Wordless Wednesday: Home

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Haiku Blanket Sleeper

Footed pajamas
So warm and cozy for kids
Silly on adults

Those blanket sleepers
Make me want to snuggle up
Cuddly babies

Safe, secure, and warm
On a chilly winter night
Pilled blanket sleeper

The epitome
of childhood, these sleepers
Night, night my babies.

To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What's a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL). We will delete your link if it doesn't go to a haiku. If you need help with this, contact Christina or myself.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above.

Haiku Already?

Six months old today!
Still only 11 pounds
So tiny you are



First few months were hard
Such a feisty newborn girl
Thought I'd lose my mind



All is better now
Your smile, your charm, your laugh
You make me just melt



I have worries, though
Milestones not being met
Please sit up, won't you?



Baby girl, love you!
I'll keep you safe, gently guide
Stay feisty! Stay sweet!



Oh yeah, one more thing
It's time to sleep through the night
You are six months old!

To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What's a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL). We will delete your link if it doesn't go to a haiku. If you need help with this, contact Christina or myself.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above.

Cinders and Ashes! Only 47 More Days To Find James and Edward

Thomas has taken over. I know there are lots of you out there who are all "I hate licensed character products," "I only buy educational, wooden toys for my kids," and "I only buy lead-free toys for my little darlings." Yeah, I used to say those things, too. But Thomas! Oh Thomas! He's chugged right into Carson's heart and mind. Peep, peep!

I don't know how, but he can name every single train. Somehow he even knows all of their numbers and gets quite exasperated when I mix up Percy and Henry or Edward and Thomas. Carson has very specific ideas of which trains he'd like to receive for Christmas from Santa. So far he already has Thomas and Henry. We spend hours each day, looking at this sheet of paper that came with one of his toys that has all of the Thomas characters on it.



He covets Edward. COVETS.


And James? He LOVES James. Christmas will be ruined if he doesn't get James. Santa, I hope you are taking notes.


Murdoch? Who? He loves him, nonetheless.


His first crush, Emily. He wants to marrrrrrrry her. Not really. But she is a MUST-HAVE.

There are still? only? 47 shopping days left before Christmas. Emails have already been flying between myself and the grandparents regarding which kind of Thomas toys to buy (NOT! wooden, NOT! Trackmaster, only the TAKE-ALONGS! the TAKE-ALONGS for heaven's sake!). I've perused Amazon, E-bay, and numerous other toy websites, searching for the best prices on these coveted toys.

I want him to have the best Christmas evah! And if licensed character toys are what he wants, then licensed character toys are what he'll get.

Mommy, Mommy! Look! James!

Emily! Murdoch! No Troublesome Trucks, no Troublesome Trucks, Mommy!

How could I say "no" to a boy who obviously gets such joy from Thomas?

What licensed characters are you buying your kids for Christmas?

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A great big THANK YOU for the 88 comments backing up my claim about Sayman's Salve yesterday! Way to go Internetz for helping me kick Tate's ass!

Gloat? Me? Nevah!

Confirming My Status as an Overachiever

Tate and I did not waste our extra hour yesterday. No we did not. Actually it worked out to be about two extra hours since we were up at 5:30. I don't know how the math works, but it seemed like we were given two extra hours. Just trust me.

So how did we spend our extra two hours, you ask? We went on an organizing rampage, that's what we did! Or an orgampage*, if you will. I've always been incredibly organized, except for the last two years when I suddenly became a slob, or a mother. (Not that I'm saying mothers are slobs, I'm just saying that motherhood forced me into slobdom.)

We were orgampaging fools having completely overhauled our office and utility/junk closet! Somehow we managed to fill three trash bags full of shredded paper (I curse you junk mail!!), plus three more trash bags of just plain old everyday trash. While we were organizing I came across some very interesting (to me, anyway) items. For example, keys! Lots and lots of keys! I have no earthly idea what holes these keys belong to, but I'm sure that I'll figure it out soon since we threw all of them away. I found phone books from both Knoxville and Decatur. Why I saved them, I don't know. I also found Jesus at the bottom of one of the filing drawers. There He was just hanging out. Poor Guy had fallen off of a wall plaque that I'd stashed away.

