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.

dear kellan: one year!

One year ago you and I we were confused and scared and wet and cold…or maybe it was just you who was wet and cold. I was actually about to pass out, thank you super long labor (12am Sunday morning to 6:37pm Sunday night) meds and no food for over twenty four hours. We have come a looooong way, you and me and daddy, in this past year. Who knew that our tiny little boy would become this vibrant baby with a sense of humor and strong personality in such a short time.

The other day, we were watching Alice in Wonderland for research purposes for your birthday (the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party). There is this part where she is singing in forest and all the animals (well, the things that are supposed to be animals) begin coming out and watching her sing. There is this duck that looks more like a horn on a bike. She has baby horn ducks and as they creep out of the bushes, one of the baby ducks ventures out in front of his mom and then he realizes how far away he is and turns around and runs back to his mom, hiding behind her back and then peeking up carefully from his protected position. That made me think of you and your clinginess. And it all made sense. You and that baby duck are one in the same.

All of the things you have been trying to do this month makes the clinginess even more pronounced. You have found your walking legs, though you still need us to hold your hands, and you want to walk everywhere. It seemed to start right at the beginning of the month when we when to the park with a friend (1/19) and you decided that you wanted to walk up and down the stairs on the playground and everywhere in between. Now, you want to walk up and down the stairs in the house, which is funny, because you take these huuuuge steps to try and walk up each step like we do, one foot and then the other, step after step. It is funny your legs are long enough to accomplish such a feat!

This month has been busy, for sure, but I feel like I say that every month. I guess we just like to do stuff – which is a good thing. You seem to love going places and experiencing everything. You have always been such an expressive child and your likes and dislikes come out more and more as each day passes. One of your funniest moments to date was when we were grocery shopping (1/21) and you somehow managed to get your Sophie teething giraffe underneath you and kept bouncing up and down, squeaking it, over and over and over. I finally clued in as to what was happening and took a video of it and sent it to America’s Funniest Videos. The whole exchange was hysterical. Not only had you made up your own game, but you answered my questions about Sophie (Where is Sophie? Sit! Can you squeak her? Yes!)

And then, as if I needed another example of your silliness, we went to breakfast with a friend a few days later (1/24), sans daddy (for both moms). I was holding you in the booth and then sat you down next to me for a minute so I could do something (who knows what it was, there was so much commotion with three kids and two moms and ordering food…). Then, when I picked you up to sit in my lap again, you didn’t have any pants on.

HOW????

I looked at my friend like, “Um. Kellan took off his pants.”

Never a day goes by where you don’t crack us up. It is one of my favorite things about you…your ability to make us laugh, no matter what is going on.

So, let us talk about sleep for a second, shall we?

After a YEAR of me having no idea what kind of schedule you were trying to create when it came to naps and sleep, something happened, finally (1/25)!!

A pattern!

You now like to nap “around” 8am and 12pm for varied lengths of time and then bedtime is 6pm. Our bath routine is apparently really important, too, as that signals bedtime for you in a big, big way. If, for some reason, there isn’t a bath, it is really hard to get you to go to bed. We also have this thing where daddy takes you up to the bath to fill the tub and get you ready while I put out all the post-bath stuff. Then, I (still) get in the tub with you and daddy washes you and then he also does all of the post-bath stuff (diaper cream, lotion, etc). I lay down in bed to get ready to nurse you. Daddy lays you down and you wait for him to give you a kiss and say goodnight and then you nurse…and sleep.

If *I* try to do the daddy part of the routine?

Tears, usually.

I had no idea that the order of activity (and the person doing it) was so ingrained in your mind. It is kind of interesting to see it, though. It gives me insight on how you are and what you like. It helps me. So, thank you.

We went to San Diego for my birthday for a long weekend, and even though our nap routine was kind of scattered, we still did a bath with you every night, which really helped. You slept like a rock while we were there. You may have woken up once during the night, but that was it. I’m sure all of the activity during the day really wore you out. We went to the zoo and the beach and your favorite, favorite, favorite thing of the whole trip?

Concrete barriers to keep cars off the boardwalk.

I’m serious.

You went bananas over those things, “Touch! Touch! Touch!” every time we passed them.

It is nice you have a decent vocabulary, though, so we can communicate and understand what it is you want or need. You do have a word for everything you don’t know how to say. It’s “bup.” You do this hand thing that isn’t really pointing with a finger but more of an entitled wave thing that says “that, mummy, over there…yes, do kindly bring it to me.”

