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.

Working 9 to 5.

Last night I went to a Mary Kay party. It takes a special woman to be a successful Mary Kay consultant. A woman not like me. How do I know this? Well, in the time before Tyson I held many a job. Among the TEN jobs I had in college, I worked at not one but THREE telemarketing places (yes, that was me you hung up on), sold jewelry at the mall (that was the best of the sales jobs) and sold t-shirts door to door.

Yeah, t-shirts.

These shirts had coupons on the back for a bunch of free stuff and the proceeds went to the boys and girls club. A nice idea, but unfortunately the shirts were totally ugly and really, who buys a shirt from a door to door salesman?

Well, besides college age boys and families who felt bad for the 20 year old girl wandering around at night in the winter.

Surprisingly, the t-shirt place went out of business and I think I quit two of the telemarketing jobs by calling in sick about 10 times in a row and then just not showing up.

Needless to say, those jobs were conspicuously absent from employment applications.

As you may have noticed there wasn't a sales job that I could resist in those days, so when Mary Kay came a knockin', I signed up. And so did my roommate. After going to a couple motivational meetings and learning the right way to put on nail polish I decided that I didn't like to sell stuff and I definitely wasn't going to win a pink Cadillac by peddling makeup to poor college students.

A few months later I got a letter in the mail that read something like:

Oh no! It looks like you have been TERMINATED for not keeping up your sales. Happily, all you have to do to return to Mary Kay is sell another product...

I forget exactly how it went, but this was basically the gist. So yeah, I got fired from an at home business where I was my own boss.

This was information I neglected to mention to our consultant last night where I laughed too loud, only spent $10, and tried to get everyone else to buy their stuff from me.

Just kidding!

I'm the stinky cheese man!

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your eyes.

For we have had total success in the bath department. Along with your wonderful suggestions, I found something that helps Logan be happy and content while I bathe him.

Singing primary songs.

I discovered he loves primary songs a few days ago when he was being just a tad fussy. I got him to take a pacifier and started singing. He spit that paci out and started grinning and cooing at me. I sang every song I knew, some of them twice before he needed the paci back and went to sleep.

So that's what I did during his bath.

*sidenote* I'm watching biggest loser right now and has anyone noticed that Jillian Michaels runs like an awkward person? I would not imitate her style if I was you.

Anyway, I sang him those songs and he was so content he let me wash the lint out of his toes and the stinky cheese out of his neck rolls.

What?

My child is perfect and smells like roses and don't you forget it.

In addition to the bath my own faucets started running and leaked all the way through my shirt and my jeans before I even noticed. Apparently I had pulled my legs up to my chest at some point or something. Who knows? My worst fear right now is that it's going to happen while I'm in public and totally embarrass me. Like when I'm conducting the music in church or wandering around the grocery store or something. Especially since I don't seem to notice until there is enough milk to feed my child on the front of my shirt.

And I do wear pads in case you were wondering.

The flow overpowers all.

Do boys read this blog?

If you are boy reading this blog and you feel awkward right now, I'm sorry.

Just think of how I feel with liquids gushing out of my body at inopportune times.

Would you like me to end this entry with a picture of my lovely totally non-stinky child?

My pleasure.

I think...

Logan just broke my ear by slamming his head into it. I heard a crack.

He appears to be fine. I am crying.

Just kidding, I'm not. Even though it hurts.

Oops.

Well, the kid had another blow out and I had to give him a bath by myself again.

And even though I was careful to keep the water and my hands warm... screamfest.

Apparently a cold wipe on the back is as effective as an ice cold hand and there was no amount of high pitched talking and trying to get his attention that was gonna make him forget it.

Poor kid.

So I gave up on getting him dressed afterward, wrapped him in a warm blanket and snuggled him for the next three hours. I think he forgave me.

Can I just say that I am so grateful that this baby is cute to me? I was super worried that I would have an ugly baby. Do other people feel this way? I figured I would love him no matter what, but I felt like if he was ugly I would be able to tell. And be secretly sad. Is that bad?

This totally makes up for getting pooped/spit up on every hour today.