Tattoos and Drool

When Daddy Cooks

This is probably more suitable for Not Me! Monday, because it’s more of a confession than anything else. But it’s too hilarious not to blog. One of those moments where you say out loud, “I’m totally blogging this, honey, and the whole internet is going to laugh at you.” You know you’ve had those moments.

So last night, we’re laying in bed, laughing about an incident earlier in the day (and me making a mental note to blog about it) in which Beckett was fighting his nap and hollering from his crib. After about ten minutes of it, I turned to DH and said, “Well, what should we do with him?” Without missing a beat, he responded, “Give him a chocolate donut and tell him to go to sleep?”

We totally did give him that chocolate donut. And guess what? We got two hours of free time because the bribe worked and he went to sleep. My husband is a genius.

That lead to him mentioning to me that he had made the boys hot dog quesadillas for lunch.

“Come again?!”

“Yeah. Hot dog quesadillas. They needed meat in them and we didn’t have any chicken left.”

“Oh, you’re so getting blogged TWICE now.”

Fawyer

Yesterday, Sawyer helped me write out a birthday card for DH. I tried to instruct him in writing “Happy Birthday” but we ended up with “Happe” and then the B-I in birthday, plus a bunch of random letters. It still charmed the pants off DH though, of course.

Also. He gets the letters F and S confused, because they sound so similar. And he absolutely insists that his name is spelled F-A-W-Y-E-R. Ah well, what can ya do?

DH and I had a deliciously unhealthy birthday dinner at Outback, where I guiltlessly snarfed down a bloomin’ onion, Caesar salad, bloomin’ burger (okay, so I only ate half of that) and some fries. NOM NOM NOM.

Inaugural Not Me! Monday

Today I’m participating in MckMama’s Not Me! Monday for the first time. Never heard of it? Then hop on over to her blog and read the rules so that you, too, can air your dirty laundry and not feel an ounce of guilt about it. Or at least, be able to find someone who totally did not do something just a little more scandalous than you.

So, on to my.. erm.. confessions.

Yesterday morning, I totally did not fall down the stairs while holding Beckett. We were not only about halfway down and thus fell a full 8-9 steps. As clumsy as I am, I did manage to keep him on top of me and break his fall, resulting in several lovely battle wounds for myself. And yes, I did check on the baby with the doppler and he/she is fine. No, I definitely do not have my big fat cushiony butt to thank for that. Do I?

I did not get a hankering for nachos at almost one this morning while watching Food Network. And I most certainly did not use being pregnant as an excuse to melt some shredded cheese over tortilla chips and indulge, at 1am. They were not tasty at all.

I have not been a lazy oaf for the past several weeks, spending most of my time on the couch. My laundry is not piling up and my kids definitely do not watch too much Dora and Blues Clues. I also have not trained Sawyer to do things like bring me clean diapers and throw the dirty ones away. Nope, definitely not already behaving like this in the first trimester of pregnancy.

And speaking of the first trimester, I do not already have to keep my pants unbuttoned at only 13 weeks pregnant. My parents, however, did get me two BellaBands for Christmas which have been a lifesaver for my chronically unbuttoned jeans.

My husband is not turning 27 today, and I am not turning 24 in a couple weeks. We are not getting older. It has not been ten years since he graduated high school and we certainly do not sometimes act like we still ARE in high school. Nope, not us.

And lastly, I am not still in my pajamas at almost noon and my kids are not eating waffles and bananas for lunch. Of course I have already been to the store for baking supplies to make DH’s birthday cupcakes, and they are already in the oven.

Or.. not.

NaBloPoMo drop-out

I was all geared up to write 30 posts in 30 days for NaBloPoMo. I had some ideas ready and planned to look to some other blogs for interesting writing prompts.

Then Halloween happened, and seemed to drain me of every ounce of energy and motivation I had, and I decided to take a short bloggy vacation instead. I haven’t checked in on my Bloglines feeds in days and the ‘new post’ button on my dashboard has gone untouched. So, like a few others, I’m a drop-out. But that’s okay! I’ll enjoy reading a post a day for the whole month at my favorite blogs. I never was good at meeting deadlines anyhow.

And I have to say, the break has been nice and much-needed. I had a very ME weekend, which I don’t do very often. Friday night, my mom and I treated ourselves to Starbucks. I sipped hot chocolate and munched a pumpkin cream cheese muffin as we sank ourselves into their big comfy chairs and had a nice chat. We try to do this about once a month and I always look forward to it. I’m so lucky that DH doesn’t mind at all and in fact, encourages me to go out and leave the boys with him. He knows I need the break and is always good at reminding me that it’s OKAY to want that break. Sometimes my mommy guilt clouds over me and I feel so bad leaving them for a few hours, but I feel so refreshed and reenergized when I do.

