Gratitude

Thank you, Willowtree. That was super cool of you.

And just so you know. No whining or complaining from me. Why, you ask? Because I am ABSENTMINDED AS HELL. Which means:

1. If I were you, and had missed my post, it would not have been because of computer problems. It would have been because I am ABSENTMINDED AS HELL.
2. Because of said absentmindedness (did I spell that right?), I thought I should post again about the mugs. And then promptly forgot.

Thanks, also, to all who have come by to check out my kitchenware. And the blog. I've never had sixteen comments, ever. When I saw "16 Comments," I just knew some sort of debate had broken out in my comments section. A debate over...cups? Plates? What?

This is what parenthood can do to a brain...

So what are we doing next Monday?

There are no words

Needs

Jenny has this fun little thingamabob on her blog. You go to Google, type in your name + the word "needs," and let the fun begin.

Heather needs...

1. Men! Now!
2. Two therapists
3. A childhood
4. Some bodyguards
5. Gatorade
6. A name
7. New boobs
8. Financial support

OK. Men! Now! May I pass on that one? Got enough men, thanks. Two therapists...mmmm, no...the one will do. A childhood. Nope, had that. Some bodyguards might be nice. They'd be bored as hell, though. I can always have Gatorade. Got a name. New boobs? Ohhhh alright. Financial support? Yes please.

No Rest for the Wicked

Yeah...so after a chat with my mom, I decided to begin sleep training with Jackson.

*insert scary horror movie music here*

Man, it's TIME. He is five and a half months old. He is a fat lil' chunk of baby love. He is eating people food. Is it necessary to wake up every two hours at night for milk? Or is it just the want of the boob? I think the latter. Which is cool. But.

Must. Sleep.

Work+Mommyhood+Housework=SheerAndUtterExhaustion.

So!

Last week, sleep training began. Joe and I agreed that a night schedule of nourishment every four hours was the plan. We have had two really bad nights. Nights of screaming. Constant reassurance to the Hunger Beast that all is well. He is safe. We love him.

He has slept straight through the night three times now. Ten, eleven hours at a time. Oh, how wonderful the sleep must have been, you say. How rested you must be. How refreshed!

I have woken up on those nights every two hours. Like I've done for the past...oh...six months? Maybe seven? You gotta include the incessant peeing in the last trimester of pregnancy. IT COUNTS.

Mother Nature has a fucked up sense of humor.

Thanks Mom! Campaign

I emailed everyone for whom I have addresses. For those who do not know, check it.

The link to Trevor's story is absolutely, 100% heartbreaking.

Donate. It's free.

Ready. Set. Bumbo.

Tough Love

From Cathy. I laughed for a good ten minutes.

Also, tried this with Seth. It didn't work.


Tough Love vs. Spanking
(a psychological conundrum)

Most of America's populace think it improper to spank children, so I have tried other methods to control my kids when they have one of "those moments."

One that I found effective is for me to just take the child for a car ride and talk. They usually calm down and stop misbehaving
after our car ride together.

I've included a photo below of one of my sessions with my son, in case you would like to use the technique.

What makes 'em tick?

It is so wild, the things that can make a baby laugh. You're just sitting there, making random faces and uttering strange sounds at the baby, and they suddenly burst into laughter.

The camera shakes a bit on this one, because the strange, make-Jackson-happy sound is accompanied by a head shake.

Monday Monday

The chickas over at MamaDrama turned me on to this. Ya'll should check it out. Today's quest, from Willowtree:

I would like to see your favourite Coffee Mug. But wait there's more, I'd also like to see your favourite glasses for a) non alcoholic drinks and b) alcoholic drinks. If you want extra credit you could also post your favourite plate. Note I said favourite, not best.

Well, this appeals to me. Not only do I like to collect glassware, but I like to drink.

Coffee cups...because I have FOUR favorites.



Non-alcoholic beverage cups. Got these bad boys at the grocery store, four for a dollah. Make you hollah.

Wine glass. We have about eight of these. In different colors. What I love about these is...

1. This purple glass is one of the first gifts that Joe bought me, and...


2. I can pour half a bottle of wine into one glass. Then, when I'm stumbling around the house, laughing uncontrollably and craving cigarettes, I can justify it by slurring, "But I'f only had one glasssss."
   

Alcoholic beverage glass. Er. Glasses. Pick one. I love them all.

A plethora of wine glasses.

Favorite plate. With cow creamer for style and added effect. I have eaten off this plate since I was a kid.

Two Years

Hanging with Dad

Playin' video games and eating chicken...

