Super.

I think I threw out my keys. Isn't that magical? And I didn't even know it until I was all ready to go, bag all packed, baby in the infant carrier. Water bottle. Snack for later. No keys. They're not in their usual spot. Huh. Two hours and a screaming baby later, still. No keys. OK, backtrack. I came in last night with groceries, the diaper bag and the baby. I dropped it all near the counter (except the baby who I gently placed on the floor, removed from said carrier and placed neatly in swing so I could consume greek salad I bought for dinner because I was ravished.) I threw out the leftover salad, along with the bag it came in, put away the groceries, played with the baby. Then I put the baby to bed, went on a garbage frenzy because it was garbage day in the morning. Kitchen trash. Bathroom trash. Office trash. Kitty litter. Everything garbage went out the door and to the curb. And I think my keys went with it. I can't think of anywhere else they'd be. I scoured every single crevice and surface and bag. Twice. Three times. Fed the baby, did it again. I am still hoping that they'll magically appear somewhere. Frantic. Sweating. I take a break. Call the dealership, which went like this.

Me: Hi! I was wondering. If one happened to lose the only existing key to one's car, how would one go about replacing it? Hypothetically.

Service guy (obnoxious with deep voice): Tow it here and we'll electronically configure the lock (blah blah), but you have to bring proof that it's yours (blah blah words and more words).

Me: Oh. And how much would that cost? Hypothetically.

Service guy: Anywhere from $100 to $300 dollars depending on the lock.

Me: Crap.

Straps

For at least the first year of a baby's life, his world consists of straps. Straps on the swing, on the bouncy seat, on the high chair, on the infant carrier, on the stroller. By far, the grossest of these straps, I've come to find, are the ones on the thingys that you strap the infant carrier into in a restaurant. It could be one of those new handy high chairs that the top flips open to accommodate the seat, or the nifty sling. Cracker Barrel has a cool board that fits across a chair. But no matter where you are, the strap always looks like it's covered in a green filmy pond scum. And I guess the reason why my attention has recently turned toward straps is because Poops loves to eat them. They used to go ignored. But now, he finds them and lunges toward them ferociously and that's mostly okay if it's our own straps, because I keep them pretty clean. And besides, it's his own pond scum, not the pond scum of all the babies in the world. So I've come to notice straps after a series of straps scares in our life over the span of just a day. The other day, we sat down at a restaurant and put his infant carrier in one of those fun high chairs where the chair flips back and you put the strap across the front of the infant carrier real tight. I turned for literally just a second because that's all it takes and there it is, the pond scum strap is in his mouth and I'm gagging as I'm freaking out trying to get it away from him. EW. Then the next day, we're at another restaurant and he's just about gets his mouth on the strap from the sling that his infant carrier is in. But just before he does, I swoop in like the flying guy from Heroes, or the one who suspends time, and grab it first. Victory. Then, just a mere two hours later, I hear this wet gagging sound, and there he is with the strap from the stroller jammed into his mouth. I don't get it with the straps. I guess it's probably because he's in the phase of putting everything in his mouth, which I've found actually is a phase that lasts through adulthood, because a couple months ago, my husband picked up this little crumb or piece of lint and asked me what it was, and before we both knew it, he put it in his mouth. Gross.

Mom Jeans

I tried on a pair of "Mom Jeans" the other day. By accident. If you've read some of my prior posts, you'll know I'm not the skinny, young chap I used to be before Poops came along and I'm working feverishly to change that. So every once in a while, even if the scale has moved only one tick, I grab a billion pairs of Levis and try them on, just to see if maybe I've dropped a size even though it didn't really show up on the scale. You know, maybe I've lost inches. By the way, I love Levis because they fit me really well as a short person. So that's what I did the other day. I picked out 5 or 6 pairs of jeans in "Boot Cut" "Short", all in size huge, but not in size huger, because remember I'm convinced I've dropped down to just a size huge. So there I am, in the fitting room, with all these jeans, trying one at a time. It's always so darn hot in there. So now I'm sweating too. And I notice in one particular pair, they're really, really high above my waist. And I feel funny and I'm looking in the mirror with my head sideways, thinking, "Why are these so high???" They were wayyyyy under my shirt, it was like pregnancy-jeans but no stretchy material, just all jean. Then I look at the tag, which says "sits at waist" but really what they mean is "sits right below your boobs". And I realize in horror, I'm wearing "Mom Jeans." And there was something about that moment, that made my worlds collide, like I was somehow destined to try those jeans on because of the phase of life I now am in. Like the world of "Mom Jeans" was somehow reaching out to me, trying to lure me into their world and that next I was going to get the "new mom" haircut that you don't have to blowdry and stop caring about wearing cute shoes. Was this where I was headed? Was the world of housecoats next for me? I shuddered and took them off immediately in violent protest. Then I looked at the other jeans that I grabbed and breathed a sigh of relief when I read "sits below waist" on them. Which, let's face it, really isn't below the waist, it really just means, "sits where you would want it to if you're single or married without kids". Which is the fit I prefer for now. Even with a kid.

