Family Jewels

For the past few weeks I've been walking that very sharp edge of reason, a hair's breadth away from total nervous breakdown. In that spirit, I thought to myself "you know what would be the icing on this crazy cake? A bathroom remodel!" And so, I started the massively daunting task of fixing up our matchbox-sized master bathroom. I've spackled, I've sanded, I've painted, I've prepped, and I've picked out new light fixtures and a new faucet.

Of course, no home improvement project is complete without a trip to the Home Depot. And, since we're throwing caution and sanity to the wind, it seemed like a great idea to go in the middle of the week with both boys in tow. Which I did. And survived to relay the tale. Not to mention share another reason to love Jack.

Our home depot has shopping carts that look like race cars, complete with upper-deck seating for a toddler that includes dual steering wheels. This is like catnip for Jack, who will usually sit for at least a whole 10 minutes before beginning the arduous process of melting down entirely. On this particular day, he lasted for a whole 15 minutes before deciding he needed to try to climb down into the shopping basket section of the cart.

Don't ask me why he wasn't buckled in - if you have to ask, you don't have a two year old. (the belt lasted about 2 minutes, before he was possessed of demons who would not be chained by such a torture device.) I was busy discussing the relative merits of mold-resistant paint for the bathroom with the twenty-something "paint expert" when Jack decided it would be more fun to ride in the basket section of the cart.

The problem with his brilliant idea was that that basket section was a full 8 inches lower than the upper section he was climbing from, so as he stepped down into the basket with one foot he went considerably further down than he was expecting, thereby giving himself his very first experience with the crushing of his man parts.

There were tears and screams as his two little hands desperately covered his injured bits. I held him and rocked him and did my best to comfort him while the paint guy winced sympathetically at his plight. Bless his heart, the guy disappeared for a moment and reappeared with a Mickey Mouse sticker. He handed it to Jack and said "here you go, buddy. Maybe this will make you feel better."

Jack happily took his prize, peeled the paper backing off, and very gently and deliberately placed it directly on his injured crotch.

I covered my face while I laughed until I was pretty sure I might puke. Paint Guy made his strategic retreat. And, as we beat feet for the checkout line, Jack happily pointed out his Mickey Mouse crotch to anyone he could make eye contact with.

Kids teach you humility, for certain. Of course, I'll get my revenge when he starts bringing the girlfriends home. I only wish I'd had the presence of mind to get photographic evidence. I'm evil like that.

Miles to go....

My good friend and convenient neighbor just gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. They named him Miles. Here he is.

DISCLAIMER: May Cause Mysterious Failure of Your Birth Control


Beyond the fact that I feel like I just got a new nephew, I am ecstatic to finally have someone else in a very special club with me. That would be the "I had a 10 pound baby club."

Okay, so technically Miles was 9 lbs 14 ounces, but after a woman has endured labor and delivery (via the natural exit route) of a baby that size, you give her the 2 extra ounces and damn well call it a 10. She earned it. (For the record, Jack was also an eleventh-hour "gimme", since he weighed in at 9 pounds 15.6 ounces. We called it a 10. I dare you to argue.)

I realized this week that we have officially entered the time of life when it is all about the babies. We got married before any of our friends, got pregnant before any of them, and so for a long while we were somewhat alone on this island. We coped - we made friends with more people a little older than ourselves who were in the same family groove with us. Sometime in the last year, though, people started catching up. And now we have no less than 8 friends and family who have either recently given birth or are now pregnant.

Babies! They're the new black.

Reasons to Love My Husband.

- Uses words like "nefarious" and "esoteric" in casual conversation.

- Watches "Gray's Anatomy" with me even though I know he'd rather be scraping his eyeballs out of their sockets with a rusty pocket knife.

- Gets choked up when someone we know announces a pregnancy

- After all he knows about me and my idiosyncracies, he still believes I'm extraordinary in a good way. What more could I ask for??

Secret That I Cannot Explain...

I just discovered my newest obsession. It's a website calledPostSecret. The basic premise is that you design your own original postcard. Your design must incorporate the sharing of a secret - one you have never shared with anyone. The card is mailed anonymously to the site and, voila, you have shared your deepest darkest truth with the world in the complete safety of anonymity.

I'm totally hooked on this idea. I am soooo submitting at least one card.

