A few weeks ago I signed Psizzle (that's for you Proper) up for swimming lessons through our local Parks and Rec (P&R). Then I figured I should join the pool! Nothing like doing things bass ackwards.
According to the P&R flyer, I had to go to their main office located about 30 minutes from my house to obtain the pool membership passes. I could also go to the pool to get a membership, but they did not open until noon- Pfunks nap time. So we decided to make a morning run to the P&R office and then meet some friends for breakfast one day.
When I got to the very efficient (read: not at all) P&R office and asked about joining the pool I was met with a blank stare on the face of the lady behind the desk. This signaled to me that she had no idea what to do. I pulled out the flyer and told her I was following directions and came here to purchase the 5 family passes to the pool. She took the flyer from me, read it and yes, "Oh yes, it does say you can get them here. Huh?" Was she thinking I actually made that up?
This was followed by more silence and blank stares.
By this time I let Pman sit on the ledge of the half wall separating me from the Employee of the Month and rub his slimy baby hands all over the half glass partition. Which begs the question, why is there a glass partition at the P&R front desk? Are people so eager to join rec league soccer that they come in wielding handguns and demanding jerseys? I doubt it.
Anyway, Cpt. Wonder sits in confusion asking anyone who will pick up their phone, what to do with my seemingly normal, but obviously perplexing request. She finally gets up to ask Shirley what to do. She returns and tells me they do not have passes and I will have to wait until Memorial Day to purchase them blah blah blah. I swear as she is saying this, someone walks up behind her and places the passes in front of her. It was like they were sent from the Pool Gods. I pointed to the brightly colored passes that had the name of the pool printed on them and said, "Aren't those the passes? Can I buy them?"
Looking defeated, and it wasn't even 10a.m. she looks down, freezes for a beat or two and replies, "Well, yes. I guess they are." She writes my name on one, Parker's name on the other, takes my credit card and begins to process the transaction. Then I throw another monkey wrench (no pun intended) into her flow. I say, "I thought the membership includes 5 passes."
P&R lady: The 5 people have to live in your household.
Me: It doesn't say that. But I only need 3. Does the membership price change.
P&R Lady: No. Who would the other people be if you can have 5?
I give her Josh's name and my parents name's. She writes them all on a half sheet of scrap paper, hands me my credit card and the receipt. I leave with two bright pink pool passes, one for me and one for Pman.
A week later, I get 3 more passes with the other names written on them. Now that is efficient.
Flash to earlier this week. I was going to take Pmoney to the pool for the first time with a friend and her son. Before we go, I just had a feeling to call ahead and make sure the pool was open. They were open on Memorial Day, but something told me they would not be open on Tuesday. Instead of calling I checked the P&R website since the pool does not have one. The site let me know that the pool was "open daily from May 23 to Sept 7." Telling me, that yes, the pool should have been open on Tuesday.
Want to take a guess as to if it was actually open?
It was not. Sadly once again P&R was clueless. It is not open daily from May 23 to Sept. 7. When I went to the pool on Tuesday, I had a feeling that the people who would be in the lifeguard chairs were probably taking a history final at the local high school at that exact moment.
God bless the P&R employees. God bless 'em.
In the end, after about an hour in the car, Pman was so DONE with his car seat. He was screaming and crying, I was near tears myself. Any mom can tell you, being locked in your car with a screaming, screeching child will just plain drive you mad. We pulled into a local beach parking lot, gathered our things and got in the gentle water of the Chesapeake Bay- Brownie's Beach if you are from this area. Parker likes to sit where the "waves" "crash" into the sand. I carried him out a little further (about 3 feet from the shore line) and knelt down with him. The water barely hit my rib cage and the waves Pmoney makes in the bathtub would put these to shame. However, he gripped onto my bathing suit and arm doing a happy squealy cry thing, kind of like- I like this, but I'm not totally sure about it.
After eating some shells and crawling around in the wet sand for a bit we headed home.
This is going to be a great summer.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Jon Minus Kate and Her 8
When the show Jon and Kate Plus 8 first began, I really liked it. I, like most of America, was fascinated by how one young couple would handle 8 small children. The only TLC show that amazes, or is it stuns? or is it frightens? me more is anything related to the Duggers.
I liked Kate's seemingly positive outlook on life and respected that she ran a tight ship because it was necessary. She had a cute haircut and wore normal "mommy" clothes. You mom's know what I mean. Something happens after you give birth, you just look like a mom. Even if your haircut is exactly the same as it was pre-baby, suddenly you have a mom-cut, crushed cheerios in your pockets and another persons mucus on your shoulder. It just is.
I thought Jon was a devoted, doting father who just wanted to make his wife happy.
The kids, while I still cannot name them all, were obnoxious, but cute and therefore endearing.
After Parker was born I stopped watching. I never was a -can't miss an episode- type of fan, but if the show was on and I had some time, I would watch. However, after Pman came, I found myself resenting Kate. Here she was with 8 small children, 6 of them babies, and she seemed to do it with such ease and in a fair sized house. She was always cooking dinner and doing laundry and organizing events and activities for her family. When Pmoney came home, I didn't cook for about a month. I just felt like-How can I cook? Parker is so small?- irrational, but I was very nervous and unsure about how to balance things. I didn't do the laundry for nearly a month either and poor Josh...well let's just say he had to get creative with his boxers. Finally my mom came and did our laundry and made some food and eventually, I got comfortable doing my normal routine.
Forget about planning activities. At first, I was so scared that I would be somewhere and Pfunk would have a major meltdown. I did not want people to think my baby was a brat, nor did I want those negative glares, that I realize now only come from the child-hating, heartless people of the world.
Anyway, I guess I was jealous of Kate. She made it look so easy and she had 8 kids. Why couldn't I pull it together with my one? Eventually, I got over it and realized Kate had a TON of help and was getting paid a TON of money.
When I welcomed the Gosselin's back into my home, I remember watching the last episode of a season. Jon and Kate were sitting in their standard over sized chair thing. Kate was talking, Jon was staring straight ahead as if he was tranquilized (looking back, he probably was). Someone off camera asked if they were up for another season. They answered at the same time. Jon said, "It's something we'll have to talk about." Kate said something to the effect of, "Bring it on!" Then they looked at each other and Jon mumbled something- fade to black.
Monday night, I told Josh I had to watch this special on J&K. Josh, who usually would read his World or Warcraft- How To book or a Batman graphic novel, watched with me. Every minute. He has voiced his dislike for Kate before. Typical stuff, she is whining, bossy and well down right bitchy. I can't really argue. We have all seen her flip out over pumpkins, pine cones, coupons, markers, icing etc. But who among us has not flipped out over something silly. What we rarely, if ever, saw was an apology from Kate.
Despite all this Josh watched with me and I must say there were times, that I really felt sorry for both of them. But of course, I feel terrible for their children. I really feel like if I were in their shoes, I would have stopped the show a while ago. Maybe after a season or two, so my kids weren't a side show or aware of paparazzi at age 5.
