Why I'm probably never going to volunteer in an ER...

This post is mostly for Hilary.  And any other mom that isn't good with blood or fluids. 

It was 5:45 AM Monday morning, and I had just gotten back in bed after feeding the dogs.  Actually, for accuracy's sake, I got up to pee a little after 5:30, and the dogs were all like, "BREAKFAST!"  I didn't want them to wake the baby, so I gave in and put kibble in their bowls so they would collectively calm the f*ck down. 

Note:  The dog thing happens every morning.  Sometimes I pretend I'm still asleep because I can FEEL them waiting for me to move or show signs of stirring.  It is very annoying.  I'd fix it if A) I knew how; and B) if I was more motivated to take a stand in the pre-dawn hours (which, no.  I just want to get the whole shebang over with so I can go back to bed).

Anyway, I climbed back in bed, pulled the covers up to my chin and started drifting back to sleep.  Then, all of sudden, I heard a loud THUD in the nursery followed a blood curdling scream.

I assumed that Banner had fallen out of his crib.  Except the thud - although loud - wasn't quite loud enough to be his little thirty pound body hitting the floor.  So - in the five seconds that it took me to sprint from my bed to Banner's room - I was imagining that he had fallen out of the crib and hit some toy (like his rocking cow) on the way down.  And of course I was thinking the worst, because I am a catastrophist and that is what I do.

Except when I arrived, Banner was still in his crib.  Which was initially confusing because I was still half asleep and thinking the worst while simultaneously looking for the source of the thud that precipitated the screaming in the first place.  And then I saw all the blood, and...well, I'm not sure what happened next because I panicked and started shrieking for Trevor.

Here's the thing.  I'm not good with fluids.  Poop and snot are a real challenge for me some days, which makes me feel guilty because everyone used to tell me that I'd be able to deal with them better once I had a child.  Yes, I do deal with them, but I wouldn't say it has gotten any easier.  And then there is vomit, which...well, makes me vomit.  Or at least almost vomit.  Banner had some bad milk back in December and threw up all over the back of Trevor's car, and I almost followed suit.  True, I was the one who drew the short straw and cleaned it up (Trevor bathed the baby), but I had to do it outside in the fresh air.  It was (literally) freezing, and the fabric cleaners and deodorizers kept turning to an icy slush on the car seat cover.  But I preferred numb hands to the alternative which involved being able to smell regurgitated spoiled milk.

So, it should come as no surprise that I am also not so good with blood.  Actually, I take that back, I'm fine with blood.  I donate blood.  The smell of blood doesn't bother me.  The sight of blood doesn't bother me.  INJURIES bother me.  PAIN bothers me.  And, for whatever reason, blood BOTHERS me greatly if associated with injuries and pain.  Does that make sense?  I can watch real life medical stuff (surgeries and what have you) on TV, because they are fixing the person.  Blood in that situation is apparently fine.  But blood as a result of an accident?  I freak the f*ck out.  Honestly, I think it is because - for a nano second - I can feel their pain.  Or imagine their pain.  And then I'm in pain and screaming with them, because I'm super unhelpful and empathic that way.

But back to Monday morning, Trevor came sprinting into the nursery with visions of compound fractures in his head mostly because I'm screaming like my child has just amputated his arm and thrown it at me.  Except, in reality, Banner had just bumped his nose on his crib and was bleeding from his right nostril.  Which doesn't sound like that big of a deal unless I explain to you that I've never had a bloody nose; despite my deviated septum and years of playing rugby on two continents.  In fact, I told Trevor YEARS AGO that if I - or any of our hypothetical future offspring - ever sustained a bloody nose, he would have to deal with it because I lack the experience necessary to be anything but a hysterical lunatic.

See how well I know myself?

Anyway, Trevor dealt with the nose bleed like a champ.  Which means he did nothing but comfort our child until it stopped bleeding on its own.  Luckily, this didn't take very long, and Banner was his happy, giggly self less than five minutes later.  Nose fine.  Teeth fine.  Crisis over.

Meanwhile, I was still all shaky and hyped up on adrenaline.  To calm myself, I stripped the bed and baby, stain treated every thing and tossed it in the washer.  Trevor mocked me for having to do all this immediately, but - to my credit - there isn't a single blood stain on any of the affected bedding or clothing.  Also, it meant that I had done two loads of laundry from start to finish before 8 AM. 

