My husband. Love my super smart husband who collects random computer parts, can fix most things, reads my Star magazine and is a geography wiz.
He's super smart.
The 5 languages of love are affirmation, quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service, physical touch. I think the 6th language is sarcasm. I fall there (followed by the others. Perhaps the final order would be sarcasm, acts of service/giving gifts, receiving gifts, physical touch and quality time.)
Anyway, moving on...
Recent conversations that cause a bit of concern--
1. When G was sick he was napping and I put a blanket on him. I told Ben and he asked seriously, "Is he going to die?"
2. I had just put G down for a nap and Ben was working outside. "Is Griffin asleep?" "No, I just left him on the couch." (Face of-you would kill me if I did that and OH MY GOSH YOU LEFT OUR MOBILE BABY ON THE COUCH!!)
3. Tonight-G is asleep. Ben tells me he got a bonus for all of the crazy hard amazing work he's been doing. Me "Want to go out for sushi tonight?" Him "Ummm... we shouldn't go. What about the baby?" wow. (we ordered in. It was amazing.
To combat--my ridiculous statement of the night (in reference to the morning show we both listen to)
"Did you know that migrant workers can't hang out outside of Old Navy anymore?.... I mean home depot." What?
My baby is 8 months old. He loves to crawl. He loves for me to hold him while he plays. He LOVES to read books. It's part of how I know he's mine. He will bypass toys--just to go for a book. Especially a book that is currently behind our glider and covered in plastic. Hells yes mother of the year.
He will now stop and smile for the camera.
This is the face I see. If I move. He follows. Dear mom, please hold me while I play and read books. And, should you have the camera... I'd like to grab the strap.
Guess who loves to stand up? Especially if I put an iphone on the glider. I'd say he would totally run a marathon if we dangled the iphone in front of him. However, every time I type "marathon" I actually type "mara-thong" which is just weird. I also type "Christ" every time I mean to type "Chris." Chris is my brother in law. Could be an awkward sentence there.
How big is he? Seriously!!!!
I'm pretty sure that he is surfing here.
It's my favorite stage. I think that every time he gets any older.
So remember how my baby was just born? 8months ago.
I know, crazy that he can already whittle tooth brushes down into a shank. Seriously, for some reason this kids nails are like razors. He'd totally make it in the big house. He wouldn't take shit from anyone. He regularly shanks my nose. I typically restrain myself from using poor word choices. I mean, my newborn 8month old saying mama and dada... and possibly "hi".
So in college I had 2 majors and one minor--all in liberal arts. When it was close to graduation my parents asked, "Sooooooooooooo.... what are you going to do with that?" My answer, "ummmm grad school?" I mean, what do you do with a double major in psych (child development), religious studies, and a minor in sociology (with a focus in family systems/criminology.) Wha??? yah... Love me some criminology. So I got a masters of divinity. Yes, that's Master to you. Ben likes to be called Dr. I say, that's fine... just call me master. I'll take that over Dr.
For some reason my L.A. college didn't offer a teaching degree. Not sure why... that's probably what I'd be, though. That or a prison warden. If I were a prison warden I'd probably be more apt to deal with the shank wounds I'm receiving on regular occasion.
So tonight, so I don't "get it in my sleep" I decided to rock him to sleep. It had nothing to do with the fact that since I'm planning his 1st bday party (Yes, it's early. Yes, it's ridiculous. Yes, I also love an excel file.) He's basically 13 and we have nothing in common and he's super dirty and hates bathing and probably ignores talks to girls on the phone.
I don't think they like to be rocked to sleep then, right? And probably don't like for mom to kiss all over them before nap time. I mean, I'm guessing.
Either way, watch out because he doesn't take shit from anyone. bitch.
This is not a post for advice on how I need to cut my son's nails. I do this regularly. Apparently I am not supposed to file them down into sharp razor blade points. Don't openly judge me. Please judge me in the confines of your own home; or over a play date. But, if it's going to be a play date, please also be drinking wine. And, reference my blog so I can become famous... and then someone else can cut his nails 2x per week and bail him out of jail
My pink computer has gone to the great beyond that even the nerds can't fix. Well, that's not true. Hubs is going to put a new hard drive in and it will work again. However, the nerds were not able to restore any of my documents--or pictures. ALllllllllll of my pictures of my sweetest newborn baby that were saved on there.
I'm in mourning.
I will return at a later time when I can hold my computer in my lap while watching ellen during my 2 hour break (where I should be cleaning an doing laundry.) SO I'm also in mourning that I don't have something to distract me from the cleaning and laundry.
SO I'm basically going to need to spend about 3 days catching up on your lives. Try to slow things down until then.