All seriousness aside, a few things must be addressed-
Dear Kate
What the hell is up with your hair? I was watching Chelsea Lately on E! the other night when I was up worrying about something. Loni Love was one of the guests. She is a very funny, larger, black woman. I think she put it best when she said, "Kate has a black girls' haircut." I mean what is that panel of hair over the left half of your face? Either go short or go long, but this reverse mullet is a no-go, big time. I admit the highlights on the hair panel look nice and expensive. However, you may want to ask your colorist to make sure she gets the back next time. The back of your head, with it's short spiky pieces, looks a bit like a blackbottom cupcake. While those are yummy treats, I would not recommend using them as inspiration for a hair color. Take some of your money and get a better haircut or some extensions.
Also, trying to seem carefree and happy by sparying silly string at the camera did not fool anyone. You seemed like a nervous girl the whole episode. It is ok to hurt. It almost seemed like at times you were not aware that anything was wrong. You looked like you were trying too hard, not with the party, just in general. If you are putting on an act, that is not reality TV. You made it very clear that you are doing everything you do for your kids. Maybe it's time to stop all of this limelight living for your kids.
Dear Jon
Who do you think you are fooling when you said you did not cheat on Kate? We all know you did and frankly we don't blame you. Kate is a bit of a witch, we have all seen it. Perhaps instead of cheating on her, you could have gone to counseling or possibly grown a backbone and thrown a little bit of her crap back at her. I've heard you referred to as; Dead Eyes, Kate's Dummy, Lifeless Blob, Wimp and Broken. Speak up man, tell Kate to shut her pie hole every now and then. Also, your hair plugs look nice, but not that nice, stop gelling them. It only highlights the fact that they are plugs.
The best part of the show was when your daughter, Sally? Johanna? Jessica? Yo Gabba Gabba? whatever her name is, came up to you after the party and you asked her who she invited. She told you she invited a little boy. You two had a small conversation about hugging and kissing. Then as she was walking away she said, "Don't go away any more Daddy." You replied that you had to work sometimes, but later mentioned you quit two years ago. Sad. The moment started sweetly and ended so sadly.
Dear anyone who may or may not have cheated with Jon
He has EIGHT kids. I don't care if you are a teacher. He has E-I-G-H-T young children. Not to mention a wife he has been with for quite some time. Back off.
In conclusion, I think the thing I took away from this episode was marriage is always work. You never hit a "safe zone". Even if you make it to 5 years, 10 years, 20 years and beyond, marriage is work. Even if your kids finish elementary school, graduate Valedictorian from high school and finish top of their class at an Ivy League college, your marriage is still work. I feel sad for Jon and Kate and their kids and I hope they work it out and stop the show. I feel sad for all families struggling with these issues and do not have the cushion of a successful TV show to break their fall.
I liked Kate's seemingly positive outlook on life and respected that she ran a tight ship because it was necessary. She had a cute haircut and wore normal "mommy" clothes. You mom's know what I mean. Something happens after you give birth, you just look like a mom. Even if your haircut is exactly the same as it was pre-baby, suddenly you have a mom-cut, crushed cheerios in your pockets and another persons mucus on your shoulder. It just is.
I thought Jon was a devoted, doting father who just wanted to make his wife happy.
The kids, while I still cannot name them all, were obnoxious, but cute and therefore endearing.
After Parker was born I stopped watching. I never was a -can't miss an episode- type of fan, but if the show was on and I had some time, I would watch. However, after Pman came, I found myself resenting Kate. Here she was with 8 small children, 6 of them babies, and she seemed to do it with such ease and in a fair sized house. She was always cooking dinner and doing laundry and organizing events and activities for her family. When Pmoney came home, I didn't cook for about a month. I just felt like-How can I cook? Parker is so small?- irrational, but I was very nervous and unsure about how to balance things. I didn't do the laundry for nearly a month either and poor Josh...well let's just say he had to get creative with his boxers. Finally my mom came and did our laundry and made some food and eventually, I got comfortable doing my normal routine.
Forget about planning activities. At first, I was so scared that I would be somewhere and Pfunk would have a major meltdown. I did not want people to think my baby was a brat, nor did I want those negative glares, that I realize now only come from the child-hating, heartless people of the world.
Anyway, I guess I was jealous of Kate. She made it look so easy and she had 8 kids. Why couldn't I pull it together with my one? Eventually, I got over it and realized Kate had a TON of help and was getting paid a TON of money.
When I welcomed the Gosselin's back into my home, I remember watching the last episode of a season. Jon and Kate were sitting in their standard over sized chair thing. Kate was talking, Jon was staring straight ahead as if he was tranquilized (looking back, he probably was). Someone off camera asked if they were up for another season. They answered at the same time. Jon said, "It's something we'll have to talk about." Kate said something to the effect of, "Bring it on!" Then they looked at each other and Jon mumbled something- fade to black.
Monday night, I told Josh I had to watch this special on J&K. Josh, who usually would read his World or Warcraft- How To book or a Batman graphic novel, watched with me. Every minute. He has voiced his dislike for Kate before. Typical stuff, she is whining, bossy and well down right bitchy. I can't really argue. We have all seen her flip out over pumpkins, pine cones, coupons, markers, icing etc. But who among us has not flipped out over something silly. What we rarely, if ever, saw was an apology from Kate.
Despite all this Josh watched with me and I must say there were times, that I really felt sorry for both of them. But of course, I feel terrible for their children. I really feel like if I were in their shoes, I would have stopped the show a while ago. Maybe after a season or two, so my kids weren't a side show or aware of paparazzi at age 5.
All seriousness aside, a few things must be addressed-
Dear Kate
What the hell is up with your hair? I was watching Chelsea Lately on E! the other night when I was up worrying about something. Loni Love was one of the guests. She is a very funny, larger, black woman. I think she put it best when she said, "Kate has a black girls' haircut." I mean what is that panel of hair over the left half of your face? Either go short or go long, but this reverse mullet is a no-go, big time. I admit the highlights on the hair panel look nice and expensive. However, you may want to ask your colorist to make sure she gets the back next time. The back of your head, with it's short spiky pieces, looks a bit like a blackbottom cupcake. While those are yummy treats, I would not recommend using them as inspiration for a hair color. Take some of your money and get a better haircut or some extensions.
Also, trying to seem carefree and happy by sparying silly string at the camera did not fool anyone. You seemed like a nervous girl the whole episode. It is ok to hurt. It almost seemed like at times you were not aware that anything was wrong. You looked like you were trying too hard, not with the party, just in general. If you are putting on an act, that is not reality TV. You made it very clear that you are doing everything you do for your kids. Maybe it's time to stop all of this limelight living for your kids.
Dear Jon
Who do you think you are fooling when you said you did not cheat on Kate? We all know you did and frankly we don't blame you. Kate is a bit of a witch, we have all seen it. Perhaps instead of cheating on her, you could have gone to counseling or possibly grown a backbone and thrown a little bit of her crap back at her. I've heard you referred to as; Dead Eyes, Kate's Dummy, Lifeless Blob, Wimp and Broken. Speak up man, tell Kate to shut her pie hole every now and then. Also, your hair plugs look nice, but not that nice, stop gelling them. It only highlights the fact that they are plugs.
The best part of the show was when your daughter, Sally? Johanna? Jessica? Yo Gabba Gabba? whatever her name is, came up to you after the party and you asked her who she invited. She told you she invited a little boy. You two had a small conversation about hugging and kissing. Then as she was walking away she said, "Don't go away any more Daddy." You replied that you had to work sometimes, but later mentioned you quit two years ago. Sad. The moment started sweetly and ended so sadly.
