We can work it out

New smartphone means being able to post again. No more having to run to the desktop. Yeah, I said desktop. There have been baby steps in my technological advancement, so hopefully will there be a baby step in your entertainment.

Dance to the beat of my drum

Did you know I'm still around? Well I am. Unfortunately my time and attention has to be prioritized to say, I don't know, keeping young children alivefedandhappy. In that order.

If you can find it, look up Nicola Roberts' new video "Beat of My Drum". It's in my head incessantly and I absolutely love it. LOVE it.

I can only tell you I will try to come back. It'll be a great comeback - chock-full of crafts, art, music, nonsense, being mean to/about children (mostly mine) and husbands, and zombies!

Just kidding. I kinda like children and husbands.

See how she’s dancing out of the grave

It’s the return (get it?) of Zombie Friday, people!

Back to back
Belly to belly
Well I don’t give a damn
’cause I’m stone dead already
Back to Back
Belly to belly
It’s a zombie jamboree!

[Have you noticed, by the way, that all my post titles are song lyrics? Perhaps I should start telling you what the songs are….]

Anyway, during our Great San Antonio Adventure we came across the most awesome building. It is currently in use as an administration building for H.E.B., but before that it was an armory. Seriously. As soon as we entered the gates, The Husband and I were looking around at how cool it was. We parked and were walking back out of the compound and The Husband suddenly said, “When the zombie apocalypse comes we’re coming down here. This building is perfect.”

This is the entrance. There are cast iron gates, easily able to be reinforced against hordes of undead.

Multiple buildings will provide lots of space for our friends and family and other people willing to fight the good fight and not get eaten.

You can’t really tell from this photo but the building sits on a slight hill, providing an excellent vantage point to make sure we aren’t overtaken by competing humans or flesh-eating monsters.

Again, you can’t tell from this picture but just beyond the lamp post is access to The River. While this will probably be the weak point in our fortress, it will also help us get fresh water and possible trading opportunities with other compounds.

This was The Husband’s favorite part. The lowest level (that we could see) of the building sits below ground, and there is outside access to the lowest level. This is great, The Husband said, because we can put long stakes down there and if the zombies fall in they’ll pretty much take themselves out.

Finally, a perimeter fence. It’s not excessively high, but we’re operating on the assumption that zombies do not have full function of their motor skills and will therefore be unable to go over a fence. Same with stairs.

So we might be crazy. But when all the undead shit hits the fan, we know where we’ll be. Won’t you come along?

I’m havin a bad bad day

Have you ever had to jump up in the middle of your lunch to get a screaming kid more to eat so you decide to get a fruit cup too and you can’t peel back the plastic because your hands are dirty so you try to use your teeth and it pops open and spills fruit juice down your shirt and into your bra cup and you don’t have any time to change or even clean yourself up because there’s a kid screaming for more food and another one that needs to be picked up from school on time or he will surely be emotionally traumatized and you already have a dog with abandonment issues so since you shouldn’t say a bad word really loudly or cry and since you’ve given up smoking to please someone else even though it was the only time you ever had to yourself and surely the most relaxing part of your day you have to just suck it up and stay with a sticky boob until you bring home one kid and put the other one to nap and THEN you can run upstairs to try and shower all the while praying and begging the older kid doesn’t burn the house down so you hurry the hell up because the sleeping child will only stay asleep long enough for you to literally step into the shower but not long enough for you to actually shower so you shower while one is screaming and one is turning up the cartoons on the tv and coming upstairs every two minutes to tell you his brother is screaming and don’t forget it’s time to make dinner and somehow get the laundry folded and more loads started?

Fucking hell.

When that sun is high in that Texas sky

What feels like forever but was really two weekends ago, we packed up The Monsters and drove south to San Antonio for Fiesta. “Fiesta?” you say? “As in a party?” Not quite. “As in an entire month of pageants and fundraisers culminating in a week of parades and parties and festivals? When parking restrictions and open container laws mean absolutely nothing? When asking to see a pretty girl’s shoes isn’t creepy?” Yup.

There is a historical side to Fiesta, however. It all began in 1890 as a singular parade put on by the Daughters of the Republic of Texas to honor the heroes of the battles of the Alamo and San Jacinto. Fiesta now stretches over 11 days with over 100 events, has a huge economic impact on the city of San Antonio and raises money for many charities and causes in and around the city as well. The Battle of Flowers Parade (where I took the above photo of The Joey) is second in size only to the Tournament of Roses Parade, and continues to be the only parade in the country organized and produced by women. Plus, it’s just awesome! 

When we (finally) made it to San Antonio there was just enough time to sleep until early the next morning, when we got up early to go to The Battle of Flowers Parade.

If you think I should look a little happier to be at the most awesome place in April, you’re right. I was miserable. As it turns out I am allergic to absolutely everything outdoors, most especially oak and pecan pollens, and grass. So springtime in San Antonio when it’s dry and windy and everything is coated in pollen and grass seed is not my friend. I took Benadryl and kept falling asleep behind my sunglasses sitting and waiting for the parade to start. Which is funny now because I’ve since learned that The Husband and my cousin Bucky kept talking to me only to find out I was asleep behind my sunglasses. Ha!

