suspicions confirmed.

rabies.

We probably have rabies.

Just saying. It's most likely.

So apparently I should not eat thai food while nursing the baby. He had a hard morning with little to no sleeping. THen we went to the doctor and chunkfest now weighs 10 lbs. He's doing great. WE made our way to target because he was SLEEPING. He opened his eyes to poop once, but that's it. We came home and I put him in his swing and he slept more. I closed our bedroom door so the dogs wouldn't go in there (my little one has decided to eat breastpads lately... weird.)

He wakes up.

I sit in glider to feed him.

He falls asleep again so I just sit there and cuddle him.

I notice a brown spot on the play mat. I am like, well damn, a dog shit on the play mat.

Then it moves.

The dog shit moves!!

I FREAK OUT and go look at it and... it's a bat. a BAT. I had my baby locked in a room with a rabies infested, dog shit looking, EFFING BAT.

I'm the worst. mom. ever.

Ben has since rescued the invader and put him outside.

First road trip.

me, my sister and the griffster.
Poppy and Griffin
The boys
Glammy and her boys
Mary and Kate
Elliott rocking Griffin
Great-Aunt Karen
Great Grandmother, Tabo
Me lovin' my baby
Ben, lovin' the baby and the margarita.
Glammy and Elliott
Deana and Griffin
A family shot.

It was mostly successful! I rode in the back with the babe and was able to ward off the screams. Apparently, I just need to hire a driver and life will be easier. We headed up to DFW to hang out with the fam and to see Griffin's future girlfriends baptism. Couldn't have missed that! Here are some photogs.

Love Your Insides

Love Your Insides

So the weird commercial--please tell me you've seen it--is about being friends with your digestive tract. Then the person in the commercial is like skipping along holding hands with said digestive tract, and swinging it in the air etc. Weird. I don't like to think of my insides having hands or emotions. Then again... I kind of like the little catchy song of the commercial.

As a child in order to convince myself to eat my veggies (when my parents left me at the table until I had x amount of bites) I'd think that the veggies were sad if I ate one of them and I had to eat the others so they could re-meet on my insides.

I was a delightful weird child. Then again, my sister liked to take naps in her closet.

SO I never thought

That I'd milk myself.

Tech inventions?

So I thought I was interwebs savvy. Negative. Not until YESTERDAY did I notice that you can see if people comment back on your blog comments. Um yah... so if I've left a comment, and you've responded... I didn't know. oops. I'm slowly getting up to speed here.

I'm also wearing my engagement ring again. huzzah. I wasn't sure when my fatsy fingers would resolve themselves. Not sure that it's actually happened now, but I have forced the ring on. I feel it is a success. I also came up with whatever weird commercial was annoying me yesterday, but have forgotten again. I blame this on the fact that my in laws were in town (again--3x in 3 weeks) and I was running on 4 hours of sleep. Today, though, my baby has been sleeping for a long arse time (after screaming in the car) and I should be cleaning, but I'm blogging. I find this to be the reason for my need of a personal assistant. That and he shit on me this morning. Well, through his clothes, onto the boppy and my hand, technically. Whatever, I think I win because I lost a pound after I "used the facilities" this morning. I told you. I like to talk about poo. Then I ate 2 cookies and had a diet coke.

Tomorrow is our first road trip. Headed up to the parents house (about a 3 hour drive... I"m sure it will be all Gilligan's island-ish where we are stranded in the car for much longer than that... only I won't have a cool hat, there won't be a girl in cut off shorts, and I'll hope to make it out.)

There is a margarita in my future. I feel it.

Human Population/procreation

So, here's the thing. EVERYONE I KNOW is having boys! YAY for bff's for the Griffster, but holy crapstown, I'm a little worried about our future. I need to lay some claim on the ladies out there. Do a little arranged marriage set up. Something! Then again, maybe he'll be a 'mo and he'll be set with lots of manly options. Whatever, just make sure that when I'm old my highlights look good and I don't wear mood lipstick. You hear that? Otherwise I'll make sure you can't say your R's and you'll be Gwiffin fowevew.

