Clean, Baby, Clean

I've decided to embrace my child's new obsession with the Swiffer.

At first, I hid this particular cleaning tool, because we couldn't get within a 10 foot radius without T going insane-crazy wanting to play with it. All the time.

But then I decided, this little obsession really has potential.

So I bought Swiffer pads in bulk, keep the Swiffer tucked next to the cabinet in the kitchen, and let the little guy go nuts.

My house might just end up clean after all.

It's a hard knock life, apparently.

To cut or not to cut...

Somebody's looking a little shaggy, eh?  And yet, I can't bring myself to cut her hair.  I know this is totally ridiculous, but when she agrees to wear a barrette it's passable and so I keep putting it off.  In addition, my mother is strangely obsessed with Audrey's hair and keeps threatening me with unknown consequences if I cut it. 

I guess it's time to try pigtails or something.  Although baby hair is so fine and wispy I don't see it holding up well in an elastic.  Nor do I see her sitting peacefully on the floor while I attempt said hairdo.  And so that is why she "needed" (yes hub, needed) several of those cute Gymboree hair curlies on Saturday.  And those were so cute that then she sort of "needed" a top and capris to match...right?  And this is why you should not set foot in children's clothing stores.

Speaking of shopping though, I FINALLY ventured to the "good" mall here in Dallas over the weekend.  Sad that it took me 10 months to get there but yes, I drove on 2 highways with 3 different names each all by myself without getting lost because I'm 32 years old.  And for those of you (Chris) laughing at that, okay, I get it, but a) we don't have GPS and b) my stellar sense of direction always ends me up in the ghetto so I have reason to be wary.  So yes, this is something of an accomplishment.

Now who wants to lend me Hunger Games book #3 so I can finish the series?  I'm number 30 on the waiting list at the library.  Apparently all 29 other library members want to read this one freaking book too.  Not cool.

Jammies Shenanigans #2

You know you are first-time parents when both your Hubs and you **freak out** in the middle of the night because your kiddo went to bed for the first time in button-up two-piece jammies and you are both convinced that said PJs will make your child confused and hurt himself.*  I know, crazy. And T wasn’t as concerned with this BIG CHANGE in his life as his parents were. Instead, he was very much enamored with the “Mel-mo” ‘s on his sleeves and legs as he went to bed.

Like I’ve established every time T cries at night….we’re surprised, because he usually doesn’t cry at night.** So last night, as you can probably guess how the story unfolds, he cried in his sleep. Hence the parental freak out. We looked on the monitor and it appeared through night vision that his jammies came off. Not sure how we thought it was possible for him to get off the pants AND buttoned-up top while sleeping, but we did. Blame it on the 3am brain waves. Crazy shiz goes through your head when you’re awake that many hours past bedtime. So we were terrified he’d strangle himself with his PJ bottoms. I say “we” because it wasn’t just me being neurotic – Hubs was equally worried about the disappearing PJs and how they were bound to hurt our child. Lovely middle-of-the-night thoughts, right? So we decide that I should sneak into T’s room and steal the jammies that absolutely must be wrapped his poor little nekkid neck from the crib. Heart-pounding, worried I’m going to wake him up and/or resuscitate him, I open the door…only to find him sleeping peacefully, fully clothed in his jammies. Yes, first-time worry warts and crazy people we most certainly are.  

Someone loves his two-piece "Mel-mo" jammies.

*Side story – There is quite a bit of hesitation on my part to put the little guy into regular grown-up PJs, as I talked about here. Yes, the whole exercise is a teardrop inducer for me. Can’t help it. Although I admit, 5 new footed jammies are on the way to my doorstep thanks to the online searching of a friend (do my friends rock or what? She saw my hardship…and she delivered.)

**Yes, I do understand that the more events I write about where T is crying at night, the more of a liar I make of myself. But really, he’s usually a pretty solid night sleeper. Cries are surprising and not typically the norm.

Hello Doctor, It's me. Again.

You know it’s not a good thing when you hear “I can actually spell your last name without looking” from your pediatrician’s receptionist. Especially when you have my last name…it’s a tricky one.