When was the last time you saw McGruff the dog?! I got a little excited, all those flashbacks to D.A.R.E. and all.

 

 

 

 

This is the army band. And what was so awesome was that they are playing tejano music! I will make a confession here: I still have no idea what they’re saying or anything, but something about San Antonio makes me love tejano music.

 

 

 

 

 

This is pretty much what San Antonio is like during Fiesta. Beautiful, tradtional and draped in flowers.

 

 

 

 

 

I’m still trying to figure out why only Miss San Antonio was driven in a low-rider.

 

 

This is one of the more traditional floats I saw in the parade. I wish the photo could translate the fresh, earthy sweet smell of the flowers as they passed by. It was just beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

So then we got out the cascarones. Confetti eggs. And if you’ve never had the joy of cracking a dyed eggshell filled with paper confetti on the skull of your beloved cousins (shout out, R’s!), you’ve obviously never lived. The downside is that when you have insanely thick curly hair and you get that confetti in there because your aforementioned beloved cousins not only crack the shell on your skull but then rub it in you have to brush out your hair, immediately resulting in a Mexi-fro.

I didn’t take a picture of that.

Did I forget to mention that I had my wisdom tooth out the day before we left for San Antonio? I was so worried that I wouldn’t be able to eat all the yummies awaiting me down south, but it all worked out.

Except for the cerveza-ritas.

My cousins Bucky and Rae kept telling me and The Husband about some wonderful drink called a cerveza-rita. So since our grandmother was out of town* and we were staying there with The Monsters and Izzy the Wonder Dog alone, The Cousins brought over some liquor and beer and made Trey a cerveza-rita. Since I could neither drink through a straw nor ingest alcohol due to the wisdom tooth healing process, I just took the pictures of the cerveza-rita. I hope to have one soon. Very very soon. It wasn’t fair, and I may have pouted.

 

And that was just the end of day one.

 

*Who am I kidding? My grandmother would have probably pulled up a schooner with the rest of them. She’s kinda cool like that.

All the cheap and sugary philosophies

I could never attempt to put into words how much I love The Husband. Just yesterday I spent the entire day with The Doctor and he cancelled his plans to stay home with The Monsters. So I left the house carefree, had a tiring but lovely day with The Doctor. I headed home around 9pm and had a vision of walking in the door and having some dessert and TV time with The Husband before bed.

Um, nope.

The Monsters were still awake. And lively. Probably in that “I’m-so-tired-I’m-going-into-a-manic-state” kind of lively, but lively nonetheless. And evidence of dinner was everywhere. On the table, on the stove, in the sink and all over the counters. The Husband had obviously just bathed The Monsters and I found him putting lotion on The Elliot. He looked shell-shocked. Exhausted, like he’d just been through battle alone. And I guess technically he had. He’d been on his own with our heathen children for 12 hours. So I jumped into the fray and helped lull The Monsters into a quiet holding pattern (aka sleep), and then I found The Husband working on the dinner mess. I requested he put away the perishables and then ordered him to the couch to have dessert. We ate some strawberries and watched the news… well I watched the news. He mostly slept.

The Husband told me later on that he didn’t get half of what he wanted to do done, and he gets why I get so frustrated about most everything. And it took me a little while to think on it, but I turned to him and said this: “Honey, I’m kind of glad you didn’t get anything done today. Because I do it everyday and I end most days feeling like a complete failure because I didn’t get anything done. So thanks for failing today.”

I love my husband. And his failures. But not his messes. Those I barely tolerate. Time for some barely tolerating in the kitchen.

Come on get happy

Sometimes in life there are mysteries. And while I support unraveling the enigmas and conundrums of this vast and wondrous world we inhabit, there is one thing that I believe should remain shrouded in uncertainty.

Dentistry.

I don’t want to know anything about what a dentist is doing inside my mouth, unless he is implanting one of my molars with a tracking device for the aliens. [For the record, I watch a lot of “X-Files” on Netflix streaming.]

I had two fillings this afternoon. The only thing the dentist told me was “I’m going to put this topical numbing stuff on your gums now.” So after he did that, he never said “Now I’m going to use a needle and inject you with medicine” or anything of the sort. He hid the needle from me and I just looked away, or I did as best as I could laying in a dentist’s chair. He just did what he had to do, speaking to me in a soothing voice and it was a relatively positive experience overall. It was so awesome – he didn’t even tell me when he was starting to pull my wisdom tooth.

So thanks for keeping the mystery alive, Doc. You’re rad.

And my mouth hurts. Thanks for that, too.

I hope you had the time of your life

The Elliot’s personality is really starting to shine through now that he’s walking and a lot more independent, and if there’s one thing I’m becoming more sure of it is this: my kid is kinda weird. Which is pretty par for the course when it comes to our house. This morning The Elliot is walking around the house with his new favorite toy. It’s a plastic knife from the kitchen/tea set in his room. Not weird, right? Well, he’s walking around the house with this thing, shiving the furniture like he’s leading a revolt in Alcatraz. And every time he thrusts the knife he giggles.

In other news, we did something so very awesome this weekend. We loaded up the van and drove 45 minutes to the drive-in! And in the words of The Joey, “This is the best night of my life!”