Tate and I (luckily) found our long-lost Bubba teeth. I think it's obvious why we had been saving these. That's pure comedy GOLD right there.

(Boy you sure do have a purdy mouth.)

The things I was even more disturbed to find, were these notes that I'd taken about Carson when he was a baby. I think the following confirm my status as an overanalyzer and overachiever.

I realize the above picture of notes is difficult to read. Exactly what it says really isn't the point, though. The point is that I was taking detailed, minute by minute notes about my baby, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with this child and why on Earth he never stopped crying. "11/29/05, Shushed and rocked (side-to-side) for 3 minutes. Still crying." "Eat 9:53, Activity, diaper change, face washed, began crying 10:59." These notes made me kinda sad, remembering those desperate early days.

Then I found this note...

This is a very specific schedule I tried to implement with Carson after his 6 month appointment with the pediatrician and she told me how much he should be sleeping and precisely how much he should be eating. (He had been eating and sleeping just fine.) I attempted to implement this ever so carefully crafted schedule and menu. As if! Silly first time parents! This note made me giggle.

Next weekend we're planning round two of our orgampage! Kitchen cabinets, my closet, and the spare bathroom cabinets will be returned to their original glory! Hey, if you're lucky, I'll even liveblog it.

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*I made that word up. Feel free to use it. Webster's, if you heed this call, just be sure to give me credit and post the address to this blog as payment.

Haiku 'Roids

(Referring to STERoids, not HEMORRhoids...in case you were afraid to continue reading! This was just going to be a simple haiku, but it kept growing and growing, like it was on steroids and into an actual post.)

Without further adieu, may I present...

With all the costumes
I'm surprised he's so pleasant...
You best step off, bitch

******

I fear I've thrown my son under the bus.

Carson is a shy boy. He often protests loudly when we go to story time at the library, refusing to say hello to anyone, crying when asked to sing the songs. Trying to diffuse these somewhat embarrassing situations, I try to crack jokes with the other moms about how "fun" having a toddler is. I've told everyone who will listen that his name should be Mary, Mary Quite Contrary. More than once I've commented that I don't know why he acts the way he does and that his behavior annoys me.

I think these admissions to women I don't know, has somehow made them feel that they have permission to comment on his behavior, too.

But they don't.

They don't have the right to say, "gee, he's finally acting pleasant today." Those words sting as much as a slap across the face.

They don't have the right to say, "he's not in Mom's Day Out or preschool?," in an accusatory tone. When and if I send my child to MDO is up to Tate and I, not some stranger I see once per week for 45 minutes.

I feel so badly that I've ever said anything less than complimentary about my son. The mama bear in me wishes I would have had a great comeback for these unintentionally hurtful remarks. It pains me to know that these other moms have only one view of my son, as a difficult child who is often whiny and unhappy. They don't know the child who laughs and sings and makes my heart nearly burst with pride. They don't know this because I've only complained about him.

[picture removed]

That's my boy. My Carson, lover of Thomas the Train, his Daddy, his baby sister, Ella. This boy who is sweet, kind, and sensitive. MY boy. Those other mommy's best step off. This mama bear roars.


To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What's a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL). We will delete your link if it doesn't go to a haiku. If you need help with this, contact Christina or myself.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above.

The Women Who Saved This Blog Post

I'm pleased to announce that Halloween was a success! It was touch and go there for awhile, but Carson eventually cooperated and actually *gasp* enjoyed himself. When his incessant whining and wacky outta control behavior began during dinnertime (hot dogs and baked beans-the epitome of a healthy meal!), I was sure we were destined to eat the nasty candy I bought to give out to trick-or-treaters. Really I didn't care if Carson and Ella got to experience the joys of trick-or-treating, I just wanted to be sure we'd get some good candy. I'm a good mom, see.