Dear anyone who may or may not have cheated with Jon
He has EIGHT kids. I don't care if you are a teacher. He has E-I-G-H-T young children. Not to mention a wife he has been with for quite some time. Back off.
In conclusion, I think the thing I took away from this episode was marriage is always work. You never hit a "safe zone". Even if you make it to 5 years, 10 years, 20 years and beyond, marriage is work. Even if your kids finish elementary school, graduate Valedictorian from high school and finish top of their class at an Ivy League college, your marriage is still work. I feel sad for Jon and Kate and their kids and I hope they work it out and stop the show. I feel sad for all families struggling with these issues and do not have the cushion of a successful TV show to break their fall.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
But What's the Theme
When I got married I had little if nothing to do with my Bridal Shower. I'm not into these showers, so I was fine with it. I provided a list to my sister of who should be invited and their addresses. I just showed up, opened the loot, ate some food and rolled out. Done deal. No theme picking needed on my part!
When I was pregnant and I hoped to follow the same minimal involvement role in the process. I was taken by surprise when I was thrust into an active role. I came up with a game- baby bottle beer chug- pretty self explanatory and a lot of fun. I diligently registered for baby items that I have no idea how to use or what they even were. In one Babies R us, I broke down and cried on a bench while registering for gifts. This was after I nearly got in a fist fight at the Waldorf Babies R Us (see previous post, sometime in Feb/March 08). And I kept getting this question of the theme. "What is the theme of the shower?", people would say.
Theme?
I'm not a theme kind of girl. When I bought my house and began decorating it, my "theme" was "house."
The theme, if there was one for my bridal shower, was wedding.
Can you guess the theme for my baby shower? If not, it was baby.
When I was decorating his room this elusive theme question came again. Oddly enough when I moved into my house and was themeing it up all over the place, I painted what is now Parker's room, blue. It's not because I have clairvoyant powers, it is blue because my parents had some blue paint leftover from themeing their house when they moved in. I bought dark wood furniture for Pman's room before he was born- is that a theme? His closet serves as our in-house storage unit, is that a theme?
Now that Pmonkey is fast approaching his 1st birthday, I have been getting this theme question again. Is -birthday- good enough? I have not bought anything yet, but I foresee buying paper plates and napkins that are cute and cheap. Truth be told, I would take cheap over cute.
I can tell you what the theme will not be- Yo Gabba Gabba- the show brought to you by the movement to Legalize Hallucinogenics Inc. If you do not know what this mind boggling show is, thank your lucky stars and don't look back.
The main character- and I mean every aspect of the word character- is this super skinny black man who wears a bright orange fuzzy fro-y thing on his head and an orange, seemingly shining, orange spandex jumpsuit. He exaggerates every word that comes out of his mouth. His arms are always flailing around like he all the sudden lost control of them or they are actually not attached to his body. It is as if he thinks the show broadcasts solely to hearing impaired children who watch the show from the couch which is situated at least a mile away from the TV.
This man, I'm not sure if his name is Gabba, is apparently having a puppet show with the outcasts from the Land of Misfit Toys. He stands behind this scene board and talks to these five rejects and hands them snacks. Here is an outline of these...things:
#1 Seemingly the only female. She is pink and has a larger than life daisy on top of her head.
#2 Is all red and pimpley looking, perhaps he has herpes, it was not explained. He has one eye, possibly a birth defect. Again, it was not explained.
#3 Is green and his arms are unfortunatley misproportioned to the rest of his body. He also has a unibrow, possibly "Proper Waxing" needs to be the theme of an upcoming episode.
#4 This one is blue and forgettable. I think he has pointy teeth, but I also do not think his mouth actually opens.
#5 Is a yellow robot of some sort, who as far as I can tell, has no robotic powers. His arms and legs are apparently made from the same silver tubing that comes out of my dryer to make the heat go elsewhere.
I'm not sure if actual people are in these costumes, or if they are generated in some other technilogical fashion. My guess is people are in them and the green one is particularly short, which brings about a slew of questions.
Occationally, in between lessons and songs about not eating food off the floor and the coolness of bugs (I'm not making any of that up) there are 3 second snippets of children dancing. Alone. In mismatched clothes. Their hair may or may not have been brushed in the past 24 hours.
Make no mistake, we have only seen about 10 minutes of this show. I was flipping around the channels on one of our recent rainy days. I stopped on this show because, and I swear I am not making this up, Biz Markie was on the screen and says in his gansta lisp- that is his alone, "I'm gonna give you a beat." Then he pops and spits for about 20 second.
That's it.
Why he gave us the beat, who knows?
What were we suppose to do with the beat, who knows?
Also, Biz, let's talk about where your life is going.
Here is proof:
As I type this blog, I was trying to go to the Yo Gabba Gabba website so I could post a picture of this show that is geared toward the underage crack-addict. I went to the website yogabbagabba.com and...well, any suspicion you may have about the drug use among the people who put this show together would be put to rest the minute you pull up the site.
My theme is birthday. My theme is Parker is no longer officially a baby and that makes me sad. My theme is family, friends and fun, with a little cook-out mixed in and a splash (har har) of wine to round out the celebration.
We are still a month away from the big day, so the no theme theme may change, but I doubt it. However, I went to Target today and they have Batman napkins, plates, table cloth etc. I'm not sure if I will use them for Pman's birthday, but I will be using them for Josh's! There's a theme- 31st's birthday party complete with beer-filled Batman paper cups!
Save the Date!
When I was pregnant and I hoped to follow the same minimal involvement role in the process. I was taken by surprise when I was thrust into an active role. I came up with a game- baby bottle beer chug- pretty self explanatory and a lot of fun. I diligently registered for baby items that I have no idea how to use or what they even were. In one Babies R us, I broke down and cried on a bench while registering for gifts. This was after I nearly got in a fist fight at the Waldorf Babies R Us (see previous post, sometime in Feb/March 08). And I kept getting this question of the theme. "What is the theme of the shower?", people would say.
Theme?
I'm not a theme kind of girl. When I bought my house and began decorating it, my "theme" was "house."
The theme, if there was one for my bridal shower, was wedding.
Can you guess the theme for my baby shower? If not, it was baby.
When I was decorating his room this elusive theme question came again. Oddly enough when I moved into my house and was themeing it up all over the place, I painted what is now Parker's room, blue. It's not because I have clairvoyant powers, it is blue because my parents had some blue paint leftover from themeing their house when they moved in. I bought dark wood furniture for Pman's room before he was born- is that a theme? His closet serves as our in-house storage unit, is that a theme?
Now that Pmonkey is fast approaching his 1st birthday, I have been getting this theme question again. Is -birthday- good enough? I have not bought anything yet, but I foresee buying paper plates and napkins that are cute and cheap. Truth be told, I would take cheap over cute.
I can tell you what the theme will not be- Yo Gabba Gabba- the show brought to you by the movement to Legalize Hallucinogenics Inc. If you do not know what this mind boggling show is, thank your lucky stars and don't look back.