And in case anyone is thinking about renting or buying “Rango”, just don’t. It was an awful movie and it is what eventually put everyone to sleep. “Mars Needs Moms” however, is just awesome. And it provides an endless supply of “Do you want the martians to come take your mommy to Mars because you’re misbehaving?”

So we decided ahead of time to pick up some pizza on the way and eat in the van and watch some movies. I thought I was so prepared, stopping at a 7-Eleven on the way to get some drinks and cookies. Well, the pizza and drinks didn’t even last the entire wait before the movies even began. The cookies made it through the first five minutes of the movie (ten for Elliot), and by the time intermission began I was listening to “Mooo-oom! I’m thiiiirrrsty!” So The Husband and I began making our “let’s be better prepared for next time list”. MORE DRINKS. MORE SNACKS, or at least more cash for the concession stand. BUG SPRAY. The play pen so The Elliot doesn’t have to sit in his stroller completely immobilized for the duration of two hours. Toys, for the time in between when we arrive and when the movies start after the sun goes down. Blankets and pillows for the back of the van. Not to say we didn’t have a good time this first time, it was just very evident that we were the newbies. But the boys had a great time.

I can’t wait for the next time.

Hey, hey, do the zombie stomp

If you know me personally and not just online, you know I have a special spot in my heart and mind for, um… zombies.

brains….

Luckily I have found in The Husband a mate who shares this love. Frankly, the couple that plans for the zombie apocalypse together stays together. And before you start thinking we’re crazy or anything, we prefer to sit and watch movies about zombies. And watch tv shows about zombies. And listen to audiobooks about zombies. And read books about zombies. And talk about zombies (seriously – if zombies are, in fact, dead, how do they digest human flesh? Aren’t all their organs dead? So why do they eat human flesh?!). And dress up our baby as a zombie.

Okay. We might be crazy.

So crazy, in fact, I’m instituting ZOMBIE FRIDAY!!!! here on momnipresent. I think it might catch on.

Last night The Husband and I couldn’t find anything we really wanted to do so we sat down and watched a zombie movie. It’s our go-to when we’re bored and/or indecisive. I recently found out that netflix has a zombie genre, so I added a couple of films I thought sounded interesting. And I landed on a gold mine. I present to you…

“AAAAH! ZOMBIES!”

This is seriously awesome. ZOMBIES WHO DON’T KNOW THEY’RE ZOMBIES!!!! Truly a game-changer.

Tune in next week to find out what’s next on…

ZOMBIE FRIDAY!!!!

How much do I know, to talk out of turn

Along with a lot of the country, I’ve been following this mess going on in Washington, D.C. concerning the government shutdown. I read about how it’s going to impact our daily lives, etc. I see on the news how we’ll still get our mail, but we won’t get our tax refunds and we can’t go visit a national park. Well let me tell you what’s going on in our house.

The Husband can’t go to work. As an employee of the 136th Airlift Wing of the Texas Air National Guard he is deemed non-essential. And if he’s not at work, he doesn’t get paid. We aren’t eligible for the promise of back-pay. And since I stay home with the boys, he’s the only person bringing money into this household. We were lucky enough to have already received our tax refund so as long as this shutdown doesn’t last too long (or happen at all), we might be okay. We don’t have a savings account. We were all set to start one a few months ago, but something else happened.

We had to file for bankruptcy. Yeah, it’s been something we’ve been keeping under wraps for a while. Mostly because we’ve been doing what we need to do to get to our future goals and we just didn’t feel the need to put our shit out there for everyone. But I’m pissed now, and the only way to explain it is to explain it all. When The Husband began to work in Fort Worth The Joey and I were still living in Hell (or Howe… whatever). We tried for a year and a half to sell the damn place and during that time the housing market tanked. At the end of that year of a half The Joey was having night terrors every night The Husband was gone, I was essentially a single parent and we were officially upside down on our home. It was a terrible time and the choice came down to either we do something to alleviate the stress on all three of us or I was going to do something about it on my own, i.e. relocating myself and my son to Houston… without The Husband. We just couldn’t take it anymore.

So we essentially let the house go into foreclosure. We knew we’d have to take a hit and there would be consequences we’d have to weather before we could buy again, and we assumed those risks. Then The Husband became a federal employee. Our home loan had been guaranteed by the USDA and a few months ago they came after us for the remainder of our home loan to the tune of $36K. And they added on another $10K for fees and fun. They were garnishing The Husband’s wages, about $500 a month. We were still paying on The Elliot’s week-long hospital stay for pneumonia, The Joey had just had pneumonia (yeah – I still don’t know how they both got it!) and had to go to the ER, but everything was manageable without The Husband’s wages being garnished. We had been saving, we had been living by an envelope budget (thanks, Steve Ramsey!) and things were pretty awesome. Not anymore.

Now with this shutdown looming over our heads I am just pissed. We play by the rules. We don’t live outside our means. We’re doing what we can to pay back our debt. We just want to move forward and create a good life for us and our children, with a house and a yard and good schools. And now not only are we giving the government our expendable income, not only does my husband serve our country every weekday and one weekend a month, now the government won’t pay him for his [albeit civil] service and we don’t have anything to fall back on because we give it all back to pay a government agency. And why? I really wanted to know and I kept seeing things on the news, reading them on Huffington Post and CNN, and hearing them on NPR.