Tiny guy in a big ol' swing

The swing looked so much smaller before I put him in it and it swallowed him whole.

Bathmat Awareness

So my parents, husband and I were dropping my sister off at the airport a couple of weeks ago after a short visit. We had our normal rounds of hugs and kisses, then the four of us watched as she turned, waved bye, went into the tram, and the doors closed and she went off into the security unknown. Aidan was howling so we sat down in a group of chairs and fed him. As we got up to head toward the garage my dad remembered he had something for me, a bathmat, and I should drive to where they parked and get it from him. OK. A bathmat?

About a week before that, my dad was on a business trip when he slipped and fell in the shower. Not funny. Ever since then, he's had a headache and something hasn't been quite right with his back. He's gone to the doctors, gotten a CT scan, and nothing seems broken. But he's still in pain. So we're still kind of waiting to find out what's wrong. The funny thing is, the unusual "cause" that came out of it. Bathmats. I pulled around that day, and sure enough, a clear/gray bathmat from Bed, Bath and Beyond with lots of little round bubbles that look like a version of bubble wrap that won't pop. It's actually pretty comfortable. To my surprise, and I'm not a bathmat kind of girl, (mine's actually still in the bag they gave it to me in, sorry!) they're cushiony and puffy and you're not going anywhere while you're standing on that thing, I can tell you that much right now. The other day, we spent the night at my parents' house and I pulled back the shower curtain in the guest bathroom. Sure enough, same bathmat. And I just found out they didn't send my sister a bathmat. But they did send her a gift card to Bed Bath and Beyond, for what else? A bathmat. Just in case. Makes me laugh.

Finally burying the hatchet.

November is Prematurity Awareness Month. So I'm going to finally get this off my chest and I hope that I will be able to move on from here. For most parents, the birth of their child is one of the happiest in their lives. Not for me. My child is a blessing and a miracle and I never thought that I could be so in love with such a tiny little being. But when I think about his birth, I cry. I had a very hard time with it and I still do now, and I hope that now I can accept it for what it was and move on.

Aidan was born at 34 weeks, after my water broke suddenly one night. He was 4 pounds, 11 ounces. I didn't get to hold him after he was born and peer down at those little wondrous eyes and bond with him. Evan didn't get to cut the cord. We didn't have that loving, crying, hugging, wonderful, "Baby Story"-type beautiful new family moment after Aidan was born. I am bitter when I think about that. I can't help it. Aidan didn't sleep in the little baby bed in our hospital room and we didn't have a grandious happy homecoming. Instead, I remember a tiny, limp, purple body being whisked away to the corner of the room where a team of neo-natologists were standing by to help him take his first breaths, and I remember a subtle, but horrified look on my husband's face and I remember being so scared that my insides felt like they were ripping out of me and every time I think of it I cry. Still. That's why I want to set it free into the cosmic cyber void and let it go forever, and move on.