The main character- and I mean every aspect of the word character- is this super skinny black man who wears a bright orange fuzzy fro-y thing on his head and an orange, seemingly shining, orange spandex jumpsuit. He exaggerates every word that comes out of his mouth. His arms are always flailing around like he all the sudden lost control of them or they are actually not attached to his body. It is as if he thinks the show broadcasts solely to hearing impaired children who watch the show from the couch which is situated at least a mile away from the TV.
This man, I'm not sure if his name is Gabba, is apparently having a puppet show with the outcasts from the Land of Misfit Toys. He stands behind this scene board and talks to these five rejects and hands them snacks. Here is an outline of these...things:
#1 Seemingly the only female. She is pink and has a larger than life daisy on top of her head.
#2 Is all red and pimpley looking, perhaps he has herpes, it was not explained. He has one eye, possibly a birth defect. Again, it was not explained.
#3 Is green and his arms are unfortunatley misproportioned to the rest of his body. He also has a unibrow, possibly "Proper Waxing" needs to be the theme of an upcoming episode.
#4 This one is blue and forgettable. I think he has pointy teeth, but I also do not think his mouth actually opens.
#5 Is a yellow robot of some sort, who as far as I can tell, has no robotic powers. His arms and legs are apparently made from the same silver tubing that comes out of my dryer to make the heat go elsewhere.
I'm not sure if actual people are in these costumes, or if they are generated in some other technilogical fashion. My guess is people are in them and the green one is particularly short, which brings about a slew of questions.
Occationally, in between lessons and songs about not eating food off the floor and the coolness of bugs (I'm not making any of that up) there are 3 second snippets of children dancing. Alone. In mismatched clothes. Their hair may or may not have been brushed in the past 24 hours.
Make no mistake, we have only seen about 10 minutes of this show. I was flipping around the channels on one of our recent rainy days. I stopped on this show because, and I swear I am not making this up, Biz Markie was on the screen and says in his gansta lisp- that is his alone, "I'm gonna give you a beat." Then he pops and spits for about 20 second.
That's it.
Why he gave us the beat, who knows?
What were we suppose to do with the beat, who knows?
Also, Biz, let's talk about where your life is going.
Here is proof:
As I type this blog, I was trying to go to the Yo Gabba Gabba website so I could post a picture of this show that is geared toward the underage crack-addict. I went to the website yogabbagabba.com and...well, any suspicion you may have about the drug use among the people who put this show together would be put to rest the minute you pull up the site.
My theme is birthday. My theme is Parker is no longer officially a baby and that makes me sad. My theme is family, friends and fun, with a little cook-out mixed in and a splash (har har) of wine to round out the celebration.
We are still a month away from the big day, so the no theme theme may change, but I doubt it. However, I went to Target today and they have Batman napkins, plates, table cloth etc. I'm not sure if I will use them for Pman's birthday, but I will be using them for Josh's! There's a theme- 31st's birthday party complete with beer-filled Batman paper cups!
Save the Date!
Friday, May 15, 2009
Bad Day?
Thursday night we had a storm. Apparently our electricity went out. I woke up around 12:30a.m. and saw a blinking digital clock. I'm not sure why I woke up, but I will say even though Parker has slept through the night since he was about 3 months old, I have not. In fact, once I hit my third trimester, I do not think I have slept completely through the night once.
Back to the story- I thanked the powers that be that I woke up, which is rare- I am usually cursing the powers that be at that hour for not being able to go back to sleep. Then in a sleepy haze I reset the clock and the alarm so Josh would be able to go to work on time.
However, in my foggy middle of the night state, I forgot to push the button forward that activates the alarm. So it was set, but not on. Somehow at 7:30, my internal alarm clock went off. I'm guessing it went off because sleeping until 7:30 is not a luxury I typically get to enjoy. As my eyes blinked open and I focused on the clock I said, "Josh, it's 7:30." I said this in the same manner I would say, "Josh, pass the salt." Never mind that it was an hour after he was suppose to get up. No need to startle him awake at that point, I guess.
He scrambled around to get ready, threw Abby in the backyard and was off. All the commotion woke my slumbering Parker. Then it was my turn to scramble around to start the day.
We went about the morning with our normal routine- catching the tail end of Blues Clues and then watching Franklin while we ate breakfast. Parker had a quarter of a plain bagel with a smidgen of strawberry cream cheese then vanilla yogurt with 1 minced strawberry mixed in. I had the soggy leftover crumbles of granola cereal with sliced bitter strawberries. I ask you, which breakfast would you prefer?!
Really...
Next we head out to the gym. Usually, Pman falls asleep on the way home and I slip off his bright green baby croc knock-offs and gently drop him in his crib. Then I shower, eat lunch and rush through various chores. However, Pmonkey had other plans that day. He fell asleep in the car on the way home and slept long enough for me to take a shower and that was it. That means he slept for about 30 minutes when he is usually good for an hour and a half to two hours.
I was not happy.
Parker was not happy.
Things were not looking good.
Since we were both up, I figured we might as well run a few errands. One of which required us to go to the cleaners to get something re-altered. I had something taken in last week and it needed to be taken in a bit more. I stormed into the cleaners (in Owings across from the gym that used to be a skateland, if you are in the area) ready for a fight. The little Chinese lady could not have been more nice. She held Parker while I tried the shirt on again to show her it was still too big. While I was in the dressing room, she turned up the radio and danced around the store with Pmoney. Then she told me there would be no charge for the re-alterations!
Wow! How great!
Our spirits a bit lifted, we were headed to the park in Dunkirk to kill some time until the 4:00 birthday park we were to attend that afternoon. As we approached, it looked like it may rain so instead we went to Rita's. (It's those last minute, quick decisions that make me happy to be an adult and a mom and most important in charge!)Parker has 3 teeth and that top right one is trying to push through and causing a (seemingly) great deal of pain. Looking back, that is probably why Pman didn't nap. Anyway, I figured the cold treat would help his incoming tooth, so I ordered a Strawberry Ice. After I paid, the guy behind the counter gave Parker a little baby cone filled with their custardy goodness. We sat outside and ate our treats together.
He loved it.
I loved it too, but probably for a very different reason than him.
We came home, he took a quick 20 minute nap and we headed to the birthday party. The house was amazing. The babies were plentiful. Parker found out about juice boxes with straws and potato chips. He loves them both.
When we finally made it home I thought we were done for the night. I gave Pfunk his dinner and cracked open a beer ready to melt into the couch and let Josh take over for the rest of the evening.
Every Friday during the summer, there is a Farmer's Market about a mile from our house. Josh loves going. He said our time at the Market is among his most favorite and he looks forward to it all week.
I shook my head no. There was no way Pman would make it through a Market run.
Both of my guys looked at me. Their eye pleading "PPPLLLEEEEEEAAAASSSSE can we PLEASE go?"
"FINE. Grab the diaper bag."
We went to the market and, proving me wrong, Pman hung in there the whole time. Captivated by the dogs and other babies in strollers. The Amish family brought a baby goat, for reasons that remain unclear. Parker's eye caught site of the goat and curiosity immediately set in. I pulled him out of the stroller and took him over to see the goat. I tried coaxing him to say goat (it didn't work). We were about to head back to the car when these two older ladies asked me if I would kneel down with Parker and put him next to the goat so they could get a picture. Odd request, but I obliged.
