Playroom of rock

T was back in town late Friday evening and came armed with goodies. Cute French baby clothes for Iris (including a mini-camp dress with butterflies on it and a faux belt--oh the cuteness), coveted bags for me, a cute coat for Ezra and...a guitar.

He's been wanting a guitar forever and frequently asks for The Guitar Music (Kings of Leon, or as he says it...Tings of Leeeeeon) while driving to school.

So, T delivered and the guitar reigned supreme the entire weekend. There were frequent rock sessions in the play room and I was even forced to tell T to stop being "all Joe Jackson." As he kept shouting, "Okay! Iris you're on piano. Ezra, nab that guitar! I'm on drums. K, snap away!" For I have no musical skill and was given roadie/paparazzi status.



Iris digging for juuuuust the right instrument.



Unrelated: check out this chubby Muffin! Her weight is now in the 50% percentile for her adjusted age (one year this week).











Iris decided that drums and the piano were a better mix.

A very happy boy.

Scattered food pyramid nonsense

What I had for dinner last night. The term "dinner" being used loosely here.

• 3 slices of bacon
• Triscuits (the Thin Crisps rocks while the originals are like eating toothpicks)
• Some of that spready cheese with the port wine in it
• A glass of lemonade
• A spinach salad with pinenuts and bleu cheese and cherries
• Handful of mini marshmallows

I'm not much of a dinner gal as I'm usually too lazy by the end of the day to figure out what to put in my maw. And with T gone, well, I can eat whatever I wanted and not worry about what he might be interested in. Also, any all CPS concerns can be put to bed as Ezra gets a lovely meal about three hours prior to when I eat my feast of whatnot.

Along those lines, Ezra has been asking where his father is and in the past I always said, "At work" when T was traveling. This time, though, we cracked out the map and I said, "He's in France." Ezra's response was, "Will he back for lunch?" Heh.

Oh! Some of you asked about cheesy potatoes! I normally make them in the oven, but the baking coil/element of our oven smoked out a few weeks ago. Or over a month. Whatever. I have no skillz to fix it and T is, well, not here and repairmen will probably want to a boatload of money and a cute brown child to pay for it. We have been desiring a new oven for many years and are trying to decide just how douchey it is to now use this as an excuse to bail on a mostly working appliance because of an inconvenient $50 fix. However, we'd probably donate to an area non-profit to assuage any lingering douchey feelings.

Anyway, those potatoes can totally be cooked in the crockpot for about 3 hours. Some very imprecise instructions:

• A partially thawed bag (2 lbs, I believe) of frozen hashbrowns
• A tub of sour cream. I like fat and lots of it, but if you find the end result a little too soupy, you could use less. Too soupy on the front-end has proven, however, to make for not too dry once reheated.
• A family sized can of cream of mushroom soup. Again, consistency is your call and the soup can be dolloped accordingly.
• Chopped onion to taste.
• A crap ton of shredded sharp cheddar cheese. I think I use three cups.
• Salt and pepper to taste

I mix everything above in a ginormous bowl and dump it into my greased crockpot. I am also thisclose to becoming the Laziest Woman alive and using those crockpot baggy-things to prevent any need for elbow grease. I'm even closer to putting chopped up ham in the potatoes to make it an Extravaganza on the Palate because everything is better when you add ham.

Love/hate Monday

Love: The alleged nasty-ass ice storm wasn't as bad as predicted.

Hate: Poor T woke up at 6:00am to snow blow our driveway so that I could get down it and J the Fabulous Nanny could get up it.

Love: T's return home from France is earlier than expected. Holla!

Hate: I know he is going to be smoked from tiredness.

Love: I have been crazytown productive at work this morning.

Hate: The morning started out with a pissy group email from someone I work with.

Love: Over the past three weeks, the gym and I have become reacquainted.

Hate: Accompanied by a monstrous hunger for the masses.

Love: Easter falls at the end of April this year which almost guarantees lovely weather, right? And little girl dresses? And small ties for small fries?

Hate: With every holiday and birthday, my mind gets roped into "This time last year..." and the subsequent bleak remembrances. It sucks some of the wind out my sails.

Love: I am wearing leggings and a jumper-thing from Zara and it is quite possibly the most comfortable outfit known to man.

Hate: I wish there was a Zara near where I live.

Love: My son's face in hearing that he would be having raviolis tonight for dinner. He was ECSTATIC.

Hate: I do not share his love for raviolis.

Love: Being a dancing fool with Just Dance 2

Hate: Uh, my heart rate kind of gets crackin'. Thinking about my fitness level kind of turns me into the boo hoo baby.

Love: We finally hired a part-time person at work.

Hate: It was not my or my colleagues first choice. Rather, the new person was our last.

Love: Just saw a big, burly man-student carry a Build-A-Bear box into the library. Heh.

Hate: Those Build-A-Bear stores remind me of the ultra creepy Nip/Tuck episode where Colleen put stuffing in that man.

Love: I will be making a ginormous crockpot of cheesy potatoes and feasting on them all week in T's absence. Holla.


Feel free to leave your love/hate tidbits below...

