Dork Magnet Circa 1989

Dork Magnet Circa 2005

The Problem with Kids Today

I have had no time for blogging lately. I was so excited to get this site off and running and now I can add this to the list of things I should be doing when I'm curled up on the couch enjoying the only 30 minutes of the day I have to myself before falling asleep. It's not just my fault I'm slacking. It's also Lloyd's fault. See, he made a cake this week and he used 1 1/2 tubs of frosting on it and do you know how hard it is to type when you are eating a cake and 1/2 tub of frosting? I'm still not understanding the whole 1/2 tub of frosting left over bit. Not that I mind but who makes a cake and leaves a 1/2 tub of frosting off it? I don't care if there are 10 tubs of frosting, there is room on a cake for it all. If you have to, throw the cake in the trash (because really, it just gets in the way, doesn't it?) and just make a cake-like mold out of the 10 tubs of frosting but don't leave any frosting over because it just doesn't make sense. Again, I don't mind seeing as how I still consumed a 1/2 tub of frosting solo in three days... I just don't understand.

Gavin is going through a weird phase with sleep. He doesn't want to get in his crib after story time. He wraps his arms and legs around me and presses his head into my shoulder and says softly "no no no no no no no no" and instantly I melt into a puddle on the floor and have no choice but to sit back down into the rocking chair and rock him until he is completely asleep. It is a sweet time but like anything else in our household, there is a "but" and the "but" in this situation is that rocking him to sleep cuts in on the only "me" time I have during the day and by "me" time I mean cake and frosting eating time (see above) and I don't have enough cake and frosting eating time in my life. The G-man is totally worth it but (and here's the other but) not only does Gavin drool like a ... well...... like a me (and I drool a lot), it takes him about 20 minutes to get comfortable enough to actually fall asleep on me. Apparently my bony chest and collarbones do not a pillow make. Nevermind my giant friggin' belly sticking out of the front of me that I try to contour his body around but he ends up in the comfortable sleep position only after he bares the bulk of his body weight on my mid-section. When Grace is born with a flat head we will all know why. So every night during my 30 minute "me" time which has lately become cake and frosting eating time, I am rocking Gavin to sleep while he drools all over me and causes me (and therefore Grace) immense pain and while it is very sweet, I am still missing out on cake and frosting eating time and in making up for that time I have been unable to blog. Do you see the chain of events???

I do love being a mom. Something someone horrible said this week made me realize how much I love being a mom. This week I was told the problem with kids today is that moms are working outside of the home. Hmmmmmmm. Did I mention this was told to me at 12:15 pm on Tuesday while I was enjoying my lunch break and working outside the home? I have never been so angry or so upset or literally felt my blood pressure rise as my heart beat out of my chest. I have never felt so passionate about something or felt like taking a stand. I didn't, though, for numerous reasons.... namely my need for gainful employment. But I wanted to and it felt really good to want to. I went home that evening and lavished all my love and attention on G, as usual, and then that night, while I was in immense pain and soaked in toddler drool on my 38th run-through of "Rock-a-Bye Baby", my baby boy fell into a peaceful slumber on my bony collarbone and I realized something. I had totally just proven that "problems with kids today" theory wrong and as long as I knew it and Gavin knew it, I could eat my cake and frosting happily.

Officially a Mom- Shizzolated

What a weekend. I have been so busy with housework and taking care of G, I have not had any time t0 think of anything remotely interesting to put on my blog (and if you're thinking "why start now" you can kiss it). G and I went to Walmart yesterday and I bought two things for Gavin: a new straw sippy cup and alphabet magnets. I showed them to Lloyd when I got home and he was extremely pleased to say the least that my anal, OCD-self bought my 17 month old two items that were intended for children 3 and up. Preggo brain.

Totally unrelated but someone also told me I'm "caustic". I don't know what caustic means. Those of you who do.... am I caustic? I hate it when people call me names and I don't know what they mean. There are lot of things I am, good and bad, and if caustic is one of them I would like to know.