Calling the nurse too much? Perhaps. Crazy mommy? Possibly. Ready for T to be done with the sickies? Definitely.

Last week, T’s ongoing perpetual “allergy” cough turned into an insane and yes, slightly scary-sounding can’t-catch-breath-dog-bark cough and puke episode. Diagnosis? Apparently the sinus infection that plagued us for the entire month of February and part of March before disappearing actually never went away and somehow settled in T’s chest, thickened and created the God-awful cough issue. More antibiotics. The good thing is you’d never know he was sick – it didn’t slow him down in the least.

That is, til yesterday, when he turned into a crankpot with a 102 fever out of nowhere. Which is great timing, since the Hubs has business trips up the wazoo this week followed by a fishing trip with his buddies that only comes around once a year. So I’m single-parenting it this week with a grump. And let me tell you, That boy is a fussypants with a capital F when he doesn’t feel good. His bad-patient behavior makes me feel a little sorry for what his future wife has in store for herself one day and certainly made me justify eating peanut butter M&Ms and the last of the Cadbury Mini Eggs at 8am. Energy food. So diagnosis #2? Apparently kiddos on antibiotics can get fevers (and rashes, FYI) for no other reason other than they are on antibiotics and may have previously undiscovered yuckiness working its way out of their bodies. (That is the official medical description, of course.) Who knew?

Definitely not me, as I made call #1056 to the doctor’s office today with my standard line, “Uh….So….Not sure what’s going on here…”

Hope that the random yuckiness makes its way out of T sooner rather than later so that I don’t completely pity-consume the pantry out of all the chocolate and wine we own. (And I do kinda miss those smiles he usually shares with me too.)

The Hunt for Jammies

I can’t believe I’m the only parent of a toddler that still wants to dress her child in footed jammies for sleep. Yes, in theory, maybe it's time to start dressing him in big boy PJs. But seeing T run all around in a dinosaur-themed one-piece with a big ole diaper butt around back is just the picture of innocence that makes my heart melt. So why in the world are they so darned hard to find?

I swear, kindergarten-sized footed jammies are easier to come by than ones for my not quite 16 month old. What’s up with that? Send me in the right direction people, I’m really at a loss here. I beg you, tell me where I can find them! My heart is starting to break a little as I realize that I may need to start dressing T in GASP! actual 2-piece pajamas with snaps and buttons and stuff.

Ok, that’s it. My brain is so consumed by the lack of footed jammies in T’s drawer that I have no other thoughts at the moment.

Carry on with your evenings.

Bobbi Brown Friends & Family

Attention Bobbi Brown fans!  The Friends & Family sale starts today and runs through Wednesday.  20% off everything online and in stores.  And free shipping on orders over $65.  I'm going to try and behave myself, sit on my hands, and not order anything.  Wish me luck :)

Disclaimer

So I've been slacking on the blog posts this week - oops.  And I feel the need to throw out a little disclaimer about the dog collar in last's week post...in case anyone is thinking of calling CPS on me, we don't MAKE Audrey wear the dog collar.  Just like we don't make her throw her food on the floor first and then eat it, or crawl around instead of walking.  She does these things on her own, people.  Because she is obsessed with dogs.  And really, what can I do about it?  It's not in Dr. Sears' parenting handbooks, it's not something you really bring up in playgroup, unless you are looking to get permanently uninvited.  So I'm letting it go, trying to remember to remove the dog collar before we leave the house, and hoping she grows out of this fascination before we reach pooping-and-peeing-in-the-grass stage. 

