Tuesday, February 26, 2013


G is pretty funny and says some funny things.  A lot of it is repeating my phrasing…  oops.  Though we mentioned the new restaurant in our 'hood--The Pita House and he instantly said, "The penis house?  What's a penis house?  Mama, where the penis house?"  DYING.  I guess he needs a little more pita in his life.

This morning he was having a “picnic” on the floor of our bedroom while watching sesame street.  He had a little bagel with cream cheese and then Gizmo stole the last little bit of it which brought about BIG tears and saying, “TA-TA, what is WRONG with you!”  (ps.  I repeat tata because I love it.  Gizmo has 2 names.  G can actually say gizmo…. And does.  Don’t judge me.)

He’s 2.5.  We had his check up yesterday.  He’s 50% for height and weight.  He is not shy.  He told the Dr. that she has purple glasses.  He is really into pointing out the obvious.  He says “yeyyow” for yellow and I hope it never stops.  (Not really true… he should stop that at some point, but not now.)  He still says Booty Pirates instead of Pirates Booty.  He is into things being “his” and not mine.  He loves suckers.  Loves.  He will say, “mama, you want one?”  And then tell me he wants to share it with me… meaning, he wants 2 suckers.  He is in a big boy bed.  He is doing awesomely well with it.  In his crib he never wanted me to leave and to hold his hand forever.  Last night I asked to hold his hand and he said, “no mama, don’t pat me either.  You pwease weave now.”  Ummm ok.  Then he WENT TO BED.  He thinks saying things louder and in an angry voice will get him what he wants.  It doesn’t.  He can throw a fit.  He loves trains.  He really likes Daniel Tiger.  He is into saying “I just pretending.”  He gets him/her his/hers wrong 90% of the time.  He LOVES lambie.  Lambie for life.  He is an awesome bike rider.  He is into reading ME his books at night.  Which I think is absolutely precious.  I’m also impressed by his retention.  He is silly and talks in silly voices.  He is potty trained.  He can put his big boy unders back on… in a way that resembles a miniskirt (both legs in one whole.)  He is VERY into helping—especially dad—with tools.  He plays with 2% of his toys and I’ve started putting the others away.  He has the memory of an elephant.  He remembers everything.  He loves his birthday.  He likes for me to carry him.  He can point out a starbucks from a mile away… and target.  My kind of kid.  He gets proud of himself for doing things which is the cutest thing.  I love celebrating him.  He has the BEST laugh.  He makes up songs.  Another evidence he’s mine. 

I tell him every night that I love him to the moon and back.  I love him more than anyyyyyyyyyything in the world.  

And I do. 

8 days a week.

I luh-uh-uh-uh-uhv you. 8 days. I have 8 days of work left and then begins my 12 week vacation.

You know where I sleep in, and clean, and relax, and eat bon bons like all stay at home moms.

Holy shit.

8 days before I am at home and sleeping in 45 minute intervals while our house goes down the crapper (good-bye nesting), and I make my “goal” to shower and brush my teeth once a day, and to not smell like breast milk.

So I won’t lie that I see that date on the calendar and think… wow. I will be able to breathe come Monday, March 11 when G goes to school and I go get felt up for my last scheduled appointment. Yah, I only have 2 of those left. And then the rest of the week as I sit around and wait on Baby to arrive.

But I know it won’t happen like that. I am kind of hoping that I will have time to put together that he IS arriving… like soon. Like, I should probably figure out what would happen if I went into labor in the middle of the night and who would stay with G? I mean, probably, right? It’s time for that?

I should maybe find that newborn headrest for the car seat (no clue where that is.) I should probably stop wearing the clothes I’ve put into my hospital bag. I think that defeats the purpose of the hospital bag. I should maybe put my make up in a bag? Or something?

And what do you do if your water breaks at home or the office? Who cleans that up? Plaguing. My. Mind. Kind of. To be honest, I have like zero ability to understand that this is REALLY HAPPENING.   Did anyone else feel this with #2? I bought some wipes the other day. And I’ve put in a little organizer in our room. G and I went and picked out a new lovie for baby Meyer as a present from Griffin. Um, now what?

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Mom of the year. My child is gifted.

My sister constantly tells me how my child is gifted.  He's so smart.   He's going to be a genius.

Conversation last night on the phone--

Me:  Griffin wants to know where saturn is.  He says maybe it's up in the sky.