We were in the labor room for about 6 hours after Aidan was wheeled away and we were left to wonder what was happening. American Idol came on. Bucky was voted off. I slept through it. I was finally able to see Aidan for the "real" first time when the nurses wheeled me on the stretcher through the NICU when they were moving me to my new room. I didn't get to hold him yet. He was hooked up to all sorts of wires, and he was small. Very small. He was breathing on his own. His tiny hand grabbed my finger. I cried. They wheeled me away. The next day I finally got to hold him, wires and all. I cried. And for almost two weeks following, I needed permission to see my tiny son. Permission to feed him, permission to change him, permission to hold him. Many times permission was denied because the NICU was too busy. And I would wait. And then the one second that I would leave to go get a cup of coffee or pee, I would miss that small window to see him and I would have to wait some more and it was gut-wrenching. I cried some more. After I was discharged, I couldn't bear to leave the hospital and go home without our baby. So we paid each night for a hospitality room, which was a hospital room that wasn't being used that we could stay in, hoping every day it would be our day to go home. Each hour was the longest. I would pump every couple hours, even through the night, and afterward I would bring the milk to the NICU and sit with Aidan in hopes that I could feed him. I remember feverishly pumping, hoping my milk would come in sooner because I knew that it was the best thing for him and it would help him to get better sooner. Besides visiting him and staying at the hospital, that was the one way I could help him and I was obsessed. I didn't mind waking up in the middle of the night and schlepping down to the NICU in my pajamas. The nurses would tell Evan and I to go home or get some sleep. I didn't listen. I would open up one of the arm-holes to the incubator, put my face near it and whisper, "Hi baby boy, momma's here now, momma loves you" and I would rub his little arm and his body and I swear he would hear me and understand that he was okay and that it would all be okay. He would stop crying when he heard my voice. Sometimes the nurses would allow me to feed him, but not hold him that long because he would have to return to the incubator so he could sit under the lamps that were helping his jaundice. Each time that our time was up I felt like he was being taken away from me. The nurse would take him and he would cry. I could pick his cry out of a whole room full of babies. With my heart heavy and full of guilt, I would return to my room and wait, maybe sleep, until the alarm woke me up at the next 3 hour mark. Evan stayed too, and sometimes we would trade off visits in the middle of the night, but the long hours and no sleep would weigh on him. And even though I was exhausted, I knew I could only keep going by focusing on the task at hand.

I was sad because my little boy had to spend his first days being poked and prodded and examined and naked and alone in a bright, loud, alarm-filled unit with all these strangers and all these needles and all these wires. No mommy. I knew they were taking care of him, but still. I wanted to. That was my job. I was sad because what did I do wrong? I was on bed-rest because of my preeclampsia since 32 weeks, but did I do too much anyway? Why was he born so early? Should I not have been around the paint in the nursery? Did I weigh too much during my pregnancy? Was I too stupidly stressed out about the nursery and our house getting done? Why did this happen? How could I have prevented it? Was this my fault?

I would watch new mothers come into the NICU to see their babies. Some of them were even tinier than Aidan and had been there much longer. Others were full-term and there for observation, and they would get to go home soon after they arrived. I watched the moms come and go and I wished it were me. Us. And when it was my turn, I knew other mothers wished it were them. I hurt for them like I hurt for me and I wish they knew. And we were actually lucky, because it could have been months like other babies and it wasn't, but that doesn't comfort me for some reason and the memories still live heavy in my heart. I am scared for my next pregnancy, whenever that may be and though my doctors believe there's little chance I'll have preeclampsia in the next pregnancy, I am not so confident. I will place my faith in God's hands.

When we got home, it was just the three of us and our house swallowed us up. No one was there, but that was ok. We needed the time to let it sink in, to let us be home, to let us be us. No advice, no instructions, no permission. Just us. It was quiet and it was natural and it was like not a day had passed that we had not been in our home as a family. It was pure heaven.

I have a disconnect in my mind between Aidan then and Aidan now. I can't even picture him as the same baby. That fragile skinny little body with wrinkly skin that was almost transparent has long since caught up in life and he's meeting all the milestones that he's supposed to at his age and we're lucky for that. He's chubby and smiley and the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life and when I look at him I melt all over the floor. I could stare at him all day. And since this is also the month of Thanksgiving, I thank you God, for making my precious little guy healthy and happy and for helping us complete our family. I thank you, family, for standing by my side, especially you, Evan, who was there every difficult step of the way, and Mom, who picked me up when I needed it and even spent the night with me in the hospital when I was inconsolable. And I thank you, friends, for visiting and calling and for sending us so many warm thoughts and beautiful flowers. Goodnight, dear void. May God watch over all the tiny little early babies and their mommies and daddies, and may they soon be able to sleep in their own beds, in their own homes, with unlimited hugs and kisses. No permission needed.