Saturday, I left Beckett with DH and took Sawyer with me to my sister’s softball game. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a chance to do something with just him, and it was so nice. Seriously, you cannot believe how much easier it is to only have to worry about a two-year-old and no baby. I was able to actually sit down and STAY sitting down as he played around me. No fumbling a squirmy baby, no trying to discreetly nurse a distractable infant among dozens of people, no shushing or swaying or walking. Yes, I’m definitely one of the few mamas who can’t wait for the baby stage to be over. I don’t want my babies to stay babies. I love the age Sawyer is at and will be a much more stress-free mom when Beckett is there.

My judgement is probably clouded a little by the fact that he still wakes, oh, five or six times a night. Those of you who deal with a sporadic night-waker and still go on to have more kids, my hats are off to you. I’m just not that resilient I guess and I’m not ashamed to admit it. It is HARD. I thrive on sleep and am a wreck without it so this round is it for me, no more babies. DH agrees. So uh, any tips on breaking him of nursing every hour and a half at night would be much appreciated. For the gift of sanity, I would be forever indebted to you.

Saturday night, my parents watched the boys for us so we could make it to church. After two failed attempts at taking them with us, we’ve accepted the fact that we’ll just have to wait until they’re a little older to enjoy church as a family. It’s either a battle to keep them quiet throughout the service (resulting in us paying attention to nothing but them and kind of defeating the purpose of going to church in the first place) or they scream for us the whole time in the nursery. Bless the little old lady that runs the place, she does try. But they just aren’t comfortable with her and I won’t force them to stay there and be hysterical the whole time.

So, we were able to enjoy the service alone for once and it was a nice breather. Afterwards, DH took the boys home and I went out for dinner with some friends I hadn’t seen in awhile. I really owe him now because he allowed me TWO getaways this weekend. He’s a brave man. I told him he needs to plan something with his friends and asked him, “Don’t guys go out to dinner like women? Why can’t you do that?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll just call Larry and be like, ‘Hey, you wanna hit Panera with me? Oh oh and there’s a JoAnn’s right there, we can make a night of it!’”

Judging by the high-pitched lispy voice he used, I’m guessing that’s a no? Men are strange. Don’t some guys do the beer and wings and sports thing? Mine is just weird I guess. But then again, I did marry him because he’s not a typical man.

So, now we’re at Monday morning yet again. We survived falling back an hour and the boys seem to be back on their normal schedule. I’m determined to make this week go by quickly, because Saturday is when I get to head to my hair dresser for a pretty drastic change and I’m antsy with anticipation. Maybe we’ll hit up the Children’s Museum and meet some friends for lunch. The days always seem to go so much quicker when we get out of the house.

And on that note, the baby is up.

Sickies: Part 2

We just got over a nasty cold a few weeks ago and already, we’re getting hit again. A product of the moms group Halloween party we attended last week, I’m sure. The baby hasn’t been sleeping more than two hours at a time for the past four nights and it’s just a fabulously good time, let me tell you. Sawyer wore a permanent scowl today as he walked around and randomly wiped his nose on the furniture if I didn’t catch him with a tissue soon enough.

Speaking of snotty noses, back when I was childless, yet apparently knew everything there was to know about child rearing (like we all did when we were still blissfully unaware, you know), I always scoffed at the children I’d see at the grocery store with crusty green mustaches. My child will never be dirty in public! *snort*

Then I had a Sawyer. And I realized that while nauseating and embarrassing enough to wear a disguise so as not to be recognized, quiet and crusty-faced is still better than a clean screamer. Because toddlers? They do not like it when you try to wipe their nose. In fact, mine dislikes it so much that he perfected the art of making it seem like I’m brutally beating him. Which, as you can imagine, doesn’t go over well in public. I’ll take a little bit of snot over the “pulling out my cell phone to call CPS” glares, thanks.

I’m just hoping this passes quickly, because it’ll be a little hard for me to sit still for my tattoo on Friday if I’m sneezing and hacking up a lung all over the artist. Plus we were planning to hit up the pumpkin patch on Saturday and tackling that with an entire sick family is not on my list of fun things to do.

Luckily, both boys went to bed without incident for my mom last night while DH and I were out having a quiet dinner at The Melting Pot. Alone. No children. Yes, it was wonderful. There were roses and a card waiting for me on the table and we had a private corner booth that made it seem like we were the only patrons in the whole restaurant. And we left weighing about five pounds more than when we went in.

Tomorrow’s installment: the husband’s first tattoo (yes, I’m dragging him over to the dark side) and how I tried to defend myself from burglars with a broom stick. Mensa candidate right here, y’all.

Oh, and if you could, please clicky that Top Momma button at the top of the page! Or, if you’re using a reader, you can just click here. Lets see how long I last!