Photojournal: Parker vs. cereal

Pfunk (as Aunt Lynsey started calling him) sitting innocently and unsuspecting in his high chair. He has started grabbing for my...well anything I put in my mouth be it beer, chicken, soup, chapstick. No I am not eating chapstick, the idea is if I make any move toward my mouth Pfunk is aware of it. Josh and I are taking this as a "FEED ME" sign.

"Ummmm, this does NOT look like the yummy stuff you are eating mom!"

"Oh just give me the damn bowl! I will do it myself!"

"Do I have anything on my face?"

Overall, he seemed interested, but not overjoyed. I think he would rather have turkey and sweet potatoes with roasted marshmellows (who wouldn't?). We are going to try it again tonight and hopefully will be introducing fruits and veggies in the coming weeks.

Anyway, I am writing this and my oven is beeping telling me Tom the Turkey is ready to be eaten.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

And Her Baby Wasn't Even Real

Confession: I have had this intense unexplainable fear of dropping Parker since the day I brought him home. I used to be afraid of holding him on the deck for fear he would violently wiggle out of my arms and fall into the neighbors backyard where upon their dog would snarl and bark loudly at Parker who lay helplessly in the dirt.

It's an intense fear.

My mom laughs at me, but I really thought/still think dropping him was/is inevitable.

My fears were confirmed when I was watching Friends one evening, as I do, and Rachel voiced a similar fear about her fake daughter Emma.

Also, can we talk about Emma for a minute? I mean what is the point of putting Rachel and Ross in this un-wed parent situation if the baby is barely and I mean barely part of the show. Putting a pink shiny E on a door in Joey's apartment does not mean you have a baby! No wonder us new mom's are thrown for such a loop and overwhelmed when the baby comes! Friends set us up for failure.

Anyway, on this one episode Rachel was still living with Ross and Emma had just been born. R&R some how were both out of the apartment and Emma was locked in the apartment by herself. She was a newbie and apparently sleeping in a bassinet.
Rachel started freaking out about Emma being in the apartment alone and said, "We have to get in there! What if she falls and hits her head?!"
To which Ross replied, "Can't hold her own head up, but yeah she is going to throw herself out of the bassinet."
(Or something like that)

I feel ya Rach. Who knows what those crazy babies can do!?

All this is leading up to another confession: I fell down the stairs with Parker the other day.

We are both fine and as most things in my life, I am probably making this more dramatic than necessary.
Here's how it went down:
Pman was taking a nap and I was eating lunch before it was time for us to leave so I could go to work and he could go to the sitter's house. When I wake him up from a nap I usually change his diaper then carry him downstairs while singing some song about what we are going to go do- have a bottle, go to Aunt Brenda's house, call daddy, take Abby out etc. These songs are nonsense and entertaining for us both. As I came to (and evidently missed) the last three steps we both went tumbling down and landed on that last step that is also a platform of sorts. You know? Anyway, some how I managed to hold him tight the whole time sacrificing both of my own knees and my left shin in the process. The noise we made was so bumpy and loud that even Abby came off her perch on our bed to check it out. Aside from my knees everyone is ok.

I do have to say a) It's amazing that the natural instinct to brace my fall with my hands did not even kick in (I am actually thankful for that) and b) My fear of actually dropping Parker has only intensified. Therfore we will both be wrapped in bubblewrap hence forth!

In other news, I have found these new teething tablets, well new to me anyway. They come in this little plastic tube and look like the dehydrated marshmallows that come with Swiss Miss hot chocolate. You put these meltable tablets under the baby's tongue and hope for the best. Both praying they work and that the baby does not choke on them.
So I opened the tube, took a few myself (felt NOTHING) and decided to give them a shot with the monkey man. While having a firm grip on the phone and after practicing dialing 911 with my thumb a few times, I put two of these marshmellow-y things under his tongue.
I'm not sure if they stopped the crying because he was distracted and thinking, "What the hell is this lady giving me now?" or if he stopped crying because they worked. Either way stopping the crying is the desired result and therefore, Thank You Sweet Jesus for inventing these things!