The highlight of our evening, though, was two trick-or-treaters, girls, women who came to our house begging for candy. Both Tate and I were dumbfounded after these women left and we kept replaying the exchange with each other and asking if that just really happened. When I opened the door, I was surprised to see a girl who looked to be possibly 15, maybe 17 standing there holding a bucket full of candy. Standing next to her was a women who appeared to be in her late 30's, maybe early 40's, but certainly someone far too old for trick-or-treating. Both were wearing sweatshirts and jean shorts, and just stood there obviously expecting me to drop candy in their buckets. Tate asked them what they were supposed to be and the older woman pointed to the younger girl and said, "she's havin' a baby."

Huh?

How does "she's havin a baby" answer the question of what they were supposed to be dressed up as?

And why the hell were they out trick-or-treating?

Most importantly, what the f*ck?

I quickly proclaimed to Tate soon after they left, "I'm so blogging that." I certainly appreciate the most excellent blog fodder since I was expecting to write, "Carson was so horrible and threw himself screaming on the doorsteps of all of my neighbors, making them hate us even more!" Instead he surprised us with his excellent behavior and manners, saying, "sank you" to all who bestowed candy upon him.

Here are a few pictures of my "baseball player," "pumpkin," "man," and me as an "incredibly sex-ay farmer."


[pictures removed]


Why yes, I am wearing my frumpy overalls and pigtails. So, so hawt.

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Thank you, Dawn for awarding me a Perfect Post Award for Time!!!!! Thank you!!!



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Join Heather, Nell, and I on BlogTalkRadio tonight at 8 PM central time when we discuss successes and failures of making friends as adult women!

Click HERE to listen

Happy Halloween! Let's Talk About Poo

When I was pregnant with Carson, I signed up to receive email updates of the baby's development from BabyCenter. "Your baby is the size of a kumquat and weighs 3 grams! Only 9 gazillion days to go!" "Your baby should be able to recite the Ides of March by today. Your baby responds to music now and can dance a jig on your bladder!"

Once he was born, I continued to receive updates about what developmental milestones he should be reaching. "Your 3 month old should be rolling over and completing basic calculus now!" "At 14 months, your child is probably speaking in complex sentences, paragraphs really, and able to cook a souffle with little assistance in the kitchen!"

Carson has been two years old for all of three days and BabyCenter has proclaimed it's time to start potty training.

This is straight from the email:

"Happy birthday to your 2-year-old! Many 2-year-olds — girls especially — are ready to start potty training. If your child can pull her pants up and down, follow simple instructions, stay dry for three or four hours (a sign that her bladder muscles are developed enough to hold urine), and dislikes being in a dirty diaper, bring out the potty seat. If she's not ready, back off and try again in a month or two."

Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!

Carson is so not ready. SO not ready. Sure he can pull down his pants, but only when he up and decides, "hey, I think wearing only diaper would be more convenient as I lay on the floor and play with Thomas and Henry!" Staying dry? Um, no. Dislikes being in a dirty diaper? Haaa! Ha! Ha! Ha ha! Haaaaa! Yeah, uh, no. In fact, he is perfectly content sitting in his own filth for as long as it takes me to notice the stench. Even when he is clearly in the midst of going poop, he will deny that he is pooping with a furrowed brown accompanied by emphatic "NOOOOO!'s".

I could write an entire post detailing the alligator wrasslin' I go through just to change his diaper. I've become adept at wiping his bucking butt while getting very little poop on my hands. They should offer f*cking gold medals in Carson Diaper Changing. I'd totally get to stand on the platform and hear the national anthem.