These ladies kept saying, "Your baby is so cute." "He is such a Gerber baby."
Now, I could not agree more, but I love when strangers say that.
When Pman would not take a nap, I was bracing myself for a hellish day. It's amazing how great of a day it turned out to be. It is as if Parker knew there were people out there who wanted to see him and he did not want to keep them waiting.
Back to the story- I thanked the powers that be that I woke up, which is rare- I am usually cursing the powers that be at that hour for not being able to go back to sleep. Then in a sleepy haze I reset the clock and the alarm so Josh would be able to go to work on time.
However, in my foggy middle of the night state, I forgot to push the button forward that activates the alarm. So it was set, but not on. Somehow at 7:30, my internal alarm clock went off. I'm guessing it went off because sleeping until 7:30 is not a luxury I typically get to enjoy. As my eyes blinked open and I focused on the clock I said, "Josh, it's 7:30." I said this in the same manner I would say, "Josh, pass the salt." Never mind that it was an hour after he was suppose to get up. No need to startle him awake at that point, I guess.
He scrambled around to get ready, threw Abby in the backyard and was off. All the commotion woke my slumbering Parker. Then it was my turn to scramble around to start the day.
We went about the morning with our normal routine- catching the tail end of Blues Clues and then watching Franklin while we ate breakfast. Parker had a quarter of a plain bagel with a smidgen of strawberry cream cheese then vanilla yogurt with 1 minced strawberry mixed in. I had the soggy leftover crumbles of granola cereal with sliced bitter strawberries. I ask you, which breakfast would you prefer?!
Really...
Next we head out to the gym. Usually, Pman falls asleep on the way home and I slip off his bright green baby croc knock-offs and gently drop him in his crib. Then I shower, eat lunch and rush through various chores. However, Pmonkey had other plans that day. He fell asleep in the car on the way home and slept long enough for me to take a shower and that was it. That means he slept for about 30 minutes when he is usually good for an hour and a half to two hours.
I was not happy.
Parker was not happy.
Things were not looking good.
Since we were both up, I figured we might as well run a few errands. One of which required us to go to the cleaners to get something re-altered. I had something taken in last week and it needed to be taken in a bit more. I stormed into the cleaners (in Owings across from the gym that used to be a skateland, if you are in the area) ready for a fight. The little Chinese lady could not have been more nice. She held Parker while I tried the shirt on again to show her it was still too big. While I was in the dressing room, she turned up the radio and danced around the store with Pmoney. Then she told me there would be no charge for the re-alterations!
Wow! How great!
Our spirits a bit lifted, we were headed to the park in Dunkirk to kill some time until the 4:00 birthday park we were to attend that afternoon. As we approached, it looked like it may rain so instead we went to Rita's. (It's those last minute, quick decisions that make me happy to be an adult and a mom and most important in charge!)Parker has 3 teeth and that top right one is trying to push through and causing a (seemingly) great deal of pain. Looking back, that is probably why Pman didn't nap. Anyway, I figured the cold treat would help his incoming tooth, so I ordered a Strawberry Ice. After I paid, the guy behind the counter gave Parker a little baby cone filled with their custardy goodness. We sat outside and ate our treats together.
He loved it.
I loved it too, but probably for a very different reason than him.
We came home, he took a quick 20 minute nap and we headed to the birthday party. The house was amazing. The babies were plentiful. Parker found out about juice boxes with straws and potato chips. He loves them both.
When we finally made it home I thought we were done for the night. I gave Pfunk his dinner and cracked open a beer ready to melt into the couch and let Josh take over for the rest of the evening.
Every Friday during the summer, there is a Farmer's Market about a mile from our house. Josh loves going. He said our time at the Market is among his most favorite and he looks forward to it all week.
I shook my head no. There was no way Pman would make it through a Market run.
Both of my guys looked at me. Their eye pleading "PPPLLLEEEEEEAAAASSSSE can we PLEASE go?"
"FINE. Grab the diaper bag."
We went to the market and, proving me wrong, Pman hung in there the whole time. Captivated by the dogs and other babies in strollers. The Amish family brought a baby goat, for reasons that remain unclear. Parker's eye caught site of the goat and curiosity immediately set in. I pulled him out of the stroller and took him over to see the goat. I tried coaxing him to say goat (it didn't work). We were about to head back to the car when these two older ladies asked me if I would kneel down with Parker and put him next to the goat so they could get a picture. Odd request, but I obliged.
These ladies kept saying, "Your baby is so cute." "He is such a Gerber baby."
Now, I could not agree more, but I love when strangers say that.
When Pman would not take a nap, I was bracing myself for a hellish day. It's amazing how great of a day it turned out to be. It is as if Parker knew there were people out there who wanted to see him and he did not want to keep them waiting.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Worrywart
Confession: I am an extreme worrier.
I have mentioned before, in small snippets, my tendency to worry.
People who know me and know me well probably do not how much I worry about, well everything. I would say the only people who know the full encompassing depth and breadth of my worrywartedness are Josh and my mom.
When I was in college I used to send my mom emails in the middle of the night with my worries. I remember one in particular about acquiring health insurance post graduation. This seems like a normal worry, but I sent this email in my sophomore year at Salisbury University.
When I was pregnant I worried about how I would ween my unborn baby from pacifiers. In the end, Pman does not even LIKE pacifiers, so I worried for nothing.
As odd as it sounds, it kind of comforts me to worry. I'm not sure if it is because I do it so much that I am accustomed to the pit in my stomach and my brain being too pre-occupied with problems I cannot solve to deal with the immediate pending ones.
For example, I have mini panic attacks when I think of Parker driving while texting. However, the other day I was making mashed potatoes. As I slightly washed and peeled the potatoes Pmoney sat at my feet in the kitchen playing with the tupperware. As arrant slivers of potato peel fluttered to the ground in front of Pfunk, he would pick them up and put them in his mouth. I let him do this. I watched as he put these chokeable, mostly dirty, kitchen floor scraps in his mouth only to promptly spit them out. Each time making a face that clearly communicated "Yucky!"
Another time I was out with some friends and handed Pmoney a tortilla chip. One of my friends, who is not yet a mommy, said, "Can he have those?" I said, "We'll find out."
P.S. He was not a fan, odd.
I let him do these things all the time. I let him figure things out. Some mom's say that I seem so relaxed and at ease with this mothering thing. Secretly, I know that since I am consumed by worry over whether or not I will like the person he marries, who has time to think about potato peels?!
About two months ago my friend and I decided to join the same pool and enroll our boys in the same swim class. Since we came up with this plan I have worried about how Pman's nap time will be affected by joining a pool. It's insane. Who cares if his nap time is thrown off? He will be swimming! I was up for almost 2 hours last night trying to plan out our summer days in my head.
I was so focused on getting Pmoney in this swim class, that I signed him up before we even officially joined the pool. Huh? I'm still not sure how I did that, but there you have it.
I realize that this in a natural ingrained trait. Some people are worriers and some are not. However, I think I have been influenced by an outside source. A source that scares the crap out of me, but I still partake in. A source that I know has been edited and dramatized in an effort to pump up ratings. This source is Nanny 911. Have you seen it? If not Super Nanny has the same effect on me.