Thursday Thirteen #4

Last week I did 13 things I couldn't live without.. so to make it fair and balanced I figured I'd do:
13 things I'd REALLY LOVE to live WITHOUT.

1. Those gross Lamisil commercials. I've become a letter writer in my old age and I've actually written a strongly worded letter to the makers of Lamisil because of those gross little fungus cartoon men digging underneath a dilapidated nail. They always seem to come on during breakfast. Why, Lamisil, Why???? I gag at the very thought. Of course, they never got back to me, but I can sit here and think that I've stood up for myself and other grossed-out viewers in some small way.
2. Campaign commercials. Sigh. I'm so sick of these things. They have no purpose and there's no way one can possibly find the "truth" in any of them. Thankfully, less than one more week of them. Till next year, anyway.
3. B.O. I guess it would be nice of me to think of this as "natural". Some people even think it's "beautiful". But I can't lie. I don't. I go through great pains to ward off B.O. I use deodorant, perfume, lotions, bath salts, body wash, etc etc. and I wish everyone did.
4. Someone's dog pooping in our yard. Our neighborhood has a lot of dogs, so I can't pinpoint the culprit. But it's happened three times now, and I'm on the lookout!
5. Confrontation. Oy Veh do I stink at this. If I know in advance that I may have a confrontation, I get all stressed out and I get a headache and I get nauseous. And if the confrontation is a surprise, I spend the rest of the day thinking about what I should have said. Confrontation makes me so uncomfortable and my whole day is ruined after one.
6. Presents. Believe it or not, (and husband, this isn't one of those things that I am saying that I don't really mean, I swear!) I don't need any presents. I've got my music (I-Pod), my family, my health, and as Jack said during the hoity toity dinner in Titanic "the air in my lungs." My family and I keep talking about doing something fun and skipping presents altogether for Christmas, and I really think we should follow through on that one year. That would rock. Memories are the best presents.
7. My cell phone. I wish it were acceptable to use only in emergencies. I don't answer the phone when I'm with spending time with other people or when I'm doing something, and it really pisses people off. (Sorry!) But I try to spend as little time on it as possible, even though I don't do as good a job of that as I'd like. But I remember the days when it was actually considered rude to talk on the phone while other people were around and my mom would yell at me, "Get off the phone you have company!" And I remember when you couldn't be reached, except through the answering machine and you could return phone calls when you got a chance. I miss that.
8. Spiders. My all-time biggest nemesis and would you believe we moved into a house that once had what one might call an infestation of them!? We've had the bug man come out and we have since taken our house back from these eight-legged intruders. But I get the heebie jeebies just thinking about them.
9. Scary movies. I stress out a lot in my life just on my own, so purposely inviting stress into my life is something I don't like to do, i.e. watching scary movies. Some people live for them. Like my cousin. I watched Scream and couldn't shower with my eyes closed for a week.
10. Lack of motivation. Wouldn't it be so great if motivation came in big jars that you could buy an endless supply of? I guess some people could theoretically call that "coffee."
11. Wallpaper. Our house was covered in it when we bought it. The doors, the light sockets, the walls, everything. I truly believe that if we ever wanted to get our children back one day when they inherit our home, we will cover it in wallpaper. (MWAHAHAHAHA) (evil laugh.)
12. Unhappy people or negativity. I love having a good time. I love laughing so hard my stomach hurts and I almost pee. My husband reduces me to laughing fits and that's one reason I love him so much. There are just too many things that are "Debbie Downers" in life to be around miserable people too, so I love to surround myself with people who can find "the funny" in life, and take it all in with a smile.
13. Hangovers. They can ruin a perfectly good buzz.