SO I read blogs. Everyday. Some of the people I read I actually know. Some people I just pretend in my head that I know and that soon we will be bff's and go on a jaunt across country to meet up and tell each other how we've always admired each other and then go buy new wardrobes, you know, because we can. We'll also be having mimosas while we shop all day. Sometimes my husband reads over my shoulder or will come look when I play a video. When I got a Christmas card from one of you and he said, "who's that?" I wanted to be all... "A friend from high school." Instead of "a random person that I gave our address too and became friends with on facebook. Don't worry. She lives far away and they have a kid. No one with a kid is a creepster."But, I'm an awful liar so I just went with the person I gave our address to thing.
Anyway, so I read blogs--LOTS of them have babies so it makes me think we are "mom friends." So when Ben said, "Who's that?" And I said.... "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh this girl who lives in x and her baby is about to be one" blablabla.
Him... "of course you know that. It's totally normal."
I'm all, whatevs Ben. Whatevs. I'm trying to get more readers and sometimes I have to sell our address so we can get some valid stalkers up in here. I mean, did you not see "You've got mail?" Online relationships are REAL.
Until then I'm going to have a mimosa and go to Old Navy.
I do not enjoy DST. I get that it stays light longer... but really isn't it just a messing with your mind? Someone decided that we should lose and gain an hour twice a year? I mean, kind of ridiculous--and it has totally messed with baby G's schedule.
I will own you. I will win. Because really... if I've learned any thing from Charlie, isn't this about winning? Today I had a grand total of, drum roll please, 1 hour of rest--that would be two thirty minute intervals. I'm just sayin', I had some more obsessing to do and now I'm tired and the husby is due home (with Chuy's) any minute now. So if you were going to stalk me yesterday because he was out of town, you totally missed your chance. I also had on my face today and did my hair so you couldn't have even paparazzied me in a bad way.
So I'm trying to increase my picture stylings--because I'm awesome. That, and we got a fancy camera that I'd really like to learn how to use! I've been trying to play with the sun for a little while now, but I think this is my best shot--and clearly, he's deep in thought.
Check them out on I heart faces! See the link on the left hand side of my blog
This is about nursing bras. There. I said it... so check out should you not want to hear about bazoombas.
SO, I'm a huge fan of the bravado seamless nursing bra. I purchased multiple not attractive (because lets face--it's not hot to have snaps on the shoulders of your bra) nursing bras. 3 of which totally don't fit. I thought they did, but they didn't. Waste of mooooooolah. So I went to our fancy pants (marmy) maternity/nursing store and found what I wanted. What fit. What's SUPER COMFORTABLE and easy to use (which is important for a prude like me.)
Anyway, I'm at mecca the other day and low and behold--they have targetified this bra! I mean, it's a now frills version and totally great (and totally $30 cheaper.)
I went today and there were TWO. TWO. TWO in the whole store. I mean, how did people know about my secret? About my secret I was going to use for my own benefit and THEN share with others? They aren't even online. Tomorrow I will visit a different store. I'm on a mission and I've already obsessively cleaned my house.
Ben is out of town. There. I said it. It's only for tonight. Well, today really. I didn't post earlier because I didn't want any stalkers while I hadn't put on my face. Not that I've put it on now--unless you count eating cookies.
Today I obsessively cleaned. Ob. Sess. Iv. Ly. (I left out the "e" because then it would have been ivy and that just doesn't make sense at all. And, when I hear the word poison ivy it makes me think of Drew Barrymore. Anyone? Anyone?) When the Dr is in we hang out, we run errands, we go on walks, we have adult beverages. I mean, I clean during the day when he's here, but not like when he's not. It's not pretty. It's like when I was nesting. For reals. I need him to go out of town a little more often and be a little more disgusted by my house.
We like to use the term "neck" to mean red neck. You know, like saying, "the game of washers is a little 'neck'." For those of you in the midwest, it's similar to corn hole.
Not what I was intending to talk about, but it just it came to me once I said it...
What I meant was--"MY BABY HAS A NECK!!!" I saw it today. I've thought for a long time his head just rested on a lot of chins. Turns out, nope. There is a neck in there.
Completely unrelated--I am HORRIBLE about geography. horrible. Well, Dr. Ben is about to watch a Jamie Oliver show about Andalucia (which we've never heard of) and so I wikipedia that and I'm telling him important facts like "it's in the south of the Iberian peninsula" (which means nothing to me other than I've heard of it) and he's all "ohhhhhhhhhh so it's north of the Strait of Gibraltar?"
Then I questioned our marriage. How the good Dr. could love someone like me who plays the game, "I bet I can guess how much this costs" at J.Crew and Banana and picking out the most expensive thing on the page in magazines. I'm really good at that. Probably better than he is at geography.
I like the moby wrap. G will take a nap in it. I took it home over Christmas, and when we returned home (my other home... the first home is where my parents live... second home where we currently live) I couldn't find it.
I called my mom to see if we left it at my parents house.
