I have no idea where his patience comes from

This kid….we were checking out the grocery store the other day and our cashier said, “Wow. he is SO patient!”

And I looked at Kellan, who was content and just happily watching everything that was going on, and I was just like, “You know, he really is.”

And I’m really not. Like, reaaalllllly not. Nor is Tim.

Recessive patience gene?

I’m not sure if this is typical 13-almost-14-month-old behavior but the weekend, Kellan woke up at 6:30, had breakfast, played, fought a nap – we tried to nap at 9 and I gave up around 9:35 because he kept yelling “dinosaur!”

So, we walked over to the neighborhood park to see the dinosaur and play. I thought maybe he would fall asleep in the stroller, but he didn’t, so we decided to run errands, hoping he would fall asleep in the car.

He didn’t.

We finally made it home around 12:45 and he crashed. We were begging him to stay awake most of the way home because if he falls asleep in the car, there is no picking him up and transferring him to a bed. Once he wakes up from a car nap, be it five minutes or forty five, he is UP.

But, all morning long he was awake and happy, everywhere we went. Zero complaint. Zero fuss.

What a great kid. I am so, so thankful for him.

We are off on another secret mission today. To be revealed eventually….

Until then, check out my latest post on What to Expect? It’s about how Tim forgot to feed Kellan. Definitely worth an extra few minutes.

birthday boy

Just because I know this is imperative news for you: today is Tim’s birthday.

I have zero planned, other than a cake. I did that part right, at least.

He is super difficult to buy presents for because he doesn’t want anything small (read: inexpensive). He wants big things.

Expensive things like what, you ask?

Like a new camera + lenses (Nikon D600)

Or a GIANT television. I don’t even remember the brand or size. My memory says a Samsung and 60″ but I’m probably wrong…I really don’t pay attention to electronic desires other than to say, “send me a link with the EXACT thing you want.”

Or a deck in our backyard.

I have to admit, I want that last one, too.

So, suffice it to say his birthday gift is TBD because those things aren’t exactly cheap-o.

But now that I think about it, he did mention in passing that he needed new underwear…hmmm….

happy easter!

Okay…so…I’m sitting here with this chicken basket that my mom just handed to me and you’re saying I need it…but I’m not exactly sure why? Tell me again how this Easter egg hunt thing works?

I search for eggs that have been hidden and I put them where? In a basket?

Ohhhhhh! In my chicken basket!

(There are no actual egg hunting photos. Only a video. That I’ve yet to view)

Hey, look! An egg!

So, okay. I found an egg and I put it into my basket. What next….?

Wait…You say I get to keep it?! You’re joking right? Just pullin my diaper pins?….

No? You’re serious? It’s mine? This is shaping up to be the best day ever!

No worries, ‘rents. *I* can take it from here. I know exactly what to do. It’s time to shake-a shake-a shake-a the egg-a egg-a egg-a!

Thanks, Barnes and Noble! We just so happened to be in your store and heard an announcement about story time and an egg hunt! And kudos to your team for giving Kellan a few extra eggs since he only found a few before they were gone AND for getting something special for him afterwards since he was the only kid who didn’t win a raffle prize. This was his first official egg hunt ever and he had a blast!

Also? Good thing you had baskets available to purchase…we obviously were not prepared…as evidenced by the tag still hanging off the handle.

the grocery store takes on a whole new meaning with a kid

There are many, many, mannnnnny things that now make sense to me pre-child that are now crystal clear.

Like when I’m all, “Nobody touch me for five minutes! Including you, animals! I’m touched out. I’ve reached my maximum touchability. No more touching!”

Or how I told Tim the other day that the reason I think I’m so tired is because I am no longer able to zone out, Earth to Jessica style. I’m always ON. On on on on on. On.

The other day at the grocery store, I was pretty much running up and down the aisles, trying to get everything on my list. Kellan was ready to go and though he wasn’t crying, the urgency in his vocalizations and his throwing everything – toys, snacks, sippy cup, apple we had yet to purchase – out of the cart was enough to signal to me that the happy time meter was just about up.

