I do I can't earn it...grace is a free gift...and a concept that is difficult to wrap my human mind around. So since I am forgiven, does that mean I can do whatever I want? No, see because grace is freely bestowed upon me to help me not to do what my flesh wants to do. But I still screw up-every day. And I'm still forgiven- every day. And I still have grace- every day. Sound too good to be true, it's not, forgiveness and grace are there for all who believe. I couldn't make this up if I tried. The Bible tells us the following in Ephesians 2:8-9
For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.
Often times in today's world, believing in Jesus gets some bad press. Some people think that living a Christian life equates to living a life filled with legalism, constraints, harsh rules and a loss of freedom- this could not be farther from the truth. Because of choosing to believe in Jesus I have amazing freedom in my life- freedom from worry, guilt, shame, bitterness, the list goes on. Does that mean that I don't still experience those things, no...what it means is that I am free to not have to carry all of that garbage around if I don't want to- because I have a Redeemer waiting to take it all from me with open arms.
The steps you take to have a life like this are simple, and I would love to tell you about them.
So in the festivities of the next few days- all the family, and friends, and caloric binges...try to remember why it is that you are celebrating. And it isn't because this is the one time of the year that it's socially acceptable to gorge yourself on those disgusting chocolate covered marshmallow bunnies.
Friday Photo
Okay, Friday's are going to be photo uploads. Why? Because this is my blog and I can do whatever I want.
In case you've ever wondered exactly where the Garden of Eden is located...I found it.
Yes, yes I did
The side effects of sleep deprivation and preoccupied mama absentmindedness resulted in the following...by the way, I've debated about whether to write about this or not, but I figure at this point next to no one reads this anyhow, so what the heck.
This happened a couple of nights ago...
The Husband, the Baby and I went on a quick trip to the grocery store after dinner so that I could score a couple more bags of Stacy's Cinnamon and Sugar Pita Chips. The Baby was asleep, so the Husband dropped me off at the door and drove around the parking lot. When I came out I looked around, spotted the truck and began to climb inside, when I was startled back to earth by a GIRL in the driver's seat loudly exclaiming "EXCUSE ME" and looking at me like a crazy person. At that point I realize what I've done and am absolutely HORRIFIED. In that moment I was secretly hoping that either a light from the sky would shine down and beam me up or that the ground would crack and I'd be swallowed beneath. Neither of those happened so instead I was left trying to explain to a total stranger why I just tried to get in her car. What exactly do you say in this kind of situation...it went something like "Ah"..."Um"..."I just"..."Sorry" slam the door and walk the other way. FAST. Oh, the horror.
I locate the correct truck, get in and give the Husband a look that says drive out of here like your life depends on it. What does he do instead? Well, in between shaking his head and laughing like a mad man he tells me that he saw the whole thing. Hot tears are now welling up behind my eyes and I know this is a stupid thing to cry about, so I angrily spew "at least you could have honked at me." Yes, because surely it's the Husband's fault that I am a moron.
I don't do things like this, I cannot emphasize this enough. I.Do.Not.Do.Things.Like.This...EVER. Oh and what's even better is that I was riding in the Husband's truck and the one I tried to climb into looked identical to mine.
Apparently I was long overdue for a lesson in humility.
This happened a couple of nights ago...
The Husband, the Baby and I went on a quick trip to the grocery store after dinner so that I could score a couple more bags of Stacy's Cinnamon and Sugar Pita Chips. The Baby was asleep, so the Husband dropped me off at the door and drove around the parking lot. When I came out I looked around, spotted the truck and began to climb inside, when I was startled back to earth by a GIRL in the driver's seat loudly exclaiming "EXCUSE ME" and looking at me like a crazy person. At that point I realize what I've done and am absolutely HORRIFIED. In that moment I was secretly hoping that either a light from the sky would shine down and beam me up or that the ground would crack and I'd be swallowed beneath. Neither of those happened so instead I was left trying to explain to a total stranger why I just tried to get in her car. What exactly do you say in this kind of situation...it went something like "Ah"..."Um"..."I just"..."Sorry" slam the door and walk the other way. FAST. Oh, the horror.
I locate the correct truck, get in and give the Husband a look that says drive out of here like your life depends on it. What does he do instead? Well, in between shaking his head and laughing like a mad man he tells me that he saw the whole thing. Hot tears are now welling up behind my eyes and I know this is a stupid thing to cry about, so I angrily spew "at least you could have honked at me." Yes, because surely it's the Husband's fault that I am a moron.
I don't do things like this, I cannot emphasize this enough. I.Do.Not.Do.Things.Like.This...EVER. Oh and what's even better is that I was riding in the Husband's truck and the one I tried to climb into looked identical to mine.