I watch each show by myself like some sort of junkie or closet eater. I get my fix while Pman takes his nap. I sit on my couch, shoulders tense and they are located somewhere up by my ears. My mouth is tight and my jaw is clenched, like when you see someone do something that you know hurt like hell, like slamming their head into something or closing their fingers in the car door. My eyes are the size of dinner plates and I dare not blink so as to drink in all the mayhem without missing a beat.
There seems to be two running themes:
1. The kids need to know the parents run the house.
2. Routine and consistency are vital to a happy home.
Since number 1 seems impossible- how can I take charge when I have no idea what I'm doing? I guess I'm suppose to fake it? Parker has 3 teeth (almost 4) two on the bottom and (almost) 2 on top. He is trying to figure out his teeth and therefore is kind of bitey. One time he bit me and I looked him straight in the face, held his little hands together and said, sternly "Parker, NO biting." Whereupon he stuck out his little lower lip and started crying. While he has not bit me since, I felt so bad for making him cry that I hugged him and ended up apologizing. I apologized to HIM. What?!
Anyway, since #1 does not seem to be going too well at the moment with our nearly 11 month old, I feel I have to grip on and hold tight to the second item on the list, thus explaining my obession and worry. This does explain it right?
In order to cope with this day to day I just repeat to myself- Just do what feels right. It is my mommy mantra.
A friend of mine told me I should write a book about being a mommy. I said it would be one page and that one page would say-
Do what feels right. Forget everything else.
If something feels wrong, it probably is. In the end you are the one who has to deal with any immediate outcome.
Scary, huh?
P.S. If you are a worrier and a new mommy or about to be a mommy, don't watch Nanny 911. It's terrifiying.
Josh Update:
He started physical therapy the other day and went back to work. He is slated to get his new tooth in about a week and a half. Things are looking up you would think? However, when the cast was taken off and the staples were removed, it seems 2 staples were left behind by mistake. I mean really.
I have mentioned before, in small snippets, my tendency to worry.
People who know me and know me well probably do not how much I worry about, well everything. I would say the only people who know the full encompassing depth and breadth of my worrywartedness are Josh and my mom.
When I was in college I used to send my mom emails in the middle of the night with my worries. I remember one in particular about acquiring health insurance post graduation. This seems like a normal worry, but I sent this email in my sophomore year at Salisbury University.
When I was pregnant I worried about how I would ween my unborn baby from pacifiers. In the end, Pman does not even LIKE pacifiers, so I worried for nothing.
As odd as it sounds, it kind of comforts me to worry. I'm not sure if it is because I do it so much that I am accustomed to the pit in my stomach and my brain being too pre-occupied with problems I cannot solve to deal with the immediate pending ones.
For example, I have mini panic attacks when I think of Parker driving while texting. However, the other day I was making mashed potatoes. As I slightly washed and peeled the potatoes Pmoney sat at my feet in the kitchen playing with the tupperware. As arrant slivers of potato peel fluttered to the ground in front of Pfunk, he would pick them up and put them in his mouth. I let him do this. I watched as he put these chokeable, mostly dirty, kitchen floor scraps in his mouth only to promptly spit them out. Each time making a face that clearly communicated "Yucky!"
Another time I was out with some friends and handed Pmoney a tortilla chip. One of my friends, who is not yet a mommy, said, "Can he have those?" I said, "We'll find out."
P.S. He was not a fan, odd.
I let him do these things all the time. I let him figure things out. Some mom's say that I seem so relaxed and at ease with this mothering thing. Secretly, I know that since I am consumed by worry over whether or not I will like the person he marries, who has time to think about potato peels?!
About two months ago my friend and I decided to join the same pool and enroll our boys in the same swim class. Since we came up with this plan I have worried about how Pman's nap time will be affected by joining a pool. It's insane. Who cares if his nap time is thrown off? He will be swimming! I was up for almost 2 hours last night trying to plan out our summer days in my head.
I was so focused on getting Pmoney in this swim class, that I signed him up before we even officially joined the pool. Huh? I'm still not sure how I did that, but there you have it.
I realize that this in a natural ingrained trait. Some people are worriers and some are not. However, I think I have been influenced by an outside source. A source that scares the crap out of me, but I still partake in. A source that I know has been edited and dramatized in an effort to pump up ratings. This source is Nanny 911. Have you seen it? If not Super Nanny has the same effect on me.
I watch each show by myself like some sort of junkie or closet eater. I get my fix while Pman takes his nap. I sit on my couch, shoulders tense and they are located somewhere up by my ears. My mouth is tight and my jaw is clenched, like when you see someone do something that you know hurt like hell, like slamming their head into something or closing their fingers in the car door. My eyes are the size of dinner plates and I dare not blink so as to drink in all the mayhem without missing a beat.
There seems to be two running themes:
1. The kids need to know the parents run the house.
2. Routine and consistency are vital to a happy home.
Since number 1 seems impossible- how can I take charge when I have no idea what I'm doing? I guess I'm suppose to fake it? Parker has 3 teeth (almost 4) two on the bottom and (almost) 2 on top. He is trying to figure out his teeth and therefore is kind of bitey. One time he bit me and I looked him straight in the face, held his little hands together and said, sternly "Parker, NO biting." Whereupon he stuck out his little lower lip and started crying. While he has not bit me since, I felt so bad for making him cry that I hugged him and ended up apologizing. I apologized to HIM. What?!
Anyway, since #1 does not seem to be going too well at the moment with our nearly 11 month old, I feel I have to grip on and hold tight to the second item on the list, thus explaining my obession and worry. This does explain it right?
In order to cope with this day to day I just repeat to myself- Just do what feels right. It is my mommy mantra.
A friend of mine told me I should write a book about being a mommy. I said it would be one page and that one page would say-
Do what feels right. Forget everything else.
If something feels wrong, it probably is. In the end you are the one who has to deal with any immediate outcome.
Scary, huh?
P.S. If you are a worrier and a new mommy or about to be a mommy, don't watch Nanny 911. It's terrifiying.
Josh Update:
He started physical therapy the other day and went back to work. He is slated to get his new tooth in about a week and a half. Things are looking up you would think? However, when the cast was taken off and the staples were removed, it seems 2 staples were left behind by mistake. I mean really.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Out of the Mouths of Babes
Since what I am now calling- The Injury- Josh has taken to riding around in those motorized carts that are for injured military war vets and the extreme elderly.
Have I mentioned Josh has no shame?
Despite his frequent use, he is not that great at operating them. This is evident by the dozen or so tampon boxes that were strewn about the middle of the floor in our local Giant grocery store after he attempted a 3 (or 5) point turn in the feminine hygiene aisle after an misguided left turn. I was holding Pman and standing right next to Josh when he did this. In all honesty, I just turned and walked a little further up the aisle like I was looking at pregnancy test or KY jelly or anything really that would make me seem least likely linked to Josh as he fumbled around with the maxi pads and tampons. Poor Parker.
Josh prefers the carts at Giant to the one...yes one broken one at the Safeway across the street. Plus at Giant they have a secure place for him to put his crutches. These grocery store Rascals have a horn and beep when Josh backs up, which he does often as he usually whizzes by whatever item it is he is looking for. These things seem to have only two speeds- stop and 10 mph, which is quite fast if one is in fact attempting to grocery shop.