In the Mood....

Yesterday I got my very first mood ring. It cost just over three dollars at the country store at Frying Pan Park. I went with the boys and my sister-in-law and her 4 kids - we had an outdoor picnic, looked at all the animals, went on a tractor ride, played on the playground, and bought "cows tail" candy and old-fashioned hard candy.

Spring has officially arrived.

I even managed to get some sun on my all-too-pasty face. Not too much, mind you, and only on my face and forearms - I stay covered, baby. Okay, so not really to protect from sun as much as to cover my body until I whip it back into shape, but hey... whatever works, right?..

So, yeah. Mood ring. Yeah, so I'm not thirteen years old, and I don't have patchuli incense in my room or a lava lamp.. but still. Mood ring. It Rocks.

Deep Thoughts.

You know, it's damn near impossible to find a card to appropriately express to a close friend, with love and sincerity, the sentiment "Congratulations On Your Vasectomy!"

Hello, I Have Issues.

Yes, I know it comes as something of a shock. (*cough*)

I'm not entirely ready to discuss everything that's going on right now - I'll just say I know I have been sadly slacking in posting of late, and I promise I will get better. I mean that in several ways. I'll explain later.

In the mean time, to feed the teeming dozens who hunger ravenously for brand-spanking-new details of my sordid life of scandal... here are some tidbits for a Tuesday...

Toby napped in his crib today. For 3 hours. This marks his longest daytime nap (in or out of the crib, but especially in) since... well, since he came home from the hospital.

I bought Jack a big huge cool dragon kite at Costco on Sunday, which we attempted to fly yesterday. We live in a neighborhood called "Crosswinds". Yesterday was, of course, the first day since we MOVED here that there was not a hint of wind. But I ran around and let the kite drag in the air behind me so Jack could chase it, anyway, because I had promised we would fly the kite. See, a Mommy of my word, indeed. It was pure joy to watch him, red and out of breath with running and laughing.

I filed our taxes today, and the healthy little refund that Uncle Sam owes us will go a long way to paying down our balance on the credit card. Team Goal: Get that bad boy paid off by the end of the summer so we can start hoarding cash in our savings account Scrooge McDuck style and one day afford that mini-van. And a new tattoo.

And, just because I can:



Yeah, if I didn't know better, I'd think we created them in a lab, too.

The Birthday Princess.

Totally cheating and back-posting this. Maybe nobody will see it.... heh.

Boo Bands

The last week or two has gone by in a blur. While T was in California we had to learn to cope without him, and once he came back there was the inevitable adjustment to re-including him in our daily lives. Along with that was the not unexpected friction which, thank goodness, we finally appear to have made it through. Things are settling back into a comfortable routine of sorts.

This is, of course, both good and bad. When things are comfortable and routine, I get a sense of accomplishment at how smoothly life can run. On the other hand, I also have ample time to consider just how crazy I actually am. In my defense, though, lately it seems everyone else in the world is crazy, too.

But I digress. Toby had his first rice cereal tonight - marking his first culinary adventure beyond breastmilk.

Jack has become obsessed with bandaids, which he calls "Boo Bands" (I suppose because Bandaids cover boo-boos?) and almost every day finds an "owie" (whether real or imaginary) and demands it be covered with a "boo band". Somewhere in the back of my head, I remember a time when bandaids covered a multitude of ills. There are a lot of times, recently, when I wish things could still be so simple - that a piece of plastic and gauze could mend all of wounds life can inflict. And though I find it totally inconvenient at times (it's difficult to argue with a 2 year old, even if you ARE certain that he originally asked that that bandage go on the OTHER finger five minutes ago) I also find it incredibly charming.

I finally decided that things are in such a bizarre state it is only appropos that we should mark this time with professional photography. In that vein, we now have an appointment with JC Penney portrait studio this weekend.

I am still dealing with the reverberations of this momentous decision. It will take me months to cope with the involuntary self-loathing spawned when I immediately started planning perfectly color coordinated outfits for all of us to wear. Seriously - I even bought the boys matching shirts. I really ought to be flogged in the town square and forced to watch reruns of The Tony Danza Show until my eyes fall out.

Oh, and in just over an hour I will officially be one year closer to 30. Not that there's anything wrong with that.