Apparently I was long overdue for a lesson in humility.
Down with the Sickness
So the baby is sick. This is the first time she has been sick in her 7 months of life, so I guess we should count ourselves lucky. However, after a night of no sleep, lucky is one of the last things I'm feeling today.
I knew this day would eventually come, I just imagined it would happen differently. See, I had visions of a lethargic, snuggly, clingy baby, who I could sit and rock all night and she would peacefully drift off in the arms of her mama as I did MY hardest to nurse her back to health. Yeah, not so much.
Here's the deal. She can't breathe out of her nose, which angers her greatly. She is clinging to me, but has to be in near constant motion or screaming will commence...loud, continuous, shrill awfulness. So the last 18 ish hours have gone something like this. While frantically rocking in a chair or pacing the house with the baby in an upright position, she screams into my ears, repeatedly bangs her head against my shoulder and pounds her little fists into me in fits of rage. Sleep has been scarce and occurs in 15-20 minute increments. Unfortunately her brain is not developed enough to know that her hearty crying is actually producing MORE snot and making the congestion WORSE. I lay her down to suck out her nose with the Nose Frida snot sucker, while she claws at me in protest and starts screaming like a terrified wild banshee as soon as she sees the tube heading for her nose. I pick her up to console her from the great injustice just performed and she sneezes giant globs of snot into my neck. Yes, my neck is sticky, tight and slimy and I would love a shower. I set her down so that I can have two minutes to pee and she continues to scream. I pick her up. I contemplate getting in my car and driving off of a bridge (sans baby). I get a cup of coffee instead. REPEAT.
She has been sleeping for the last hour, but my blasted phone rang and woke her.
good times, good times.
I knew this day would eventually come, I just imagined it would happen differently. See, I had visions of a lethargic, snuggly, clingy baby, who I could sit and rock all night and she would peacefully drift off in the arms of her mama as I did MY hardest to nurse her back to health. Yeah, not so much.
Here's the deal. She can't breathe out of her nose, which angers her greatly. She is clinging to me, but has to be in near constant motion or screaming will commence...loud, continuous, shrill awfulness. So the last 18 ish hours have gone something like this. While frantically rocking in a chair or pacing the house with the baby in an upright position, she screams into my ears, repeatedly bangs her head against my shoulder and pounds her little fists into me in fits of rage. Sleep has been scarce and occurs in 15-20 minute increments. Unfortunately her brain is not developed enough to know that her hearty crying is actually producing MORE snot and making the congestion WORSE. I lay her down to suck out her nose with the Nose Frida snot sucker, while she claws at me in protest and starts screaming like a terrified wild banshee as soon as she sees the tube heading for her nose. I pick her up to console her from the great injustice just performed and she sneezes giant globs of snot into my neck. Yes, my neck is sticky, tight and slimy and I would love a shower. I set her down so that I can have two minutes to pee and she continues to scream. I pick her up. I contemplate getting in my car and driving off of a bridge (sans baby). I get a cup of coffee instead. REPEAT.
She has been sleeping for the last hour, but my blasted phone rang and woke her.
good times, good times.
Food Jag
Okay, so I admit, I go on food jags like toddlers do. I find some food that I love, I eat lots of it often and then after awhile I un-love it...only to find the love again some random day down the road.
So right now I HAVE TO HAVE Stacy's Cinnamon and Sugar Pita Chips. They're like the yummy cinnamon toast of my childhood amped up on steroids and sprinkled with crack. They're so good that I am compelled to tip the bag up to my face to get every.last.piece of goodness, which inevitably results in me getting crumbs in my eyebrows. Sure, it's not the most classy thing to watch me devour a bag like a starving Somali refugee, but then again I've never claimed to be a classy gal.
Oh and if you want some, GO GET YOUR OWN, because I'm not sharing!
So right now I HAVE TO HAVE Stacy's Cinnamon and Sugar Pita Chips. They're like the yummy cinnamon toast of my childhood amped up on steroids and sprinkled with crack. They're so good that I am compelled to tip the bag up to my face to get every.last.piece of goodness, which inevitably results in me getting crumbs in my eyebrows. Sure, it's not the most classy thing to watch me devour a bag like a starving Somali refugee, but then again I've never claimed to be a classy gal.
Oh and if you want some, GO GET YOUR OWN, because I'm not sharing!
The Hardest Thing
Last night one of my friends asked me what the hardest part of mamahood is..."is it the sleep deprivation?" No.