I came up with something the other day to post about that wasn't baby related, but I can't remember what that was. It was some commercial that I thought was ridiculous, I remember that much, but not sure what it was tied to... What I do know is that I'm somewhat fearful of my child spitting up in my mouth, but not scared enough to take precautions against it. I'm kind of resolved to the fact that it will probably happen and I'll probably be ok. Gross. I know.

Whatevs. One month picture. How the hell did he become this old? (He's actually 5 weeks this week.) What I know... real smiles are just around the corner and another growth spurt that requires me to be topless. Maybe I can make a career of this topless thing and then I can stay home from work? Thoughts??

up since 5

and I'm tiredstown.

Recap of yesterday--overall good. Underall--I locked my keys in the car when the moms and I went to get pedicures. Yah, awesome. How long can I hold onto "pregnancy brain?" I'm thinking there is a time limit on that one? Maybe not though... because I plan on using "I grew you a child. I gave birth." for forever. Maybe they go together? As long as you can use one you can use the other? Not sure. Thank goodness for road side assistance on the phone, though. Life saver.

I call ATT to ask how to get ahold of RSA and the lady put me on hold for literally 5 minutes while she "researched" that. Her words. Um, ok... how much research does that take? This was after I went through all of the press this button, press button shenanigans. Can't I just talk to a real person? Answer--no. I finally talk to a guy at RSA (also on hold for about 8 minutes to get in touch with them) and I explain to him the sitch. He takes EVERY DETAIL OF INFORMATION EVER. I try to play pity points by telling him I have a 4 week old with me. He calls the lock company (while I'm on hold) then comes back while he's talking to them and is all... "wait, is the baby in the car? Because if so, you should call the police." Thanks. No. Apparently the key guy had to mention this to him before he got the point. All in all... totally obnoxious.

I did get hip shrinx. I'm hoping it works. Please. I also spent a bazillion dollars buying other nursing gear. Hey, it's not a want--it's a need. Luckily, since I hate my squishy body currently I haven't bought clothes in quite some time. Bonus?

The parents are in town and sweet little Griffin has been sleeping in their room until I need to feed him and then I go get him. Last night I decided to be nice and keep him in our room starting at 5 so they could get real rest. backfire. I fed him. I gave him to ben to change, rock back to sleep, swaddle, put to bed. Fail. Fail fail fail. I am up the whole time because I hear every noise. At that point it's pointless for me to go back to bed because it's about time for him to eat again. I lay in misery planning my sweet husbands demise (he's super helpful in real life--I forget this at 5 am when I'm in my murderous state.) Now it's almost 10 am and he's still asleep--the husband. Not the baby. Yay.

Apparently my murderous state lasts far past 5 am. Who knew?

I swore I'd never...

So I swore I'd never put my baby in bed with me. Fail. I mean, I don't put him in bed when I go to bed at night. no. I put him in his cradle. Feed him. Put him in his swing. Feed him. At some point when all I need is a little sleep for the next hour, though, I let him lay in bed with me/on me. My sister said that at this point in time, "it's all about survival." I am taking that and saying I'm ok with it. He'll probably not sleep in bed with me until he's 17 just because for an hour or so a day I let him lay on me in bed. Right? Whatevs, Griffin, go get your car keys and climb on in.

In other poopy notes... ps, I never thought I'd text someone about someone ELSE'S poo. Fail. I have. I've also emailed about it. Now I like to talk about poo, but it's usually my own. Not someone else's. So yesterday at target the kid needed to eat so I went to the bathroom to feed him. Gross, I know, but I didn't want to walk around with a cart and a baby on the boob so I went into the handicap stall and let me tell you--my child grunts. He makes a LOT of noises (which also leads to me not sleeping)--anyway--he's grunting away. A lady walks in with her 2 children and they are all going potty and I hear one of them say (multiple times) "I think some one in here has diarrhea." I'm wearing silver sparkly Tom's so it isn't like I have on generic shoes that no one will notice. (yes, that is what I think about... can you see my shoes? Will you notice me when I'm in the pen aisle shopping for a new sharpie pen?)