"It looks like it's headed" toward a shutdown, Reid said on the Senate floor. "The numbers are basically there, but I am not as nearly as optimistic -- and that's an understatement -- as I was" on Wednesday night after a previous meeting with Obama and Boehner.

Reid said the differences between the two parties "are no longer on how much savings we will get on government spending." Instead, he insisted, the major obstacle at this point is Republicans' insistence on including provisions related to abortion and environmental protection.

Republicans are, among other things, pushing to strip all funding from Planned Parenthood as well as trying to prevent the Environmental Protection Agency from regulating greenhouse gas emissions.

In a statement Thursday, Planned Parenthood noted that "by law, no federal funding for Planned Parenthood goes toward abortion." Cutting its funding would harm Planned Parenthood programs that provide contraception, cancer screenings and help deal with sexually transmitted infections, the group said.

"A small group with an extreme political agenda is forcing a shutdown of the United States government over a dangerous proposal that would bar women from getting the lifesaving health care they need," said Planned Parenthood President Cecile Richards.

-From CNN

So now I’m not only pissed about our financial situation and the possibility it’ll only get worse and we’ll never catch up and move our kids to a better school district, now I’m pissed because Republicans can’t keep themselves out of my vagina and uterus. AND they want to make toxic air acceptable for my children to breathe – a big topic here in Fort Worth due to the ongoing issues and unknowns concerning natural gas drilling.

I’m kind of torn. Do I support those refusing to back down on women’s and environmental rights, two things I feel extremely strongly about, or do I support having income to feed and shelter my children? The two should never have been entwined but now that they are there just doesn’t seem to be an answer.

I promise my next post will be happier.

I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain?

So every year I begin the spring season with high hopes of beautiful flowers and herbs. I head out to Lowes or Wal-Mart or wherever and load up my cart with planters, planting soil and seeds. I get myself outside (a rare event in and of itself), I get dirty (an even rarer event) and I dig around in the dirt planting things. Sometimes I even sweat (the rarest event of all). I water my little planters of dirt every other day religiously. I watch some seedlings poke through and then I talk to it, watering it every day and relishing in its growth and maturation process.

Then summer comes.

It’s too hot. Blazing, irradiating, scalding heat. The faucet singes my hand when I try to fill my watering can. Sometimes I swear I can feel the hellfire and smell the brimstone of the hell that is Texas summer. So I’ll attempt to con The Joey into watering my plants for me because it’s summer and he wants to live outside. But, as it happens, he’s only five and is about as reliable as I am in the watering-the-plants department.

Every once in a while I go outside with him (slathered in sunscreen and praying to God I don’t start sweating) and I’ll notice the poor withering, wilted, curled-up Plants Of Death and Dying. I begin my most sincere and heart-felt apologies to the plants (yes, I talk to my plants), watering them and nursing them back to health. But the cycle begins again; I don’t water and the Plants of Death and Dying eventually just die.

Here are some pictures I just took in my backyard:

IN MEMORIAM:

These are the remains of my basil plant. I used to make awesome pasta sauce with the help of this guy. Basil, you will be missed. Trust that you will be remembered fondly and often.

Alyssum and four o’clocks. R.I.P.

Alyssum and sweet peas (the flower). Do not go gentle into that good night.

Sunflowers, I don’t know how I’ll get over you.

Out of all tragedy comes a renewed hope in life. New life brings with it a sense of completion, a fresh start. In this case:

Sunflower sprouts and clover!

I planted sunflower seeds two years ago. And I’m still getting sunflowers. It’s awesome. And I know clover is a weed, but those little yellow flowers are so pretty! Of course, I know nothing about plants and for all I know those little yellow flowers could be something else entirely. So here’s a better picture in case you can identify it:

All joking aside, I really want to try again. Yes, again. It’s spring and I’ve got planting fever. The Husband and I have been discussing transforming our driveway from this:

to a wonderful patio oasis. We recently bought a sandbox for The Monsters, we’re looking at and pricing out patio furniture, and our plan is to create a barrier around our driveway space with large planters (I’m still on the hunt, if you have any suggestions. I’m going to Garden Ridge this weekend.). Yes, planters! You know what that means, don’t you?!

I GET TO PLANT FLOWERS!

This year I’m getting ambitious and I’m going to plant herbs, too. I love to cook and I miss Basil. But I don’t have planters yet, and we’re still in the planning stages of The Great Transformation (aka The Driveway Project). So on a trip to Target this week (danger, checkbook, danger!) I impulse-bought a greenhouse. Here is a collage of what I planted today:

In this picture (and in my greenhouse) are Texas bluebonnets, parsley, sweet peas, basil, cilantro, oregano, rosemary and four o’clocks. The herbs are pretty self-explanatory. I chose bluebonnets because I love bluebonnets and I kinda miss being out in Hell and seeing a ton of them everywhere. I call The Joey “Sweet Pea” and I’ve tried to grow them every spring for three years now. Finally, I chose the four o’clocks because when The Elliot decided to make his entrance and my water broke, I looked at the clock and it was 4:05am. I really hope they come in! After that, I really hope I keep them alive!