Anyhow, the day after we got home from San Diego, you had a horrible, horrible time sleeping. You would try to nurse but wouldn’t because you were in pain (that I thought was from teething), so you would just hold onto the boob and then fall back asleep. It was pitiful and sad. Turns out, it wasn’t just teething. You ended up getting really sick (2/6) and we had to take you to the ER (again) because you weren’t eating or drinking or nursing, which meant you weren’t peeing, though you had watery diarrhea that smelled like WHOA.

All of that meant you were getting dehydrated – hence ER visit.

Turns out, you had herpangina, which were these really awful blisters in the back of your throat, which was why you weren’t nursing. Apparently you probably got it in San Diego, since it lives in warmer climates and isn’t common in Colorado in the winter. I was kind of thinking I had the same thing, since I had been feeling blah, too, and my throat was killing me. I cannot even imagine how you felt.

Thanks, San Diego. Well, really, thanks airplanes and airports.

We went back to the ER again the next day (2/7) because you were still having diarrhea AND throwing up AND you weren’t drinking much of anything.

You were fine, though we were there for FOREVER because A: you were ok and B: they had a few super sick kiddos come in and they kind of forgot we were there. I mean, I totally understand but you were not very happy. You decided to pick your nose for the first time as we said goodbye to the doctor…pulled out a nasty long booger, too. I guess that was your, “I’ve wanted to leave for AN HOUR, this one’s for you” send off because you haven’t done it since.

Again with the sense of humor…

Granted, mommy and daddy were ready to get out, too.

And then? The next day?

I texted Tim around three in the morning, asking him if he was throwing up because I heard him go to the bathroom and I had been laying in bed, feeling awful and feverish and super, super sick. Turns out, he was throwing up and we were both feverish and sick. That whole weekend was terrible. I pretty much tried to lay in bed and keep the TV on to entertain you while Tim camped out in the bathroom, emptying the contents of everything.

I hope that never, ever happens again, the entire family sick and unable to do anything but basically survive. I am slightly thankful that you weren’t feeling 100%, because it meant you didn’t want to eat regular food or move around much, which was perfect for me.

We even decided to reschedule your birthday because we were all still in recovery mode. So, we will celebrate on March 9 with all of your friends.

No worries, though, we still had a little birthday celebration with you on your birthday with your Mimi, who came to see you for your birthday weekend (2/15-2/19). You had so much fun with her! I was worried that you would be a little apprehensive, since you had been so clingy, but you two got along like old pals. It was really cute to watch you two interact and play. She brought you books, too, and you love them! Your love and desire for reading is incredible! We read stories all the time. You could probably read stories all day long. Well, intermixed with watching Winnie the Pooh. You ask to watch it, now, by doing your hand wave thing at the TV. There is a part where a red balloon comes into the picture and you start saying “baba! baba!” in the scene right before the balloon one. That blows our minds! You anticipate!

I’m just going to do a quick run down of some of the other things that happened this month, since it seems like the older you get, the more things you accomplish in such a short time!

2/13: You pulled a pillow over your head to nurse and fell asleep like that for your afternoon nap. It was pretty funny.

2/15: You pulled up using the Zany Zoo. This was the first time you actually pulled up from a sitting position! Yay! You started doing it from my lap and I slowly moved my legs away so you would pull up and then sit down on the floor. You did this over and over and over and over! You actually started whining while pulling up. I’m guessing your legs were getting tired. You didn’t stop, though. I guess you really wanted to practice your new skill.

2/15: You have gone from gagging on everything you put into your mouth to shoving half a strawberry in your maw and handling it with no problem. Strawberries are your current favorite food, by the way. That and toast with cinnamon and butter for breakfast.

2/19: Your birthday “day” was jam packed! We had breakfast (a waffle with a “1″ candle in it), opened Mimi’s present to you, took Mimi to the airport to go home, went to Big Daddy Bagels for second breakfast, did your cake smash picture (you didn’t really smash it though) and ONE pictures, FaceTimed with Nonni and Papa, did a wagon ride around the neighborhood in your wagon from Nonni and Papa, went to Grandrabbits so you could pick out your birthday present (out of allllllllll the toys, you immediately picked out a green ball – of course. Balls are your favorite), had dinner at Which Wich (an employee came over and talked to us and found out it was your birthday and made you a free cookie – which you loved – and a fruit roll up, which I didn’t give you), came home and opened MORE presents from your cousins and aunts and uncles, watched Winnie the Pooh and finally, took a picture of you next to the clock at the time you were both (6:37pm). You pretty much crashed after that, as did mommy and daddy.