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

Switching Gears

OK, I can hardly stand it. I'm shaking in my elastic-waisted pants. Now that Halloween's over, that means (I'm cheering inside) THANKSGIVING! My favorite holiday EVER! I love the classic Turkey Day line-up and I can't deviate from it or I'll die. One year when I lived in New York City, a bunch of us who didn't go home for Thanksgiving got together and made our own, and we bickered like little kids about what would make it into the menu because we were all stuck on our own traditions. Everyone ended up bringing pie. So we had tons of pie and wine. And a little turkey. Anyway, the traditional line-up in our family is turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, cauliflower with white sauce that we call "gookagollie", mashed potatoes, yams and I have to have a bit of everything on the fork for the perfect bite every time. And it's not the actual items, but the way they're cooked every year that I love. And then there's the pumpkin pie. But one of my favorite things, besides the food of course, is the fact that this year, we have a lot to be thankful for. Like the one more place setting that we'll have at the table this year, for a tiny little guy who'll have ground up turkey and yams and smear it all over his face in his high chair, as part of his first Thanksgiving ever. I'm very excited. Can you tell?

Wordless Wednesday: Pumpkin Funeral

Barely made it to Halloween. Wahh WAhhhhhhhh (Debbie Downer).

Trick or Thumb

Here's SuperPoop trick-or-treating with Grandpa. And flying in for a closer look at the pumpkin. Of course he didn't really know what was going on but he got a kick out of all the kids' costumes. I think we had more fun than he did. Then we ran home so we could hand out candy to our trick-or-treaters. My dad sat in a chair in the front of the house with a plastic bag on his head and scared the crap out of a couple of trick-or-treaters. Then one of them said in his little boy voice, "Don't you know you can have a heart attack with that bag on your head?" matter-of-factly. Funny. I guess that wasn't the best example for kids.


SuperPoop met the Wicked Witch of the West. Wasn't that interested. Thumb still better than candy. Oh, below was one of our favorite costumes of the night. Stewey from Family Guy. Don't worry, it's a fake butt.

STEWEY FROM THE FRONT


STEWEY FROM "BEHIND"

Hogwarts or bust!

It took me some serious wheeling and dealing to get Evan to dress up with me for a Halloween party Saturday night. He doesn't dress up. He's the conservative guy who wears polo shirts and never changes his haircut. So having him put on a black wig, glasses and a cape to transform him into Harry Potter almost made me pee with laughter. I was dying. I was Hermione. We were originally going to a Halloween party one of his co-workers was throwing but they had to cancel it. So we decided to go to something our city was throwing instead. Our friends came over. We invited them last minute and they rushed out to get costumes and they looked really cute as a witch and a dork. We got in the car and drove around looking for this party. It was supposed to be at a park, "with comedy and music all night." "Adults only." "Prizes for best Costume." Sounded like fun. We kept driving around. This should be it. But there's no one here. It's all dark. We called Evan's mom, who was watching the baby, to look at the flyer and make sure we had the right address. Yep, right address. No party. Evan was getting upset under his black wig. It was all itchy and uncomfortable and he became increasingly agitated. What do we do now? We can't go home. We actually have babysitters! So we went to Bennigans where thankfully there were other patrons dressed up. That made Evan feel better, even though he had already taken his wig off, had a beer in his hand, and was already much happier. Then we shot darts at a place nearby, and there were people dressed up there too (thankfully). Someone's costume was a big huge frothy beer, it was hysterical. We were tired by 11 and went home. We're lame. I guess we should have had a plan B. We still don't know what happened to that party.

Happy Halloweeny!!!

No more ghost house! We've finally been putting a lot of effort into the outside of our house because we wanted to have it presentable this year in time for our little trick-or-treaters. And not that we didn't want to work on the outside, but it's because of a comment from some neighborhood kids that made us hurry it up. Last year when we bought the house, I found out I was pregnant shortly afterward, so we were hammering away at the inside of the house to make it a "home" by the time poop was born. (It had lots of wallpaper, wood paneling, old carpet, the list goes on and on.) I had a severe case of "nesting". It took us a year to get it to where we liked it. This summer, my husband was outside doing something in the garage with the door up, when he saw a group of kids go by. He asked them if an umbrella that we found outside on our lawn belonged to them, and it did. When they rode off, he heard one of the little girls say "I have to tell Joey that it's NOT a ghost house! People actually live there!" How utterly embarrassing. My mom says they only said that because I built a graveyard outside last Halloween. But I knew the truth. Kids are brutally honest. I remember being a kid and having a "ghost house" in our neighborhood. Daring other kids to go up to it. I'm no dummy. But now, our house was the ghost house! I wanted to die. I knew that the outside was pretty bad (the previous owners had let it totally overgrow and the grass was pretty crappy, not to mention the paint on the house and the color). But I never thought it was that bad. I saw its potential! That's what girls do! Well that comment lit a fire under us, I could tell you that much right now. And except for the lawn, which is a work in progress, I'm proud to say our house isn't a ghost house this Halloween. So there. I wish we had the before. But here's the after.

