Wednesday, November 30, 2011

First world problems.

Here are my current ones.

I want to get G a kitchen.  We don't have space for it.
I want to buy him gifts, but don't want to travel with them for Christmas and travel back with them and really, don't we normally just get him what he needs?
Ben got me this new ipad-ish thing (android based) and I have no stinkin' clue how to use it.  Will I learn how to use this product?  I have no clue how to type on it.  Maybe not everyone searches the interwebs the way I do?  Meaning, I have blogs to read and random things to search for an put in my online "basket" only to not purchase them.  So do I keep it?  Will I learn?  Am I that technologically awful?  I need to edit pictures.

Help me.  Please.

Also considering a glass of wine.  I'm thinking yes, though.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Thanksgiving--a recap.

It happened.  We hosted again only this time I wasn't a sleep deprived gravy train of non-sense.  As much as a mom of a toddler can be, right?  I think that still counts as sleep deprived when your kid still wakes up.  Whatevs, though, whatevs.  I made an adequate amount of food.  The weather was fabs which meant we could sit outside, which meant we weren't crammed inside into a tiny living space, and......... there were drinks.  All in all a kind of fabulous holiday.  (Minus the fact that my nephew woke up puking on Saturday morning... or Friday night.  Technicalities, really.  All I know is that I saw a cone of vomit at least once.  But maybe we can ignore the fact that this happened because it was technically after t-giving.... though it was when my sister and I were going to splurge on pedicures--so nevermind, I'm counting it.)


Post ball throwing.

Uncle Chris.  Despite what it looks like... he does not have Mike Tyson face tats.  Just shadows.

Dada and G

So different from Christmas last year.  (which was a full fledged shit show.)


Glammy, Poppy and their grandkids

Glammy, Brooklyn and G$

Glammy and Brooklyn

This is my favorite picture.

Cutie siblings.


Blue steel


Baby Brookly (or broo broo as G calls her, and has been saying for 2 days)

Yep.  Red solo cup.  Take it.

Boo. (ladder golf, G$ style)


Ell-Monkey (pre-puking)

Digging with sticks.  G was fascinated by everything Ell does.

Mama and food mooch #1. 

Manny and food mooch #2

Thanks, mama.

I Did it!!!

Best fam photo we could make happen.

My sister told us to be candid so I stuck my finger up his what what.

Did you follow that?

On a side note, my hubs and BIL were throwing tiny airfilled child balls in our backyard before I announced "BALLS ARE ALL DONE" because my husband also pegged my child in the head.  That happened.  I saw it.  G$ also screamed for approx 2 hours on T-giving night.  Less fun.  teeth are bitches.  He is not owning them the way I have taught him.  And finally... a picture from last year to show you how BIG he is.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

16 months. I'll drink to that.

Is that inappropriate?  But seriously, I'm having a drink. My baby is a big ol' 16 month old (in mom speak), a little over a year in normal people speak.  He's cute.  He's funny.  He has recently (this week maybe?) learned to throw a FIT (less cute.  but makes me laugh.)  He also has learned to say "gaga" or cracker, which I desperately want to teach him means white people.  I won't, but that's a joy of motherhood, right?  no, I think that's a joy of Aunt-hood--because then it isn't YOUR kid that's weird.  Am I right, Court?

The kids says a lot of words--most of which sound the same, but I know what he's talking about--which is clearly what matters (that and at the doctor's office.  we don't want to fail a test.)  He says toes, nose, eyes, mama, dada, gaga, something weird for sucker, plane, truck, dinosaur (or just sor, lets be real), hi, bye, the more (now pronounced moyyyyy), up, down, blows kisses, doesn't do anything on command, and would like to eat dog food.  And a quarter if I had let him today.  (I didn't, for the record.)  He's started repeating.  Mama needs to start remembering that part.

I can't imagine loving someone more.  He cracks me up.  He pretend falls all of the time.  Still loves for us to feed him.  Doesn't really love meat.  Is obsessed with the dogs.  I worry has OCD (wants to turn on the lights after nap and closes doors), still has all of his teeth and is getting more (yay....), told me he was "stuck" last night when he couldn't get out of his stroller, anddddddddd is having his second Thanksgiving this week.  How is that possible??

2 years ago we announced we were having a baby at T-giving (except for to my sister who I had to tell early so she could cover for me for not having any vino.)  We've come a long way.

Here's a video.

Monday, November 21, 2011

narcissism. hello.

(this is another post in which I blame the internet for my failings.)

My google analytics is SURELY broken.  I recall this now that I decided to go visit it and it told me that I have had THREE VISITORS.  Three.  three.  

In my mind I'm totally cooler than that.  right?