*TEASER*
Parker will be eating baby rice cereal for the first time on Thanksgiving day. Stay tuned for a photo journal of some sort!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Fear and Loathing in DC (or) I May Have Earned Another Gold Mom Star

I have a very good friend who lives in Alexandria. If you are not aware this town is near/on the edge of DC. She has been campaigning for me to come visit her for about two years now. At first my excuses were the typical, "I'm just so busy..." or "This month is booked, let's try and set something up a couple months from now..." After this excuse I would have to ignore her emails for a bit. Either way, I was dodging the inevitable, driving in the general direction, and to the out skirts of, Washington DC.

I have an irrational and unfounded fear of DC. Well, I guess it is not so unfounded. The first time I ever...EVER drove there it literally took me 2 hours and 40 minutes to figure out how to leave. To me DC is like some sort of black hole filled with crime, destruction and general scary stuff. (I know I am overreacting on most accounts here, but it's what I picture so there you have it.)

My friend caught me with my guard down and I agreed to drive to Alexandria with Parker to meet her for lunch. (deep breath deep breath- just the thought makes me light headed.)

Parker and I start our day as normal- gym, bottle, shower and then were we on our way to the DC area. We are about 20 minutes from home and running a little late (see previous entry on leaving the house in a timely manner ha!) when I realized I had to pee. Here I am faced with the choice to hold it when I am driving to a place I have never been, which is located in a land that terrifies me. I fear how long I will actually have to hold it and what if I get to the point where I may be about to burst and am in the depths of the city, would the corner bum let me use his bench as a potty?!
Before it got to that point, I pulled over at a WAWA in a familiar area and got P-man our of his seat heading to the bathroom.

It was a little odd using the potty with a babbling baby who just learned how to do raspberries sitting on your lap, but I'm a mom and it's what we do.

I managed to get my pants down without a problem. I managed to pull them back up with out a problem, however, I was wearing jeans.

I stood there for about a minute holding Parker, pants up- unbuttoned trying to figure out exactly how to button my pants with one hand. Parker was oblivious as he was still blowing raspberries on my face and was therefore no help what so ever. I tried several times to button my pants with one hand to no avail.
I tried pulling the zipper up and then button them- no luck.
I even tried to convince myself that if I just held Parker down low and walked to out quickly, I would be able to get to my car without anyone noticing.
I ended up balancing Parker between the toilet paper dispenser and my own stomach and saying a quick prayer while buttoning my pants. All is well and we left the WAWA and headed toward the dreaded DC area.

We got there just fine, had a nice lunch and visit with my friend. Since we got there ok, I figured we would be a-ok on the way out. However, I figured wrong.

Much like a lot of cities, you cannot really go the way you came because of one way streets and dead ends. Any logical person- or if I were not already a insanly apprehensive about being in the city, I-probably would have been able to figure out how to get out with no problem. However, since I had been trapped in DC once before, I immediately went into panic mode and started sweating as my eyes filled with tears. I also cannot be held responsible for the words coming out of my mouth at that moment in time.
I tried calling my friend, but her cell phone died while we were out and she did not have the charger. I tried calling Josh, although I do not know what he would have done, he has never been to Alexandria.

As I am driving around in a frantic panic I hear unmistakable grunts from P-man in the back. His face was turning red and he was making his signature poop-face.
You.
Have.
GOT.
To.
Be.
KIDDING!

Despite my destine and fear of DC, I am an excellent parallel parker. So I whip my Santa Fe into a spot as traffic is whizzing by. My plan was to get in the back so I could change the monkey.
I look up and I see someone loading stuff into the back of a truck. My first thought is, "Great I will ask him for directions!"

In hind sight I realize this man may have been robbing the store he was in front of as he was moving quickly and seemed generally shifty- who knows, maybe I am stereotyping- I was scared. Although, given my mental state at that moment, he is lucky I did not just get out and pepper spray him. I am sure he saw me pull up in front of the "No Parking" sign and attempt to exit my vehicle despite the thundering traffic and thought "Dumb suburban mom."

When there was a break in traffic I got out and asked him out to get to 495 or mainly Maryland. He told me to stay straight and stay in the right lane and follow signs to Baltimore.