I’m not sure if you’ll be walking by yourself by the time I write your next letter, but even if you aren’t, it’s ok. My back can probably handle another month (I kid, I kid).

You are the most amazing, wonderful, happy person in the whole wide world. I have no idea what your daddy and I did before you came about. You bring so much life and meaning and joy to us, every day, every minute. You even bring joy to others. Everywhere we go – and I mean EVERYWHERE – someone will stop us and say how cute you are. You bring smiles to faces of complete strangers. I’m not even sure if you realize how much that means, but it means a lot to be able to brighten someone’s day with a smile or with your cute curly hair. We are so, so hoping it stays curly…but if not, you’ll still be the cutest kid ever.

I love you so, so much, my little helpless baby who is quickly turning into an independent toddler!

mommy

the big 3-0

So…..my birthday is Saturday. Groundhog’s Day.

I’m going to be thirty.

3-0.

THIRTY.

It still hasn’t really sunk in, yet.

Once, a long time ago, I said I wanted to be finished having kids by now.

Obviously, that didn’t happen.

I did say that I would do a lot of things before 30.

And I have.

Marathons, traveling, getting married, moving across the country, having a kid, oh my!

But, being the list-type person that I am, I think I need to make another list…a before 40 list…

Suggestions?

Also? Please send everyone you know right to this spot to tell me thirty is the new awesome.

And I really would write more, but I’m currently off celebrating in style.

More on that later…

dear kellan – month 11

Wow, mister. I really cannot believe that the next time I write a letter to you you’ll be a year old! ONE WHOLE YEAR! That is truly mind boggling. I’m still not sure how time is going by so quickly.

This month has been nothing short of eventful – as all have been. I guess that’s why time is flying…we are so busy with everything! Everything is fun and new and an experience for you and it is such a joy to watch those gears in your head turn as you figure things out or see or do something new.

Granted, some things never change. Like, for instance, your love of the boob. I went to a workout class (12/20) – once – at night with a friend and your daddy took care of you while I was gone. When I came home, though? You were sooooo ready for bed. It was pretty much past your bedtime and as soon as I walked into the door, I took you upstairs to go to sleep – no shower. No food. Nothing. My brain was focused on getting you to sleep and I had missed you! Even when I’m away for an hour I still miss you! Anyhow, so we get upstairs and I sat you on the bed while I changed clothes to put a nursing tank on. I was leaning against the bed to make sure you didn’t fall off, and the second my shirt came off, you looked at my chest, said, “DAT!” leaned forward and faced planted into my boob. I couldn’t help but laugh. And you’ve done it again, too. It tends to happen when you are really tired. Or when you don’t want me to get up from the bed while you are napping – which has been a constant thing towards the end of the month. Just the other day, I tried to get up, you woke up (you still use your legs as your early warning system. You lay them on my thigh and the second they go horizontal, you start to stir), looked at me as I had juuuuust gotten out of bed, and started crying. I laid back down and you looked right at my boob, said “DAT” and immediately latched on and fell back asleep. Oy.

It is funny…at the beginning of the month, you actually started falling asleep without nursing, which was a huge, huge deal. On Christmas Eve, you did your usual nursing thing but then, you let go, rolled over onto your back and then fell asleep. It was such a happy, yet kind of sad, moment all at once. I was so proud of you for going into dream world all by yourself but in the same breath…you did it. All by yourself.

Maybe it had something to do with you being sick? I am not sure. We thought you were on the upswing at that point. Oh, wait. Let me back up a minute.

The weekend before Christmas (12/22), you got really sick. I woke up around three in the morning with you, kind of moaning in your sleep, and I knew something wasn’t right. You were so hot! Granted, you sweat a lot at night anyway, but this was a different kind of hot. Like, fever hot. Sick hot. Sure enough, you woke up and were crying and very sad. Your daddy and I took your temperature and it was close to 103 – which is the highest your temperature has ever been. You had randomly thrown up – like projectile vomit – all over your father the night before. We thought it was because you had gotten really, really hysterical over us trying to give you Tylenol. I was trying to wipe your face off with a cloth and your daddy was holding you…and then…you…vomited. Everywhere. The look on your daddy’s face…well, he was still trying to figure out what was going on even after I took you from him and told him to go change his clothes.

Turns out, it had nothing to do with the Tylenol and everything to do with you not feeling well.