During our most recent trip to Giant, which since Josh has been home we seem to either go to Giant or Walmart daily...curious. Anyway during our most recent trip Josh over heard a little girl make the following comment to her mother, "Mommy, why is that guy using that cart? He is not old?"
Now, Josh's cast came off on Monday and he is in a full velcro leg brace, but it is still very visable and prohibits his range of motion. He also uses his crutches, which as I understand it are a bitch to use. Sorry, but from what I understand bitch is the only word suitable to describe their annoying and irritating nature. I'm not sure what the mother's response was to the little girl, but I will say people are not as sympathetic as you would think, which is sad.
On one of our daily runs to Walmart, I saw a lady that I had not seen since I was pregnant. She looked at Parker remarked on how big he is and then said, "Wow, he does NOT look ANYTHING like you."
Nice.
Word of advice to the those of you who want to comment on which parent a baby most resembles- make it up. Even if the baby is the spitting image of daddy, as Parker is, lie to the mother and at least say something generic like-
"He has your smile."
"He has your fingers."
Hell I'd even take "He has your toenails!"
Give me something, but don't say "He looks NOtHiNg like you!!" (emphasis on the nothing.) NICU experience aside, mothers go through a lot with pregnancy and labor, humor them, throw them a bone tell them their baby resembles them in some way.
Finally, this Sunday will be my first official Mother's Day. I am fully aware that this is a Hallmark holiday and I'm usually not into them. However, this year, I said to Josh, I want something cute from Parker. I came home from work the other night and Parker was wearing blue plaid shorts and a teal and orange Miami Dolphins onsie. Clearly NOT what he was wearing when I left. There was paint on the bottom of the only shoes that fit his fat feet, Josh had paint on his hands and some how Abby had some on her face. Josh informed me he needs to make another Walmart run asap. I'm not sure what they are up to, but I'm sure I'm going to love it.
My favorite mother moment of every day is after Parker takes a bath and before he goes into his crib for the night. We sit in his room in the dark in his green and brown glider listening to a Sounds of the Rainforest CD. It is just Parker and me.
Parker is finishing up his last bottle and I read either to myself or out loud, softly to him. When he is done with the bottle, he lazily tosses it on the ground and reaches up for me. All he wants is for me to hold him for a bit before he goes to sleep. We glide along and Parker twists my hair in his tiny fat fingers or bats at the pearl on my necklace until he drifts off.
As he gets teeth I know this routine will fade since the milk should not sit on his teeth all night. At some point, he will bathe himself, brush his own teeth, pick out and put on his own jammies and climb into bed without assistance. Until then I will enjoy our routine and know that even though May 10 is designated as Mother's Day, every evening I am reminded of how thankful I am to be Parker's mother.
Have I mentioned Josh has no shame?
Despite his frequent use, he is not that great at operating them. This is evident by the dozen or so tampon boxes that were strewn about the middle of the floor in our local Giant grocery store after he attempted a 3 (or 5) point turn in the feminine hygiene aisle after an misguided left turn. I was holding Pman and standing right next to Josh when he did this. In all honesty, I just turned and walked a little further up the aisle like I was looking at pregnancy test or KY jelly or anything really that would make me seem least likely linked to Josh as he fumbled around with the maxi pads and tampons. Poor Parker.
Josh prefers the carts at Giant to the one...yes one broken one at the Safeway across the street. Plus at Giant they have a secure place for him to put his crutches. These grocery store Rascals have a horn and beep when Josh backs up, which he does often as he usually whizzes by whatever item it is he is looking for. These things seem to have only two speeds- stop and 10 mph, which is quite fast if one is in fact attempting to grocery shop.
During our most recent trip to Giant, which since Josh has been home we seem to either go to Giant or Walmart daily...curious. Anyway during our most recent trip Josh over heard a little girl make the following comment to her mother, "Mommy, why is that guy using that cart? He is not old?"
Now, Josh's cast came off on Monday and he is in a full velcro leg brace, but it is still very visable and prohibits his range of motion. He also uses his crutches, which as I understand it are a bitch to use. Sorry, but from what I understand bitch is the only word suitable to describe their annoying and irritating nature. I'm not sure what the mother's response was to the little girl, but I will say people are not as sympathetic as you would think, which is sad.
On one of our daily runs to Walmart, I saw a lady that I had not seen since I was pregnant. She looked at Parker remarked on how big he is and then said, "Wow, he does NOT look ANYTHING like you."
Nice.
Word of advice to the those of you who want to comment on which parent a baby most resembles- make it up. Even if the baby is the spitting image of daddy, as Parker is, lie to the mother and at least say something generic like-
"He has your smile."
"He has your fingers."
Hell I'd even take "He has your toenails!"
Give me something, but don't say "He looks NOtHiNg like you!!" (emphasis on the nothing.) NICU experience aside, mothers go through a lot with pregnancy and labor, humor them, throw them a bone tell them their baby resembles them in some way.
Finally, this Sunday will be my first official Mother's Day. I am fully aware that this is a Hallmark holiday and I'm usually not into them. However, this year, I said to Josh, I want something cute from Parker. I came home from work the other night and Parker was wearing blue plaid shorts and a teal and orange Miami Dolphins onsie. Clearly NOT what he was wearing when I left. There was paint on the bottom of the only shoes that fit his fat feet, Josh had paint on his hands and some how Abby had some on her face. Josh informed me he needs to make another Walmart run asap. I'm not sure what they are up to, but I'm sure I'm going to love it.
My favorite mother moment of every day is after Parker takes a bath and before he goes into his crib for the night. We sit in his room in the dark in his green and brown glider listening to a Sounds of the Rainforest CD. It is just Parker and me.
Parker is finishing up his last bottle and I read either to myself or out loud, softly to him. When he is done with the bottle, he lazily tosses it on the ground and reaches up for me. All he wants is for me to hold him for a bit before he goes to sleep. We glide along and Parker twists my hair in his tiny fat fingers or bats at the pearl on my necklace until he drifts off.
As he gets teeth I know this routine will fade since the milk should not sit on his teeth all night. At some point, he will bathe himself, brush his own teeth, pick out and put on his own jammies and climb into bed without assistance. Until then I will enjoy our routine and know that even though May 10 is designated as Mother's Day, every evening I am reminded of how thankful I am to be Parker's mother.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Watch Out Leo!
I have always wondered what measurement is used when assigning a show size. For example, I wear a size 10. Is that 10 inches? 10 centimeters? I usually get the reply of, "Inches, feet are measured in inches. I think..."
Honestly, people usually begin their answer with a sort of assertiveness they would exude if they were saying their own first name. However, the end of the short statement is said with the sureness one would use when reciting Pi to a room full of mathematicians.
Let's say it is inches, which I am fully aware it probably is, why is there a size 5 in kids shoes, but a size 5 in women's too? These shoes are not the same size, why are their numbers the same?
All this (admittedly lengthy) shoe talk stems from the fact that my son has got unusually fat feet. He currently has those leathery shoes that most babies have now. His are from Target, but they can be purchased a number of places. His are blue and have cute green turtles on them. We get many compliments on them of course!