How's that for efficiency?

Because, apparently, I'm the efficiency QUEEN post crisis.  Which is probably why you want me on your team after the start of the zombie apocalypse.  Assuming I don't get eaten, because we've already concluded I'm not good with the initial injuries+pain+blood thing.  Hopefully I'll have Laryngitis that day so the zombies don't hear me screaming while I'm processing the shock, blood, PAIN and brains of the situation.

After that, I'm golden.

Because it is a FRAMER that actually ended up in a frame. That is a really big deal. Just ask Hilary.

James French, who photographed my sister's wedding, takes pictures every Halloween, Christmas and Easter in a park over near my father's house.  It is first come, first serve and costs $15.  You pay upfront, and just cross your fingers and hope the kiddo is feeling cooperative and smily.  Because, really: you never know with these pint-sized humans.  The portrait is later mailed to your home address.

I've been waiting patiently for a month for mine to arrive.

I had an idea it was going to awesome because Mr. French was armed with a stuffed Grover doll.  Banner thinks Grover is a blue Elmo, and we all know that Elmo is essentially the toddler version of a happy pill.  The Ban-Man was instantly all smiles:

Taken with my iPhone back on that day in mid October.

And here is the photo that arrived earlier this week:



Love, love, love!

The thing is, I am TERRIBLE at changing out the frames in our house.  I have many of the same pictures on display that I originally put together some 10-15 years ago to decorate various college and graduate school dorm rooms and apartments.  The most current image of my sister - until she got married last year and GAVE US a framed picture of her and Adam for Christmas - was taken when she was 13 on a horse that passed away in 2009.  My mother-in-law got so tired of giving us framers that never ended up in frames that she brought over several randomly while we were out of town, and strategically placed them around the living room.  They are still there, which probably means that she has cracked the code of how to get current pictures on display in our house.

(I just hope she'll come back and swap the images out with new ones as the years go by.  Makes my self induced photo time capsule much more interesting with a  pop of "current" every now and again.)

I read blogs of people who put together photo collages on accent walls, hallways and nurseries, and I ALWAYS think to myself, "What a wonderful idea".  But then I remember that I never got around to framing ANY pictures of our wedding day or newborn pictures of Banner.  So maybe more realistic goal for me is to simply commit to swapping out a photo now and again with a new favorite?

You know, like baby steps?

So, I committed to framing the pumpkin picture above, and found a 5x5 that needed an updated image.  Except the picture already in there had been there for so long that it was GLUED TO THE GLASS.  It took six hours of soaking the glass in warm, soapy water to get all the old photograph residue off.  But I persevered and 24 hours later FINALLY had the pumpkin picture framed and on display in a place of honor.  It looks awesome, if I don't say so myself.  Trevor even noticed it, which is really saying something.

(And, don't worry, I scanned the old image in before ripping it out of the frame for good.)

Unfortunately, the mere fact that "swapping out a photo" took an entire day probably means that the next time I do that again will be around the time Banner graduates from high school. 


Philary returns to Dallas...

Phil and Hilary made their annual pilgrimage to Dallas for the State Fair.  They actually missed the fair the last couple of years because of Anni's wedding in January 2012.  So it was nice to get back to business as usual.  It just doesn't feel like fair time without the Vogts.

Banner welcomed Hil and Phil on Saturday morning by collapsing to the floor and staring at them suspiciously EVERY time they walked into the room or addressed him specifically by name.  It was all very weird (and funny).   This kid is nothing but cautious around strangers:

And you are?

To be fair, I had asked Hilary to hold him briefly the night before.  The little guy had stayed home with his favorite sitter while we had picked the Vogts up from the airport and grabbed dinner (and margaritas!) at Matt's.  We got home around 11, and found Banner completely passed out on the couch next to Molly (who was watching a movie).  While Trevor saw the sitter safely to her car, I transported the Ban-Man back to the nursery, checked his diaper and was about to tuck him in his crib for the night when I discovered that I couldn't find his sleep sack in the dark.  Hilary was in the adjoining guest room, and I whispered for her to come hold Banner for a second while I found it.  She happily complied, but Banner chose THAT moment to wake up and look around.  And, of course, the first thing his sees is some strange lady holding him.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure that is stuff nightmares are made out of.  Poor baby.