By 6:30 in the morning, I called the nurse hotline because you just wouldn’t settle down and your fever was so high! Based on the symptoms you had, they sent us to the Emergency Room. We went to the Children’s Hospital, which is close to where we live, thankfully.

After being there for a few hours and a dose of ibuprofen later, they sent us home because they couldn’t find anything wrong with you that was serious enough to admit you. We were just supposed to wait and see if anything changed or if you got worse. You didn’t. You got better, actually, after a few days, just in time for Christmas. The fever preceded a really nasty cold, so you had a hard time breathing at night but we did everything we could to make you as comfortable as possible.

Christmas came…and went. You got lots of awesome toys and things and it took us all day to open everything. We had to pause for multiple nap breaks. It was ok, though, because it made Christmas last all day, which was nice. We talked to you Mimi and Uncles Jeff, Mason and Troy and also Nonni and Papa, Aunt Kristen, Cousin Colton, Aunt Abbie and Uncle Josh…and Uncle Ryan (whew!) on FaceTime, too. The whole day was really laid back and low key, which was nice because every day and weekend had felt a little hectic leading up to Christmas.

Oh, and can I just mention that you used to not mind taking Tylenol (or whatever medicine) from a syringe, but after the nurse at the hospital basically force-fed you ibuprofen while you screamed and screamed (and I held you…but you still screamed), you now fight EVERYTHING that comes in a syringe.

This wasn’t exactly a good thing, considering you got sick – again – right after New Year’s (1/2 – 1/3). Sick as in the first day your daddy went back to work after twelve days off, I was doing dishes and you were playing in your cabinet in the kitchen when you started crying this weird cry. I went over, knelt down to see what was wrong and….yup. Projectile vomit. All over everything. Except this time it kept coming…and coming…and coming. I tried to tell you it was ok while I picked you up and made an attempt to get to the sink (didn’t work out so well) to contain the spewing but you were scared and crying and very, very upset. I totally get it – throwing up is scary and upsetting. I don’t like it, either.

So, enough with the sick talk, eh? How about we move onto…..sounds! Like how you whip your head around at every little one. Your daddy is the same way (and mommy, too, according to daddy…). It is kind of a pain, though, when you are allllmost asleep and then Chloe jumps on the bed (she makes like brrrrrt! sound when she does). You jump and turn to look to see what is going on that is way more interesting than dream world. Then we have to start the sleep process all over again…1!!”

Also, you have started saying whoa! and wow! – and at the appropriate times, too, like one day (12/21) while I was holding you at the grocery store and you were pushing a standing sign. When you pushed it, I said, “whoa!” and then you said it, too. It was so funny! Mommy and daddy didn’t realize we said it as much as we do until you started saying it, too.

Also? When you are tired you have begun doing this thing with your fist where you’ll rub below your eye down to your nose down to mouth. When your fingers hit your mouth, you make a funny sound, part pitiful moaning part sound like when you hum and move fingers back and forth over your lips.

Lately, it seems, though, that you are more interested in your gross motor skills. Yay! You are now able to go from sitting to your belly much easier and you are more willing to do so. Sometimes you do this middle split thing and then put your belly on the ground and then slide your legs behind you (wow, flexibility!) and other times you kind of bend on leg, put if behind you and sort of push yourself to your belly. And now, to encourage you to move, I will do this thing where I move away from you and then tell you to touch my hands and then I’ll pick you up.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out this game. Maybe one time. Whenever I say that, you do your worm/army crawl/roll thing to get as close as you can where your fingertip will juuuuuust barely touch mine. Then, you slowly put your arm and hand out, touch the very tip of my finger with your and then look up at me like, “Ok! I did it! Pick me up!”

It’s really funny.

You are much better at communicating what you want, too. Like, if you are sitting on the floor or in your high chair and have decided you want to be picked up NOW? You wave both your arms in the air like, “Mom…mom…mom…mom….” and you do this huffing thing at the same time. It’s quite obvious as to what you want because the second I (or daddy) pick you up?

Happy as a clam.

So, anyhow, you also mostly pulled up for the first time while daddy was home on vacation over the holidays (12/27). You were sitting on my leg and pulled up using the two stacked wicker trunks in the loft to try and reach the fake flowers sitting on top. Daddy got it on video! And you really are, still, our little botanist!