Courtney:  He's really gifted.  My kid doesn't know anything about Saturn.

Me:  Yah... it was on Little Einstein's.  Elliott is also super smarty.  Griffin has also added "All the single ladies" to his singing.

Courtney:  Elliott doesn't know anything about Saturn or tons of dinosaur names.

Me:  Yah... that's from watching dinosaur train.  Basically, everything he says that you think is smart he's learned from TV and learned from Beyonce.  You need to let your kids watch more tv.

Courtney: ... and listen to Beyonce.

And that's when I knew I had a parenting win.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Date night.

Ben's bday was at the end of Jan.  Soooooooo super delayed bday dinner this past weekend at the Salty Sow.  Glammy and Poppy were in town so we headed out.  Adult style.  I even ordered a glass of wine.  Out.  With this big ol' belly.  I think they were too scared to say no.

It was delish.  mostly, the banana's foster beignets (that tasted kind of like a funnel cake) were to die for.  Then sent me over my food coma edge.  Note to self... stop when full.  Also, duckfat fries aren't as awesome as they sound.  Kind of just... fries.

designated driver.

a LOT of weeks.  36.5 I think?

All star wife even went went a long for a drink at a super hipster bar where people were smoking for this guy.  Wait... wasn't this about me?  


I'm like martha up in this bitch.  I can say that because my 2 year old is asleep and my not yet born monsterfaced child (please see image below) has yet to be born.  Though babycenter tells me he hears me and pee's inside of me.  Good tips.  Thanks BC.

Anyway, I had seen this little lovely item on etsy.  If I had a girl.  I would have it.  With the yellow.  Probs not the pink.  Who knows though.

I think it's precious.

I also had some left over canvases from making Meyer's name sign (PS.  also, still a boy as visible via his nuts today.)

I made it to hobby lobby.  bought some fabric.  and made some etsy inspired decorations for our bathroom.  Because, I mean... after almost 6 years of living here I've decided to decorate.

step 1.  Have husband staple gun fabric onto canvas.
step 2.  Cut strips of fabric and fold in halfsies.
step 3.  Run a needle and thread through the fabric and gather it.
step 4.  Hot glue pieces in place (fabric glue wasn't work.)
step 5.  Cuss because you burn yourself 245x.
step 6.  Do it again only make the second ring bigger.
step 7.  Repeat step 5.
step 8.  Go through craft drawer and find random pearl beads and add them.
step 9.  Repeat step 5.
step 10.  suck it etsy.  (kidding.  I still love you. Locavore for life.  Support local businesses and things.)

Now... monster baby.  they ASSURED ME that he is not hideous and his eyes don't look like that and he is probably just smushed into my placenta.  Tbd, friends.  tbd.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013


The big boy bed.

Long time in the making.  It's navy.  It has rocket ship sheets (with saturn.)  It makes my big boy feel like a big boy.  And clearly I documented.  Via pictures of the monitor.  Going in after he was asleep.  Before he was asleep.

Night one... we had a minor hiccup in that he fell out of the bed at 5 am.  Oopsies.  Sorry bout that, baby.  He is taking long naps.  He doesn't throw a fit when I leave.  He doesn't pretend to need to potty every 3 seconds.  Y'all... who KNEW.

And yes.  Those are Christmas jams.  further proof of amazeballs parenting.

I really need to start posting more regularly.  because I am lame-o by 9 pm.  I assume it will only get better when I add a 2nd.

Suck it.

Suck it, sickness.

We are soooooooooooooooooooo over you.  Like we are never ever ever getting back together.  Unless G starts vomiting (or burping as he calls it) or running a high fever again in like a day.  Which would be awesome.

Valentine's 2013 of course created a high fever and leaving early and strep throat.  Which is probably what the burping was.  Thank goodness I'm nesting and a sanitizing obsesser.  Ben and I have made it out.  So far.

He sure is sweet, though.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Happy Valentine's Day 2013

Potty talk.

The potty.

We are trained.

I know I complained about it in the beginning and I was all “diapers for life” (still not against it) but that was in the beginning. When he literally went to the potty 345x in 2 minutes. Every. 2. Minutes. Which is fine and all… except it’s not. And it’s kind of annoying. Especially if you’re out. And are “beast mode” size (that’s for you, Sarah) and have to race to the front of target along with the fear that your child will touch the ground or the icky in stall trashcan (all has been done) and worrying that someone is going to take your clearance rack finds.