Now, I always have to make a list when I buy groceries. Well, technically, this is nothing new. I’ve always made a list…who can remember a weeks worth of food plus weird random ingredients for a new recipe and household items?

If you’re all, Uh, ME. I can,” then you A: probably don’t have kids and/or B: may want to call somebody who tracks that kind of talent. You’d be a hot commodity.

Anyhow. Pre-Kellan, I would usually have the mental wherewithal to remember a few things not on the list that I had forgotten to write down.

Now?

If it isn’t on the list, it isn’t happening.

My brain is only partially paying attention to what I’m supposed to be grabbing off the shelf and mostly trying to make sure I pick up what Kellan decides should be on the ground, feed him a snack, oh, here, have some water…no? Well, here’s your toy…look! Balloon! You’re right!…No, we cannot grab glass jars from the shelf…wait. I forgot baby yogurt…Yes! A balloon again!….Here, have another cracker…please don’t throw the cracker on the ground…where did your toy go…why is your shirt wet?…Yes! Balloon!…I don’t know why the store puts balloons everywhere, either…what are we waving at?…oh! hiiiii giant stuffed animal on top of the dairy coolers (??)…what am I looking for again?….Your water? Ok, here it is….Where was I?…Right! Where is the yogurt…

And while all of that was happening, I overheard a mom who was wrangling her two kids say, “Just wait! Stop. Let me think for a minute.”

Before Kellan? I would have thought she was coo-coo.

Now?…I totally underst….where is your sock?…here, try playing with this….hi, balloon!…where is that damn yogurt?….

my parenting style isn’t winning me any popularity points

A quick hello to you guys! I wrote a super long post about mom friends and differing parenting styles and awkwardness on What to Expect and that pretty much exhausted my one long post a week quota, so….show a girl some love and click on over? I actually worked really hard on it, so, it really needs to be appreciated by those who know me best (you guys, duh).

And if any of my in real life mom friends read this? Please don’t take it personally. It isn’t directed at you. At all. I’m exercising my inner demons. Or something (Ace Ventura flashback…”I have ex-er-cised the demons!”)

In the meantime, this is my life, as of late.

And by “late” I mean a few hours ago.

Green hat, blue and white sweater, red snow pants, and brown shoes. We are stylin!

(It’s the end of winter and I refuse to buy anything new so that he is all cold weathermatchey-matchey. We all know he will wear said new outfit one to zero times in his entire life. So, yes, I realize he looks like a hobo, and yes, it was kind of on purpose, and no, I’m not really very concerned.)

one hundred months

Today is Tim and my 100-month-a-versary!

And it’s also the first day of spring.

I know. We so planned it to work out this way.

We’ve gone from this:

To this:

To this.

And it just keeps getting better.

And more delayed. Obviously that’s our Christmas picture and obviously we haven’t had another chance for a “we all showered and put on real clothes” photo op.

a day in the life…

First? Happy 13 months, Kellan!!

Second?…..This:

Scene: Tim reading to Kellan on the bedroom floor, me on the bed, supervising.

Tim: A cow says moo. A sheep ::yawn:: A sheep says ::yaaaawwwwn:: A sheep says baa. Three ::yaaaaaawwwwwnnnnn::

Me: Can you not read without yawning?!?

Tim: Um, no. You know that. It’s a psychological problem.

Well, ok then.

****

Me: Kellan needs pants and socks and a sweater.

Tim: Did you lay them out?

Me: No. Just pick something. I have to go to the bathroom.

The next sounds I hear:

Drawer open, close.

Drawer open, close.

Tim, yelling from Kellan’s room while I am *trying* to pee in peace: Where are his pants?

Me, yelling back from the bathroom with the door open because I don’t even bother closing it anymore: Bottom right drawer…..

A minute goes by….

Tim: What sweater?

Me: Just pick one! Hell, have Kellan pick one!

I wash my hands, leave the bathroom, and find them downstairs, playing.

Tim looks at me, smiling, proud of himself for successfully dressing Kellan, and then…he sees my face.

He takes a second look. Sweater. Check. Pants. Check…and then it hits him.

He realizes why my face looks slightly perplexed.

Tim: I forgot the socks.