Anyhoo, I have to run. Three more loads of laundry, G needs dinner and I need to work on some photo albums. Work has got to get done before 8:00 because there is an hour long Simpsons on tonight followed by a special on the first 5 years of Saturday Night Live. Whatever I am, the television Gods are smiling on my caustic ass.

Just for fun, check out the shizzolated version of Officially a Mom:

http://www.asksnoop.com/shizz_frame.php

This made my day:

Last night Gavin wuz fussing so Lloyd told tha dude's ass "go play yo' balls" which Lloyd 'n I errupted in laughter 'n I wuz like "dude, yo' ass totally told yo' son play wit tha dude's balls", know what I'm sayin'?

I'm In the "Family Way"

Building Baby a la Babycenter

One thing I love about Babycenter.com are those little weekly updates they send me when I'm pregnant. Sign up for these e-mails and you can receive a step by step account of what your little bean (or whatever you choose to call it) is doing and how it is growing. They also allow me to give a really detailed account when someone asks "so, what'd you do today?". I can answer with great certainty that "well, today, I grew intestines that now potrude into the umbilical cord" or "today I made myelin to cover the new nervous system I'm growing". It really helps me to feel important when to an outsider it may appear that I have been surfing the net eating Cheetos all day but little do they know.

When I was 14 weeks pregnant, Lloyd had the audasity to state that he was working harder than me at home and at work and I had no right to be tired since HE was the one who should be tired. (insert Dr. Evil inflection) Rrrrrriiiiigggghhhhhhtttttt. (end Dr. Evil inflection) Is that so, buddy? You landed a few planes and unloaded the dishwasher. I grew a functioning liver that now secretes bile. How you like them apples??? Thank you Babycenter.

Of course, one of the downsides of being pregnant is stumbling across cheesy songs like this:

http://www.hit-country-music-lyrics.com/Billy-Dean-little.html

and having no choice but to listen to it over and over again while I cry into my bag of Cheetos.

Why I (we) Shouldn't Be Parents

Compliments of the 500 Fisher Price toys that Gavin owns, we have a bout 15,000 small plastic balls of various colors and they are currently spread out in every crevice of our home. Gavin loves to play with these little colored Fisher Price balls. He likes to throw two at one time (prompting us to call him double fists of fury) and he loves to play with them on the kitchen floor. That is, until eventually they all end up behind the refrigerator and I have to get the Swiffer to retreive them to make the screaming stop. On any given day, I could do this upwards of 50 times. Hey, at least the Swiffer is getting used.

Well, I'm trying to teach Gavin the different colors using his beloved Fisher Price balls but I'm having trouble with one color in particular:

Me: Red ball. This is a red ball Gavin. Say red.
Gavin: (drooling)
Me: Green ball. This ball is green. Can you hand mama the green ball
Gavin: (throws green ball... continues to drool)
Me: Orange ball. Orange. Orrrrraaaannnnnggggeeeeeee. Say orange ball.
Gavin: Waahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (drool)
Me: (snicker..... snicker.....snicker....) Bl.... (snicker).....blu..... (snicker)...... Blue ball, Gavin. Can you say blue ball (snicker... snicker.... snicker.....)
Gavin: (drool)
Me: Dude, I'm totally teaching my son to say blue ball.


Of course, Lloyd is just as bad. Last night Gavin was fussing so Lloyd told him to "go play your balls" to which Lloyd and I errupted in laughter and I was like "dude, you totally told your son to play with his balls".

Why I love my husband

I haven't mentioned this before but another annoying trait that my son apparently got from his Y chromosome is his fascination with the TV buttons. He loves to push the buttons and turn the tv on and off a thousand times in a row, turn the sound all the way down during integral parts of American Idol, turn the sound all the way up when I'm not in the room and busy doing something else (read: using the bathroom), and make the menu appear and scramble the tv to the point it can only be fixed when he, in his almighty 17 month old glory, feels like bestowing an unscrambled tv upon his loving parents. Lloyd just called me with the news. The tv is broken and we can't afford another tv. We. Can't. Afford. A. TV. I'm not taking any antidepressants during this pregnancy and if ever there were a time to be on a steady dose of antidpressants it would be when your husband calls to tell you your tv is broken you can't afford another one. However, Lloyd is always full of ideas and he has a plan! Never one to let me down, when he detected the pain in my voice he revealed his plan to me so I may have hope that we will one day soon get another tv. He told me if I would hurry up and get my pregnancy porn internet site up and running, we could afford another tv. Internet. Porn.

