hula hooping

Guess what I dod this past weekend?

I totally hula hopped in Babies R Us.

While I was shopping for a myriad of things, Kellan and Tim were busy looking ridiculously cute doing this:

And then I saw them.

The hula hoops.

And they were just begging to be hulaed, you guys.

I used to be an excellent hula hooper….when I was probably seven.

I didn’t let that little fact and giant span of time stop me. I whipped one out and started trying to hula hoop in the middle of an aisle. Over and over and over. Hula hula hula…down to the floor. Hula hula…floor. Hula. Floor. Hula. Floor.

Kellan was staring up at me like whhhaaat are you doing??

Tim was all, “Judging by your face, that looks painful.”

Me, between attempts: It’s not painful! I’m concentrating!

Tim: Exactly.

End scene.

PS: I have zero hesitation to embarrass myself – and everyone around me – when there is a goal I want to accomplish. And yes, I did finally get the hip action rhythm down and successfully hula hoop.

PPS: If you want an amazing and cheap abdominal workout – buy a hula hoop. I guarantee you’ll feel it for days.

PPPS: Vote? Here is the link to his picture.

headaches and dreams and help

This zero ability to blog is really sad.

I am…really tired. My hormones are changing again…it happens every few months. I guess my body is trying to eventually ovulate? TMI, probably. I had to fend off a migraine on Saturday…thankfully I’m learning how to catch and knock them out while they are still a headache behind my eye…but that’s the warning flag. The pounding knife sensation in that location.

Don’t ask me why but 500mg of Tylenol and a plain Coke is what works. It’s kind of disgusting, but it gets the job done. And it has to be a plain Coca-Cola. Nothing else works. It must have some kind of secret ingredient because it is not just the caffeine…coffee doesn’t help me when it comes to migraines.

I can’t even believe I have to deal with migraines, period.

Oh! Random question. If you can remember, if you had dreams about having a baby before you got pregnant and in the dream, the baby ended up being a boy or a girl, did real life match the dream once you actually got pregnant and had your child? I’ve had two such dreams so far and each time the baby’s sex was the same….

Also? Huge favor?

Kellan has been entered into (yet another) photo contest. It’s a one week voting window, so I won’t have to bother you for very long…but it would be awesome of he won! The ultimate prize is getting on the cover of Parents magazine. That’d be neat. And I would have a reaaalllly long thank you card list…of you all voted.

Here is the link to his picture.

And just so you know, he’s definitely the cutest one. I already checked the competition.

stop

When you’re halfway finished with your run and your child all of a sudden tries to sit up in the stroller and begins pointing, asking to get out to touch dead leaves on a tree…what do you do? Dead leaves? Really??

I’ll tell you exactly what you do.

You stop.

You get out.

You touch the leaves.

And then do this.

And this.

Over and over and over again.

And then, once your curious child has had his need to learn and play and have fun doing important kid stuff met, then and only then, do you finish your run.

Because, you see, none of that would have ever happened “later.”

You’ll both return home happier and more fulfilled than if you had ignored his request and run on, past the trees and the water and the rocks. Past his desire to experience what he sees right in front of him, just begging to be explored.

In my pre-mommy life, I would have never stopped. NEVER. Not even to enjoy a simple, beautiful thing. I wouldn’t have even seen it, truthfully. My head would stay straight, my mind solely on the task at hand. Run first, relax later. Get the job done first. Don’t stop. That will make it take longer. Push through. Ignore. Just keep going.

Now? I stop. My runs are disjointed. They take longer or the route is cut short because it’s colder or windier than I had anticipated. Or Kellan needs something. Or dropped something.

Or he sees something that fascinates him to the point of doing everything he knows how to do to get my attention so I will stop and show him whatever it is that, at the current moment, is the coolest thing in the whole wide world.

I stop. Willingly. Happily. Unselfishly.

I’m building a relationship with this little person and I want him to know that his needs are important and that it is a good thing to stop. To take a minute – or 30 minutes – to learn about something we happen upon that was not on our original agenda.

Today was such an important reminder for me. I hope it is a good reminder for all the other parents, too.

Stop. Touch leaves. Throw rocks. Smell the roses.

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.

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.

the starry lights penguin, wait-and-sneeze technique.

Kellan is sick.

Again.

I can’t even…I just…really? REALLY?!

REALLY?!?!?!!!

If you have any homeopathic, natural, grandma remedies for severe nasal congestion that is baby friendly, hit me with it. All of it. I’m desperate.

Des-per-ate.

I was awake at 10:30pm, 1:00am, 2, 3:15, 4:15, and finally 7:30, with a child who could. not. breathe.

We did all of our cold congestion relief steps, including a new one: eucalyptus oil in the water during the steam treatment (shower with hot water, closed door, etc).

Nothing seemed to help.

It was so bad, I had to sit him up in bed and bust out this bad boy – our starry lights projected on the ceiling penguin to distract Kellan (Tim’s idea, which worked) because he would just start crying and crying, completely distraught at the fact that he could not breathe, and, therefore, could not do his favorite comfort activity: nurse.

So, I would sit him up and turn on the penguin, which was immediately met with lots of over exuberant “whoas!” from Kellan (really, kid? At 2am?) along with him trying to say “stars” while I would wait for him to sneeze so I could wipe away the snot.

Also? Kellan is currently in an argument with the nasal aspirator, so using that without a severe meltdown isn’t an option. After the first few times, I didn’t really want to deal with another round of screaming, head turning, pushing everything away, tears and that really pitiful I-can’t-catch-my-breath cry, especially at two in the morning, which is why we went with the starry lights penguin, wait-and-sneeze technique.

At 4-whatever-time, Tim took Kellan into the bathroom for round two of the eucalyptus steam treatment while I tried to sleep a little before Tim brought him back to me for food train (our phrase for nursing) and sleep.

That got us to 7:30.

And now I’m trying to think of and do anything within the realm of possible to ensure tonight is way less snotty and sleep disruptive for everybody.

I’m tired, universe. I’m tired and I probably have lots of run-on sentences and everyone is over hearing about my oh woe is me problems.

All I want is one weekend that is illness free.

Is that really so much to ask?

Now, your turn: cold remedies.

Annnnnd go!