Anyway, we'll be taking SuperPoop trick-or-treating (again) in a couple of hours, though he's cutting another tooth and it's been touch and go today. I'll post the pictures when we get back. Happy Halloweeeeeeeeeen!!!!! Woooooooooooooooooooo! (That's my ghost imitation). That one goes out to you, Evan! Love you!

SuperPoop

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's SuperPoop! Every year there's one costume that everyone seems to be and this year it's Superman. We took little boy to a little fall festival where there was trick-or-treating and a hayride and lots and lots of kids and lots and lots of capes. He had a great time even though he didn't know what was going on. Meantime, it occurred to us last night as we were making plans to set the clocks back.. Who's going to re-set the baby's clock? It may take him a little bit to figure out that his 5am is really my 4am (yikes!), and that his 8pm (bedtime) is really my 7pm. This will be interesting.

Sorry, Great Pumpkin

PUMPKIN BRAINS

THE BOY AND HIS MINI-ME

Took little boy to the pumpkin patch and picked out a pumpkin family to carve up. (Forgot camera) Don't you just love Halloween? We worked our magic, then I sat in front of the World Series with the bowl of pumpkin guts, picking out the seeds and then baked them. Yum!

Men in Tights

I was on the phone with my dad this morning for a while. We don't have long phone conversations like we used to and I wish we did. But we did this morning and it was really nice.
We spoke for a while kind of recounting tales through the years, in disbelief about how quickly time passes. Even when it seems to drag at the time, you look back and whhhhoooosh! 30 years just went by. So this Halloween marks his 20th anniversary at his job, which is a pretty big milestone. And for some reason, I never knew he started his job on Halloween and I commented on how funny that was. The following year, he reminded me, he dressed up at work, as "Medicaid Man". He has a state job. He went to the office wearing a red shirt that said Medicaid Man, and white tights. It was a riot. When Evan and I were talking about what we were going to be for Halloween this year, he said "I'll do anything, but I'm not wearing tights." So we're going as Harry Potter and Hermione. He's the conservative guy who doesn't normally dress up for things, so he looks even more hysterical wearing that black wig and dork glasses. Anyway, my dad and I are laughing about all of this when my he reminds me that that wasn't the first time he wore tights. I remember it in my 3 year old little girl mind. I was staying with my aunt for the night when my parents dressed up for a Halloween party as pumpkins. They used chicken wire then put paper machier all over it, and painted them orange with big black faces. The costumes were like giant orange bulbs that went from their necks to their knees. They were huge! Underneath, they wore black turtlenecks and black tights. My dad doesn't look like a "tights" type of guy, not that I really know what that means. Anyway, they ended up going to the wrong party. Then, I'm not sure of the order, but at some point, they got a flat tire because he smashed into a parked car, and since my dad couldn't wear the pumpkin driving because it was so big, he had to take it off and was changing the tire in only a turtleneck and tights. And it was 30 degrees and there was a crowd. He must've looked like Dieter from Sprockets. Then they went to the right party and it turned out to be an Amway thing! I'm proud that they still had it in them to leave and go to a party downtown. Anyway, I love that. It's hard to believe he was only 25 or so when that happened. I can't believe how fast time goes by. I love that my dad's been known to wear tights. Tights!

