Just because....

From our Friday:



After passing the 90 minute mark in the fabric store, Payne treated us to an image of true desperation. Here he is seen lounging on his baby sister's crib bumper while enjoying a dum dum from a package I grabbed and ripped open during our interminably long wait in line. Yep, I'm one of THOSE parents that opens food for their kid to eat before they pay for it. Heh heh. This was after he had re-arranged the store's button collection, stuck his head between rolls of flannel repeatedly, and pretended to water everything in the store with a giant metal watering can he was so lucky as to happen upon. I think if Dan hadn't been with us I would have just given up and gone home!

and then...

We have some serious hero worship going on in this house! As soon as Dan took a chair into Payne's room the boy positively sprinted to go get one of his so he could "howp fix wight!".

Again, I love them.

Funny Stuff my kid said/did in the last 24 hours.

First, there's this:


(all the toys in the world, and my child happily plays with my body pillow)

I was in Carter's with him today. He was chillin' in his stroller. Suddenly he leaned forward, grabbed a pair of purple baby leggings with a ruffle butt off of a rack, held them at arms length, and exclaimed "Dat's cute!". Both the saleslady stocking clothes nearby and myself guffawed.

On the way home he claimed to be parched, so I stopped at Sonic to get him a drink. The conversation went like this:

Me: "Payne, do you want milk or water?"

Him: "Uhhh...miowk."

Me: "Ooh...do you want some chocolate milk?"

Him: "Yeah! Coc-oh-aht miowk! Yay!"

(insert incessant chatter about chocolate milk through entire wait in drive thru)

Me: (gratefully recieves chocolate milk, shakes it before pouring into sippy cup)

Him: "Yaaaaay! Miowk-shake! Yaaaay!" (chugs it in 5 minutes) "Mommy, moh miowk-shake?"

He wants to be just like Daddy.

I love them.

Payne and I were out in the front yard the other evening, and after a bit Dan came out and sat down barefoot on the lawn.

Payne turned on his heel, took off his shoes, handed them to me, and plopped down in imitation. After a bit he decided that I needed to join in as well. He ordered me to take off my shoes and haul my booty out of my lawn chair onto the grass.

The best of Nuggette.

We attempted another 3D ultrasound session with Nugget today, and got nothing usable. Ha! She still likes to smash her face directly into the placenta, so getting images of her is really difficult. And, uh, she licked it twice in the twenty minutes we were watching her...not sure what to do with that little window into her preferred hobbies.

However, they did give us the digital copies of photos from our original session when I was 26 weeks along, so here are the sort of ok images from back then.

Yay! A cute little profile instead of a scary head on Skeletor picture!







Do you see her? I cropped it super tight so it's easier to figure out what you're supposed to be looking at. Her arm is pulled up by her face on the right.





Do you see the little smile?! Squee! She has her fist balled up on the right, next to her eye and cheek.

It was cool to see what little of her we could see again though. It's obvious that she's gotten chubbier over the last few weeks. We caught a glimpse of a little double chin this time. The images of her feet show her ankles and you can tell her legs are much thicker now. The 3D company offered for us to come back again when I'm around 34 weeks, so we may take them up on it.

Oh, and we've now been shown girl parts 4 times! Yay for a girl!

I wonder if diapering is like breastfeeding.

You know, when they're old enough to really engage in conversation about it, they're probably too old to be participating in it?

(Warning, the following post content is a little gross)

This is what a diaper change sounds like in my household:

"Hi Mommy! Mine have poop. Get new biper? Get babe-ih wipes. All cween. Dere's my poop! (points to dirty diaper)Get biper cweam? Ahhh...biper cweam (yes, he actually sighs in happiness), over dare. Right dare. Yeah. New biper? Put new biper right dare. (points to butt) Yaaayyy! Mine all cween! Yay Mommy! Frow biper 'way? Mommy go gobbage can..."

Hmm...I'm terrified of potty training though. I think I'll just amuse/horrify all passers by in public restrooms for a bit longer.

Yet another inconvenient development.

For the entire course of my child's life, I have enjoyed complete control over his wardrobe. I love to shop for him. I love to dress him. Dan seems to sense my obsession with this task and leaves me happily to my own devices. I take great pride (probably a disproportionate amount of pride) in my child looking sort of cool most of the time. He's stylin' dangit!

But my complete reign over all undersized textiles has come to a bitter end.

Payne has discovered the joy of shoe selection. First, it was the Croc obsession, to which I was largely amenable, since Crocs can be "styled" in a cute way. Now, however, he MUST pick out his shoes every day. He has a mental inventory of all of the toddler sized footwear in the house and will insist LOUDLY on a certain pair until they are located and he is satisfactorily shorn.