(And poor Hilary.  She was just trying to help!)

I'm sure Banner's bizarre "collapse and stare" behavior every time he saw Hilary the following morning was a direct result of the previous night. After all, Hilary was "that strange lady" from his really, really bad dream Friday night.  Who wouldn't drop and stare?!

A cold front moved through the metroplex Saturday morning.  It rained a little as it passed, but the real story was the temperature.  The high on Friday had been in the 90s.  On Saturday, he high was 82...but that was recorded before the front arrived mid morning (around 10 AM).  It was all down hill after that, which meant a blustery overcast 60 degree afternoon. 

(And, yes, I realize that 60 degrees isn't all that chilly.  But it was a thirty degree difference from the day before.  Obviously, sweatshirts and jackets were in order.)

(Also, Hil and Phil are from Maryland.  Which isn't the coldest place on earth, but - unlike Texas - Maryland has seasons.  I feel completely justified calling 60 degrees "chilly" since Hilary was all bundled up in a sweatshirt and my brother's Sewanee fire department windbreaker.)

Because of the drizzle, the fairgrounds were not as jam packed as they normally are on an early weekend afternoon.  Granted, it got steadily more crowded as the afternoon wore on (the Grambling/Prairie View game was that evening), but we were able to enjoy the fair without having to wait in long lines for most of our visit.

Everyone got their corny dog (bird dog for me!) upon arrival, and then the hunt was on for fried weirdness.  Off the top of my head, I saw different members of the group try/eat the following:

• Funnel cake (Tyler)
• Fried cheese (Phil)
• Fried pizza (Trev and Spence)
• Fried mac and cheese (Anni and Hilary)
  
  
• Cotton candy (Tyler)
• Fried thanksgiving dinner (Trev)
  
  

I only had a small taste of the fried pizza (there was pepperoni), and a couple of bites of the fried mac and cheese.  I was looking forward to tasting the fried Thanksgiving dinner, but I kept getting lost every time I ran to my office to change Banner's diaper.

Note:  I'd like to believe that the twice flooded on floor of my office is 100% cleaner than any public fair restroom.  Trevor completely supported this theory since it also meant that all diaper changes during museum hours were my job.

(Unrelated to the weekend being discussed, but related in terms of fried fair food:  I feel the need to mention that I made my former intern try the fried spaghetti and meatballs and the bacon cheese burger between two Crispy Crème donuts this year.  Kaitlin runs marathons, though, so she can handle the calories.  And, yes, this is the same former intern that has worked at the museum on and off for four years that has willingly consumed a variety of fried food nastiness for me every fair since 2010 - from fried gum to fried butter to fried sugar cubes.  It is a game that I willingly sponsor, because there is no way I'd ever try half the stuff she so happily consumes.)

My favorite part of the fair this fall (other than being with so many of my friends, of course) was watching Banner take it all in.  He was only 9 months old when he came last year, and was more or less confined to his stroller.  This year, however, he old enough to try different things (even though he wasn't interested in putting anything fried in his mouth...not even a corny dog); including his first amusement park ride!

Of course, Banner met the fair with all its noises, smells and flashing lights the same way he meets strangers - with a hefty dose of caution and speculation.  It is impossible to know if he was having a good time or not.  I guess he is just busy taking it in one blink and stare at a time.

In fact, there were only four different times he seemed genuinely excited about anything at the fair:  when he saw the spinning bears, when he was told he could ride the wee tractor at the kiddie farm, when he discovered a three year old girl dancing on stage at the wine garden (she wasn't a professional...she was just shaking her booty to the beat over the stereo speakers while her grandpa sat near by enjoying a tasty grape flavored beverage) and, finally, when Banner found two other little boys to play a nonsensical version of toddler chase with.  Other than that, though, his game face was ON.

Banner, however, was SERIOUSLY committed to spending time with his uncle Spencer.  Poor Spence couldn't put the little guy down without tears.  At first, Spence was touched, but three hours in and his neck and back started to protest with a vengeance.  Because a squirmy 31 pound toddler only gets heavier with every Cotton Bowl loop.

I guess there is nothing like seeing the fair from atop your father's beardless doppelganger.

And, well, because it is like some sort of weird compulsion, we had to take a few minutes out of our day to visit Boris.  Because, OF COURSE.