Thursday Thirteen #3

13 Things I Couldn't Live Without as Mom and a Human Being

1.My I-Pod. This is by far my favorite earthly possession. I have a playlist for everything. All my favorite music in the world from Andrea Boccelli to KMFDM. N'Sync. Candlebox. Music gets me through everything in life and I can mark periods of time with songs I loved. I had two playlists for labor. (By the way, I'd like to pause for a moment to say thanks to my sister Anna for pointing out in front of my husband how many music purchases she saw on my I-Tunes account. Great job! ps. Those purchases were made over a span of 2 years.)
2. Speakers for my I-Pod. Like I always say, set your music free! OK I think it was I-POD who actually said that. But this invention is nothing short of a miracle. It's like having my own commercial-free radio station. We have three sets of I-Pod speakers. One's wireless.
3. Real Simple magazine. My mom and I both get it, and every month it's like Christmas seeing that beautiful magazine glistening in the mailbox. Whoever gets it first calls the other, "Did you get your Real Simple today??" Then we sit and read it cover to cover immediately. Great magazine. I've tried out tons of recipes on my family from it.
4. Blue water in my toilet bowl. I don't know why. I love it. When it runs out and turns clear again, I feel like worlds are colliding and I have to go out and get more.
5. The thermostat on 72. At least. I'd keep it cooler if I could, but my husband won't let me. My parents are like the Seinfelds. They keep the air on a cool 82. It's like a warm summer day inside their home at all times. My husband likes that. I sweat like a (fill in the blank-there are plenty of choices.) Multiply that by a million bazillion when I was pregnant.
6. Down feather comforter. OK I realize this sounds funny, but I love to be cold at night so I can subsequently bask in the warmth of the comforter. Love it. Need it.
7. Hot baths, candles, a glass of wine, IPod. Not separately if at all possible but I'll take that too. The combination gives me that "Calgon, take me away" feeling.
8. Clorox wipes. I go through TUBS of these wonderful wipes in no time flat. I use them on everything in my world. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.
9. Coffee. Flavored, if possible. I've cut it down to one cup a day but I need it. Badly.
10. The Einstein play mat and the Aquarium Swing. Right now, little boy is quiet and it's because of the gentle lull of the "back and forth" and the little fishies swimming above him. I can get some serious stuff done with him in there, plus he loves it. After the swing, it's to the mat for valuable tummy time. These toys are two-in-one combo platters that allow me to wrap up the morning cleaning that I have to do every day. I swear it's not all selfish! He loves them too and the floor time is helping make a move toward crawling, though not quite.
11. My family. Through all my phases in life, I've had friends come and go, but my family is still right there with me plugging along, loving me for all my quirks. Although I do have one friend who weathered "all that stuff" since childhood who I consider my family too.
12. Lipstick. I don't leave home without it. Cover Girl ColorStay "Wine to Five". I found it for my wedding day because I wanted something that wouldn't "kiss off". It stays on through everything, I even sometimes wake up with it still on perfectly. I love lipstick. Even when you're feeling gross and ugly, lipstick can make it allll better.
13. Flip flops. I love cute shoes, but I love the comfort and reliability of the good old flip flop even more. I have multiple pairs in every design, white, black, beige with sparkles, and platform. I have a 40 dollar pair of flip flops that kind of defeats the purpose of flip-flop simplicity.

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

Poor, poor kitty (and other stuff)

I asked them to take more hair off of her than usual without shaving her. But my poor little Putty Tat has that "shaved" look anyway, and she's slinking around the house slowly and sadly like I've somehow managed to have her identity trimmed off, with a look on her face that says "Thanks a lot, lady." Now she looks more like Smiegel from Lord of the Rings and I hope she'll find it in her little cat heart to forgive me.

On another note: I'm excited that the Today show has another segment on fall centerpieces and that sounds so lame but I am! And I'm recording it! Last year, my Thanksgiving Dinner revolved around a centerpiece I made, from what else, but a demonstration I taped on the Today show. I'm thinking that maybe this will turn out to be a new Thanksgiving tradition, if I like what I see. But it's Martha Stewart and anything I try to replicate of hers never turns out quite as nice. Sidenote: have you ever noticed how mean Martha is to her staff on the air on her own show? She once yelled at her producer on the air for having a star guest on making fish with her, when the star hated fish. Yelled at them about not doing enough research on the guest. I felt really bad for the producer, that's something that probably should happen in the recap meeting in the board room after the show, like it does in news. That's embarrassing enough. Anyway, the new thing this year is putting a small vase INSIDE a pumpkin or gourd or squash and putting the flowers in the little vase, so it looks like the gourd is actually the "vase". It looks awesome. That's what I'm gonna do. Thanks Martha! I like you sometimes, even though you're mean!