Being completely unready for potty training does not have me worried, however. Scared to begin potty training, yes. Scared that Carson is clearly not ready, no. Am I just being naive? It seems to me that he's only just turned two, and I thought you just wanted kids potty trained by around three. Is that even right? And when we do start potty training, I don't even know where to begin.

I need an online "tootorial" to help me in the potty training department.

That was the worst joke ever.

My apologies.

Please enjoy this picture of Carson making some movie magic (a term Tate coined to describe pooping.) It's not my best photography work, but it makes me giggle anyhow.

[picture removed]

*****
PS. I've started deleting pictures of my kids from old posts. I've been getting lots of images.google searches that are starting to freak me out. I also signed up for photrade dot com so that I could get a watermark on the pictures to make them harder to steal. I hate that the watermark says something about purchasing the pictures, since they really aren't for sale. It would be creepy if someone wanted to buy one.

PSS. Happy Halloween! Carson is supposed to be Blue from Blue's Clues, but he RE. Fuse. Es. to put on the costume. So I guess he'll be a baseball player instead. Ella is going to be a pumpkin! A chubby, adorable, nummy nummy pumpkin. Pictures tomorrow fo' sho'.

PSSS. Today is also my Mom's birthday! Happy birthday, MOM!! Wish I could take you to lunch!

PSSSS. Also! (I'm almost done, swear to God, cross my heart) Eight years ago today, Tate and I became engaged! More on our fairytale romance (or hook-up really, not much romance. Sigh) during the month of November when I have to post every facking day for NaBloPoMo.

Duck! Here Come the Bullets!! Version 2 y.o.

For those of us busy moms on the go, here is a brief synopsis of several posts in my head presented in handy and convenient bulleted list form.

• Yesterday's photo montage has been taken down since every time I tried to watch it, my computer would lock up. So sorry if it caused you the same hassle.
• Speaking of yesterday's post, I tried and tried to write a sentimental letter for Carson, but I kept focusing on his colicky start to life and writing sentences like "I'd have given you away if a nice couple had by happenstance, knocked on our door and offered to give you a loving home."
• Carson's party went off fabulously, the only spill was my own. My kitchen floor has yet to be mopped, which MUST happen rather soon or it's possible our feet could become permanently affixed to the lemonade covered floor.
• Carson chose the day of his party to lay off the incessant whining of which he's suddenly become the resident expert. All party attendees should be eternally grateful. I for one, am eternally grateful for this unexpected day of respite from his whining. On Friday he whined so much while I was failing at decorating his baseball cupcakes, I had to put him in his room for his own safety.
• His excitement for the Thomas the Train videos that he received courtesy of The Queen of Shake-Shake, by far surpassed the excitement of any gift Tate or I gave him. He rejected the Hi-5 video with disdain, was befuddled by the Mr. Potato Head, and rode his 4 wheeler for all of 2 minutes.
• Baked beans could very well end up being the catalyst for beginning marriage counseling. I was heard saying this sentence on Saturday, "Yes, Tate, they are delicious, but nobody should eat that many baked beans at one sitting. If you eat all of those, you'll be sleeping on the couch." Check out my recipe blog for the recipe. They really are great, but should be eaten in small doses that can be managed effectively in your body.
• Have I mentioned I got a new camera? No? That's odd, I'm sure I'd mentioned it since I love it so freaking much...Anyway enjoy a few pics from this weekend. And yes, Janet, I do have a few pictures of Ella, but sadly far fewer than I have of Carson.

Two

Two! How can it be?
It does not seem possible
My heart is so changed

The highest of highs
Joy is now exponential
Life is now so full

Happy birthday, son!
Mommy and Daddy love you!
Always, forever

Don't feel obligated to watch this ridiculously long montage of photographs from Carson's first two years if you're not 1) his father, 2) me, 3) or anyone else for that matter.


[Photo montage removed because it was causing my computer to lock up. Dammit.]

Wordless Wednesday, Now With More Bragging!

What did you ask?