Pinterest makes me fat.

No, and I'm not referring to the amount of time I spend sitting on the couch looking at other people's creative ideas and thinking about how I should try them, but instead will "pin" them and then forget and re-pin them again... oh, and make me want a new wedding.

it's this.  The greatest queso that ever lived.  I can't stop thinking about it.  Romanticizing about it.  Needing it. Imagining how it tastes.  Considering if my baby would wake up if I went to the store REALLY QUICKLY for the ingredients.  Babies first queso?  All signs point to yes.  I'm thinking this is in my immediate future.  I'm telling myself that I should try it now so I can perfect it for Thanksgiving.... because who doesn't have queso at thanksgiving?  I'm thinking it should be a new tradition.  I'm not a huge fan of turkey anyway.

So THAT is how pinterest is making me fat.  Well, that and the couch sitting thing.

Also, this is just a piece of advice in case you were thinking it's normal to try and get some random baby to come to you while his mom is holding him at big lots and seriously keep holding your hands out and asking him to come to you--this is not normal.  now take your pine cones (why do they always have pine cones?) and  let me go back and consider the amazing couch for $3 over there.

I've also never purchased anything at big lots because inevitably there is one checker and 3000 people---which I'm going biblical terms on the 3k people--so double that because women and children don't count, and I have zero patience for line standing.

Unless it was for the greatest queso that ever lived--or as I call it--salad dressing.  I feel thinner already.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

How not to raise your toddler

So this article was floating all around my FB today.  All around.  Let me tell you about the incidence of last night-- (Ps, you don't want to know.)  I had my first vomit experience with le bebe.  Um, gross.  And sad.  And mom guilt because I thought it was my fault because I let him share my pizza and zucchini chips (but not my prosecco and glass of vino.)  So I thought that I caused the vommies due to the greasy foods.  It.  was.  awful.  started at 10.  I took my ambien at 9.  I was able to work it, clean vom, give a bath, rinse, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat.  Turns out, apparently a virus.  Kid at school has it.  (Jude, who G calls Dude.  maybe cooler?)  And NeeNee.  

I hope my child never vom's again.  Ever.  I'm fearful of the vom.  I can do it for children and babies no probs,(not saying I like it,) but I secretly hope he has a fear of the vom--the vomiphobia.  Please note, DSM-5.5, I named that and I have 10's of followers who can quote it.  My sister and I have this fear.  Fo' sho.  It's bad.

Maybe enough of the talk and entire blogpost about throwing up?  No?  It's gross.

Another incidence--this one from today.  So I stopped to get a little lip wax.  The guy tells me it will be one minute and I'm all ok, well if I need to come back, it's ok.  No no.  One minute.  He goes into the wax room (maybe the lady was napping on the wax table--who can blame her?)  Anywho, she comes out dress over black pants.  Cute.  I go.  Lay down.  Get the much needed hair ripped off my face, close my eyes, and relax--I mean, I'm a mom.  this is relaxation time.  Especially after catching vom in a towel.  And on my shirt.  And on my shirt again.  And in the towel.  mmm hot wax.  wax bed.  heaven.

Moving on.  I get up from the table only to see that she is NO LONGER WEARING PANTS.  When did that happen?  Maybe I was on some sort of Girls Behaving Badly show?  if you missed any of that by gagging, it's that I went in and the lady was wearing pants and came out and she wasn't.  weird.  I tipped her $4 on my $6 transaction.  So maybe she thinks I liked it.  Weird if I go back?

I used to be here.  Thank goodness I found the wax/threading/tweezers/life changers.  we don't want baby Brook Brook headed down the same road of demise.  To distract Baby Broo-Broo from her lack of facial hair (maybe the gene will skip her?) i made her an A-dorable tutu for Christmas.  I won't like that my thigh wore it as i was making it (impromptu garter belt?) and I want to put it on G (but will resist.  probably.)  It's cute.  Y'all, she's 6 months old.  Hot stuff.  Bring it holidays... Because Pinterest has me blowin' up.
I made it.  I'm proud.  And I want one.

Friday, November 11, 2011

The Dr. is in.

SO yesterday in midst of my child shaking his head and saying "no" to every. single. thing. I asked. I took him outside (his favorite place).  Then, I noticed a package at the door.  DANG IT.  Not a present for me.

*Side note--anytime we open our mailbox or have a package at the door I'm under some sort of false security that someone has sent me a present.  99% of the time this is not the case.  Ben shakes his head when I ask him every day if there was a present for me in the mail.

Anywho, gift was not for me so I left it there.  After watching G try desperately to pick it up. Admit defeat and then go back to whining and wanting up.  down.  up.  no. no no no no no.