Banner thought Boris was a MOO.  Spencer tried to explain that Boris was actually an OINK.  Banner wasn't convinced.

Some little boy even tried offering Banner a visual aid of a more typical looking pink piggie, but Ban wasn't buying it.  Apparently, at 21 months, Banner is a MOO expert.  And, to him, Boris is all MOO.

The rest of our afternoon was spent at the wine garden, the car show and taking ridiculous selfies on the Court of Honor.  Which sounds almost fun until I remember that Phil has at least two of the most heinous pictures of me ever taken.  I spent most of the rest of the weekend secretly hoping he'd drop his camera and erase all his photos.  Because, UH-OH, PHIL!

And, well, I don't have anything to show you from that whole experience, so here are two of my favorite pictures from the day (a.k.a. no paternity test needed):

I love this SO much, Hils.

They were actually looking at the same ride on the Midway that made him cry last year.

 

(Banner.  Not Trevor.)

Anyway, the rest of the weekend was low key but fun filled.  We played Apples to Apples (Vietnam, 1968!), ate copious amounts of cheese and dressed our favorite Raven's fans in Cowboys t-shirts (much to Anni and Tyler's chagrin since they are "apparently" Bronco fans.  And I say "apparently" because Anni thought Eli Manning played for the Broncos and assumed the secondary was made up of the team's second best players).

To be fair, Ban spent all of Saturday in purple.

And, well, I'd go into things like putting Anni in timeout (because Banner saw her hit), being forced to reenact the Dolphin Show (thanks again for missing the dramatic finale, Big Philly) and kicking the snot out of the guys while playing darts (seriously), but I feel like nothing I type here can really do the weekend justice.  Because somewhere between Trevor trying to find a "cool song for Phil" on the radio, Anni "I'm really good with kids"accidentally pushing Banner down, and being forced into purchasing jewelry by overly pushy Hilary-the-salesman, I realized how much fun I always have with these crazy people each and every time we get together.

I guess bonds forged over nearly two decades of broom closet fights, purse wine, fried cheese, blow drying the bed, "Do you think he likes me?" and Tylenol PM only result tight and lasting friendships that are always full of laughter.  

Until next time...

The sheep on the hill are still lying still...

Well, I'm back. The weekend was fun, despite the drama (did I mention I went to an all-girls school?). We ate, drank, danced, laughed, cried and took more than one a stroll down memory lane. I saw people I hadn't seen in more than a decade and a half, and have a healthy respect for the class of 1983. Those women know how to party.

Typical.

The tune for the weekend was set - literally - upon landing at BWI. I turned on my cell phone to text my friend (Hi, Lannin!) that I was on the ground, but was distracted by an incoming phone call. From day care. Banner had pink eye and needed to go home. 

OMG, really? 

(I'm not a catastrophist for nothing, you know. And I had just mentioned to Trevor the night before that I was POSITIVE something would happen the second I landed in Baltimore!)

So, I called Trevor and told him he needed to leave work immediately to pick up Banner. 

Me:  “Oh, and by the way, call the vet once you get in the car because his teachers are pretty sure he has conjunctivitis.  Which is highly contagious, so - FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND ALL THINGS HOLY - WASH YOUR HANDS AND DON’T TOUCH YOUR EYES!”

Trevor:  “The vet?”

Me:  “Seriously?  That's all you got out of my last statement?  A LITTLE STRESSED HERE!"

This would also be the moment that I realized that my own eyes were itching and burning.  Because, obviously.  It's going on 4 PM on a Friday afternoon, I'm 1500 miles from home and I've just convinced myself that I have pink eye.

It’s akin to watching the video about lice and experiencing a sudden, intense scalp itch. Or at least it is was for me because Psychosomatic Disease is STRONG with this one (points at self).

Luckily, less than an hour later, Trevor called back with the FABULOUS news that Banner did not, in fact, have pink eye.  Just another human design flaw ear infection like THIS ONE back in January.

Awesome.

In other news, I had a giant zit on my chin the entire effing weekend. I was actually thinking about how good my skin has been since...well, I got pregnant two years ago. It isn't perfect, but I've definitely had fewer "disasters". And then *wham*: I wake up with something the size of a small volcano on my chin the very morning I'm preparing to fly cross country to see people I haven't seen in ages. I'm super lucky that way.