WRONG

Stay straight- correct

Follow signs to Baltimore- correct

Stay in the right lane- WRONG

I basically ended up driving horizontally across a vertcial traffic pattern to get to the exit. I some how ended up on Rt. 50 meaning I got home from DC by way of Annapolis. For those of you not familiar with the area, that is like going from California to Texas by way of Ohio.

I am writing this though so we are home safe.

Disclaimer- Alexandria is actually very cute, kind of like Annapolis or a small New England town- clearly not the crime riddled picture I have in my mind. I mean they have a Starbucks and people leash up their dogs while they go inside to grab a latte.

Mom hint- I always have a couple Zip-Lock bags in my diaper bag for just situations like this, messy diapers and no where to throw them away. I toss the soiled diaper and wipes in the Zip-Lock until I come to a trash can. These bags are also useful if clothes get wet with drool or soiled from an explosive situation. They take up virtually no room in the diaper bag, but can be SUCH a life saver.

There you have it.

Happy Halloween

October 31, 2008- Parker's first Halloween!

If you can't tell from the picture, he was some sort of monster/dragon thing. It actually said "little monster" on the bottoms of the feet. (See Below.)

He hated the hood, but was pretty agreeable to wearing it for a bit. We took him to two friend's houses and then came home to hand out candy. We only took him to two houses because Josh has strong feelings about not taking kids out trick or treating if they do not even have teeth. Because of our venture out to TWO houses we missed the bulk of tricker treaters leaving me with a large basket of Milky Ways, Skittles and Junior Mints to eat by Thanksgiving because I hate to mix my holidays. No worries, I feel up to the challenge.

In addition to his feeling about babies trick or treating, Josh refuses candy to anyone with basically a sweatshirt and tennis shoes on as a costume. He also is strongly against kids over the age of about 12 coming to the door for candy. Josh wants kids, he wants costumes and he wants to hear "Trick or Treat!" Darn it!

In fact, last year he was attempting to take a stand on this issue. After a few hours of doling out stale Starbursts and Snickers to, as Josh puts it, unappreciative teenagers who are much to old and had uncreative outfits, he decided to make these "kids" work for their candy. If you had a five o'clock shadow and a W-2 you either had to work for the 50 cent candy or move along.

Josh did everything short of asking teenagers to tap dance and then mow the lawn.

Finally, feeling superior to the neighborhood rif-raf a oldish looking child comes up. Now, we have a small porch with 3 steps. Josh sits on the porch to hand out the candy, but wants the kids to make the effort to come up the few steps we have- If you can't do steps, you can't get candy.

So this oldish child comes up. I was not out there, so I am not sure how this kid actually came up, but nonetheless, he asked Josh for candy. This is how it went down:

Josh: Come on kid, why can't you at least come up here to get the candy?!

Kid's mom: He has Spina Bifida and has difficulty with stairs.

*Note: It may not have been Spina Bifida, but we know he could not walk up the steps.

Josh:---

(After a few awkward silent moments seeming like hours)

Josh: Oh I'm sorry dude! Here have some extra candy!

(Toss handfuls upon handfuls into the kids bag.)

Kid's mom: Oh, he can't hear you, he's deaf.

Play on Josh, play on.

Side story: While I did not vote for Obama, I think it is rather remarkable that our nation elected a man who physically does not fit the mold that has been cast by thousands of years of American history.

Now, we need to stand together as a nation and lead by example for all our little guys and gals. Who knows who will be the next President, literally!

Ok, I'm off that soapbox and back into that basket of Halloween candy!!

Don't Let the Light From Above Fool You...

This boy is no Angel after what he did today!

This is his third outfit for the day. It is 3p.m. and he is wearing jammies.

He must be channeling his inner Hugh Hefner, ya know, minus the ho-bags and whatnot.

The first outfit was a cute pair of brown baby cargo pants and a long sleeved green onsie with a moose on it. Underneath the moose it said "Little Guy". I'm not sure what "Little Guy" has to do with the moose, but there you have it. Of course, this was also his first time wearing this shirt/onsie. With both of us dressed and ready to go, we headed off to the gym. Some how his bottle leaked all over him. The day care lady actually had to come get me because it was leaking so much. To solve the mystery, I unscrewed and then rescrewed the top back on. No more leaks. Special touch I have.

