BBB

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.

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.

scalping. being the devil.

Worst.  Haircut.  Ever.

Either he is really really pissed about it and that makes him the devil 

OR

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.

TBD.

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.