He is standing now and occasionally will do it on his own, until he realizes he is doing it on his own and then he freaks out and sits down. When he is standing and holding on to something he will do this kicky thing with each foot, one at a time. It kind of looks like a backward can-can and when he does it in the tub- well all I can say is you will get wet on that ride. In other words, walking is right around the corner, as is summer. While I've heard these leathery Target knock-offs are ok for walking, I'm afraid their lack of breathability renders them not ideal for summer.
In my quest to get my son some summery footwear, I have found that he's got the feet of a woman in the 9th month of pregnancy in the hottest depth of the summer. He is likely a size 3- lengthwise. Widthwise he is somewhere around a 7.
WHAT?
I'm not kidding flip flops don't even fit this kid.
The best part was, while I was attempting to jam his fat feet into these baby mandels I was laughing hysterically and the unbelievable girth of his feet. Because I was laughing, so was he, which distracted him from the pain that was likely caused by his mommy cramming his foot in a shoe that was 3 sizes too small.
Please understand, I am not exaggerating here. The fat on his foot was gushing out the sides of these leathery strapy velcro mandels.
I give, I give! My son will be the one without shoes, likely stepping on bees everywhere he goes.
In other Parker news, his kissing techniques have not changed and seem to actually be getting stranger. To recap his technique: we are talking open mouth on either your cheek, chin or occasionally mouth. Once his mouth is place on the general vicinity of your face he makes a moaning like "habububububu" noise until he deems the kiss is over. Occasionally there is a slight nibble movement so that the receiver is aware of his teeth, but not hurt by them. If he is really into it he will even put his little hand on the other side of your face kind of holding you there. I'm ashamed to say that I have done little to discourage this as I think it is funny.
Anyway, he attempted to kiss another little boy at the library.
I mean what else can I say.
I love Parker deeply, fiercely and completely. If he ends up fighting for hte pink team that will not affect my love for him. I just want it noted here that at 10 months old, the boy does not discriminate and shares his kissing with any willing victim/recipient.
Although, Pmoney may give Leonardo DiCaprio a run for his money. It seems DiCaprio's girlfriend, Bar Somethingorother, was on a news program this past week. She was fully clothed while on the show, but they kept throwing up still shots of her in bikinis that pretty much amounted to cotton balls, scotch tape and a gauze strip. Waxing and/or shaving was a MUST for these ity bity bikinis. This left me feeling like my new bathing suit is something circa 1920 when bathing suits came in turtleneck form with w i d e stripe patterns that went down to one's knees.
Not cute.
Parker could not have been more mesmerized if it was a Bare Minerals commercial (see older posts for explanation). However, this time I'm fairly sure he was looking strike that staring -mouth agape, eye brows cocked upward- at Bar Bikinimodel. I swear he looked away when they showed her with all her clothes on, but as soon as the still shots came back on the screen, Pfunk turned to Pmush.
Forget it- I'm fairly certain Parker will fight for the pink team as long it gets him his very own Bar Barelytherestringbikini model.
Josh update: After duct taping two trash bags to his cast, two family trips to the hardware store- once for an extension cord and again for weed whacker line- Josh mowed the back yard! Now, our backyard is tiny, which is why we have a weed whacker not a lawn mower. If you do a Poiret you pretty much get the whole yard. However, Josh did it. I didn't have to. Yeh Josh! Cast will be removed May 4!
No one is more excited than me I swear, Josh thinks he is, but he is not.
Honestly, people usually begin their answer with a sort of assertiveness they would exude if they were saying their own first name. However, the end of the short statement is said with the sureness one would use when reciting Pi to a room full of mathematicians.
Let's say it is inches, which I am fully aware it probably is, why is there a size 5 in kids shoes, but a size 5 in women's too? These shoes are not the same size, why are their numbers the same?
All this (admittedly lengthy) shoe talk stems from the fact that my son has got unusually fat feet. He currently has those leathery shoes that most babies have now. His are from Target, but they can be purchased a number of places. His are blue and have cute green turtles on them. We get many compliments on them of course!
He is standing now and occasionally will do it on his own, until he realizes he is doing it on his own and then he freaks out and sits down. When he is standing and holding on to something he will do this kicky thing with each foot, one at a time. It kind of looks like a backward can-can and when he does it in the tub- well all I can say is you will get wet on that ride. In other words, walking is right around the corner, as is summer. While I've heard these leathery Target knock-offs are ok for walking, I'm afraid their lack of breathability renders them not ideal for summer.
In my quest to get my son some summery footwear, I have found that he's got the feet of a woman in the 9th month of pregnancy in the hottest depth of the summer. He is likely a size 3- lengthwise. Widthwise he is somewhere around a 7.
WHAT?
I'm not kidding flip flops don't even fit this kid.
The best part was, while I was attempting to jam his fat feet into these baby mandels I was laughing hysterically and the unbelievable girth of his feet. Because I was laughing, so was he, which distracted him from the pain that was likely caused by his mommy cramming his foot in a shoe that was 3 sizes too small.
Please understand, I am not exaggerating here. The fat on his foot was gushing out the sides of these leathery strapy velcro mandels.
I give, I give! My son will be the one without shoes, likely stepping on bees everywhere he goes.
In other Parker news, his kissing techniques have not changed and seem to actually be getting stranger. To recap his technique: we are talking open mouth on either your cheek, chin or occasionally mouth. Once his mouth is place on the general vicinity of your face he makes a moaning like "habububububu" noise until he deems the kiss is over. Occasionally there is a slight nibble movement so that the receiver is aware of his teeth, but not hurt by them. If he is really into it he will even put his little hand on the other side of your face kind of holding you there. I'm ashamed to say that I have done little to discourage this as I think it is funny.
Anyway, he attempted to kiss another little boy at the library.
I mean what else can I say.
I love Parker deeply, fiercely and completely. If he ends up fighting for hte pink team that will not affect my love for him. I just want it noted here that at 10 months old, the boy does not discriminate and shares his kissing with any willing victim/recipient.
Although, Pmoney may give Leonardo DiCaprio a run for his money. It seems DiCaprio's girlfriend, Bar Somethingorother, was on a news program this past week. She was fully clothed while on the show, but they kept throwing up still shots of her in bikinis that pretty much amounted to cotton balls, scotch tape and a gauze strip. Waxing and/or shaving was a MUST for these ity bity bikinis. This left me feeling like my new bathing suit is something circa 1920 when bathing suits came in turtleneck form with w i d e stripe patterns that went down to one's knees.
Not cute.
Parker could not have been more mesmerized if it was a Bare Minerals commercial (see older posts for explanation). However, this time I'm fairly sure he was looking strike that staring -mouth agape, eye brows cocked upward- at Bar Bikinimodel. I swear he looked away when they showed her with all her clothes on, but as soon as the still shots came back on the screen, Pfunk turned to Pmush.
Forget it- I'm fairly certain Parker will fight for the pink team as long it gets him his very own Bar Barelytherestringbikini model.
Josh update: After duct taping two trash bags to his cast, two family trips to the hardware store- once for an extension cord and again for weed whacker line- Josh mowed the back yard! Now, our backyard is tiny, which is why we have a weed whacker not a lawn mower. If you do a Poiret you pretty much get the whole yard. However, Josh did it. I didn't have to. Yeh Josh! Cast will be removed May 4!
No one is more excited than me I swear, Josh thinks he is, but he is not.
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