Why yes! This picture was taken with my brand new camera! My brand new Power Shot S5 IS!

/brag

Click here for more Wordless Wednesday.

Enough Boring Talk, Let's Talk About Magic

Can you hear that? I think it's quite possibly a chorus of angels singing the praises of my new camera with it's glorious 8.0 Megapixels and 12x Optical Zoom. Alleluia! Alleluia! Alle-eh-luia!

Simply having this camera is definitely going to make me a better photographer. Surely my complete lack of natural photography abilities will be quickly remedied by gently pushing the picture-taker button. Aperture? Shutter speeds? Shadows? Rule of thirds? I'm certain this camera will magically make me just know what all of these things mean and thusly my pictures will become magical as well.

To prove my point, here is a picture I took with my old camera...

[picture removed]

See how Carson looks as if he's been drinking a few too many white russians? This is surely the fault of my old, inferior camera and cannot be attributed to my lack of photography skills.

Here are two photos that I took with my new, superior camera...

[pictures removed]

Huh? Huh? Is that the sound of oohs and aahs I'm hearing across the Internet? Impressive, no?

I'm already anticipating a clamoring for me and my magic camera's talents. The line forms....here.

Channeling My Inner Linda Richman

Welcome to Wine Tawk. I'm your host, Jennifer. On this episode, we'll talk about wine, doors, and dress codes, you know, no big whoop, just wine tawk.



This is a picture taken of the door of The Wine Loft in Mobile. Listed are very specific exclusions of allowable clothing items and accessories.

In case you are unable to read the guidelines clearly on the picture, here is what it says:

No Athletic Pants, Shirts or Shoes
No Hats
No Bluetooth Devices
No Excessive Jewelry
No Baggy Clothing
No T-shirt
No Muscle Shirt
No Ripped, Torn, or Frayed Clothing
Business Casual or Business Attire is Suggested

I have some thoughts and opinions about their rules. Please discuss your thoughts in the comments section and I'll tell you my opinion tomorrow.

Tawk amongst yourselves....

Haiku Ijumaa

My baby, my love
There are no words to describe
How much your poo smells

Big girl, eating food!
Applesauce, sweet potatoes
Just makes more laundry

I hope I do well
Being your mommy, your guide
Always, I will love

Ijumaa means Friday in Swahili, or says the all knowing and powerful Internet, just in case you care. Please note, I am indeed wearing one of my brown shirts in the picture. What a surprise.

To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What's a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL). We will delete your link if it doesn't go to a haiku. If you need help with this, contact Jennifer or myself.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above.

Happiness Is...

...Going to brunch at Callaghan's Irish Social Club in Midtown.

...Finding a seat outside in the gorgeous 70 degree weather.

...Eating the most delicious breakfast evah!, the Charleston Street Special which consists of english muffins topped with creamed spinach, poached eggs, and a white wine seafood sauce and served with cheese grits.

...Enjoying the meal while both children were quiet and happy, Carson drawing pictures and Ella making zerbert noises and playing with her toes.

...Feeling drunk on life (or possibly drunk on the very potent Mimosa I ordered.) Whichever.

That is happiness.

Extreme Haiku Kitchen Edition

Lights in my kitchen
Tate put them up, he's so proud
Praise Tate! I can see!

My nice, neat pantry
There's a place for everything
Don't mess it up, please!

Bottom pantry shelf
Looking at it gives me hives
Hell has broken loose

Here resides my brain
Appointments, birthdays, phone calls
My calendar pal

African Violets
One alive, one dead, that's odd
I should just pitch it

I don't kill all plants
My bamboo plant is awesome
Good luck in Bama

Look!! Pretty, black stove!!
Got you for $200 bucks
I love a bargain!

Damn kitchen counters
Always messy, full of crap
This gives me hives, too

Hmmm, see the fryer?
This could explain my big ass
But I like fried food

Doodaddy tagged me for this 8 things about my kitchen meme...this was merely a break from my meme hiatus, which resumes......Now.