We came home and selected a different long sleeved onsie, same pants though.

P.S. I LOVE selecting his clothes and I find it very interesting that this side of 3 years from now he will be picking out his own stuff and I will likely be running errands with the superhero of the moment complete with cape.

Anyway, his second outfit was a cute blue onsie with light blue dogs on it and it said "Dog Gone Cute" across his chest. Dog Gone Cute indeed!
We went to Target to return some stuff and buy monkey a new book- Curious George Travels or something...
While we are in the store he throws up on himself. I wipe away the baby bile with the sleeve of my own shirt and move on. Really, this does not even phase me and would not warrant an outfit change, for either of us. However, what happened on the car ride home can only be described as foul.

We are riding along. Sleeping monkey in the back.

I look in the rear view to check on him and he is awake, but not crying. Good.

Then I hear it.

A tummy rumble worthy of a full sized truck driver man.

I mean he was in the backseat I was in the front, with the radio on and I heard the rumble.

Darn it! Maybe I could just drive around until Josh is home and when I get there I will pretend to know nothing of what lurks in our sons' diaper. It will be as if it is a shock to us all.

Ok, ok I did not do that.
I drove home and since I had not had lunch yet, I put P-man in his Pack and Play and made myself a chicken sandwich. I ate it. I had to eat it for I knew once I changed the diaper all hope would be lost for lunch.

I laid a blanket on the floor and put P-man on top of it.

As I peeled off his baby cargo's I was smacked in the face with a terrible smell. Before I went any further I ran to his room and grabbed his PJ's and the rest of his dirty clothes, I knew a load of laundry was going to need to be thrown in the machine.

To spare you what I had to witness firsthand, I will not go into all the details. I will say though there was poop on his stomach. Nay, there was poop just about on his chest. I guess since he poo'ed in the seated position it projected up and around or something.

I shudder when I think of it.

My side story of the day is a special note to the man on the stationary bike next to me at the gym this morning.
Dear Sir:
Dear Old Sir:
Dear Old Gross Sweaty Sir in the t-shirt with the arm hole that was ripped down to your waist and it was obviously not suppose to be that way seeing as the shirt itself was practically see-through as it has likely been washed 4, 532 times,
You are old, sweaty and moley. Please wear an appropriate shirt or I will W-I-L-L throw up on you next time.
Regards
N. Phillips

Teething: Hell on Earth

Parker has begun teething. There is no easy or child-friendly way to say this- teething is a bitch.

Hell personified (at least up to this point of parenthood) is a teething infant.

Parker does not cry he is flat out screaming in pain. And if he can do this directly in my ear while tugging on fists full of my hair, all the better. Parker seems to be a misery love company type of kid.

Anyway, last night it took us from 9:30p.m. until 2:30a.m. to get him to finally fall asleep and stay that way. Josh and I took 1 hour shifts until the mission was complete. Finally around 2:00a.m. I gave him a shot of infant Tylenol and a few more ounces of formula and that did the trick. Although at some point during the day a friend suggested whiskey as a remedy to soothe the teething. I am still not sure if she meant the whiskey to be for Josh and me or Parker or a shot for each of us! I think the third option sounds the most reasonable.

This morning he was obviously still uncomfortable when he woke up around 9:15a.m.

I bought some infant Orajel a few days ago for just this occasion. The directions indicate that babies should not have the gel until they are 4 months old. We are mere days away from 4 month, so I gave in and rubbed some on his gums. Now I have never had to use Orajel so I was not aware exactly what would happen. So, like everything I give him, I took a dose myself.

Side note: The directions on the Orajel box also say you should not give it to baby more than 4 times a day for no more than 7 days. To this I say, "Why?'
Is Parker going to develop some sort of addiction?
Will I find him hurling himself out of the crib and army crawling to the kitchen to get his fix?
If the Orajel makes the crying stop, I think I can weather the Orajel addiction. I mean I pretty much control the situation anyway. Parker can't even hold his own bottle, I'm pretty confident that I can wrestle away a tube of Orajel.