This is where it's lead me, y'all.

I also realized that my hair is like 75% grey. I'm getting that taken care of tomorrow. Thank goodness. Otherwise I'm one of those moms... you know, the kind with roots, hideous outfits, still have a baby belly and you judge them at target? I'm there.

I have a mohawk

and I'm adorable.

Y'all he's gotten SO BIG already! I can barely get my fingers around his thighs. I love it. Currently the Grifster is going through a growth spurt which means that he is basically on the boob 24-7. Tiring. I rewarded myself with some mint chocolate chip ice cream. Similar reward to when I was preggo--which I really really miss. I love this baby, but I miss being pregnant.

Currently his eyes are blue. Who knows where they will go. All I know is that he barely looks anything like me, he has a mohawk, and a mullet (and will soon have a belly button!)

In other news... our dumb dumb dog--Maggie--has quite the culinary pallet. A few months ago she ate Ben's prosciutto wrapped scallops and today she ate a big hunk of some fancy blue cheese. What tha what?

Just thought I should share this. Here's to hoping for a good night of sleep for ALL of us (now that we have our homedics sound machine that should be a lifesaver--so I hear.)

(ps. Mohawk, according to blogger, is apparently a proper noun.)

It's cookie time.

I'm a hoarder. I blame my mom. I think I've mentioned her hoarding that she claims she doesn't have a problem with (she just might NEED those things someday. Luckily, she is still able to sleep in her bed and it isn't filled with random chairs and awkward statues or anything.) It's genetic. This week we were putting some stuff up in our cabinets and I found TWO boxes of girl scout cookies that I had apparently "saved" for later. They were from last year--2009. January. I know this because we had a party for Ben's bday and I hid them so no one would eat them. Memory-failed. Delicious treat for me though. It's like finding $20 in a coat pocket... only with the threat of disease or something.

Glammy is visiting again and has a NEW CAR. We'll try her car out tomorrow I'm thinking. Today we had our first shopping adventure with the Glams. Sad, but true story, we went to the Gap (due to my pudge) and the girl that works there was like, "I didn't even know you were pregnant!" Yah, I apparently go there THAT much. Weird? Maybe. Then my docs office called to remind me of my appointment tomorrow and the front desk lady chatted it up also and asked all about le bebe.

Theory--I shop too often and have a unhealthy love of the doctors office.

Pictures below--and yes, I realize I also have a deep love and devotion to the monogramming. Luckily, Glammy also has a monogramming/embroidery business.

We went to our 2 week check up today (where they tortured him) and he now weighs 7.6 lbs! He was 6.11 at birth! way to go Fin!



Griffin's first minute of laying in his crib. He'll revisit this at a later date and time.

After his bath. Which he hates. A lot.

My first tummy time. I was awesome and didn't cry at all!!

Love.

How can you not love this one? I know I'm super MIA right now. Turns out this whole waking up/feeding someone else every 3 hours can be simply exhausting. I do it for this face, though. Look at that sweet baby!

He made his first trip to Mecca yesterday. That's Target in case you were wondering. We needed a few items and lets face it... I think the economy was probably failing due to my lack of Target runs. I just wanted to do my part for the good ol' US of A. Things we needed--an inclined positioner for his cradle which he isn't a fan of sleeping in, diapers (tried the up and up target brand... he poops and pees right through them. We're sticking with the pampers), nursing tanks--GOD SEND, and a new book for me. I think it's called the Menonite in a Black Dress or something close to that. He was a dream while we were out and only started screaming once we were almost home. I think he was sad when he realized we had left the store.

Gizmo, the little asshole love of my life, has behaved so surprisingly. We thought the options for him would be either--lack of interest or hate. Instead, he thinks that Griffin is his and is very concerned anytime he cries. He wants to be near him and make sure he's OK. It's sweet, and occasionally annoying. Mostly sweet though. Maggie is too dumb to notice that there have been any changes. I suppose that's good? Whatevs.

The body is slowly recovering. I'm looking forward to the pudge simply disappearing. This hasn't completely happened so far. Probably next week. Right guys?