I'd also like to make a special shout out to Phil for being such a good sport. It was his tenth wedding anniversary, and I'm sure he had about 15,000 different ways he would have preferred to spend it than at his wife's high school reunion at an all girls school. Never mind forcing him to photo-document the reenactment of the infamous Broom Closet Fight of 1996 or helping to blow drying my bed after Hilary he spilled white wine everywhere.

Me:  "I'm blow drying my bed."
Anna:  "I miss you."
Me:  "Seriously.  I'm blow drying my bed."
Anna:  "Are you coming down?"
Me:  "WE ARE BLOW DRYING MY BED!"

And, because I have no idea how to end this post, here is a little bit of photo irony (even though it is less "irony" and more "OMG"):

First thing I saw when I picked up Banner
after landing at DFW on Monday afternoon.

Four Weeks!

This might be my new favorite picture.

Okay, it might take awhile to catch up and post like normal person, because every time I sit down for a second it is (somehow) time to feed the baby again. Until we have a little more time between meals, lists of memories is about all I can muster.

I know, I know. I suck.

(Sigh.)

To be fair, lists are much, much easier to manage with a newborn because I don't have to get back in the rhythm of writing a longer post. I can keep segments short and disconnected. And, yes, I realize this all makes me a tad lazy, but at least I'm getting the memories down in some way. Because I am no longer confident my memory will return...ever.

So without further ado (and in no particular order), here is another list:

• I forgot about this until the newborn photographs from the hospital arrived, but I bawled when they showed me Banner's newborn pictures on the afternoon I was discharged from Baylor. Of course, I was crying a lot then. But what really got me is that Trevor also teared up.
  
  Look at our sweet baby. Sniff, sniff....boohoohoohoo.
  
  The funny thing is that Banner is soooooo yellow in those pictures that it is almost comical. We will only be able to use them in black and white. But it is amazing to see how much the little guy has grown and changed in the last four weeks. He is growing up so fast!



Just when I get my stink right, they give me another bath.

My doctor told me to drink a beer a day to help with milk production. Not a light beer, but something like a Guinness. I'm not having issues with milk production so I haven't tried it (and have never been a fan of beer), but groups like La Leche also recommend this to increase quantity. My doctor says he thinks it is the hops. Sigh...Why can't red wine have the same effect? Because I really miss red wine.

Little angel

When my mom came to visit me in the hospital, she immediately asked how many times I had counted all of Banner's fingers and toes. My response: "Never". It honestly hadn't occurred to me, which seemed to horrify my mother.

To be fair, though, I figured someone would have mentioned it to me if he had an above or below average number of digits.

Still, to pacify my mother, we counted his fingers and toes two or three times just to make sure. And don't worry. He has ten of each.

Speaking of toes, I had to ask what the came between, "This little piggy went to market" and, "This little piggy went WEE-WEE-WEE all the way home." Trevor was stunned and said my ignorance on this matter almost justified losing my parenting license.

Sleepy B-Man

Banner has an uncanny ability to spit milk up out of his nose.

On Sunday, January 29th, the B-Man went on his first road trip to Cedar Hill to visit Grammy Pammy. It was fabulous.

I heart Grammy Pammy!
(obviously)

The road trip was also the first time we broke out the stroller, which is kind of funny since Banner was only in the stroller from the living room to the car, and the car into Grammy Pammy's house. We could have just, I dunno...carried him.

Banner's hair is blonde on top and red around the sides.

He has great eye contact and started following objects with his eyes a couple of weeks ago. Trevor refers to this as Banner's first trick.

Look at those blue eyes!

Banner is only waking up once between 10 PM and 9 AM. Usually his overnight feeding falls between 3 and 4 AM, but if he is really tired (like he was after visiting Grammy Pammy) he has been known to sleep all the way to *gasp!* 6 AM.

Of course, Trevor wants to know when he will start sleeping twelve hours, which is fabulous since Trevor has gotten up with his son exactly TWICE since he was born. Both times took place the weekend of January 21st and 22nd when the baby nurse went home because her son was being ordained. After the second night, Trevor announced that Rue Anna's job "sucked" and wanted to know when she was coming back.

