Unloading

I’m unloading baby stuff these days, putting it on Craigslist and giving it away. It’s been hard to finally come to terms with the fact that we aren't going to make a sibling for W. Three is enough though and I’m finally starting to believe it. Folding his tiny clothes into little piles and sniffing his soft toys for hints of his former infant self has been a little heart wrenching to say the least. Many reasons guided us to our decision like the fact that I turn 40 soon and don’t want to put career-oriented goals on hold again AND W is finally starting to bond with the Hubs. The thought of the possibility of another 3 years of mommy-centricity like W exhibited is unbearable. And don’t get the wrong idea, this isn’t all my decision. The Hubs has some thoughts on it, too, like he’ll be on the road and I’d be the one juggling two kiddos while running a business. Ummm…no thanks. W’s just going to have to be okay with Jelly Cat as his constant and floppy sidekick. Maybe he’ll create an imaginary friend. I never had one of those. Way too many Barbies and stuffed animals around when I was a girl. Oh, and tons of pets. I mean, ridiculous amounts of four-legged, two legged and no legged creatures. So for now and always, we are 3 plus a dog.

Recently I was thinking of some of my favorite things around the house these days. I thought I’d share them. Feel free to mention your own favs.















-A giant faux black sable blanket (not my chair pictured). Love this thing. It’s huge and weighs a ton. The whole family lives beneath it when it’s cold out. Almost the perfect substitute for a fireplace, almost.
















-Voluspa Floraison Linden Blond Tabac Perfume (whew, that’s a mouthful). Have worn it for years and people often ask me about it. Smells nice without being obtrusive.

















-My black Dearfoam house shoes. LOVE them and have gone through many pairs. I have this thing where I loathe walking around the house (any house) barefoot. Never do it. Don’t like random floor crunchies sticking to them.














-Illume pineapple cilantro scented candles.

















-Favorite coffee mug that has a ghost on it that says, “boo.” That’s what my dad has always called me since I was little.
















-The pictures and W’s art on the fridge. Very special to me.
















-Cannot live with out my daily dose of SkinCeuticals C E Ferulic. I’m not aging without a fight.
















-Soft Soap Pomegranate body wash. Awesome and cheap, especially if you by it at the Dollar store.

That's all on the list for now. Twas a very long, busy day. Time to get the tot to bed and head that way myself. Goodnight.

DO YOU EVER…

-Dress in the morning and think to yourself, “I’m looking really good…rowr,” only to pass by the full length mirror later in the day and think, “Ugh, I look like hell! What was I thinking?”

-Consider pinning a note to your child that says, “Merry Christmas, I’m yours!” and sending him/her to the elderly couple living next door?

-Think back to the time when you were pissed that you could stick one pencil between your butt cheek and your thigh and it stayed but now you can stick a whole package back there and it stays?

-Wish that all of your bras didn’t need to be padded?

-Hope that Benicio del Toro will call you on the phone because he “needed to hear your voice?”

-Think you sing really, really well…in the shower?

-Pretend you are talking on your cell phone or turn to talk to your child in the back seat while the homeless guy tries to wash your windshield?

-Hide somewhere in the house and jump out and scare the beejeebus out of a family member?

-Pop open the perfume inserts in magazines and lay them about while flying on an airplane and sitting next to someone with body odor?

-Wave to the security camera in stores or at the ATM?

-Answer a question with a question and keep doing it?

Yeah, me neither.

Evolution

A few weeks ago I learned I was getting a new molar. My tongue rubbed the gummy surface in confusion and discovered the widening divot. Hello? I'm a little too old for this. I was happy with only three wisdom teeth. What I thought was a sign of evolution (I mean, we’re not wooly mammoth eating cave people anymore. Who needs all these teeth?) is instead a latent arrival that is surely going to wreak havoc about the time an 8-course Thanksgiving meal is set before me. I’m sure this is going to go poorly. I never had the other three removed and now I think number 4 is going to destroy the dental harmony. My top teeth are going to start looking like a pile up on IH-35. Sweet.

So I’m sure that anyone who lives in this part of the country and blogs will be writing about the weather here today because it’s totally writeable fodder. Yesterday, the sun shone and the air was in the mid 85’s. Bliss. Today Mother Nature smacked us with much needed rain and temps in the low 50’s. The projected high for the afternoon? Something like 58 degrees. Where in the hell am I? I opened the screenless windows of the upstairs bedroom to enjoy the coziness of the down blanket but the enjoyment turned to complete annoyance as the howling wind shook pecans loose from the trees. The machine gun popping sounds of the plump nuts hitting the balcony and roof just about drove me mental. Feeling a little sleepy today as a result.

For a complete change of scenery, check out the schonze on this here fish. Snapped it at an aquarium while on vaca.

Better Late Than Never

Can’t seem to get my blogging act together.

Many of my girlfriends are busy nurturing buns in their lucky ovens and don’t cha’ know it makes my baby makin’ machine start to churn with the urge. Granted, at the more than ripe age of 38, it’s not so much a churn as it is a chug. The Hubs and I have talked about procreating again but as we’ve learned throughout this tour of “dooty” it’s a pretty big (huge) deal. We’re not quite ready to welcome another round of sleepless nights into our world and with W sleeping 10 to 11 straight hours a night, life is pretty grand but it’s nice to think about the possibility of family member number four, talk about it, consider it a little. All of W’s baby things are stuffed in the attic like piles of promise rings so maybe, just maybe, we’ll expand our little rock n roll nest to include another band member.

