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Posts Tagged ‘Home’

So I’ve returned.

Excited?

I can tell.

We’ve been busy. REAL busy.

Like we’ve been potty training.

Don’t get too excited. Potty training consists of Robbie shoving his hand in the toilet and then into his mouth all while I try not to throw up.

No, I’m not pregnant.

We also went camping and I learned I have a secret.

I will share when I am ready.

No, I’m not pregnant.

We’ve been trying to buy a house.

And by trying I mean we live on a hundred dollars trying to sock away enough for the down payment and the 7 thousand dollars that follows for the “extras”.

We really need the extra room. Like REALLY need it!

No, I’m not pregnant.

We cut Liams hair.

It was getting scraggly and the child is going through early onset male patterned baldness.

Makes me sad he’s growing up so fast.

He’s growing up so much faster than Robbie and with Robbie I knew early on that I would have another one to enjoy soon.

THIS TIME I DON’T!

Let me clarify,

I AM NOT PREGNANT.

 

This blog posting has been written for my father. The man who continues to insist I am pregnant again. No Dad, I’m not pregnant I’m just fat. Thanks 🙂

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Well, hasn’t it been awhile!

I have a good excuse! Honestly! Wanna know what it is?

Life.

Kinda gets in the way of these things!

We’ve been really busy these past couple weeks and I really can’t blame it on new baby. That’s been the easy part! It’s actually just all the stuff we do, commitments we have, family outings, extended family outings, holidays, friends; it’s just a lot sometimes. It also doesn’t help my husband was laid off last Wednesday. That was a real buzz kill on looking at houses! Until Thursday rolled around and he got a call from his Union saying they have a 3-4 month call out. I wanted to cry because it meant we were never going to get to move! The BIG Robbie has an issue with instability… Buzz kill! BUT when he went to work on Friday we (and when I say we I mean he, I’m just living vicariously through him) found out that what they meant was 2-3 years… I about peed my pants with joy (I didn’t, I swear!)! We can move! Yet, he won’t look at anymore houses with me. Lukewarm little bugger!

We (and when I say we I mean me, because I get to do the snot sucking and doctors appointments) had the very first big boy doctors appointment today! Little Robbie got to stand on the big boy scale that only boys who are bigger than Liam get to stand on, he got to wear a special gown, AND he got three shots in his leg ! YAY! Can we say winning?!?! Perhaps little Robbie could if he were actually talking to me, but alas, I am getting the silent treatment for the whole shot thing…

Baby

I did learn that Liam is officially half of little Robbie’s weight. Liam sits at a portly 9 pounds while little Robbie weighs in at a mere 18.

For reals

Another for reals? Little Robbie has a special food diet now. He is to eat all things that will cause a massive heart attack in the healthiest of individuals.

Deep fried food?

Check

Pudding made with extra rich milk and cream?

Check

Milk shakes made with “super” milk, carnations instant powder mix, and ice cream?

Check

Cheese covered vegetables? Mayonnaise filled salads? Heavily buttered bread, potatoes, rice?

Check, check, check!

Ew.

In other news, just writing down his new dietary needs mad me gain 10 pounds.

Little Robbie?

Twenty bucks says he doesn’t gain an ounce.

Lame!

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Today has been one of those days.

You know, the kind where you just feel like your best just isn’t cuttin’ it. I think this stems from my first-born attempting to impale his soft spot with the corner of my jewelry-holding-tower-thingy. Yes, I am quite certain that is the proper terminology for it… Shuddup

Anyways, last night, while I was trying to feed the little stink, I realized my big stink had gone unusually quiet and was out of my line of sight. This should have been a key indicator that something was rotten in Denmark, but, alas, I am all good at this parenting gig and let it go. Honestly, what was I going to do? The little stink was attached to me and had already had to wait such a long time to eat because I had been dealing with his brother earlier. Can’t that little guy get some love too?

Apparently not.

When Little Robbie was finally in my eye sight he was crushed under a semi largish piece of furniture with its corner securely attached to his head. That corner people? It was unnervingly close to his soft spot! I almost fell over! Actually I screamed. I startled the half asleep nursing baby, caused him to bust out the water works, I terrified the crushed child, and caused him to bust out the “I’m so upset I can’t even take a breath” water works… Yes, parenting at it’s finest…

SIGH

On the bright side? He was totally fine. On the not so bright side? I don’t know that I can recover… It was too traumatic for me.

This is comparable to the canned corn debacle of 2011.