Banner is now eating between 4 and 6 ounces 6 times a day. Well, technically he has only eaten 6 ounces (that I know of) once and - to my great surprise - didn't explode. Generally, he eats 4 to 5 ounces during the day and 5 to 5.5 at night. A very unscientific weigh-in yesterday (where I weighed myself first, then Banner and I together and subtracted the difference) has me down another 5 pounds and the kiddo up to 10.

Obviously, I have no idea how much he is eating when he is on the boob, which is slightly disconcerting since I seem to be able to produce up to ten ounces in less than fifteen minutes when I pump. And because the milk comes - literally - shooting out, I've starting wearing my nipple shield again when I nurse to keep him from choking and spitting up so much. It just comes out so fast. The bottle actually seems less stressful for him because the flow isn't like a freaking fire hose.

Diapers? Is that all you've got?

We still haven't found a diaper that can contain my baby. So far, the Huggies seem to do better than the Pampers, but there are still a lot times the B-Man ends up in two diapers just so I don't end up covered in pee or poop. The other morning, he was nursing and pee started to come out both the top AND the sides of a DOUBLE diaper. He was like a fountain of urine.

We are now trying size 1-2 Huggies with Leak Lock technology. The jury is still out, but I will keep you posted.

Oh, and the main reason for all the diaper problems is Banner's shape. He finally is getting a bit of a belly, but his legs are still super skinny. So we need one sized diapers to fit around his middle and another one to fit snuggly around his thighs. Hence, two diapers.

I know, I know. Two diapers is completely weird. Sigh.

One day I will start actually smiling on purpose
(as opposed to just when I am gassy)!

Speaking of pee, Banner is a FORCEFUL little urinator. The other day he managed to pee on Haskell's head. Which is really a feat once you learn that the baby was on the changing table and Haskell was standing in the doorway. Banner started to pee and Trevor blocked the flow with his hand. The pee ricocheted off his hand and hit Haskell square between the eyes. Haskell, who hasn't been so keen on venturing to the nursery in the first place, has more or less decided that that part of the house no longer exists.

Can't a baby get any rest around here?!

Auntie Mimi has decided that "Banner looks better when photographed slightly from above" because it is his most flattering angle. Similarly, she has requested that "for artistic purposes" that I should try to also photograph him from further away. Which is fabulous since most of the pictures I take of him are captured while holding him.

I was in my friend Anni's wedding when Banner was seventeen days old. The bridesmaid dress was strapless, and required me to buy the LARGEST strapless bra in stock at Dillard's. And it was technically too small (but would do). Trevor sees my boobs nowadays and just laughs. They are absolutely ridiculous.

And, come to think of it, maybe jumping and dancing to Journey at the reception seventeen days after giving birth wasn't the best idea in the world (but, boy, was it fun!).

Anni got married!
And Banner spit up ALL OVER Hilary!

The fabulous Hilary and Phil went with me to Banner's two week appointment with the pediatrician. I am sure there were about a million things they would have preferred to have done on their mini vacation to Dallas than go to the doctor's office. Especially considering that they have a kiddo of their own, and the pediatrician's office? Yeah, they've been there, done that. But, honestly, I don't know what I would have done without them there. It is always a sad state of affairs when the mom needs emotional support when it is the baby that requires a heal prick.

Favorite quote from the Anni/Tyler wedding weekend (other than Phil being introduced to a U.S. Congressman as "Philly") was:

Hilary: "I'm stuck."
Phil: "No you are not. You are just not moving."

Live long and prosper!

Amy cut off Haskell's white flag. For those of you that don't know what that means, Haskell has a short tail that is (normally) about three and a half inches longer thanks to his "white flag" (a tuft of white hair that grows out of the tip of his tail). Except now it is gone because, according to Amy, Haskell's poked her with his nose last Friday night while she was making cookies. This annoyed her because, after he poked her, his eyes got really big and he backed away slowly (typical Haskell behavior). So, she "punished" him by trimming his white flag off.

But then she lied about it. Here is the transcription of the text conversation:

Me: "Did u trim haskells white flag off?"

Amy: "Wasn't me."

Me: "Yeah right. With ur history of dog grooming and wanting to shave Haskell?!"

Amy: "It must have been melissa or the nurse lady. Or maybe he got so stressed it just fell off."

Me: "It has been cut. It is too straight and perfect to have just fallen out."

Amy: "Thats weird. I was just reading my book."

Me: "U are evil."