This KILLS me, because Payne is gifted with the complete open mind of a toddler. There are no preconceived notions of that silly concept of "matching". There is no understanding of how dorky it looks to wear socks with sandals. I've chosen to allow him this little bit of freedom, because I know he is at an age of a growing sense of independence, and I want to allow him to exercise that in a harmless way (instead of, say, running into traffic in a misguided bid at freedom). But as silly as it is, I'm genuinely embarrassed when my kid is dressed in a socially appropriate way from the ankles up, but looks, um, culturally uninhibited in the foot region.

I'm shallow. I'll admit it.

BUT REALLY, look at this!


Yes, he insisted on the socks, and those are indeed "mossy oak" camo Crocs. (heavy sigh)

But how can I deny him when it makes him this happy?



I guess this is a fine example of how raising a child is often more of an exercise in growing as an adult. Heh heh.

Maternity Photos

There are times when I'm really glad my husband has way too much money invested in photography equipment and a ton of time invested in developing his photo lighting, capturing, and editing skills. Like, when I get free maternity photos. Yay!

I decided now was the time, because, to quote myself "I'm big enough, but not excessively puffy yet". The photos of me near Payne's due date brought me to tears at the time. Heh heh.

So Dan set up some lights in the family room and preserved my roundness for all eternity.


We've seen the goods three times now, so I actually took a bow out of a package. (but I still have the reciept). We actually got these socks when I was pregnant with Payne. Turns out we're going to get to use them after all!

Payne got in on the action. I asked Dan to photoshop out the Batman logo, but he staunchly refused.

Payne gives "Baby Sidder" a kiss. It was a loud one too.

I wondered about putting myself in a sports bra out there on the internet, but it covers a lot more than my non-pregnant bikinis! Oh well...

The belleh is going to eat you...

And my favorite: Payne in his cowboy hat "shooting" the t.v. with his purple plastic golf club. He has nice form, eh? You can see he's mid "Pshoo!" noise too.

Yet another milestone.

I threatened to pull over the car today. Yep.


Payne has taken to unbuckling the chest clip on his carseat and pulling his arms out of his shoulder straps. He does this routinely, and I look in my rearview mirror to see him bending completely at the waist flailing his arms around happily just to see what he can get his little mitts on.


Then I yell, and he scrambles back into his straps and buckles his clip, all the while wearing an enormous grin. I think he likes causing me to react so violently, but dude, how can I ignore his practically suicidal behavior!? I'm sort of at a loss as to what to do here (suggestions are welcome!).


So today as I was driving home, peacefully sipping my one precious fountain coke I ration for myself per day, I glance back and see that Payne is putting on his shoes. I keep driving...


Hold the phone. I took Payne's shoes off when I put him in the car. I tossed said shoes onto the floorboard. Payne is not Stretch Armstrong.


I immediately glance back again and see Payne bent over double with the sheer joy of an open act of rebellion.


I whip around in my seat (bad idea I know) and positively bellow "PUT YOUR STRAPS ON AND CLIP YOUR CLIP OR I WILL PULL THIS CAR OVER AND GIVE YOU A SPANKING." Payne obeys, but maintains that maddening smile. He promptly falls asleep, as I concentrate on returning my blood pressure to normal levels.


Speaking of falling asleep, um, I want to travel like this:




Do you think flight attendants would protest if I dragged my king sized duvet on board with me during my next flight? Because I think that would improve my flying experience ten fold.

Funny stuff my kid said today.

At the Obstetrician's office:

"Mommy go potty in cup!" (Uh, thanks for calling that to everyone's attention Son)


As I go in to get him up from his nap:

(Payne drags head up off of the mattress and sighs)

"Mommy."

Me: "Yes?"

"Is so harrrd."

Me: What's hard? Getting up?"

(heavy sigh)"Yeah."


As he comes out of his room from picking a book to read before bed:

"Mommy Mommy Mommy howwwp! Dis gook so howwy!" (Mommy help! This book is so heavy!)

The Second Child.

I've always heard that parents are less frantic about preparing for second, third, fourth etc...child, and I always found the idea a little sad. Why do subsequent children get less fanfare?

Then I became pregnant with our second child.

This is Payne's room when I was 28 weeks pregnant:



This is Nugget's room, as I sit here 28 weeks pregnant:

Oops.

Now I know that teeny spawn don't generally come home and sleep in their rooms right away, but it still somehow seems imperative that the room be prepared for them. I'm starting to feel seriously guilty about this.