You have also gotten more daring on the bed – which is kind of scary, considering you sleep there and it is a loooooong way down if you fall (and we only use pillows as a barrier at the moment). Except now, you have started playing with the pillows meant to keep you from rolling off. You pull them on top of you like a game. I’m guessing within the next month or so we are going to have to figure out another way to keep you safe while you are sleeping…(oh, we are still co-sleeping. It’s your favorite.). We bought you a stuffed pig and a blanket and have you sleep with them every night, now. Hopefully you’ll end up using them as lovies…we decided to name the pig Slumber.

Other things…you now looooooove to touch mommy and daddys face parts like our noses and ears. If we ask you where our nose is, you’ll touch it. You don’t touch your own yet, though. You will give us “five” if we ask (or ten…fifteen…twenty…). When you are concentrating really hard, you stick your tongue out. It is super cute. Right at the end of this month, we started making an obstacle course for you with the couch, ottoman and such, for you to try to walk on your own. You are getting better and better at it every day, though your favorite is still for us to hold your hands while you walk everywhere…or kick a ball all over the place. It is really amazing to watch you do that – kick the ball. Not only is it intentional, you do it with such force! And you laugh when you connect really well…you are so proud of yourself – as you should be. It seems walking is right around the corner. At least that is what everyone who sees you walking around tells us.

You still love, love, love reading. LOVE reading. You get such a cute smile every time we start a book. I hope you continue to love it as much as you do now.

Also, you are beginning to “discover” how things work. Like, the other day while I was taking you for a walk in the stroller, you squeaked Sophie the giraffe and then it’s like you all of a sudden realized the sound was coming from a little hole in her back (1/16). So, you did your own little experiment and would squeak Sophie and then touch the hole and then squeak Sophie…it was incredible to watch you. You did the same thing with this water duck thing that has a drawstring propeller (1/17). There are wheels on the bottom that makes it move forward in the water and you discovered the wheels during your bath and would spin the wheels with your fingers and then touch the propeller and then spin the wheels. Even daddy was amazed at how your brain was working to figure it out. The fact that things like this just…happen…without any prompting from us…is just…amazing.

I think the separation anxiety is really starting to kick in, too. I can’t seem to go more than two inches away from you before you start crying – full on tears and everything. Sometimes you even get onto your belly and try to come after me, though most times you just sit there and cry, looking absolutely pitiful. The other day (1/7) while we were doing the self check out at the grocery store, one of the employees came over and started talking to you and WOWZA. You started bawling. It was so sad! I picked you up and carried you out of the store while pushing the grocery cart. It was the only way…

Your current favorite food? Organic ritz-style crackers. You will eat those any time – day or night. I have to feed you other foods, like fruit (strawberries) or veggies (peas…you seem to like those now) before I bust out the crackers or cinnamon toast or else that’s all you’ll eat (the crackers or the toast). You will eat an entire container of yogurt, now, though. The whole thing! It’s incredible how much that little tummy can fit!

I love it when you play with your hair. You kind of twirl it in your fingers…it is so cute….so endearing…

Oh, let me end on this little story. We went to this Toddler’s and Tantrums presentation at a mom’s house with a bunch of other mom’s from the group. And, well, first off, you fell while trying to reach a big lego brick and hit your head on the sliding glass door. You started getting really upset but I tried to distract you with other toys and that seemed to work fine. Then…THEN…during the presentation by this psychologist woman (who really didn’t tell us anything helpful), you took a giant poo. GIANT. Basically as if you were saying, “Let’s move onto something more important here, guys…”

It was funny and also slightly embarrassing at the same time. Though, truthfully? Thanks for tagging us out of that presentation. I wasn’t really all that into it, anyway.

Well, I really cannot believe that the next time I write…you’ll be a year old. I know I already said that…but it is just…wow. I really cannot believe it.

I love you so, so much. You are such a bright, wonderful, joyful little man and watching you grow and develop is more fun than I would have ever imagined.

Mommy

PS: You’ve learned how to give hugs when we are holding you. If we ask for a hug, you’ll put your head down on our shoulder while we squeeze you tight. It is the best, best thing ever. We love your hugs.

nine weeks

This happened today.

Well, the actual mailing of these first birthday invitations to (mostly) fictional characters, anyway.

(and yes, those a receipts that Tim needs and a piece of our the trunk of our Christmas tree that, at some point, I plan to make an ornament out of, since it is Kellan’s first Christmas tree…all in my abundant spare time, obviously)

Can you believe that we are basically NINE WEEKS away from Kellan’s first birthday?

OMG. OMG. OMG. OMG.

