Thanksgiving

Well I did a terrible job photo documenting Logan's first Thanksgiving.

Shoot.

In a nutshell we used up our daily allotment of calories on breakfast, which consisted of cinnamon rolls, bacon, sausage, and orange juice. Then I shrugged my shoulders, called the day shot anyway and added extra butter to the dinner rolls I was making.

It was a pretty low key day at Tyson's parent's house with delicious food (have you ever had carrot souffle? It's amazing, gosh I love it), a game, and a blow out. The only thing this Thanksgiving was missing was an afternoon nap. Guess that's what happens when you have a kid.

You'll notice this Thanksgiving was joined by Brother John, Brother John, morning bells are ringing, morning bells are ringing, ding dang dong, ding dang dong...

His name isn't actually John. It's Austin.

But his middle name is John and since he is my brother I think of that song when I think of him so there you have it.

I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving!!

He'll get anything he wants with this one

Occasionally we have flashbacks to earlier baths.

And it makes us sad.

Life's hard.

Advice, anyone?

I was mid hallelujah/celebratory dance upon finding that an old pair of jeans fit (and by fit I mean zipped) when the button popped off. While the oldness of the jeans may have contributed to the button being loose, let's be honest, it had help.

*sigh*

It would seem that my vigorous regiment of breast feeding and eating leftover Halloween candy has taken me as far as I can go. It's time to get serious, folks.

Therein lies the dilemma. How do you work out with a kid at home? Ideally I would like to run. Somehow. So there are a few options; (1) run when Tyson gets home, (2) run with a jogging stroller, (3) get up early and run before Tyson leaves in the morning.

I would like to point out the flaws in each of these.

When Tyson gets home it is dark. And cold. But I'm not afraid of the cold. Or the dark but it does seem rather dangerous and Tyson doesn't want me doing it anyway. Strike one.

I don't have a running stroller which is a major flaw in plan 2 and with the thousands of dollars in medical bills that we are receiving each day (remind me to not have the next kid near Christmas) it doesn't seem wise to make extra purchases. Although now that I'm thinking of Christmas I suppose I could ask for a stroller but I just need so many other things (read: PANTS). Plus, from what I've read kids aren't supposed to be in those until they're 6 months old anyway. Strike two.

According to the wise words of Tyson his opinion on plan 3 is, "Do you really need to be more sleep deprived than you already are at this point in your life?"

NO. I. DON'T.

Strike 3.

Pass the Halloween candy.

But seriously, what should I do? I'm highly considering getting some workout videos so I can just stay inside but they can get so boring. Am I wrong? Then I suppose I could get a gym membership somewhere with a day care, but Logan is just so young for that! Or I could use the gym after Tyson gets home...

Help me.

The A difference between Tyson and Me

When Logan is looking particularly cute, or if it's a special day I work really hard to capture a good picture of him (well, within my totally limited and mediocre photography abilities).

Because of that I take many many pictures and discard ones like this...

and this...

before being satisfied with one like this. His eyes are open, it's in focus, and he looks cute. Done!

When Tyson takes a picture you usually only get one shot.

And if your son looks drunk on his first day of church? So be it.

No cavity club

You'll be interested to know that Tyson and I accidentally left the crock pot on for three days and the house is still standing. Go team!

And, on an unrelated note, I decided it was really time to start flossing every day. Is that gross that I didn't already do it? I brush a lot, but I usually reserve flossing for the two weeks before I go to the dentist and after eating corn on the cob. However, after watching a brief portion of Dr. Oz about dental health I figured it was time to get serious about it.

I did not figure it was time to get the tongue scraper they were showing. Those things totally gross me out, hence watching only a brief portion of el oz.

Speaking of dentists, guess how long it's been since I've seen one.

Five, maybe six (!) years?

I don't even know but what I do know is that when I finally go, it ain't gonna be pretty. Especially since I just had a baby and apparently that totally kills your teeth. This is what happens when your mom doesn't make you do stuff anymore.

