uggggggggggggggggggggh

I. feel. horrible.

Next time I want to eat all my meals 'on the run' remind me that I have a weak stomach. Please.

Today I injested two cups of coffee, a bacon egg and cheese biscuit, hash brown and iced coffee from McHell, followed by a large cone of cinnamon almonds and a diet coke from a fair. To top it off? Baked chocolate chip cookies. And ate some batter.

Pass the pepto, dudes.

I can't believe Deuce is still standing. He ate almost a whole bag of cheddar goldfish, some apple juice and grapes for the whole day. I guess one day of him not getting his 5 fruits and veggies won't kill him, but I'm a goner.

Amusement Park Prep

Today is DeuceDad's company picnic at Seabreeze! Seabreeze is a small local amusement park, and it's lots of fun. It's definitely wimpy compared to Six Flags or Busch Gardens, but it's close and inexpensive and fun.

I have a few things I'm not sure about, so tomorrow I'll hopefully have some 'how to survive an amusement park with a 2 year old in diapers' tips. My main concerns are my camera (would LOVE to bring the big boy but afraid it will get wet or stolen), and the water slides (are swim diapers allowed? are we going to get E coli?). We brought Deuce last year, but didn't do the water park, and someone stood with the stroller the whole time.

I did get some tips from a local moms website, RocMoms.com. I'm sure every area has something similar, and it's a great resource for local info from a parent's perspective. I found RocMoms from the newspaper's website, so look around.

I'm off to pack a bag - wish us luck!

Being Grandma

Catching up on some blog reading, while Deuce is in his just-woke-up stupor, and read this. Kaiser Mommy did a really interesting sort of survey of the life of her grandmother, pointing out the admirable qualities along with some of the troubles that hid in the lives of so many women in that world before women shared their struggles with moms groups, blog readers and therapists.

And of course the comparison to her own life is eerily familiar. Jammies? Check! Kid in front of TV? Check! Dishes that didn't fit into dishwasher last night still on counter? Double Check!

I am still looking at this time at home as an extended weekend. Sure, there are things that need to get done, but soon (how soon?) I'm going to go back to work and not have all this time to enjoy Deuce, my hobbies, and house shoes. I'm living it up!

Should I exercise regularly, and keep a housework schedule? Obsotootly. But I'm not that person regardless of my job, my kid, or anything else. I hope my grandma, Kaiser Mommy's grandma, and all our grandmas felt happy at the end of their day.

Phew, sentimental!

I'm going to go feed my kid maple syrup and then try to keep up. I think that's what Grandma would have done.

Monday Monday

Off to a good start on the Creativity Project. I made a new recipe for dinner - Asian short ribs from Real Simple. I had never cooked that piece of meat before. It was a hit all the way around the table!

Didn't sew yesterday because BFFs normally super neat and clean house was all pushed into her living room for painting. I need to just bite the bullet, mop my kitchen floor, and sew those curtains here.

Two scrapbook pages - and when I ran out of juice I just stopped. Why push it? Got inspiration from Pencil Lines.

And last but not least, Deuce and I did an "in like a lion, out like a lamb" project. I printed out a lion and a lamb, he colored them, and then glued cotton balls to the lamb and yarn to the lion's mane and tail - so cute!

Today's challenge is to think of a creative way to get Deuce to behave at the library while I check out books. Strap him into the stroller? Worth a try.

Slothtastic

My period has turned me into world's brattiest mom this month. All I want to do is eat chocolate and pizza and drink Diet Coke and play with Play Doh. Luckily we're fresh out of chocolate, I'm attempting to cook meals this week, and Deuce loves to play Play Doh.

He also likes to break it up into tiny, sock sticking pieces which I have to get on all fours to clean up and that feels like an injustice to me at the moment. But other than that it's an activity we both enjoy.

I'm on my second kind of pills since June and I'm still a crap-eating sloth for a week once a month. I mean, it's better than the pills that sent me into a homicidal rage (I think the trade name is Divorceterol). But Jesus H. Christ, tell me that every woman in the world spends a week out of every month forcing herself to do the most simple tasks and I will eat my hat. I don't know where my hats are. I will find a hat though, and I will eat it.