I remember counting nine weeks last year. I remember Christmas last year. I remember thinking that Kellan would be here soon.

I remember looking like this (and this post was written almost exactly a year ago).

And now, he’s here.

And he’s almost one.

How did this year go by so quickly?

Have I started planning his party?

Um.

Yes?

Only…not really?

I’ve gotten as far as the guest list. Theme? Location? Time? Date?

NO CLUE.

I think I’ll start by ordering invitations because, honestly, the number of things I want to get done for his birthday?

Overwhelming.

Invitations are important, right?

The overachiever in me thinks I’ll get it ALL done but the realist knows it probably won’t ALL happen.

I still haven’t even finished Christmas stuff yet.

So, instead of freaking out, because I can feel it coming the more I think about everything I’m not doing, let’s just take a moment and look at this cute face, instead.

i’m judging you

Is it bad that I judge people based on their cars?

Wait. It’s deeper than that (not really, but let’s pretend).

If you have a sketchy looking beater car with dents and rust and scratches?

I am afraid of you.

Well, maybe bot afraid, per se, but I definitely give you a leery eye all, “I’m onto you.”

Lucky for me? There are two of these particular kinds of cars in our neighborhood. One with rust, one without. Both fitting the sketchy, you belong on CSI and not in the crime fighter type way description.

Every time Kellan and I go on a run (which hasn’t happen in awhile…no judgement…I’m already judging myself for you), I am terrified someone is going to jump out with a shank and rob me. Or something. Kind of pointless to rob a runner (“Give me your….your….hmm….your….damn….YOUR SHOES!…?”).

But that’s beside the point.

I give both cars the Bold eye (I learned from Tim. Ask him to do it for you sometime. You’ll turn to stone. Immediately.) because *if* anyone *is* in there or behind it or watching me?

I want them to know I mean business and my kid looks weak but he’ll kick the crap out of your balls…just ask my husband…AND I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY! SEE! SEE IT?!

And these people who own these cars?

They play right into the sterotype and park the things ON THE SIDE OF THE STREET instead of in the garage or the driveway.

So you can see my fear is totally founded in facts. Solid. Facts.

****BACK STORY****

I feel obligated, now, to say something else. I never grew up with new cars. We had this blue Toyota van that had zero air conditioner (hello, blistering hot Georgia summers and eight hour drives to Florida) and is actually probably still running, somewhere. That car WILL. NOT. DIE. After my mom finally decided to part ways with it, it went to someone else…and then someone else after that…and now it’ll probably end up in our driveway one day soon…like a lost dog finds it’s way…anyhow. *I* never had a new car, either. I had old cars. Used cars. Cars with 100k plus mileage on them by the time they made their way to me. So, I have nothing against keeping a car or having an old car. I just have issues with scary looking cars because I actually had one follow me during a run once and the giant dudes – three of them – inside were up to no good and let’s just say had I not had the wherewithal to dive into and hide in the bushes while they drove past me, at a snails pace, I might not be here right now, writing this.

****END BACK STORY****

Then, one day not too long ago, on our way home from a run, we met the owner of the non-rusty beater car while he was standing in the driveway coming at me with a shank retrieving a ping pong ball.

His young son was waiting in the garage behind a ping pong table.

The dude smiled and said hello.

I froze.

Do I smile? You have a kid! You are normal! And you are not scary!

BUT YOU HAVE A SKETCHY CAR!

My brain still isn’t even sure what to think about this whole “situation.”

I’m going to wrap Christmas presents now. That seems like a safe plan.

all about poo

So……I feel like I start a lot of posts like this…but…it’s like I’m sheepishly asking you a question that isn’t exactly the most comfortable to, um, discuss.

So……did you know that you can hire people to clean the dog poo out of your yard?

Yah.

Me either.

Until it had to happen and said person who decided that would be his business plan is out in the backyard as I write, cleaning up poo.

Maddie, our golden, is getting older and more crotchety and has the most finicky stomach in the history of ever. EVER.

Nervous?

Diarrhea.

Eats anything other than her food and special treats?

Diarrhea.

Heartworm medicine?

Diarrhea.

Doggie daycare?

You guessed it.

Diarrhea.

The backyard is pretty much no man’s land because GROSS. What exactly are you supposed to do with that which cannot be scooped?

Answer?

Hire someone else to deal with it.

And you guys! The dude is super nice and was trying to help me with suggestions for Maddie and awwww man! Now he’s outside cleaning up her grossness.