Anyhoo, feel free to send donations to the Buy Amanda a TV Fund!!

Joy and Pain

It was pretty chilly this morning with strong winds so I dressed Gavin in what else but a windbreaker jacket and pants outfit that came to us via cousin Cody's closet from Aunt Terry. He looked so pimp in his little warm-up windbreaker suit and he even had the "swoosh, swoosh, swoosh* when he walked. He kept looking between his legs to try and figure out where the noise was coming from. I put his hood on him to take him out to the car (and to allow the windbreaker to complete it's full potential of wind protected-ness) and left it on for the drive to work. I kept looking back at him inthe rear view mirror and remembering the days when warm-up suits were cool a la Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock and wouldn't you know it but ever since I have had a hybrid dance mix of "Joy and Pain" and "It Takes Two" in my head. I even showed Lloyd my fly, Gavin warm-up suit-inspired dance moves in the front of the hospital by busting out the Roger Rabbit and the Steve Martin. All this before 8:15 am and coffee. Sometimes I amaze myself.

Baby Talk

Gain and I had an exciting day yesterday. We attended Beginnings which is sort of like a baby fair or expo.... think boat & RV show only for baby enthusiasts not boat & RV enthusiasts and breast pumps and formula samples instead of boats and RVs. Coincidentally there was a boat & RV show going on at the same time and Gavin let it be known he would have much rather been there (or anywhere) than at the baby show.

The Gavinator fared sort of well for about the first hour we were there but I think it had more to do with the enitre honeydew he ate at the continental breakfast than the baby show itself. We saw his pediatrician there who knew him by name and I picked up a load of free stuff. I attempted to attend a breastfeeding class but as soon as the LC got up to talk, Gavin started SCREAMING!! The demons inside him awoke and they were ticked off. It was a high-pitched, fear-filled scream like someone had reached over and pinched him only it came out of the blue. Turns out our lactation consultant who we saw when he was born (and a bazillion times after) was the speaker. She remembered us and made a little joke about how Gavin hasn't changed and I told her she still brought out the best in him and we got the heck out of there. Apparently Gavin's demons didn't like our LC. Of course, I already knew that. I didn't particularly care for our LC. Lloyd, however, has fond memories of our trips to the LC. Me sitting topless on a couch with a strange woman on one side of me man-handling my breast and Lloyd on the other side of me watching intently and taking notes..... heck, it is the closest my dear husband will ever get to a threesome so I hope he enjoyed it!

Anyway, to try to appease Gavin's inner demons, I let him out of his stroller to run like a flippin' maniac (I intended to only let him walk but my child does not walk... he only runs like a flippin' maniac) for a bit and when I tried to put him back in, the demons were angered yet again and he started the biggest meltdown of his toddler career... I had to fight to put him in his stroller and there was no way I could carry him and push the stroller all the way out to the car. He was arching his back and screaming and beads of sweat were streaming off my forehead. I'm actually sore today from trying to get him in his stroller and no, I'm not that out of shape.

This expectant father stopped and asked "what was wrong with him" and I was like, "I'm beating him, what does it look like?????". I can't wait until that guy's kid has it's first public meltdown. I hope I'm there to ask "what's wrong with him?". Honestly, though, Gavin... you were only doing on the outside what I do on the inside just about every day. Mommy loves you, sweetie!

Oh, and Emily, who recently sent me this in an e-mail, I'm sorry for what I wrote and please don't stitch up your own uterus.

Especially since Johnny and I are trying to get preggers ourselves. Yeesh, I just spent his going away party surrounded by moms and their stories/advice. You know, third-world countries could solve their genocide problems by partnering young women with older moms. Makes you want to stitch up your own uterus.

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice!

It's a GIRL!!!!! A healthy, beautiful, wonderful girl! The ultrasound was perfect even with Gavin screaming through the whole thing!

Introducing baby Grace.....