But do you think that since my teeth don't hurt I'm probably ok? Perhaps I haven't acquired any cavities in the last six years? I think part of the reason I don't want to go is because as far as I know, I've never had a cavity. I'll be so sad if I ruin my streak! One of my crowning moments as a child was winning not one, but two drawings in a row out of the no cavity club.

Pretty sure this made me the favorite of the Hammer kids after Austin threw up in the lobby cause he swallowed his fluoride.

Ha ha.

Anyway you guys, I'm not even sure where I'm going with this anymore. Just felt like talking I guess? And maybe I'm looking for someone else who is worse about going to the dentist than I am? Misery loves company folks, if you're out there we can go together... later.

Let the good times roll

So I'm sitting on the computer looking down at Logan who is sitting in a little chair that I'm rocking with my foot. He's glancing around nonchalantly as he unloads in his diaper, typical baby behaviour, and I debate whether to pick him up now, or give him a few minutes to finish up.

Experience has taught me that it's probably better to wait for a few so I get distracted by facebook and dink around for a while.

I glance down and Logan is looking especially cute so I pick him up and give him kisses and snuggle him and nibble his neck and... feel something wet on my arm.

There is mustard all up and down both sleeves of my white shirt.

No. Not mustard.

Baby poop!

I look at my sweet innocent baby and then look at his chair.

Poop.

Look at my hands.

Poop.

Look at my pants.

Poop.

Look at his legs.

Poop.

Look at his clothes.

Poop.

You get the picture. It had come out the bottom of his diaper and was now covering every surface that he may or may not have come into contact with.

Now I pause. Who gets cleaned up first? He is still happy as a clam so he can wait a few minutes, but does that make me a bad mother? Then again, if I clean him first, I'll just transfer stuff from me back onto him.

Sigh.

I figure either way, I'll be cleaning myself up twice so I wash my hands and try to wipe off my shirt and pants as best I can, then tackle the baby. The damage isn't as bad as I thought, looks like he can wait til tonight for his bath (I'm working on a bedtime routine and the bath is part of it). I undress him, get him in a clean diaper and stick him in his crib. Now it's my turn.

There is no way I'm taking these clothes more places than I have to so I go right into the laundry room to undress. Problem, our laundry room doesn't have blinds yet (now a priority) and we have construction workers everywhere. So I'm ducking below the window level and trying to take my clothes off while avoiding the poop and spraying everything with oxy clean.

Meanwhile the baby has realized he's by himself and in his crib so he starts crying, but I need to clean the fabric on his chair before I forget and stick him back in it. This leaves me running around the house in various states of undress trying to get to the baby as fast as I can, dress us both, and make sure everything is clean.

I text Tyson the situation and we decide that we're going out for ice cream tonight.

And I deserve double.

(Innocence)

My boys and their hair

I was sitting on the couch with Tyson the other day telling him about my day (no doubt a story about blow outs or spit up) when I noticed something looked a little different.

M: Babe? Are you doing something different with your sideburns?

T: No, I don't think so.

M: Well this side looks shorter than usual. Like, way shorter.

T: Um...

M: Turn your head, let me see the other one.

...

M: Babe! Your sideburns are totally uneven! What happened?

T: Well... I'm just really tired in the morning. I must have just... shaved it off...?

M: Ha ha ha. How long do you think it's been this way?

T: I don't know. A couple of days maybe?

M: So are you gonna shave off the other one?

T: Nah, I think I'll just let this side grow back.

Let's hope that doesn't take too long.

Then there's this one.

It's a little hard to tell in this picture but he basically has a halo of baldness goin on now. Poor kid just loves looking around at everything while he's laying on his back. Rubbed his hair right off of his head.

Also, he is showing signs of a little male pattern baldness and his hair struggles to stay flat where his lump still is from being vacuumed out. It's like a cross between Alfalfa and Alton Brown.

I'm pretty sure there isn't anything I can do for him. Please tell me it will grow back! When he was born his hairline on the sides came all the way to his eyebrows. And now... well you have eyes.

My sweet bald baby.