Yes, I actually showed my face to the person who will be getting up close and personal with our yard poo. Shameful…on my part. Not his.

I mean, I know he’s getting paid and everything and it was his idea to start the business in the first place but…it’s poo.

In our next house, we are separating out part of the lawn for the dogs and the rest will be livable space. Thank you, invisible fence.

That’s my day, people. It’s crazy exciting over here, obviously.

Also?

Happy 12-12-12!

I’m so taking a Kellan picture to celebrate this date.

i made that

For anyone who is a parent…have you ever had a moment where you sat back and looked at your child like, “Wow. I MADE THAT.”

Especially us women.

Because, really, we actually made that.

I’ll never forget the first time I looked at Kellan and thought, “So that’s you.”

The you who kicked me at 3am or who stuck their little bum up in my ribs or who got the hiccups all the time and I’d put my hand on my belly, hoping to pacify you, if only just a little bit.

You.

It is kind of an otherworldly experience, really, because that tiny person started out as two cells – TWO CELLS – and now, look at him.

Mr. Personality.

Mind blowing.

This little person who I knew last year as – literally – a bump that moved and punched and hiccuped and gave me heartburn. One year later, he’s a lively baby boy who does all of that, still, minus the heartburn.

They are born…and then they grow…it’s a little person. A teeny, tiny human.

I made a teeny tiny human.

MADE ONE.

From basically nothing.

That’s like, crazy alien type stuff right there.

I legit grew another person.

Until this actually happens to you, you really have no idea how crazy weird that it all really is. I think seeing the end result – a la baby – is where it finally hits you like WHOA.

TEENY TINY PERSON.

I did that.

Obviously, I am failing miserably to find an eloquent way to say this. You know, I don’t think there is an eloquent way to explain the feeling and the reality behind tiny person creation. If you find any, it was probably written by a man who has no idea what he’s talking about.

Their “part” in the creation process is all of two seconds…or five seconds…minutes…whatever.

They don’t…they can’t know.

Well, until the baby is actually here, in the flesh, and then their eyes get all big and they’re like, WHOA.

YOU MADE THAT.

of course we talked about the worms

First: my life has been taken over by Christmas. That’s where I’ve been. Wrapped in tinsel and paper and running around like a crazy person.

Second: if my in real life friend reads this, this is to you: all in good fun…no offense meant and we still love you…both. Always. Thank you for giving us a good laugh – we needed it – and this only makes you that much more fun.

So, the other night, Tim, Kellan and I had dinner at a friend’s house. Let’s call her B. And her husband – we’ll call him K. And their kiddo will be N. I’m not divulging names since they aren’t mine to divulge…

Anyhow, so, dinner. It was pretty inauspicious. Pizza with ground turkey tomato sauce and boiled artichokes. Kellan and N had peas, too, but Kellan was more interested in dropping and placing his food everywhere except his mouth. Their floor, table, chair, probably wall…all got a special pizza sauce treatment.

I don’t like leaving messes. B doesn’t like messes, period.

You can imagine the horror that went through my brain when she was like, “No. Don’t clean it up!”

And inside I’m like, “BUT. BUT. BUT. MESS!!!!!!”

Then B was like, “It’ll be a good lesson for all of us.”

BUT!

K ended up cleaning the Kellan mess.

Wait. I’m getting way ahead of myself, here. Waaaay ahead.

During dinner, conversation somehow turned to how B got worms for K for a gift.

Yes. Worms.

Real, live, squiggly ones.

They live in the basement and eat leftover food and make compost.

I’m not even kidding.

I’m pretty sure they don’t roam free or anything. B wouldn’t be able to deal with that – nor would I. Worms give me the ebee geebies. Shudder.

B had to take delivery of them worms (oh, yah. You can ship these puppies.) and about had a panic attack because WORMS. The first set didn’t make it – the “move” from wherever they came from was too stressful (I cannot believe I’m using “worms” and “stress” in the same sentence). The second group seemed to survive, I guess, because as we were all putting our artichoke leaves into a bowl, K was all, “I wonder if my worms will like these?”

(that’s how the conversation started, by the way. It’s all coming back to me, now)

Tim and I looked at each other and then looked at B and then K like, “WORMS?”

That’s when K explained the delivery story and compost, yada yada yada.

As B was about to pick up the bowl of artichoke leaves to set aside for the worms, K was all, “Wait…no. I don’t know if they can eat all of that…and besides, I’m not sure what they’ll like…”

We don’t want to stuff them. Or give them something that they will reject. Travesty!