Amy: "Blame the godmother. Poor Haskell. You know I didn't do it bc if it were me I would only harrass wipsy."

Me: "You have never threatened to shave gypsy."

Amy: "I cant tell if youre mad at me."

Me: "Ha! So u admit it! Godmothers dont lie u know. They also don't cut off the white flags of simple minded canines."

Amy: "No. I just feel im being accused and it hurts me. im getting married this year. be nice to me."

Me: "Hmmmm...Guess u don't wanna be a godmother then."

Amy: "Ok fine. i did it. he poked me and then backed away with that stupid look on his face. he is always waving that silly white flag at me."

Me: "His tail looks ridiculously short now. Did u think I wouldn't notice?"

Amy: "Actually, no i didnt. if anything i though you might mistake him for gypsy. you dont ever look at the dogs now that you have a baby. i think i did him a favor. look at all the attention he is getting now."

Me: "Weirdo. I love my dogs. I can't believe u thought I wouldn't notice!"

Amy: "well arent you glad i tested you and you passed?"

Me: "Hrumph."

(Poor Haskell)

Night, Night!

I was originally against using the pacifier for the first three months. Yeah, that lasted all of five days.

The meteorite that fell from the sky and created a sonic boom on Wednesday night? It is possible I thought it was the baby. Apparently this means I need to get out more.

Mom really thinks I am adorable when I am fast asleep!

Grammy Pammy didn't understand why I nursed half the time and pumped the other until I asked her if she wanted to feed the baby. Now she is a big fan.

Is it lunch time, yet?!

The weather has been so nice around here recently that I've taken Banner on several strolls around the neighborhood. The first was in his stroller and the second in his sling around my neck. I think the B-Man preferred the sling because the area sidewalks leave a lot to be desired if you are a sleeping babe. He kept looking at me like, "Who is driving this thing? Can't you see I am trying to nap!"

What's up?!

My sister's wedding is coming up in April, and I completely forgot about her cake tasting on Wednesday. Well, that is until she called me fifteen times an hour before the cake tasting and sent me a text message that read: "don't make me go bridezilla on your ass."

Message received. I might have been a few minutes late, but I was SO THERE.

Mom thinks I look like an angry little monkey here.

Banner's daycare can take him on March 19th, so now I just need to figure out if I am going to return to work full time immediately or do the part time thing for a pay period or two to ease the transition.

You think YOUR life is hard?!

Speaking of work, there was a mixup in HR and they've been paying me as if I am vacation instead of maternity leave. I actually had to call work and tell them not to pay me anymore (until I return to work, of course) to salvage some semblance of my vacation time.

Banner hates the sun. I joke that this makes him a vampire baby and - assuming his aversion to light doesn't go away as he gets older - Trevor and I can always relocate to Forks, Washington.

Don't mess with Thor!

Last weekend at Grammy Pammy's house, I was lead to believe that I broke the toilet and that my step father had to fix it using his bare hands. In reality, however, the toilet was acting up and just needed help flushing. Of course, I didn't find THAT out for hours.

Mama's little stinker!

My most cherished time of the day with my baby is first thing in the morning when we lay in bed together and I nurse and play with him. I refer to this as "Mornings with Mommy". The day begins with the news and generally ends with him peeing, pooping and/or spitting up all over me (which is when I know it is time for him to take a nap and for me to well...change clothes).

Until next time, my pretties!

Meme...

This is totally a Facebook thing, but I really wanted to post something on my blog today and have nothing interesting to say. Alas!

Anyway, here are 25 random things about me:

1. I have a completely irrational fear of commitment. Being engaged to Trevor is putting a damper on said fear of commitment, but I still haven’t gone dress shopping. You really aren’t getting married until you buy the dress, after all.



2. I also have irrational fears of donuts, mayonnaise-based food, lanyards and screw-cap seals on plastic bottles. Oh, and Meryl Streep completely freaks me out for some reason.



3. I will not buy or cook raw meat. Just looking at it makes me want to gag. If it wasn’t for Trevor, I’d still be a vegetarian.



4. I went to an all-girls boarding school, and loved it. That is, until I went to a coed college and remembered how much I liked boys. Of course, not being around the opposite sex since middle school (when boys still had cooties and were all shorter than I was) meant that I was seriously socially impaired for most of the next four years.