In honor of returning to work

First day back at work. It was slow, thank God, because I'm a bit rusty. I was welcomed back with a delightful couple on table 25.

Me: "Hi folks. What can I get you to drink?"
Him: "I do not eat chicken. I eat nothing with feathers. I am on a diet. I do not want a lot of fat."
Me: "The portabella melt is scrumptious..."
Him: "Gimme the burger. With blue cheese. But have them squeeze the fat out of the patty. And I want one onion slice, cut a quarter of an inch thick."

On a diet. Righto buckaroo. Maybe not on a diet, but definitely a FREAK OF NATURE.

I gave him the requisite bullshit server answer.

"I'll get right on that."

If you ever hear your server say this, they are blowing smoke up your ass.

So true...

Motherhood Uncensored on mommy guilt

Thank God for Sesame Street

The ONLY thing that consoled him that day...

Cats and Dogs

From Patt:

A Dog's Diary
7 am - Oh boy! A walk! My favourite!
8 am - Oh boy! Dog food! My favourite!
9 am - Oh boy! The kids! My favourite!
Noon - Oh boy! The yard! My favourite!
2 pm - Oh boy! A car ride! My favourite!
3 pm - Oh boy! The kids! My favourite!
4 pm - Oh boy! Playing ball! My favourite!
6 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Mom! My favourite!
7 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Dad! My favourite!
8 pm - Oh boy! Dog food! My favourite!
9 pm - Oh boy! Tummy rubs on the couch! My favourite!
11 pm - Oh boy! Sleeping in my people's bed! My favourite!

A Cat's Diary
Day 183 of my captivity.
My captors continued to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal.
The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from clawing the furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another house plant.
Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded. Maybe I should try this at the top of the stairs.
In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favourite chair. I must try this on their bed.
Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body in an attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little kitty cat I was. This is not working according to plan.
There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary confinement throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the food. More important, I overheard that my confinement was due to my powers of inducing something called "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.
I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit.
The bird, on the other hand, has got to be an informant. He speaks with them regularly, and I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room, his safety is assured. But I can wait. It's only a matter of time.

Exersaucercise

Try with all your might to disregard my big mouth jabbering away in the background. I think I edited out all the "No shit!" comments. I said it like, ten times. To my dad. On the phone.

The look of pride and surprise on Jackson's face at the end of the video is priceless. So is his comeback to Joe's burp. Wait for it...

Things I Can't Live Without, Baby Edition, Part One

This one's for you, Keri!

• Carter's white, long sleeved onesies.
• Cloth diapers, used for everything but diapering.
• This seat. A gift from Sistahfriend Kristen. We use this EVERY DAY.
• This mirror. For wobbledy head checks.
• Boudreaux's Butt Paste
• The best tub ever.
• The Girlfriends' Guide to Surviving the First Year of Motherhood
• Socks from The Gap. They are the only ones that remain on those itty bitty scrumptious little toes.
• Pampers Sensitive Wipes. Like buttah. And snag a wipe warmer, too.
• Bath and Body Works Lavender pillow spray. Swear to GOD it relaxes both Jackson and Seth. And OHITISHEAVENLY.

That's all I can think of for now. I'm patiently waiting for my brain to return.

Love to Link You Babayyy

Babble. Looks like I'm a "New Urban Parent."

Whenever I am feeling sad and blue, I go to Cheeseburger.

Get your art on.

Vomitous Mess, Pt. Deux

That Which Doesn't Kill You Only Makes You Stronger

This vomitous mess, a week ago:






My happy, flitting little wild birds were all WTF. These pleasant, docile little creatures became screeching, aggressive beasts at the sight of seed.

Things only got better. I'm worried about Seth. Angry with Joe. I think Jackson is teething, ohhelpmeGOD. And these photos? It's gonna happen again this weekend. My patience is threadbare.

That retching sound you hear, far, far away? That's me.

BUT. BUT! Bad things always happen in nasty little clumps. Like hair in the bathtub drain. So next week will be better, dammit.

Jenny? Thinking of you, mama. And you asked how I got so skinny? Jackson is sucking the life outta me. And you have yet to see my accordion belly. Definiton, per Vicki Iovine:

"...the skin on your belly will fold down like a little accordion when you bend over at the waist. I suppose, on a dare, I could get away with wearing a two-piece bathing suit, but I would have to stay standing at attention to pull it off. I swear, you could throw a ten-carat diamond at my feet and I would not bend over to pick it up, because it would show the world my 'pleats.'"

Amen, Vicki.