I made a deal with myself that if I can do the one load of laundry DeuceDad asked me to do (how dare he politely ask for clean work clothes so he can continue supporting our family?!), I will earn the reward of brainstorming ABC-Along 2009 topics in front of tivoed Law & Order. This is what it takes to accomplish something around here.

I'm saving my energy for when my little sculpter wakes up.

Collective Sigh of Relief

Christmas is over. It was good, no complaints about the last 24 hours. And now may I have my life back, please and thank you.

I was a Grinch this year. Not in the mood, not having fun shopping or preparing. It really all came to a head when I couldn't find "the story." My father and his father before him always read "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" before putting the kids to bed Christmas Eve. It's a cherished part of our holiday tradition. When DeuceDad became a father in 2007, my dad bought him his own book and passed on the tradition. DeuceDad read the story to his wife and infant son last Christmas, our first as a family of our own. It was really a wonderful experience for me, and I hope for DeuceDad too.

Fast forward to December 24, 2008. We moved months ago, and with piles of boxes left to unpack, I can't find the story anywhere. I tore apart the basement. DeuceDad tore apart the garage. I burst into hysterical sobbing. We had gone the better part of a month spending money and fooling around with expensive gifts and I had forgotten one of the few things I truly enjoy - the story. I unwound with Deuce for a few minutes while DeuceDad re-searched the basement, and then it came to me. An odd box of books hidden around behind some shelves in the family room. It was found. I slid down the wall onto the floor and just breathed.

That sums up the month leading up to Christmas Eve dinner. DeuceDad and I cooked together like we haven't since last year, he submitted himself to hours of carols, and everyone had fun.

Christmas morning, Christmas morning part two, afternoon nap time, and Christmas dinner where all really wonderful and we were both able to enjoy watching our parents shower Deuce with affection (and gifts. Oh the gifts.).

Next year I plan to reread this post December 1 to remind myself of what really matters. To be honest, I don't think I can put my finger on what that thing is that really matters. Maybe it's sharing something as simple as a poem read aloud, seeing smiles on faces when they got what they really wanted, biting into food someone made from scratch, sitting back at the end of it all and feeling glad it's over. There it is - feeling glad it's over. Because as important as holiday traditions are, I think the everyday is more important. Remind me of that next year.

"Your backyard friends..."

I'm hiding in the office while Deuce watches a little afternoon Backyardigans. I even have music on. Am I concerned that Deuce will get in trouble/hurt? Um, no, that would require him to move away from the television.

I just can't stand the Backyardigans any more. I like them. It's a cute show. Creative. I don't ever want to see it ever again!

Rant over. Thanks.

W is for Winter

Winter has challeged me for finding things to do with Deuce. It's too cold and wet for babies at the playground and story hours at our local libraries are over until after New Year's. We go to the children's museum - that's about all I've got.

Oh, and this box.

The funny thing about my temper

I've noticed a funny thing about my temper today. I raised my voice at Deuce (for hitting my glasses which he knows not to do), dumped him off in his father's lap and, frustrated, flounced down the stairs to the office. In the basically 4 days I was alone with Deuce I didn't even start to lose my temper. I wonder if I am quicker to get frustrated when there is an option - giving him to his father - and more apt to keep my cool if I am the only parent and therefore don't have the luxury of someone else to play with/feed/comfort/disipline him.

This seems counterintuitive. You would think that I would have a shorter fuse when all the responsibility is on me. I don't really get it, but I'm glad that it's that way. Oh and I'm so glad DeuceDad is back from camp...

Boy Am I Glad DeuceDad's Home from Hunting Camp

Toddler "Activities"

Who needs playgroups when you have the pediatrician and the post office? I'm being serious.

I'm waffling on the playgroup thing. On a logistics level, there are so many to choose from I don't know which will be best for us. On an emotional level, I don't know if I want to invest in something and then quit when I go back to work.