Well, the verdict is in on THAT one

Ezra sometimes moans at night. Sometimes it's because his ear is feeling stabby and in the morning his parents will ignore it. Other times it's because he's searching for any and all of the following that is in bed with him:

Baby bear
Elephant
Taggie
Blankies, 1-2
Pacis, 1-2

Last night, though? Oh my LORD with the moaning--it would not stop.

This bug-eyed feeling of I'm About to Lose My Shit in the Nighttime came after feeling that I wanted to (lovingly) throttle my husband and his snoring and do an at-home lobotomy on myself because my brain would not shut off with the thinking.

I am a relatively peaceful being during the day, but in the dark of night while in the sheets and having my sleep disturbed? I imagine my eyes bear a strong resemblance to "Heeeerreee's Johnny..."

Anyway, Ezra was moaning. I fretted because was his ear all hurty and Drippy McPherson and would I feel like an asshat again in the morning if I ignored him? More importantly, would this moaning wake up Iris? Even more importantly, would he ever be quiet so that I go back to sleep?

I tossed back the sheets and headed into his room at 5:15am.

"Buddy, it's nighttime and we need to be sleeping. Are you okay?"

(wait for it...)

"I can't find my pacis, Mama. I need 'em."

His pacis often fall through the slats of his bed onto the floor so I got on my belly to find them in the dark. I rooted around in his covers and along the side of his mattress, lifting up Baby Bear and Elephant and Larger Baby Bear and Blankies galore. I finally found them pushed into his pillowcase.

"Here they are. You need to lay back down and go to sleep. It's still night and Iris and Papa are sleeping too."

I punched the button for his music and shuffled back to bed where I promptly passed back out. He fell back asleep until 8:00am.

Bottomline: We are SO not getting rid of those damn things. I was just emailing with Michelle last week telling her that I used to be on a mission to eradicate them by the time Ezra was two and a half but once Iris came home I completely stopped caring. Shoot, even in the tome "What to Expect the Toddler Years" the author mentions something to the effect of not getting rid of them if they're still needed to soothe. Well, lord alive, clearly, they are still needed. Balls.

I know they can do wonky things to the teeth and he heads to the dentist a second time later this spring, so we'll see. In the meantime, though? Pacify away. I needs to sleep.

Like a hurty ninja

The other day a former co-worker of mine from a previous job contacted me about this year’s March for Babies. She’s been a huge supporter of the March of Dimes for years and last year was the one who organized Team Iris.

At the time of the walk last year, Iris was busy pulling it together after having her Swiss cheese of a heart (the doctor’s description for how her heart looked pre-surgery; a description, I fear, that was pretty accurate) operated on and T was doing the bulk of the driving between home and Big University Hospital two hours away.

Ezra and I did the walk. He flipped the hell out when I tried to put the rain cover over his stroller. I saw a few of Iris’ baby neighbors who left the NICU and were fancy free. We ate many a hot dog.

There will be a Team Iris this year, but former co-worker also wanted to know if it could be Team Iris and Noah; the decision totally up to T and I.

I instantly knew how I felt about it but sat on it for a few days until I talked to T about it; wondering if my heart would change. He said exactly what my heart and mind were saying:

No.

The extent of our grief is not public. The way in which we miss him is not public. And I don’t want his name casually on a long sleeve t-shirt, worn while someone mows the law or goes running.

It’s too soon.

Former co-worker was understanding and gracious and our emails to one another moved onto other logistics of the walk, but that “No” still hangs in the air for me. I think because it means the wound is still there; not that I thought it wasn’t, but this time it felt like a sneak attack. A sneak attack that is lingering.

Ridiculous

From Bluntcard.com

I admit...

...that there are parts of my job that I'm really, really bad at and this embarrasses me.

...that I only like my body maybe 75% of the time.

...that I still wish Nick and Jessica were together and "Newlyweds" was still on.

...that days go by where I don't eat any fruits or vegetables.

...that having two kids under three is still more work than I ever thought it would be and it overwhelms me a great deal of the time.

...that it's really hard to not gossip at work.

...that, if I think about it, I still have a hard time believing that Iris survived her first six months of life.

...that I often honk at people while driving. But not old people--they are exempt.

...that I think that I will get many more gray hairs before I get wrinkles.

...that the pain of having a kidney stone far outweighed the pain of childbirth.

Random useless tidbits

Thanks for all of the parental mishaps shared to help me feel better about ignoring Ezra's gooey ear this weekend. I told T to read the comments and we both felt vindicated.

Gracias, friends.

****

Yesterday totally not our anniversary (late May for that), but I found the pictures on our hard drive and decided to share.

It's been seven years of marital status and we're still truckin'.

****

Just realized today that Monday is Valentine's Day. I need to get on that.

****

Iris has started signing and it.is.awesome. She'll sign "more" and "eat" (even though she doesn't eat with her mouth, really) and a hoopty version of "mama." It's delightful.

****

Ezra is obsessed with his birthday. I can't even talk about cake or presents, for someone else, even; without him asking, "It's my birthday today, Mama!?" It's precious to hear.

****

This weekend T lost my Starbucks giftcard that I add money to regularly and use like a lifeline. I crap you not, I was in a froth about its MIA status from Friday evening to Monday morning.