Then, in the middle of the worm shenanigans, Kellan decided he was DONE WITH DINNER and I had to take him to the sink, food falling off of him with every step.

The rest of the evening…wasn’t about worms…though as we were leaving, Tim was holding Kellan and K was upstairs in the loft area that overlooks the downstairs, getting a bath ready for N (their kiddo). Tim started doing a slow wave all, “Goodnight…gooooodniiighttt…..gooooodniiiighhtttt!” and then K stopped and was like, “Isn’t that from the Sound of Music?”

Tim: Yes!

K: I’m not sure what is more disturbing. You singing that or the fact that I knew what you were singing. Let’s never mention this again.

(oops?)

So, on Tim and my way home?

Of course we talked about the worms.

Tim was all, “Did you hear K when N was trying to help and put pieces of ground turkey into the artichoke pile?”

Me: No?….

Tim: Oh, right. You had already gotten up. First, he decided to take N’s leftover peas to give to them worms. Then, as he was picking them out from the pizza pieces on her plate, N decided to try and help and put pieces of ground turkey into the worm food pile and K was like, “N! No! No! The worms are vegetarian! They can’t have turkey!”

This, coming from the same man who received a grain mill for Christmas so he can make beer.

Tim is going to join in on that bit of fun, though, because what guy doesn’t want to MAKE BEER?

Also?

Let’s go back to the worms for just a second.

Someone on this planet one day was like, “Hmmmm….I think I want to sell something on the internet. What should I sell? What should I sell?…Hmm…I KNOW!”

WORMS!

And then there they were.

All wrapped up on B and K’s doorstep.

lifers.

Do you ever have one of those days where everything just feels perfect? I mean, the day has had plenty of things that were not ideal – like Kellan deciding to start OUR DAY at 3:50 this morning, the headache I had (that is finally starting to subside)…but a day where you just feel…blessed. Loving everything about your life – perfect, not perfect, it doesn’t matter. You just have this bubble in your heart that is full of happiness and love and gratefulness.

That is today for me.

Just thought I’d share.

Anyway, how did our little five-day vacation with the whole fam-damily get even better?

When you get a delivery the day before Thanksgiving that looks something like this:

This child was ECSTATIC about all of the yogurt. Can’t you tell?

Awhile back, I posted a picture of Kellan going to town on a container of Chobani. He LOOOOOVES yogurt, especially when he is the one to control where it goes, how much makes it into his mouth versus squished in his fingers and toes and spread all over the place.

This kind of event requires a giant towel, a sponge at the ready (because dried yogurt on anything may as well be concrete), a good attitude coupled with a sense of humor and the knowledge that there will be a bath in the very near future.

One of my in real life friends was all, “I wanted to like that picture…I really did…but I just couldn’t. It hurt my soul!”

She’s trying to be more blasé about messes, like me, and allow her little one to play in the yogurt. Or mud. Or whatever. One day. Maybe. I don’t think it’s happened, yet.

Do I enjoy dealing with the yogurt aftermath?

I mean, there are worse things to have to clean up, amiright?

I just figure he’s learning and having fun and the mess is going to happen one way or another, so if we’re gonna do it, we may as well be all in. I’m not a messy person at all. I get really crazy when things are cluttery or messy or just. not. organized.

Except with Kellan. I don’t get crazy with his messes.

Anyhow, I posted that picture to Twitter with a note to Chobani, telling them how much he loved their yogurt. Because he does. Like, really. loves. it.

Their response?

A whole case of yogurt to keep Kellan happy.

Wait. What?

You’re sending me a case of yogurt just….because?

Who are you, Chobani?

I’ll tell you who.

Awesome is who.

I didn’t realize companies like this still existed…I mean, I’m sure they do but this is the first time anything like this has ever happened to us. Granted, we are CHO fans for life, now. Tim was all, “we’re never buying any other kind of yogurt EVER. AGAIN. How nice! I can’t believe they did that….did I tell you I better only see Chobani in our refrigerator, woman who buys the groceries?”

Yes, dear, who makes the money I love to spend.

Chobani.

Forever.

PS: Seriously, Chobani. If you happen to actually read this…THANK YOU. Kellan loves it and your gesture was beyond kind. Love, CHO Lifers.

PPS: You all should convert strictly to Chobani.

PPPS: They didn’t ask me to write this or link to them every single time I wrote their name. They didn’t ask for anything. That’s the beauty of it. It was a gift, pure and simple.