The last time I tried to use one of the greenhouses everything just molded and I got really sick. Because I’m allergic to mold. But I thought I’d give it another go and added plant food to the dirt mixture all in the hope that I see some sprouts in the coming weeks. For now I’ll have to settle for this:

All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free...

So I know I said I was all about picking this whole typing my thoughts into the computer for the world (or just some friends) to read, but then came the wrist brace. Yup, the wrist brace. And while I could tell a truly rad story about how I was walking into the bank with Elliot on my hip and took out a robber thus injuring my poor wrist, I'll go ahead and tell the truth.

It was a sewing injury.

Apparently all you people having babies or babies' birthdays led me into a hand-sewing frenzy and I got a little carpal tunnel. So I had to stop the sewing (sorry, Hollis - Stella's gift is coming, I promise!) and start wearing the brace. But I'm doing much better now. Thanks for asking.

Anyway, I made a big old batch of crawfish for Fat Tuesday this year. I tend to get homesick around Fat Tuesday every year. Not really because we used to do any Mardis Gras festivities, but because Fat Tuesday makes me think of crawfish and crawfish makes me think of home. All you Houston people know what I mean - during the season you can't go two blocks without seeing huge signs: "WE HAVE CRAWFISH!" "CRAWFISH SPECIALS!" "CRAWFISH BY THE BARREL LOAD!" Okay, maybe I made that one up, but I bet you get the idea. You're all smart people. I remember going to Fiesta with my dad, where he taught me how to pick the best crawfish. I remember helping him purge them in the kitchen sink, opening the doors because the spices made our kitchen into an experiment in tear gas. And of course, I remember the awesome yumminess that was the end result to an all-day affair.

When I was pregnant with The Joey I had this dream. It was one of those super-vivid sensory pregnant lady crazy dreams. I was back in my family's old house on Lost Oak (shout out, Cypressdale!) and I was walking down the hall. And I could smell something ridiculously delicious. So I walk into the living room and see through a cutout in the wall (I'm not a student of architecture so I don't know the correct term) that my dad was at the stove with his back turned to me, stirring something in the huge stockpot reserved for crawfish. As I walked into the kitchen I said, "Dad...?" because it was just so real. And just as he was about to turn around - I could even see the grin forming at the corner of his mouth - I woke up.

Now during this time I was pregnant with The Joey I felt very alone. I was hundreds of miles from my parents, all my friends had graduated college and moved away and here I was, knocked up and getting to know my husband who I had been dating for all of under a year before we got married. Don't worry - we know each other now, and we like each other. I've always been close to my dad, but unfortunately my mother and I had a HUGE falling out over the aforementioned situation of being knocked up and married and as a result my dad and I didn't really talk much, either. What I'm trying to emote here is that I had a very real reaction when I awoke from this incredible dream.

I was hungry.

Not just "I could eat" hungry. I was drooling on myself, "nothing is going to satisfy this hunger other than crawfish, and oh by the way I mean NOW" pregnancy craving on crack kind of hungry.

Oh yeah, and I was crying, too.

The Husband, Godlovehim, found a place in the middle of nowhere near Lake Texoma that served crawfish.

So whenever I want or make crawfish I find myself pretending that I'm in that kitchen on Lost Oak with my dad, going through the motions we've been going through for years and years.

And now I'm about to cry again. But not in a bad way - in a soul-stirring appreciative kind of way. Because no matter what happens for the rest of eternity I had that time with my dad, and the memories are enough to keep him so close that I can bring him from Houston to Fort Worth just by reliving them in my mind.

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here....

Hey all!

I was reading Life in the Land of Douglas and the thought occurred to me that I haven't been here lately. So I logged on and lo! and behold, it's been over a year. That posting was about my evil frustrations about breastfeeding and the meltdown I had one night when I refused to feed him. Well... I wound up continuing a couple hours after that meltdown after some rest and I had gotten out all those evil feelings in a really good cry. The Elliot stayed on the breast until he was almost 9 months old, and I made all his baby food until he was graduated to super-chunky food. We attempted jarred baby food, but it made him very upset so we began him on table food a bit early but "The Tank", as we call him, has never looked back. That kid is ridiculous!

So what else? We're just still truckin' along, enjoying our life with our two boys. It's kind of crazy when I stop and think about it: I have two boys. And boy are they boys! Last week they tripped me at least three times as I stupidly attempted to walk across the living room while they were wrestling. They eat enough that I now buy bigger packages of food (meat, especially) and we're eventually getting an additional freezer from The Awesome In-Laws. But we've pretty much gotten the hang of everything, as much as we're ever going to be able to.