Thankfully it was registered online so Starbucks replaced it and the value left on it for free. Praise J.C.

****

I really want cake.

And my sheets.

****

Do you have any random tidbits of your own? I love hearing them.

A pretty good day

Not winning any awards on this one

T and I try to not be very finger-pointy with one another. I mean, it happens occasionally because we're human and we both like to be right, but we also understand that we're all the other person has so let's not get too judgey (maybe just a little). Anyway, this Saturday had us realizing that perhaps neither of us know what the hell to do at any given time.

On Saturday morning, Ezra woke up crying at 4:00am. It was a shorty outburst that I thought was due to him turning over and realizing his blanket (affectionately called Blankie) was out of arms reach and, hey!, those shadows from the curtains are kind of creepy. He quieted down. Then cried out. Quieted down. Cried out. Lather rinse repeat until 5:00am at which point he called out, "Mama!" I've been trying to respect when he calls out for us by name because I am hoping, once moved into a big boy bed, to teach him to simply call for us and not get up wandering around. He usually only calls out only when he means business and not simply needing someone to hang out with.

He said he was sad and needed a hug and he didn't feel like he had a fever, so I just figured he was out of sorts. After laying (lying? gah, I never know!) with us in bed for a bit, and then moving back to his own bed...we all started our day at the normal human time of 7:00am.

(Cue Sunday evening conversation with me telling T that we might damn fools in wanting more children because OH MY LANDS, getting up off and on at 4:00am cleaned both of our clocks.)

(Sigh.)

As the morning progressed, Ezra has The Hottest of Messes and I do not exaggerate here. At one point, I made a move to wipe his runny nose with a tissue and it sent him into such a spiral of tears and despair and that it was only 30 minutes later that he recuperated from the injustice of snot removal.

It was about this time that I noticed some crust on the side of face. I thought it was just the dried tears of woe, but then I noticed his ear totally draining. Like a tap. Full-on dripping onto the shoulder of his shirt.

Sign above my head: Asshat Parent.

Our doctors office was full for the morning (because all of those parents realized that their early-waking, sad child was sick) and so they suggested either waiting until they were open on Sunday or going to the new children's ER at the hospital. I'm not down with a drippy ear, so after one visit to the ER in which we laid down on the bed and watched Cars while waiting--we were sent on our way to Gymboree (Ezra insisted, "I not too sick for playing, Mama!") with a diagnosis of Wicked Ear Infection and a rx for amoxicillian.

The thumbs up to all of this is that both of Ezra's ear tubes are still in place hence the draining and this is great because the goo (oh my lord, folks, the goo coming out of his head is revolting. poor buddy) is exiting stage left. And even after just two doses of meds and 15 hours of sleep, Ezra is a Funtime Toddler Machine.

In the meantime, T and I both recognize our Parental Asshat status and this is okay because it means we're in it together.

Can I get a hot tub?

Not too much Lord of the Flies

So the four of us were kept home yesterday due to the hot mess of snow that fell between Midnight and 8am on Wednesday. Sam and I texted on Tuesday evening as she is my Weather Omniscient Across the Lake and we thumbed our noses at it all on Tuesday at 8:00pm. But then, as I told her later on Wednesday, "the shizz got serious."

Malls were closed. I got an absence of Starbucks headache. There was a lot of t.v. viewed (I'm about to starting swinging a picket sign, "No More Caillou!"). Some hoopty toddler versions of hide and seek that involved T counting, Ezra hiding and then Ezra jumping out and yelling "SURPRISE!" once T announced "Ready or not here I come!" There were laps run around the house. Naps for all. Chili made. Play-Doh. Jammies all day. Baths before bedtime. It very much cleaned my clock.

All day I had supreme guilt that I just wanted to make it to naptime; just to make it to bedtime. I think part of this was because I knew that we couldn't get out AT ALL and I don't do well with staying home, inside. Ezra is like this as well as usually the first thing he asks each morning is, "Where are we going today?" He and I come from a long line of Twitchy Folks who either like to be laying in bed sleeping or gooooiiinnng. There isn't much in-between.

Iris and T are cut from a loungey-cloth and so the thought of staying inside all day with nothing to do doesn't alarm them. It alarms me. In my pit.

So, I think I felt the guilt because I wanted to make it through the day without feeling twitchy yet I wanted to be able to enjoy my kids fully during the day but then I felt guilty because I felt it was hard and I was tired and trapped and had a headache. Sigh.

Of course as soon as they were in bed I missed their sweet faces and wished they were awake to snuggle and read books.

If nothing else, motherhood makes me feel immense love and manic all at once.

Random tidbits of awesomeness

1. Iris is standing. Unassisted and unpropped up. For minutes at a time! And sometimes playing while she stands. Holy snakes!
2. I have procurred many supplies for the upcoming Snowstorm of Doomtime. These supplies include: cheesy dip, Chutes & Ladders (which T says is called Snakes & Ladders in the mothercountry), stretchy pants, work projects completed through Thursday morning, chips, cake mix and frosting for Ezra and I make and stuff for chili.

Do you have a tidbit of awesomeness?