Update...Phoenix also tagged me for an 8 things about me meme, so BOO-YA! Three birds with one stone!

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To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What's a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL). We will delete your link if it doesn't go to a haiku. If you need help with this, contact Jennifer or myself.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above.

Point, Counterpoint

Point: Tate, you always leave your socks lying around.

Counterpoint: Jennifer, you always leave multiple pairs of shoes lying around for us to trip over. In fact I just put away two pairs of your shoes. Why don't you post pictures of your shoes lying around, huh?

Point taken, Tate. Point taken.





These are the remaining two pairs of shoes that Tate hadn't put away yet, says Jennifer, sheepishly.

Fear and Loathing in Las Restaurantes

I am a restaurant snob. For five long years of my life, I worked as a hostess at Ruby Tuesday. This experience has made me unwilling to eat at chain restaurants. When I see commercials for TGIFriday's 3-course meals or Ruby Tuesday's "garden" bar, I feel ill. Applebee's, Chili's, O'Charley's, or anyplace with a bunch of tchotchkes hanging on the wall are all on my "no eat" list. (On an aside, this feeling does not extend to breakfast spots, as I love, love, love Cracker Barrel and IHOP. Go figure.) Buffets are also on this list. The thought of retrieving my dinner from beneath a sneeze guard is just plain unappetizing. This restaurant snobbery is actually something Tate and I see eye to eye on.

Not that it happens often anyway, but when we do eat out, we prefer to eat at local establishments. We are particularly fond of brew pubs and places with a whole-in-the-wall type atmosphere. Even with my love of these kinds of restaurants I get positively nervous trying a new place. My fear is ridiculous, but real. First, I worry about the way the whole being seated thing works. Sometimes it's not obvious when you first walk in, do you seat yourself or do you wait for a hostess? I hate standing around looking like an idiot. I don't know why, but I don't want them to know it's my first time there. Irrational? Yes.

Some of these restaurants expect it's customers to order the correct way. I like to rehearse what I'm going to order in situations such as these. This is especially true in BBQ restaurants and any place with the word "bistro" in it's name. I fear stage fright and ridicule if I order the wrong way or mispronounce a word on the menu. My stomach gets all knotted up whenever it's the kind of place that you order from the counter and have to read the menu up on the wall behind the cashier. I always feel so rushed and it's always so hard to figure out what to order. It's even worse if there are experienced orderers standing behind you, waiting to place their orders.

Also, before trying a new restaurant, I like to know if it's kid-friendly. I don't want to walk into a divey looking place, thinking it's going to be all noisy and therefore kid-friendly, only to find that it's some swanky joint, complete with matching waitstaff all dressed in head to toe black and white table cloths. Places like these look down upon us breeders who show up carrying two kids and ask for a high chair. Eating in a place like this is sure to make me sweat. Really, I literally sweat when I get nervous like this. And sweating in a posh dining spot is typically looked down upon.

It's making less and less sense as to why it is I don't like chain restaurants, isn't it?! At least at Longhorn Steakhouse, you know what to expect. Maybe it's the adrenalin rush I get when I try a new restaurant?

So there you have it. I'm officially a weirdo, who likes to unnecessarily stress herself out for the sake of a decent meal.

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Update on the Standoff...

Great news! Tate picked up his socks!!

But....



I'm not even kidding. The Standoff has now resumed.

Ask The Binky Bitch and the Panel of Experts

See that sexy vixen in the middle? That's me! Wanna know why I'm on a panel with Ron Jeremy, Mommy Dearest, Maggie Simpson, and Dr. Phil?

Go Here to find out!

Haiku Vendredi

Middle of the night
It always seems so much worse
Is that rage I feel?

All is forgotten
In the morning when you wake
My gorgeous baby


Join the fun that is Haiku Friday! Go Here to sign Mr. Linky!