We did go to Deuce's first story hour. There was only one other child, but the librarian was great! She knew all the words to Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes, and she read this adorable If You're Happy and You Know It book with the little tabs that pull out to make things move.

(As a side note, my internet search turned up this extended version of Head Shoulders Knees and Toes. I think this is overboard.)

So today's enrichment activities? The pediatrician for the nagging cough (I am so paranoid about pneumonia), and the post office to mail a birthday gift (no, you're not getting a pic Carly!) All a toddler's fav's. Oh well, he can tell his therapist in 20 years.

Eats Shoots and Leaves

From an email sent to DeuceDad today:

Go ahead and eat/feed Deuce

His response:

I am not going to eat Deuce.  You are sick.

Watch your grammar, people!

Just when I was starting to shake the mommy-guilt...

I am my harshest critic, on motherhood and all other subjects upon which a human can be judged. But even I was beginning to give myself credit for being a pretty darn good mom lately.

We found a new pediatrician and Deuce loves her. I applied sunblock every time he went in the pool. He has not fallen off the stairs despite his deep love of climbing up and then turning around to make sure someone is watching him. All success stories in my book.

So last night DeuceDad and I decided to go to Home Depot and start actually looking at the prices for materials for some of the projects we want to do to the new house. I met them after work in the parking lot, grabbed Deuce out of the car, gave him kisses, started walking to the store...

... and stepped on a rock, twisted my ankle and DROPPED HIM.

DeuceDad grabbed him and started comforting him and inspecting for injury. I sat on the ground saying "is he okay is he okay" (very helpful). Strangers ran over, and one woman tried to take Deuce away from his dad because I had not identified him as the father (brilliant on my part). Drama.

Miraculously, Deuce has a scrape on his one side. And that's it. I don't know how it's possible. My dad thinks I managed to sort of set him down hard on the ground as opposed to dropping him. I have a sprained ankle (which I've done 50 times before) and scrapes on both knees and hands.

And a heavy heart.

I dropped my baby.

But he is okay, and I'll be more careful where I step from now on and no harm was done. But I feel guilty all the same. I mean, shouldn't have broken bones and internal bleeding at the expense of cushioning his fall and having him laugh it off? This in unrealistic because my leg twisted out from under me and I fell to the ground. Oh, and he didn't really get hurt. I'm just saying that the guilt is back en force.

I'll have to make it up to him somehow. Like with candy and toys.

Wait, now that's being a bad mom.

Enough to gag a maggot

I'm supa dupa stressed about everything that has to happen in the next few days, so I'm sharing a funny/horrifying anecdote instead of real news.

Last night we ate a celebratory surf & turf dinner w/ Deuce's favorite veg asparagus (he has very refined baby tastes). He ate some little pieces of ribeye and lots of asparagus and fun was had by all.

This morning we're sharing a banana, enjoying ourselves, when the angry red forehead triangle appears. A diaper is being filled. No surprise being that he's a baby. The surprise came when I pulled his pants off, only to be greeted by an enormous blow out of asparagus poop. And now that he won't lay still for diaper changes, he managed to cover himself in it in about 4.6 seconds. We can handle this - knock off the big chunks and then into the tub.

So what's the scarring part? Well, I read somewhere you shouldn't act grossed out every time you change a diaper b/c you can give your kid a complex about their "diaper area" being filthy, which will eventually lead to them becoming a serial killer. I usually do a pretty good job. But this one made me GAG. And hoot. And holler. And gag again. Poor kid's going to end up dismembering me and burying me in the basement some day, and I'll have no one to blame but myself.

A Quote

"Infancy conforms to nobody; all conform to it."
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson

According to the blog...

... Things White People Like, I am very white. This concerns me.

Yes, I know the blog is tongue in cheek, offensive even. But seriously, I like most of that stuff.

I would like Deuce to be exposed to lots of people, places and things, and not just white people, places and things.

And worry about shit like this is proof positive I need to go back to work ASAP.