5. I’ve always been a tomboy. I played three varsity sports in high school, and rugby and soccer in college. I almost never blow dry my hair or wear make up, and wish I could wear a hoodie/t-shirt and blue jeans every day.



6. Despite number five – I was both a sorority girl AND a debutante. Gasp!



7. If I could, I’d totally have a house full of black dogs with white paws.



8. My favorite character in a book when I was little was HANK THE COWDOG. I’ve tried to brainwash Hilary’s son, CJ, since birth, but so far I have been unsuccessful.



9. I am addicted to GHOST WHISPERER. And, yes, I know the acting is horrendous.



10. I don’t like the color “yellow” as a rule. I think it is too angry.



11. I am way-obsessed with my overall fiber consumption. When I am 80, prunes won’t be strong enough. I’ll need colon-blow.



12. I have only seen the Grand Canyon from the bottom up. Never the top down.



13. I really want to visit Iceland. Dude: it’s the land of fire and ice! How can you NOT want to go there?!



14. I have an obsession with 20th century dictators. I don’t idolize them or anything, but find them fascinating. What about them and their personalities made millions of people want to follow them? I also enjoy meteorologists and generic weather-people in general. I can still name the local weather person in each of the major cities I have lived in over the course of my life. My personal favorite: Wayne Mahar in Syracuse, New York. Wonder if he still sports his red jacket?



15. I lost 80+ pounds in high school. I’ve never gained it back, but haven’t lost anymore, either. I’m destined to be this weight forever, apparently.



16. I randomly get “stuck” in things. Once, in high school, I got stuck in my desk and a small army of teachers were called upon to get me out. I had somehow gotten my feet tangled up in the book basket under my chair. There was a moment when I thought they might have to dismantle the desk.



17. Two of my most favorite foods are popcorn and olives. Yum.



18. I am allergic to Texas. Yes, literately. My allergist keeps recommending that I move to a more arid climate.



19. I wish I could live in the mountains. Hiking is one of my favorite pastimes, and I miss having seasons.



20. When I was little, I needed a helmet. I ran my head into everything. I even fell off a dam once. If you could shave my head, you’d see nothing but scars, I’m sure.



21. My favorite number is “8”. I have my own made-up version of numerology. No one gets it except me and my gynecologist (oddly enough).



22. I once got lost on a bike path.



23. I got a pony for my fifth birthday, and horse for my seventh. This sounds really cool until I mention that my dad is a cattle rancher. I got the pony and horse so I could help move cattle from point A to point B without realizing that I was being subjected to child labor.



24. During times of high stress (or bordom), I can easily chew two or three packs of gum in a day. Sometimes all at once. I consider it to be a talent.



25. I own multiple pairs of support hose and wear them regularly (if not voluntarily).

Happy Friday, everyone!

A Friend is There When the World is Closed…

Since today is the last day of the State Fair of Texas (thank goodness!), I figured I would post these pictures from a recent fair visit with out-of-towners, Phil and Hilary.

Enjoy!:

The Texas Star…

Phil and his fried cheese…

The Gondola…

The Esplanade…

International Boulevard at dusk…

The Tower Building…

Sunset over the Esplanade…

Sunset over the Esplanade…

Big Tex…

View from the Texas Star…

Hilary…

View from the Ferris Wheel…

Looking straight down…

Awkwardly sitting Emu…

Phil’s new buddy…

Piggies!

Fried Cookie Dough (ew…gag)…

Lessons learned from the weekend of Phil and Hilary’s visit (posted below pictures of the State Fair in the hope that no one scrolls down this far):

1. Don’t plan in advance. If you do, their flight will be early, your car won’t start and Phil and Hilary will be left stranded (temporarily) at DFW airport.



2. Only drink beer or wine at Gilley’s. If you switch to mix drinks, consider not tipping the bartender. I know this sounds wrong, but tipping leads to STRONG drinks. Strong drinks leads (directly) to (me) licking people in pictures.



3. Warning: After consuming strong, mix drinks at Gilley's, I may be tempted to “grind” Trevor if BABY GOT BACK is played by the band. I will have NO memory of this the next day. If you are lucky, neither will you.



4. Do not put ice down my shirt as this may cause me to dump the entire contents of my beverage down the front of your top as a result. I will have no memory of this, either.

The End