I mean, sheer panic, people.  Sheer panic until your child looks at you with a big smile and says, "You're so proud of me, mommy???"  And I say yes.  Then he says, "Now I get a treat!"

So 2013 was our year. We started on Jan 1. He had probably 5 accidents that day as we sat inside playing trains in our big boy unders. The next day, maybe 2, and then now it’s basically none. (I say basically, because I’m being honest. It’s occasionally some.) He can also hold it longer—which saves me 1% of sanity. Unless he’s bored and then it’s something to say. Along with “doing it all himself”—“no, I do it.” (fit when he doesn’t get to do it-aka get massive amounts of soap all by himself.)

We still do “night time unders” (pull ups) but that is because I’m lazy and get as much sleep as possible. He still wakes up in the night occasionally and will scream that he needs to potty. But mostly, I go to bed and pray that he wets himself with reckless abandon.

*note. This post does NOT include the one week setback we had after visiting the grandparents for the weekend. It was tied to him coming back a monster. NEVER AGAIN.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

scalping. being the devil.

Worst.  Haircut.  Ever.

Either he is really really pissed about it and that makes him the devil 
When he is sick he gets coddled and is allowed to sleep in our bed and then never wants to ever leave it again and then becomes the screaming devil.


What we call "the look" 
Blue Steel.
Blue Steel perfection.

Happy Birthday.

I met the Dr. Ben Black on his 17th birthday.  He wore a LL bean farm coat that was green with a brown courdaroy collar.  His hair parted to the side in a haircut I like to call "the comb over."  This makes him irrationally angry.  I thought he was pretty fabulous and easily embarrassed.  I had no shame and am always in for a laugh.  Yes, this was during the overall phase.  I believe the pair that weekend were kacki and paired with a plaid men's button up shirt from the gap.  Hawwwwwwwwwwwwwt.

I had to go out of town on Ben's bday this year, but before that we had ourselves a little morning time celebration complete with candles, donuts, and a happy bday sign.  I also left some cake balls for G and B to have that evening.  One G said, "he'd just hold" and refused to give it back.  I hear they were delicious.

So here's one for your Benjamin Andrew.  Benihana.  HusBen.  Daddy.

Becoming a mom--not in my words

I didn't write this.

I shouldn't have read it at work.

It's moving.  It's honest.  It's all about being a mama.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013


So before my freezer reverts to a milk emporium (I mean, fingers crossed) I want to actually do some make ahead meals this time.

Soooooooo what are your favorites?  How do you freeze them?  Please send your recipes my way.  Consider it your gift to me.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

huge. huge and slow.

So I got my fitpregnancy email update today in which it states the below

"The volume of your uterus is five hundred to one thousand times larger than before you got pregnant, so it's safe to say you're feeling huge and slow."

Touche, fit pregnancy.  Touche. 

I don't actually feel that huge--until I try to put on my elastic pants that have clearly shrunk after my months of wearing them to the size of normal pants.  I mean, when did they get so small?  Why do I carry my children in my ass region?  I also feel huge when I wear a bra for more than 3 hours.  I mentioned this to the Dr.B and he said, "but aren't they just going to get bigger."  I also tend to feel huge when I lower myself to the ground to play with G$.  Then maybe huger and slower and a little bit more whale like when I try to stand up without my uterus falling out.  I look kind of like Will Ferrell in Old School when he gets shot with the tranquilizer only with less euphoria.  I also feel kind of huge and slow when I put on Dr. B's pj pants and think they must have also shrunk.  Wtf, people.  Make good clothes that will last a lifetime (9 months.)

I did have a dream last night where I started running (in normal clothes--fyi, those people confuse me) when I ran into a friend out on the trail.  And I was instantly in shape and awesome.  That's exactly what it feels like after giving birth to a whale and then "re-starting to work out."  Only less like that and more like someone is dangling air out in front of me and I cannot reach it.  Oh, and throw in some mom guilt for leaving the house and your babies and your husband behind and bringing leaky boobs.

All of that to say that I have my final FOUR appointments scheduled.  Four.  The final four.  I feel like people should start making brackets and shiz. 

I feel like I should maybe buy some diapers and some pads with wings?  Or something...

**also note I want this baby to stay in.  Not complaining.  Acutally love it.  Sleep way better with him inside.