The Joey is getting bigger every time I turn around. He's tall and lanky and so Joey. We're continuing to battle with some behavior issues and him "using his brain" both at school and at home. We've wondered if he may have some kind of hyperactivity or attention deficit, but all my research notes that doctors don't like to diagnose until seven. So we'll be fighting the good fight for another year and a half and hopefully we'll get to the bottom of it eventually. The Elliot is walking more and more, which is just amazing. He's 14 months (tomorrow!) and has figured out how to remove the "child-proofing" electrical socket covers. The best I can deduce The Elliot watched me take them out to plug in the vacuum (yes, I clean... sometimes) or my sewing machine (which I use sooooo much more than my vacuum) or whatever; he can do it because he watched me do it! When he watches us do things he really watches. You can see the gears in his big head turning and when he puts them into practice and does something/anything you can see the joy of satisfaction on his face. It's freaking adorable.

I guess that's about it for catching up. I'll attempt to do better. But I have boys.

With a rebel yell

I can graciously accept the fact that I am this close to buttoning my jeans. I know in a few weeks I'll be able to button them, and in a few weeks more I'll be in the gym getting ready for The Elder's wedding and those jeans will be bigger on me.

I can calmly deal with a traffic accident. The Husband lost control in his car yesterday morning and was T-boned on the passenger side. He is totally and completely fine save a scrape and a bruise on his leg. The car, however, is dead. We had to pay the second wrecker to arrive to the accident $140 bucks (nearly cleaning out our bank account) to pry apart the two vehicles. But since he spent the day at home he received an email on his personal account notifying him that his recent job application was denied on the due date and he was able to fix it and verify the application was received and approved for review. I can totally see the good side in that.

But I try throwing a boob and a baby together - arguably the most "natural" thing in the world - and my entire universe becomes unglued. Case in point, this afternoon. I'm alone in the house and trying to feed The Elliot (birth story/pictures/oohing and aahing post to follow when I'm a little less insane) with apparently the flattest nipple to ever exist and he's screaming. I suddenly decide it's not fair that he gets to be the only one to voice some frustration over the situation and I let out this primal, evil, possibly throat-damaging yell and hold it until I'm concerned I'll pop some blood vessels in my eyes. Funny - it worked. He stopped screaming long enough to latch on and finally eat.

But this is not an isolated incident or frustration. I totally want to give in. I'm tired of this - the bad days definitely outweigh the good and I just want my kid to eat well. And don't give me any of the horseshit about pumping; I tried it to relieve engorgement and it's totally not the same thing. I want to do this and am stubborn about getting it right and not giving in to formula. But some days it really feels like all roads lead to Similac.

At this point I'm evil. Yesterday morning after 40 minutes of trying to get him to eat I simply put him back in the bassinet and went downstairs. I cried and refused to feed him for probably another 45 minutes, during which time The Husband thought he was helping by trying to get me talk (to him and really just in general because I was just sitting there crying and looking at the tv that was off) but really just led me to express my dire hatred for him. Luckily he knew I wasn't in my right mind. Last night The Elliot wanted to eat every hour for a period of about 5-6 hours from 8 pm to 1 or 2 in the morning and I was having trouble sleeping anyway due to pure exhaustion and the fact that The Husband was snoring. So I had finally gotten to sleep and The Elliot started. The Husband started snoring louder. And I exploded inside. I don't even remember the things I said, but he left to sleep downstairs. And I was glad. The Elliot finished eating and finally went to sleep and so did I, only to be awoken at 5:30 to take The Husband to work. And the thing is, I wasn't upset about taking him to work that early, waking up the kids to do so. But I bet that if I had already been up and attempting to feed or feeding The Elliot when The Husband needed to go, one of us would have lost a testicle.

Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, but I think I'll miss this one this year

The other night at dinner The Joey asked me "Mommy, why are you a Grinch?" This, because I said what I wanted to watch during dinnertime is "How The Grinch Stole Christmas", but only if we could stop it before Grinchy saved Christmas. It's just a much better ending! So when The Joey asked me why I'm a Grinch I looked over at The Husband and he was looking at me like "I knew someday this was going to catch up to you and you'd have to explain your dislike of the holidays to our children". The best way I knew how to talk to Joey is to tell him how much I love making Christmas special for him, making him cookies and making cookies with him, wrapping presents for him and seeing him open them, making pretty things for the people we love, going to church and saying Happy Birthday to Jesus, spending time with our family and friends, etc. And I made sure to tell him that what I didn't like was all the commercials and stuff the stores try and make you buy, how busy the roads are because people think they need to go out and buy a bunch of stuff, etc.

I don't know if he got it, but he was quiet after that.

It's 2 and a half weeks before The Elliot is supposed to get here! And I have a reason to want to keep him in my belly until the 11th. The Older Sister got engaged last month(whoo-hoo!) and since the entire clan will be in one place for Elliot's birth she and I schemed up a little surprise for our mom. We have an appointment to go look at wedding dresses the day before I'm scheduled to go into the hospital. So if you know Mom and tell her before she gets here I may just have to hunt you down. She's all "this trip is all about A. and The Elliot" and usually I LOVE things to be all about me but after giving birth all I feel is gross and I just want to be alone with The Husband and the new being I spent most of a year making, not handing it over to everyone under the sun. Like my friend once said, "I made it - I get to play with it first!" But I'm so grateful that everyone is coming so I'm going to do what I can to keep myself in check. I think you must have had to have been at The Joey's birth to understand....