Little Robbie dropped a can on his toe. I swore he needed to be rushed to the ER because his toe was falling off. I was told it was a flesh wound and to get over it…I may over react…

But only a little.

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The kid is twelve-friggen-months-old.

Why in the fritter is he waking up like he’s some needy newborn?!?!?

I haven’t slept in like a week!

Yea, yea, my husband works grave yards and thus he is home during the day.

Can we just discuss what being “home” entails for this dude?!?

He gets home at 5:30, takes a shower, goes to sleep, and doesn’t wake up until 2/2:30 (that is, if I don’t chuck the kid at him, screaming I’ve had enough it’s your turn, earlier than that. Sweet? I know). He then proceeds to make his coffee, eat “breakfast“, enjoy the quiet time of the child napping, goes to school/takes a nap and then goes to work again…

My schedule?!?!

Kid wakes up, fight the screaming I-refuse-to-have-my-butt-changed-nazi, feed him breakfast, sweep the floor, be yelled at while sweeping the floor as the child squirms and attempts to gnaw his way through the high-chair straps, put him on the floor, fight the kid for the piece of gross I missed while sweeping and his radar picked up and is now putting in his mouth, give him milk, argue with him about drawers and why he is not allowed in them, sneak away to the bathroom while he’s not looking, get caught trying to go to the bathroom and yell from the potty he’s not allowed to climb over the baby gate, attempt to do breakfast dishes while keeping the kid out of the dishwasher… By this time, it’s not even noon yet.

Can you feel me on the disgruntled page?!?!?

So the past few nights little Robbie has gone to bed peacefully and I do a little happy dance.

Then he wakes up.

And refuses to go back to sleep.

He doesn’t cry, in fact he does the opposite a lot. He sits and points at the dark and talks.

Well, that’s if I leave the room…

Otherwise, he’s totally screaming his head off demanding of me something I can’t seem to give.

Last night, after 5 hours of fighting the kid to sleep, I slept on the couch… He went to sleep immediately.

Night before, I got him to settle down by letting him sleep in my bed.

Tonight?

I think I’m pouring Benadryl into his sippy-cup.

I’ll take vodka in mine.

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I feel like I have nothing to say today.

Strange.

I always have something to say…

Well, I’ve been basically talking to myself for the past hour and a half.

I keep texting my husband while he’s at work.

You know, deep, thought-provoking things such as;

“I’m hungry and there’s nothing to eat”

Let me decode that for you.

“I’m hungry and I don’t care if we just went grocery shopping, all the stuff here I have to make! Furthermore, why the heck aren’t you here to make it for me?!?!?”

or

” I was looking at clothes online, but my mom says I should go through her closet before I buy anything”

Decoding…

“I know you’re going to read that text she sent me and, don’t get me wrong, I will be rifling through her closet once this baby is out, but don’t you think for one second that means your off the hook on the new clothes business!”

and my personal favorite

“Why is it raining?!?! It’s supposed to rain all this week! Doesn’t the rain know I have big plans to walk spawn #2 out?!?!? Doesn’t this weather get that I’ve got to get this baby out some how?!?!”

Translation:

“You suck, you did this to me, I blame you for, not only, this everlasting pregnancy, but also for the weather”.

 

For the life of me, I just can’t figure out why he’s not texting me back…

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I have been absent for a week, how distressing! Much has changed in the past week…

Not really…

I’m still very much so pregnant (kid is refusing to read my notices of eviction-RUDE), my 11-month-old is still into everything, and my mind is still lost. Business as usual.

Today was pretty eventful for us though.

This morning we trekked down to our ever friendly DMV and waited to have our number called over a garbled sound system, which wouldn’t have been awful if the monitors had worked. Can you guess what wasn’t working today? If you guessed DMV you would be correct. Vanna, tell ’em what they’ve won! I always seem to have trouble at the DMV, but today wasn’t too horrible, as compared to the other times I’ve gone. We were able to get in and out fairly quickly, but I guess that happens when you can just throw a butt-load of money at them and walk away. Ok, so maybe I’m bitter. Sue me.

Then is was off to our play date.

Remember when I told you I had “that kid”? Well, nothing proved it more than today!

The play date was being held at, what is called at our church, the “Port”. It used to be a place, back in the day, where sailors/soldiers could stay while they were stationed here. Apparently it was a great place to pick up men. Ask my Aunts, that’s how they met their husbands :)! Anyways, it’s a huge open space with huge windows and some doors going out to a gated patio area. The little one’s were meant to stay inside while the bigger kids went out on the patio to play with their bikes. Seems reasonable, right?