The Dr. Ben Black arrived home last night and clearly G$ was all grins and giggles and shiz.  cutest kid ever.  I declare I must get out of the house.  To target.  Alone.  (after Ben suggests we take G to the grocery store at which point I refuse and say he can happily take him alone, but I refuse to take him in public for fear of the deathglare that we would clearly get as he shrieked his way through the store wanting to eat everything, have me hold him, and get a new balloon.  So they played in the car.  I went to target.

I come home to a new contraption (the gift) on the counter.  Old dusty cooking lights hastily pushed to the side.  Dog treat container?  sorry bitches, doneso.  All forrrrrrrrrrr....... a vacuum sealer for meat.  Oh the joy.  Oh the excitement.  Oh the exclamations of "watch this!"  I am adequately impressed (sadly defeated by no gifts for me) and go to catch up with Chelsea Handler on the couch only to find..... a package of previously vacuum sealed gold fish.  "Hey, I had to start with something."

Later in the evening while catching up with the finest nerds on the Big Bang Theory I freak out because I think there is an ugly insect on my arm... then calmly say, "Oh... wait, it's just my arm."

All this to say there was a lot of head shaking going on in the Casa de Negra yesterday.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Ponies up.

We went up to Dallas this weekend for SMU's Homecoming.  (year 9, friends.  That's TEN years for a lot of my friends.)  It was SO.  Much.  FUN.  I have an amazing group of girl friends that make me laugh more than anyone ever.  Seriously.  So stinkin' funny.  So amazing.  It's amazing that we all ended up at school together.  I wish I could be more eloquent about my love for these girls, but it stupifies me.

G$ went to his first parade.  Had his first sucker.  His first mardi gras beads.  First Boulevard-ing experience.  (Y'all in the SMU world bubble we say, "We don't tailgate.  We boulevard.)  Let me tell you--boulevarding involves some crazy expensive attire and tory burch boots on 18 year olds.  It's fabulous and amazing.  And ridiculous.
 It was hard for him to show his goods with a button up shirt and a sweater.  Luckily there are some generous parade participants.  Mama ended up with a koozie.  win win.
 My ladies in front of Dallas hall and the fountain*

 Driving with Auntie K.

 This girl here to my left (in the picture)--my Persian Princess friend.  Looked at me in the middle of the game and said, "We white girls be melting."  I looked around to see who she was talking about only to realize she meant--herself.  I said.  Ah-dine.  You are NOT white.  Adine is who's father I run in memory of with TNT.  Katie (also pictured) and I decided that she is clearly not white if she doesn't have to wash her hair everyday. Yes, I realize I do not wash mine everyday--doesn't mean I don't need to.  Y'all we are sisters.  We can discuss these things.

 *The Fountain.  Red because we WON.  It is like a "thing" to run from Dallas hall (nakers) to the fountain.  None of us had done this.  So, clothed.  Here we go.  We kept saying, "we're skinny dipping."  Ben tried to remind us we weren't because we were fully dressed.  I said, "Hey, let us have our moment."  Notice my school spirit with my pony ears up!

3030 Daniel.  Lived it.  Loved it.  Welcome back to the porch.

Ben and I stopped on our way home. to say it was a good weekend is an understatement.  

And finally, here is a picture of Kate (her mom was walking the 3 day so we didn't get to see her.)  But clearly, Kate is saying "Oh no he didn't."  Or "once on the lips a lifetime on the hips G$.  Do you know how many cals are in that scone?"  

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

The leap.

One too many prosecco's?  Maybe.  Maybe I had my husband take 3000 pictures of me in the lobby of our hotel.  That leap the girls do on ANTM is apparently harder than it looks.  Or maybe they aren't intoxicated?


translate--"ghost.  boo."  G loves to say this.  Can you believe that last year he was so tiny?  only 3 months old? And FINE with having his head gear on?  And couldn't sit up?  And was so tiny and adorable?  And I still counted his age in WEEKS.  Weeks I tell you.  No clue how many weeks he is now.  Probably should add that to my MOTY resume, but I'm too lazy.  This year we opted for the dahhhhhhh costume.  (dog)  We love to say "dah!" (when hearing barking or seeing an actual dog) and then squat the toddler squat and say "HI DAH!"  loves.  them.  He even loves Gizmo who distinctly does not love him.  At all.  Not even a little.  How cute is this little dog?

And I got my big calfed boots in the mail and so requested a family photo.... only we had to do it ourselves.  We set it up on the jeep with the auto timer.... but holy hell, who knew that it was set on 85 pictures.  Here is a small portion of the pics.  And you can't even see my boots.  They're cute.  Take my word for it.

Happy Halloween!