I'm not in the best mood tonight because my inner fat child is screaming for sugar.  Remember a few weeks back how I've been working out like crazy for the past 4 months with the end result of being 5 pounds heavier with painted-on jeans?  Yeah, *dislike.*  To remedy this I decided to start "carb cycling" which means you alternate eating carbs one day and then not the next, to trick your body into burning more fat.  It's not really so much a fad diet as a "lifestyle change."  Week one was fine and I did pretty well but this week SUCKS.  I fell off the wagon when my grandmother sent Audrey an entire Easter basket worth of candy, most of which she couldn't eat.  I dutifully threw a lot in the trash and stuffed the hub as full as I could but still succumbed to the chocolate bunny, just like that idiot in the Truvia commercial does (BTW, does anyone think the girl who sings in those commercials sounds good?  I cringe every time one comes on.)  Now my body seems to remember what sugar/chocolate/simple white carbs taste like and will not let me rest until it gets more, more, more!  To help motivate me to keep cutting the sugar and crappy carbs, I'm reading this book -

  

I don't really go for the self-help type books but it's actually ringing pretty true for me.  The premise is that our generation of women is "spent," meaning we are overly-stressed, under-rested, and basically surviving on sugar and caffeine highs.  It's not really anything earth-shattering, but it's interesting to read what this is doing to our bodies from the inside, as well as get some tips on how to cut the bad stuff out and feel better.  Disclaimer 2: this is just my personal opinion, not endorsing the book or this doc in any way.

Okay, done venting and "whining"- back to the babies part next time.

Joining of the Babysitters Club

Be very impressed.

The hubs and I finally took the plunge. We did it - we hired a non-family babysitter for an afternoon over the weekend so that we could take part in the Hunger Games craze. It's only taken us 15 months to get to this point. Yes, T is our first and only child at this point - and we may both be slightly Type A personalities - how can you tell? But we recently decided that we were approaching ready.

A friend passed along the babysitters list from my alma mater sorority at the local university. We had a list like this when I was in college. Now, I was not on the sorority babysitters list in college because I was afraid to stay home alone, so staying home alone in strangers' homes while caring for their children was just not in the cards for me. Hey, I couldn't help it - I saw When a Stranger Calls at an elementary school sleepover party and was scarred for life. I kid you not. So since I wasn't on my college sorority's babysitters list, I figured that the girls who were on the list I was using had potential for actually wanting to sit.

No drama here. It was the right decision. In fact, it. Was. Awesome. At least, it appeared to be, since T ran to our front door as she was getting into her car to leave, cried and banged on it while trying to open it. Yes, he tried to follow her home. So while it didn't take him long to apparently chose a college girl over his own momma (no, this does not bode well for my future status), I'll still take it as a raving success.

Now, I know I shouldn't be getting too overly excited about this super duper amazing afternoon. After all, she has to like us too. And she still has to agree and want to come back again. But hopefully she does....Is every single weekend asking for too much?

This week, it was MY great idea.

Easter

So Easter is obviously next weekend and I am nowhere near ready.  Audrey is at that age (20 months) where she's now old enough to do things like hunt for eggs, but still doesn't "get" holidays so technically I could take a pass and skip it this year if I wanted...however, I loved Easter when I was little (minus the church-before-egg-and-basket-hunting-part) and I'd like to at least make her a little basket and stash some eggs in our excuse for a backyard. 

The hub sort of threw a wrench in my plans by coming home with 2 dozen plastic eggs, plastic green "grass," and a ghetto basket yesterday from the dollar store.  Not that there is anything wrong with any of that of course - and I'm all about a bargain - but I kind of wanted to make a little project out of this, get a cute basket from Target and dust off my creative brain cells at Hobby Lobby, you know?  But hubs don't understand these things.  They don't care if things are made with lead in China.  They see "Dollar Store" and think there's no reason to ever enter another Target.  But I digress. 

In my fantasy-land, Easter would go something like this:

Audrey would wear this sold-out Baby Gap dress and manage not to spill a single thing on it:

We'd have brunch at a nice restaurant where everyone behaves themselves and I'd get to drink a mimosa (or two, or three...).  Then we'd get an adorable family photo where all of us are looking at the camera, smiling, and no one's sporting a random double-chin.  Audrey's Easter basket would be filled with Kinder Eggs, which are sadly and lamely banned in the U.S. (Seriously Customs and Border Protection???)

In reality we'll probably end up at IHOP, fending off one meltdown after another, and one of us will be wearing the dog's collar: 

Because that's how we roll. #parentsoftheyear