A long long time ago (or four and a half years) I was at the hospital bright and early to give birth to The Joey. The Husband, my bestie, my mom, his parents and brother and grandfather were there, but waiting in the waiting room (except The Husband, of course). After The Joey was freed I spent time in Recovery and then was wheeled back to my room. Thank goodness for drugs, because for the next two days there was a steady stream of visitors that I really would have preferred ask us if they could come visit. They didn't come all at once - they staggered their visits so that I had no chance to shower, put makeup on, fix my hair or rest for those two days. I don't in any way doubt the sincerity, generosity (they all brought gifts!) and excitement of their intentions but it is more polite to wait until the new parents go home. I wound up pushing myself really hard to be able to go home and get some peace and quiet.

So we were really happy to be having The Elliot far far away in the land of Fort Worth, where hopefully we could control who would and would not be allowed. My bestie, my parents and brother and sisters, The Husband and The Joey (of course!), and his parents are allowed. Everyone else will just have to wait. And The Husband has promised that he will herd people out when I need to rest or just need to be alone for a few minutes. Thank you Superman!

Speaking of Superman, I totally had a breakdown last night. It suddenly hit me that nothing is ready for The Elliot to get home - we haven't even bought the carseat yet! Our registries at Target and Babies 'R Us are still full of stuff we've yet to get. I kept telling myself that we just needed to finish up Christmas before we could finish buying stuff for the nursery but I only did the math last night that proved how close the dates of Christmas and The Elliot's birthday really are. So while I came unglued The Husband quickly became Superman and we've made some semblance of a plan to finish the nursery in time, carseat and all.

Have no fear Little Elliot, we'll be ready for you yet. Mom promise.

Hello I've waited here for you everlong

Hello...?

Is anyone still out there?

[crickets]

While I never promised to be a great (or even consistent) blogger, months without a post is probably too long. So I'm sorry. I was busy growing a person.

I'm still not done growing a person... and I'm so over it. I think we're down to about 9 weeks, maybe less. I've lost count. Whoever decided that nine months would be a good amount of time for babies to grow needs to reassess the situation. It sucks. And I'm tired. And my back hurts after doing something menial like cleaning the stovetop and then I can't do anything for the rest of the day. I'm fed up with being useless and in pain. I want to be able to pick up The Joey or take him outside to play or get on the floor and color... something. Anything.

Venting - done.

So I have a ton of things coming up, and most are requiring my craft skills to be in top form. I'm still working on the picture frames for the nursery (pictures will follow when the room is complete, probably January 2010), and then next on my list is a tablecloth for the table The Husband made for the living room. Yes, made. Handy husband + crafty wife = more money in the bank! So then after the tablecloth is done, I'm going to have to put everything aside and start working on holiday madness. I think I've got the design for my younger sisters' Christmas gift done in my head. Actually I have two ideas, but I don't know which one to go with. I was going to make a set of two....

Luckily we're purchasing more than creating this year, solely to preserve my sanity. But when you're purchasing for three of the hardest people to shop for (The Husband's family) sanity is pretty much out the window from the get-go. I love my in-laws and I know how lucky I am to have a great relationship with them... but they are soooo hard to shop for!!!! And The Husband is not really very much help. At all. And my suggestions are all met with, "I dunno...."

Apparently I wasn't done venting. More apologies. I think I'll have some egg rolls for lunch and the world will be a better place.

Who gives a fuck about an oxford comma?

I remember my first day of school.

My mom got me up and put me in my dress that matched my older sister's. I had a full breakfast and we took the obligatory pictures, smiling and super excited about going to kindergarten. We got in the car and started the drive to the elementary school.

And there were no crossing guards.

And no kids walking to school.

And no traffic.

And no cars in the parking lot.

Turns out it was the day before the first day of school.

My first day of middle school my mom's car wouldn't start so the neighbor dropped me off. I was super late for my first day of high school for some reason I can't remember.

The Joey's first day of school wasn't like any of that. We took him into the school and he never gave us another glance. There was another kid crying and The Husband and I thought the same thing (we found out later): he's going to think there's something to be scared of, so let's not make a big deal out of goodbyes. Which turned out to be fine because The Joey started talking with his teacher and got in line and never looked at us again. I looked at the teacher and said "Is that it?!" and she said "Well, I guess so!" We went into the room and dropped off his school supplies and the line started to move. There were other parents in the room and we all kinda followed them out. Then The Husband and I went to find the nurse's office to drop off his updated shot record minus the absurd chickenpox vaccine (more on that another time) and we kept running into The Joey and his class! We'd hide behind corners so he wouldn't know we were still there... not that he would have noticed. He was totally in his own world, so happy to be at school.

Two words summed up yesterday, at a level I didn't know I could reach: so proud.

Look at me, look at me, Hands in the air like it's good to be

Slacker slacker slacker! I wear my title proudly. It's not like I haven't been doing things - I've been doing TONS of things. That's just the problem....