For me the hardest part has been trying to reconnect with that little piece of ME that disappeared the day I birthed my offspring. See, I would be lying if I told you I didn't sometimes long for my pre-baby days as a woman, wife or friend. I still am all of those people, but as soon as that cord was cut I was suddenly morphed into a mama and my identity as a woman, wife and friend became forever changed. I wasn't naive to think that my life was not going to change, but I wasn't prepared for how I would buck at the change instead of embracing it.
Now, let me make it clear that I am not unhappy with my life, AT ALL. I love my baby with a rawness of emotion that I can't put into words. Now, I didn't have many expectations when I became a mama, but what expectations I did have were minimal and simplistic, or so I thought. Like Expectation #1- I will have a baby that will quietly lay swaddled in a crib, looking sweet and angelic...similar to the images I'd conjured up in my head of a contented looking baby Jesus. SHATTERED!! What I got instead was a loud, vocal, positionally challenged baby that either needed to have a boob in her mouth or be held in an upright position next to another human AT.ALL.TIMES...all while being in constant motion. It was more like a circus act than a portrait of contentment. Today she has a fiery spirit, she's intense and opinionated and independent, and her emotions are written all over her face...and she's all MINE, and I wouldn't change an ounce of who she is or who she will become.
Okay so my point is that I do not feel like God put me on this earth solely for the purpose of bearing children. I believe I have been called to do many things. So at this stage of the game my challenge is is to find a way to not become so entangled with my baby that she BECOMES my identity. It's a delicate balance and it's hard. Some day she will be grown and I want there to be a piece of ME left when that happens, instead of a large, gaping hole.
For me the hardest part has been trying to reconnect with that little piece of ME that disappeared the day I birthed my offspring. See, I would be lying if I told you I didn't sometimes long for my pre-baby days as a woman, wife or friend. I still am all of those people, but as soon as that cord was cut I was suddenly morphed into a mama and my identity as a woman, wife and friend became forever changed. I wasn't naive to think that my life was not going to change, but I wasn't prepared for how I would buck at the change instead of embracing it.
Now, let me make it clear that I am not unhappy with my life, AT ALL. I love my baby with a rawness of emotion that I can't put into words. Now, I didn't have many expectations when I became a mama, but what expectations I did have were minimal and simplistic, or so I thought. Like Expectation #1- I will have a baby that will quietly lay swaddled in a crib, looking sweet and angelic...similar to the images I'd conjured up in my head of a contented looking baby Jesus. SHATTERED!! What I got instead was a loud, vocal, positionally challenged baby that either needed to have a boob in her mouth or be held in an upright position next to another human AT.ALL.TIMES...all while being in constant motion. It was more like a circus act than a portrait of contentment. Today she has a fiery spirit, she's intense and opinionated and independent, and her emotions are written all over her face...and she's all MINE, and I wouldn't change an ounce of who she is or who she will become.
Okay so my point is that I do not feel like God put me on this earth solely for the purpose of bearing children. I believe I have been called to do many things. So at this stage of the game my challenge is is to find a way to not become so entangled with my baby that she BECOMES my identity. It's a delicate balance and it's hard. Some day she will be grown and I want there to be a piece of ME left when that happens, instead of a large, gaping hole.
Nervousness
As I sit here contemplating what to write for my very FIRST blog post EVER, I am quickly jolted back to reality. See, I happened to glance over at the quiet baby, who is rarely quiet, to find she has scooted over to a bundle of elctrical cords and computer cables and has one in her mouth...and there you have stellar parenting move of the day #1...or maybe it's #2 or #4, I don't count anymore.
So, "what the heck is egg sha-bam?", you ask. Egg sha-bam is something my sister, D, and I used to concoct. It involved stealing eggs from my granparent's chickens, one of my grandmother's cooking pots, stcks, leaves, acorns and whatever else...all carefully blended together with lots of sisterly giggling.
Life is kind of like egg sha-bam...lots of ingredients stirred together with the end result never the same. Lately for me life has been scraping poop out of my washing machine, trying to identify what food that is smashed into my rugs, avoiding laundry and attending some amazingly awesome births.
-Miss
So, "what the heck is egg sha-bam?", you ask. Egg sha-bam is something my sister, D, and I used to concoct. It involved stealing eggs from my granparent's chickens, one of my grandmother's cooking pots, stcks, leaves, acorns and whatever else...all carefully blended together with lots of sisterly giggling.
Life is kind of like egg sha-bam...lots of ingredients stirred together with the end result never the same. Lately for me life has been scraping poop out of my washing machine, trying to identify what food that is smashed into my rugs, avoiding laundry and attending some amazingly awesome births.
-Miss
this. is. love.