My mom said she didn't think so.
She called me a week later to ask if I found "my strap on thing."
So "back in the day" last year sometime. since i've had a baby all memories and time frames have been shot to hell I used to take pregnancy tests in hoping I was pregnant and because I can be a little neurotic. Totally normal for people wanting to have kids. (And I totally acknowledge that most people don't take like 85 in a row... and that once they get a positive they don't take 5 more thinking it was probably a bad batch.)
Is it weird sad that I'm considering taking one because I'm fat and I'm kind of hoping there is a reason other than my slovenliness? I mean, I don't HOPE I'm pregnant, but it would be awesome if there was a reason that I need to eat, in mass quantities, all things sweet.
Basically, I need someone to blame this on.
I can blame my school marm hair on one person. I decided to go with a groupon instead of going to my normal guy. Which was ok for a little while. Now, it is an issue. It's a situation. I have a mullet. I have a mom-mullet. I have Carol Brady hair. Not, Flo, but Carol. It's sad times, friends, sad times. I think I will console myself with some beverage and some chips...except I ate all of the chips already. Damn baby.
Or, milk, beer, and pureed food? I can make a claim on a biblical reference because it's Sunday. I'm being irreverent.
Our beer fridge used to just contain beer. Now, with G$ it seems we've taken a turn towards parenthood. Obviously. Yesterday we had a puree party. We now have celery, peas (which enact the gag reflex), apples, mango, butternut squash, acorn squash, pears, sweet potatoes, and avocado (which also causes gagging in those not yet old enough to enjoy a margarita on the porch.) Not that I'm naming any names........ Griffin.
But with this face? And his flair for seasonally inappropriate seersucker how could you NOT give up fridge space? I guess he's also in luck that we don't freeze our beer. Tough choices would have to be made around here.
First, I love "as seen on tv" products. In a weird way.
Second, I have a love affair with cleaning products.
Third, this was an amazing deal that I got for $14. I couldn't wait to come home from work today and try it out. I just tackled the grout in our shower. Like, tackled. I want to go back for more but my trigger finger (that is something real, right?) is totally tired from steaming.
Though I love the cleaning supply, and a day spent obsessing over every inch of our house, I don't really get that chance. And, I have no idea why I thought ohhhhhhhhhhhh pristinely white shower tile and grout--how pretty! What a pain in the ass. Perhaps if I were a more detailed cleaner all of the time we wouldn't be in this situation. I'm not saying our shower is gross by any means. It gets cleaned once a week, but there are certain sections where the water hits? maybe? that has gotten shmutzy. I don't know why it happens. It irks me though. I can kaboomfoamtastic the shit out of that grout and it still looks stained.
Now, oh now that I have my as seen on tv hand held steam cleaner, I feel that life is turning around. Soon I'll be back to my pre-preggo body, I'll stop eating ice cream every day, I'll go for a run, I'll actually mail packages, I'll go to bed early, I'll say "no" to that one extra drink, I'll print pictures of my baby.
Auditors are going to be at our office for the next few weeks. Today they brought in breakfast tacos. Some say it's for Texas independence day... others, probably just because they are being nice. Neither here nor there.
Convo with my admin this AM.
You totally should have gone down and gotten a breakfast taco.
Her: no, I'm being good.
Me: (thinking to myself... self, where is that self control that you are trying to court?)
Her: So this morning I had my oatmeal with walnuts and raisins and flax seed.... so you'll want to stay away from me today.
I don'tevenknowwhatmojois. I'mscaredtolookitupatworkbecause I triedtolookatsomethingbabyrelatedtheotherdayanditwasblockedbecauseitwas "adultcontent." wha? I'mon a list. I knowit. I knowthatAustinPowerslosthistoo... somaybe I shouldn'tsay I lostminebecausethat'snotmybag. Wow. Yep. I wentthere. Mymagicalpowers? MagicJohnson? MusicalJirations? aredefinitelylost. Orisitgirations? I don't know... because spell check just high lighted this ENTIRE paragraph. That's not good.
Maye I'm going through a growth spurt? Which makes me eat donuts and desire sleep. I had a donut incident this morning. Twice.
So why am I not posting? And about 80 years behind on reading the blogs that consume my free time? Yah, I'd like to say my free time is consumed with museums and literarly dialogue and saving sea urchins, but alas... most of it is spent probing the internet, eating girl scout cookies, and catching up on my stories.
I guess I could write a post about my bootcamp experience last week? But mostly it would involve the words "want to punch him in the face." How entertaining is that?
Or I could talk about how I proceeded to get the RSV. (I like to add "the" before things to make them more important. My mom adds "that" before someones name to refer to someone she doesn't like.) It's genetic.
Mojo mojo. where did you go go? I'm at a loss. Where's Who's The Boss? Tony and Angela--Where is my Mo-jangela?