Not according to my kid…

“Robbie honey,” I call to my child in my sweetest of voice (Hey, don’t judge! I was at church, I can pretend I’m nice there!). “Mommy doesn’t want you to go outside. It’s not safe.”

I calmly pick up my child and redirect him to another area.

Mere minutes pass and he’s high-tailing it out there again.

“Robbie, please stay in here with me. You could get hurt.”

Seconds after I say that, I watch his little blond head slam into the metal of the door frame. My child is the only child wailing and why is my child wailing? Because his mommy seems slightly incompetent. Every head turned as my child wailed. Every eye on the child refusing to be consoled, pushing against my chest trying to escape my comforting embrace  because he is positive I totally pushed his head into that door frame. Did I mention I’m 9 months pregnant? I’m sure I’m the poster mommy of “perfection”. Or was that, INCOMPETENCE?!?!

SIGH

I set him down after he has finished wiping snot all over my shirt and reach over to get him a snack. As I’m pulling out the dried mangoes I see that little head bobbing over to the open door for the millionth to play, more like get trampled on, with the big kids.

This went on for an HOUR! I could not deter this child! He would even try to be tricky! He would pretend he was wandering over to a toy, lull me into a false sense of security and then quickly u-turn and dash to the door!

Yea, I have “that kid”.

I don’t even want to tell you about his revolutionary leadership skills in his Sunday school class.

However, I will tell you what I learned today…

That we so need one of these

http://www.amazon.com/Jolly-Jumper-Safety-Harness-Leash/dp/B001L2M5GI

For a moment I was like, “really? Is that what we’ve come to?’

And to that I say

Yes, yes it is!

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My child is the child that is forever getting into something he shouldn’t be or getting out of something he’s supposed to be in.

 

An example you ask?

 

We have him in a crib. In less than a day after we moved him into the crib he figured out that if he held on to the top rails and used his monkey toes to latch on to the side rails he could shimmy his way up the side and over the top… Yeah, I have THAT kid. Did I mention he’s 11-months-old and can’t even walk yet? I guess I should have known this would be my life when he learned to crawl before he could sit up… Did I mention we’re having another in a month? I feel my hair graying as I type…

 

One of my biggest problems with the spawn is his love and affection for our dishwasher.  There isn’t a time I can think of that he is awake and that I can possibly do the dishes without the little turkey climbing in it, getting all the way to the back, AND then sitting there playing with the silverware.

 

I’ve been battling this scenario since right after Thanksgiving.

 

I was cooking dinner one night while fighting off the child from the dishwasher as I attempted to put away the clean dishes. I was side tracked and occupied by curious hands and fast knees when I saw out of the corner of my eye the stove burner ignite. I barely even noticed and only slightly thought it was strange that it had taken so long for the burners to turn on and quickly shooed away the kid from the clean bowl he was trying to “rescue” from the clutches of the dishwasher. That’s when I realized…

 

We don’t have a gas stove.

 

Of course now the fire has encompassed the pan, its contents, and guess who has also noticed the new shiny thing in the kitchen? None other than the spawn himself. In my panic , I knew that his was a grease fire from me not “thoroughly” cleaning under the coils after Thanksgiving, I couldn’t remember how to put out a grease fire. I could vaguely remember something about no water from my AP Chemistry class in high school, but couldn’t remember WHAT IN THE WORLD I WAS SUPPOSED TO USE!!!

 

That’s when I made the decision. With my right hand I slammed a cup underneath the running faucet, with my left hand I pushed the spawn backwards to get him away from the flame and held him at bay with my left foot while I doused the sucker with water, jumping back after each anger filled lick of the flame.

 

It was out finally out. I meandered back to the dishwasher and shut its door, hearing the click of its latch.  I sighed in triumph and slight fear of how that could have gone worse than it had. Pondering the “what ifs” of that moment, leaned against the dishwasher, I hear the faintest babble and murmuring from inside the dishwasher.

 

You have to be kidding me.

I unlatched the dishwasher and out rolled my toothless wonder, grinning from ear to ear, clutching a silver spoon.

 

Only my child.

 

 


*This post was written in response to Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, Prompt #2: What did they get into now? Describe a time your toddler got into something that they shouldn’t have.

<img src=”http://i913.photobucket.com/albums/ac331/mamakatslosinit/workshop-button-1.png” alt=”Mama’s Losin’ It”

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