Tackle It Tuesday

It's my first Tackle It Tuesday. And today, I'll be embarking on several things. A combo-platter, if you will, starting with home decoration. We got our house painted yesterday. Yay! However, the landscape now needs to catch up. I liken it to wearing a prom dress to a swap meet. My mom says it's like wearing a prom dress with sneakers, cause now that the house looks good, the landscaping needs serious help. Poor, poor landscape.

So that's what I'm doing today. Gathering some nice potted plants and some Halloween decorations to brighten up our terrible landscape until we can get to the weekend when we plan to put down some lava rock and plants and getting rid of that palm-tree thing. The lawn is another story. We're in the process of working on that. Next task: taking the cat to the groomer. The poor little flat-faced persian is all knotted and it's time to tackle the orange coif. It's her first "tackle it Tuesday" as well. And finally, working out, in the ongoing project that is my body. That's more like "Tackle it Quarterly" because I'll be doing this till the year runs out, possibly longer.

Sleeping In

OK. I know I'm supposed to be rejoicing that the boy is still sleeping right now. But I can't help but panic! Maybe it's a new day. Maybe in his little bald head, 8 is the new 5. Maybe it's because he had a rough day yesterday and I should chalk it up to exhaustion. Or the nice cool weather, I woke up and it was 69 in our room! I love it!! Anyway, I've already been in to check on him 3 times since 7 o'clock. Usually he's in bed by 8, and wakes up sometime around 5 then goes right back down until 8 or 9. Today, he's still sleeping! It's not even like I can go back to sleep happily because I'll hear a stir and think, "is this it? is he up?" Then it won't be and I'll lay down again. Then I'll hear another stir, and think "oh it must be time." And it won't be. So instead I'll sit here and talk about it.
Yesterday was a rough day for him. We had painters come do the house (and believe me, you'll drive right by next time you come over because it's sooooo different, I love it! Yay!). They started early, tearing down the gutters. Outside our front window, and yes, outside his window and boy were they loud. Little boy woke up in a complete hysterical panic, with his freaked-out scared cry and besides pausing for a bottle or two, the panic in his mind hung around for at least 2 and a half hours and so did the crying. The men were everywhere making noise, outside every room (there was a team working on the house). And he knew something was amiss and absolutely did not like it. It quieted down later in the afternoon, and he finally settled down for a nap and forgot about it for the rest of the day, but I can't help but think the stress of it all helped fuel his sleep last night. Which is right at this moment still going! I guess I'll go check on him one more time. I'm lame.

It sounds like a lot, cause it is.

"Thank you for calling the Weight Loss Hotline. If you'd like to lose a half pound right now, press 1 eighteen thousand times." ~ Randy Glasbergen

I turn to you, dear blog, to hold me accountable. From here on out, I'm tracking my quest through pregnancy-pound weightloss through the eyes of all of you. Humiliating? Could be. But I'm going to own this and plus I'm not supplying my actual weight, just my loss, if any, so sorry. I'm quite sure many of you won't care about my weight loss, and that's ok too. But if it's out there like an exposed journal for all to see, I will think better of taking that bite of pie that I so long for. Plus, if anyone else needs to lose weight, you can join me on the adventure. We can be like Bonnie and Clyde. Or Bonnie and Bonnie. I'll update my lovely ticker every Tuesday after I return from the gym. I trust their scale. I have until the first of the New Year to lose 30 pregnancy pounds. I will not buy any clothing until then.* That's because I will not allow myself to become comfortable at current weight. I also do not want to waste more money on fat clothes if I plan to lose weight. I have an entire pre-pregnancy wardrobe in the guest room anxiously awaiting the return to my closet. Plus, I would like to lose exactly one chin so I can feel better about taking pictures with my son. Obviously, I will encounter such obstacles as Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Christmas Parties, several family birthdays and subsequent parties etc etc. I will not deprive myself. But I will not go for seconds and thirds and have more than one dessert in a sitting. And since I'm hosting Thanksgiving (which happens to be my favorite holiday) I will not have Thanksgiving dinner more than once that week due to leftovers. I will work out 5-6 days a week, lifting weights and doing some hard-core cardio in a very "Body-For-Life" type of way. I will cross my fingers and hope for the best. So far, I'm down 7 pounds, with 23 to go. Wish me luck.

*Except 1 shirt to supplement my one "date night" shirt rotation and I reserve the right to buy an outfit for Christmas Day.