W and I went to see Thomas the Tank Engine this past Saturday. We found the bright blue cartoon train anchored to a series of passenger cars and grinning eerily up at the sky, looking at nothing in particular. W was as cool as a cucumber as other children around us exploded into billions of pieces upon seeing their beloved train. The swirl of activity kept W welded to my torso. He seemed happy to be there and loved the actual train ride but, thankfully, he wasn’t buying the commercial seduction and neither was I. W’s love affair for the afternoon was in the form of my college roommate’s 6 or 7 year-old daughter, Zoe. W was captivated by her and held her hand for 3 city blocks before we had to go our own way. The boy has great taste.




















Eating ice cream, if that's what you want to call it...














My friend's husband who gets all the credit for these photos said, and I quote, "The subject line is actually what one of my friends said it looked like W was doing in this photo. That is actually you, waving a napkin in front of his face while I was taking the photo. The photo has been the source for much head-scratching amongst my familiars." The subject line:
Burping the ghost of Christmas past

Older and Tireder

Yesterday I was feeling really sick but stuck it out here at the office, which was a good thing because there was a surprise birthday cake waiting for me at the mothership. I was too nauseous to eat a slice but wrapped one up for later. I came home with W and laid on the couch in abdominal agony. I could tell W knew something was up because he was especially good and content to watch TV and engage in some lo-fi activities. As soon as I got his tiny buns out of the tub and in to bed, I crawled between the sheets all shivery and tired. I was hoping to get at least 10 hours of sleep but W summoned my presence at 5:45 a.m. this morning. I continued to remain horizontal while he inhaled two huge bowls of oatmeal (and I’m not talking the watery, soggy instant stuff, I’m talking the “takes 20 minutes to cook and will pack you out for like two days” kinda stuff) and then we got off to school. He was in a good mood and ready to take on the infant room. I put his groceries away (seriously, it’s like unpacking enough nosh for a college student) as he jumped in to play pretend cook or chef or bossy bachelor with his buddies. As I headed out, I said, “I gotta go to work W. Bye!” and he said, “BYE!” with great earnest and then I said, “I love you!” and he said it right back in front of two teachers and a mom. “I wub ewe.” There was a simultaneous “Awwwww” and I got in my truck totally teary-eyed and thankful for such a beautiful child. Best. Birthday. Present. Ever.

The Hubs comes home tonight. Finally. It’s been twelve days and twelve nights of just me and W. We’ve bonded like 17 times already. Time to share some of the love with the Hubs.

It's Christmas Up In Here

Where did the year go? Seriously, someone tell me. Before baby, time was measured by the months passed since I had seen an old friend or how long ago that beach trip was or whether or not I had achieved a certain goal. Now it’s blatantly apparent in the form of a little boy who is growing much faster than I can sometimes comprehend. He simultaneously makes me feel old and young, both a gift and a bummer.

Did you happen to hear the deafening screeching sound in the air recently? That was my metabolism pulling off of the road of life and leaving me stranded with the sort of spare tire I don’t want. The Hubs suggested I make some time to exercise. Umm, hello? Time isn’t a paper mache project. I can’t just cut and paste it together. We’re talking about me here, the person that may have a problem with making the best use of her time because every nook and cranny of her life is just about filled with work, parenting, to dos and deadlines. I guess my New Year’s resolution should be to re-evaluate how I go through each day and make better use of every hour. Yeah. That sounds good.

I’m happy to report that this holiday pimp has some new hos. A few of us hit the Christmas tree farm yesterday with a little trepidation but everyone came away feeling the holiday bug biting them in the ass. We noshed on sweets and cheeses before make the journey east. Upon arriving, W was THRILLED to see a tractor pulling the hunters of pine around the farm and was more than eager to climb aboard the hayride and take a lap. At an agreed upon moment, we all yelled STOP and began our descent into the manmade forest. W waved to the tractor driver like she was a long lost friend never to be seen again. Everyone scattered in different directions and in the distance you could hear the squeals of a friend’s kiddos screaming “This one, daddy, this one!” The Hubs and I considered many trees but continued to dilute our choices by moving a little farther off and finding yet another prospect. We both eventually committed to a six footer but moved a little further on to survey a few more. When we came back to claim our tree, it had been cleanly cut away from the earth by who we soon discovered was one of our team. The Hubs was shocked and disappointed as the rest of us laughed and marveled at the popularity of the perfect spruce. Out of 11,000 trees, the one we liked was snatched up but it went to a good home.

The happy fam. It was gloriously cold, like it's supposed to be when you're talking about Santa and reindeer and stuff.
















The lumberjack hard at work on our giant chosen one.
















Now we all get involved. That tree was a monster!
















TJ and Ruby Jane, overseers of Project Tree Removal.
















W bidding a fond farewell to the tractor.

Flab Fab

Yesterday I took off my jeans and it looked like I still had them on. Why, you ask? Because the seams had imbedded themselves into my skin. Paint my legs blue and you wouldn’t be able to tell any difference. No, I’m not overweight or pudgy or thick. I’m soft like a doughy bagel, something I’m not used to in my skin. Having a baby encourages this pliable exterior but exercise cures it. Remember a couple of weeks ago when I posted I was committing to a workout routine? Well, I also forgot to tell you it was opposite day.

The main building where I work down the street from and call the Mother Ship is full of seasonal hires and it is the foxiest bunch of (mostly) gals I have ever seen. Our staff meetings are distracting. Even I’m checking them out. It’s depressing, too. I’m really starting to feel 37 and if I don’t get my ass in gear I’m going to end up like Eddy on Absolutely Fabulous before I know it (see chick on the right…the one on my left would be Holly, my best friend and designer of my mansion). “Shampoozle, sweetie dahling?”