The Husband and I have reached a critical point in this pregnancy. I like to call it "Yeah... but how did it get in there?" Because that's the question Joey seems intent on getting an answer to. We tried to sugar-coat it with "Well, it takes a little bit of Mommy and a little bit of Daddy and a whole lot of love," only to be answered with a pause and "Yeah... but how did it get in there?" So we try again, with "Well, Mommy and Daddy love each other a whole lot and we love you a whole lot so we decided to have another baby," - "Yeah... but how did it get in there?" So I have no idea what to tell a four year old about sex and any book I could find at Barnes & Noble would probably make me giggle so we're just kind of not answering him for now. The Husband says he wants to wait until The Joey can be fully embarassed by the answer to the question. I plan on waiting until he's old enough to be truthful with.

So I guess I'll work backwards from here on out because honestly, I can remember what I did this week but not really what I did last week.

I am in the middle of an embroidery marathon. I can't stop, and I really shouldn't. Because I am the smartest person in the world, I decided to make a gift for a friend's baby shower but didn't really assess the project as a whole and there's a hell of a lot of embroidery to be done by the end of next week. Since she's probably reading this (hey Lauren!) I won't go into detail as to what it is but I can tell you I'm very happy to do it because I love this girl to death and am so happy for her and her husband and their baby girl. And I'm not even being facetious - I really mean it!

We also ordered our tickets to the circus next week! And I actually found badass seats for a badass price! See, The Husband brought home a flier from his work advertising 25% off ticket prices. So upon deeper research it was impossible to find good seats with the discount. So I remembered looking at the website last year when we thought we wanted to go and finding a military discount... for 50% off ticket prices!!! So then I went to the Ticketmaster website and looked for the best seats for every day the circus is in town. We wound up with center ring seats in the first row of the balcony for $7.50 a ticket! What we've found out about the whole circus thing is that The Husband and I are more excited about going to the circus than The Joey. I'm sure, though, that once we pay for parking and cotton candy and a glow wand and a souvenir cup The Joey will be more excited to be at the circus than we are.

Tuesday I ordered this (thanks Lauren!) for The Joey's Robot Room. and it said it would take 3-5 business days to arrive. So imagine my surprise when I saw the man in brown drop a big box on my doorstep and drive away yesterday afternoon... it was the sheets! We had an awesome time looking at the robots and talking about getting a new Big Brother Bed and then when the novelty was gone The Husband and I discussed putting a waterproof mattress pad on the Big Brother Bed. I wonder why they call it waterproof... everyone really knows it's being peeproof that really matters.

I got to spend last Sunday with The Doctor, and we had a blast. Luckily she works REALLY early in the morning so we get tired about the same time in the afternoon, so I wasn't out too late. We went to see "The Proposal" and were greatly surprised that we enjoyed it so much. I thought it was going to be your typical formulaic romantic comedy and while there were some of those elements to it, the greater proportion turned out to be hilarious and awesome. Then we went in search of pregnancy church clothes and athletic shoes... not to be worn together, of course. In between there we got some beyond-yummy-lunch that made the parasite very very happy. It was spicy!

I have no idea what else has happened since I last posted. All I can think about is embroidery. Someday I will be sane again....

Take the money and run

Of all the times for my doctor's office to be running late, why must it be on the day I intentionally drank copious amounts of water to ensure I coyld provide a sample? When I was here last they were running on time and I had peed the hour before my appointment and I couldn't, well... perform. So I haven't gone since about 1:30 this afternoon and I drank extra water and it's almost 4 and I'm going bonkers. Luckily there is no one else in the waiting room but the staff are about to see the best damned potty dance EVER.

I bounced this idea off The Big earlier today, and I think I want to try my hand at selling my crafts. It's not much but I do so love the time I spend in front of my easel or at my art table, not to mention the zen state I achieve with a needle in my hand. [Oh my god my insides are going to fucking burst] At this point I have a list of about 10 things I know I can make and 1 or 2 that look really pretty in my head. [Sweet relief!] The list basically consists of things I would gladly make for myself (or already have) and those would just act as samples. I would gladly provide room for customizing in order to ensure maximum customer satisfaction, or one could just order items as shown. I'm kind of excited - not only could this potentally bring in some extra money, but it's something I really enjoy doing!

Right now it's all still an idea, but luckily I've remembered to take photographs of some of the better projects I've done.

I think I'll toast to success and prosperity with my next glass of water. Join me, won't you?

You can't sing But you still put me to sleep

At this moment I am alone in my house. Kind of. After 16 or so days of +100 degree weather, it is 1:30 pm and 86 degrees outside. Nice, huh? Well, it is for Texas in July anyway. SOOOO... I put sunscreen and bug spray on the kid and sent him and Izzy the Babysitter Dog out to play. I opened up the backdoor and opened the window in my art room overlooking the backyard. So I am painting (right now - waiting for paint to dry), keeping an eye on the kid in the fort out back, and watching "7th Heaven". Life couldn't get any better.

Every night we put The Joey to bed and every night 3 minutes after we've closed the door he calls for us because he swears he saw a monster. So we devised a story about why there are no monsters in the house. So The Joey knows we brought Izzy home from a shelter a long time ago. But what he didn't know... was that before Izzy was at the shelter she was a super dog monster hunter. And whenever there is a monster close, Izzy the Monster Hunter will spring into action and eat the monster up.

Amazingly, it works.

And my paint is dry.