Anyway, in the last 4 months I have taken infant Tylenol, infant Orajel, Mylicon, Gripe Water, infant vitamins and drank a mouthful of formula. The next question I usually get is, "What about breast milk?"
No.
No you sicko, I did not drink my own breast milk.
Which, by the by I am no longer nursing and I am wearing a normal bra again! All of you rejoice with me!

The Orajel numbed the area of my tongue I put it on and I'm guessing did the same for the little monkey, except on his gums.

Stay tuned because through all of this I can see that his gums on the bottom are white, but I cannot see or feel any teeth, so this is really just the beginning!

Also in other news (WARNING: cussing about to commence):
This is a notice to all strangers, especially those who are currently cleaning the floor at the local grocery store.
Ahem:
KEEP YOU EVER LOVING HANDS OFF MY BABY, BITCH!

(understand I am not calling Parker a bitch, rather I am referring to the grocery store employee)

The other day Parker, Josh and I were at the grocery store. Now, I realize P-man is exceptionally cute and this makes people want to touch him. However, if you are mopping up slop on the floor of a grocery store, please refrain from touching my child.
I was a few feet away and Parker was in his stroller, which Josh was pushing. The lady commented on the cutest of him (P-man, not Josh) and reached in to touch him. I shot Josh a looked that said, "Run her over! Run the bitch over with the stroller and don't look back!" Instead Josh stood there amazed that a stranger would do such a thing.
I ended up saying, "Parker, come to mommy."
And Josh awkwardly smiled and the grocery store employee and rolled away in my direction.

Apparently this is an epidemic. A girl I know had a stranger pull the pacifier out of her child's mouth to "see his precious face"

Sweet corn!? Who are these people!?

Nikki? Who Exactly is Nikki?

A funny thing happened today, a friend asked me how I am doing. She said, "I read the blog, but how are YOU doing?"

She is not the first person to ask me this question. However, this is the first time I tried to answer the question without referencing anything related to Parker. I sat there for about 5 minutes attempting to answer this very simple basic question.

This question that most people answer without even thinking. In fact, I have on occasion answered this question when I was not even really asked, but it was assumed that was going to be the next thing the person on the other end of the conversation was going to say or ask.

This question that most people just want the standard, "I'm fine." or "Good, you?" or "Great thanks!" type of answer.

However, because my friend put the YOU in capital letters, I felt the need to attempt to answer her without mention of my little monkey man. I do not feel I was very successful since my answer was something about work, which is neither entertaining nor does it actually answer her question. I guess I'm just a momblob now chocked full of stories about P-man's latest adventure, but is minimally aware of herself and her own actions.

In case you are wondering though we took monkey to get some pictures taken today, like I don't take enough of them already. I apparently felt the need to pay strangers $160 for pictures that pretty much could have been done at home with a white fleece blanket and a boppy.

P.S. Boppy's are ok, but in my honest opinion are WAY over rated.

P.P.S. I wanted to get pictures of him in his Halloween costume, but by then the little bugger had enough of it and started crying, but we got some great shots nonetheless.

Back to the entry and me.
So to those veteran mom's out there...how do you answer the question, How are you?
Am I resigned to a lifetime of answering that question by going into a diatribe about Parker's latest poopy, or teething issues, or goal scored, or SAT scores etc. etc. etc.? I did not have this problem when it was just Josh, Abby and me.

I will say this though my singing abilities have gone down hill. I was in All County Chorus (ACC) in high school, for two years. I was in some sort of choral group from 5th grade through 12th and had a brief stint in college. I really liked, well I guess I still like, singing. I was by no means American Idol status, but I was good enough to at least be singled out by whoever picked the members of ACC and I liked that. However, recently I can't even carry a tune in my hand, it would just slip out like jello.

So to answer the question how am I?
I will say, I am great, but the rapid decline of my singing ability makes me slightly sad. Maybe one day I will try to join some sort of North Beach community choral group. However, I do not have high hopes since the only practice I get is in the car with one Monkey Phillips. I fear my chances are low of getting in this imaginary singing group. I also fear Parker will think that humming Somewhere Over the Rainbow in a way that makes it some how seem like the song is being played through bagpipes, will not fair well for his future singing career either.

And see it all came back to him!

HELP