BUT, BUT, you can see piled haphazardly on the bed there some girly bedding, and piled up on the dresser are some wooden cut outs that I'll eventually get around to sanding and painting in order to put up on the walls. Um, well, once we've disassembled the gigantic bed and figured out where the heck we're going to store it.

Seriously, we are SO unmotivated to prepare for this baby! Does this mean we're going to have like 5 photos of her entire first year (seemingly a curse for all younger siblings)? Will she go for a week without a name on her birth certificate?

(Rachel breathes into paper bag)

Ok, ok.... I am prepared for her in one way. Of course, this happens to be the most consumerist and shallow way to prepare for the birth of one's child.

Behold, the closet of Nugget:

Hem hem...here we see all outfits in newborn size left of the center partition, and in 0-3 size right of the partition.

And on the far right wall are all outfits sized 6 months and larger. Not pictured are the receiving blanket and girly sock collections, which are currently housed on the floor, waiting for a spot in the dresser.

So homegirl may sleep in a drawer lined with towels for her first few weeks, but she'll look smashing while she's at it! Feel free to nominate me for Mother of the Year any time.

Folks, I think I've hit rock bottom.

I was meeting my friend Mikel at Chick Fil A for lunch today, and as soon as Payne and I got there I had to make my 35th trip to the restroom for the day (yay for pregnancy!). I ushered my kid into the handicapped stall. Yes, for all of you non-mothers out there, we mothers feel entitled to use the larger stalls normally reserved for people with disabilities. I've yet to come out of one to find a disabled person waiting, but when that day comes I'm sure I will melt into a puddle of pure shame and embarrassment.

Now, normally my procedure is to set Payne up with his back against the far wall of the stall, threaten him with his life not to touch anything, and get out as quickly as possible. Today I made the fatal mistake of turning my back to him to hang up my diaper bag on the door hook. When I turned around he was hovering over the toilet, wee right hand outstretched to grab the back of the toilet seat, which is, in my domestically educated opinion the nastiest 6 square inches on the planet. I screeched "Don't touch!" and yanked him backwards.

My friends, Payne had a sippy cup in his left hand. As he was yanked backwards that sippy cup fell INTO THE TOILET BOWL. I miserably squealed "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" at him, which triggered immediate tears, and of course guilt on my part. So, my kid is crying about his lost "wawer" and I'm frozen staring at a floating sippy cup in the toilet of a public restroom. What can I do? I can't flush the damn thing, since it's like three times the size of the toilet's, um, passageway. I can't just leave it there for an unwitting (and already unlucky for having been selected to clean the restrooms)employee to find and be forced to extract.

I think you all know what I had to do.

I think you all know what I did.

Yes, I reached my hand into a toilet of public use and extracted a cup covered in publicly used toilet water. I then rushed it to the bathroom garbage chanting "Grossgrossgrossgrossgross" under my breath.

Two hand washings and one promise to a still sobbing toddler of a new milk later, I managed to actually exit the bathroom and find my confused friend. Then I ate my lunch...with my hands.

So yeah. Rock bottom. Right up there.

It's a good thing the sippy cup flinger is cute.


(Here he is cackling "I got my Mom to stick her hand in a toilet used by hundreds today!")

Payne, the bathroom attendant.

If one is planning on visiting the restroom at our house, it's best to lock the door behind oneself. Otherwise, there's a high possibility of a wee person busting in when you're at your most vulnerable and "howping" you in whatever way he sees fit.

Sometimes this involves trying to squish between the toilet and the side of the cabinet so he can prematurely flush the toilet 5 times. Sometimes it means pushing up his little plastic stool so you have somewhere to rest your feet. And it will always include him carefully measuring out and tearing off a length of toilet paper, handing it to you, and saying " Here ooh go!".

Maybe I should get him a little tux and have him stand by the bathroom door with a hand towel over one arm, offering pumps of hand soap or spritzes of one's choice of perfume or cologne...

It has ARRIVED!

One of my "when I'm a grown up" goals in life was to get a kind size bed.

I plotted mightily and insisted my husband's back issues were due to our not super firm queen sized mattress.

I convinced him we could just get the new mattress at first, and be in no hurry to get a new frame. We got the mattress.

When we got our tax return I brought up the possibility of a new frame in an oh so coy manner.

When shopping for frames, I lamented that I wouldn't be able to trust the finish quality of anything but a bed from my favorite furniture brand. We got the frame.

I then brought up that the new bed would look so much better with a new duvet and cover, instead of our dry clean only comforter. I got the bedding.

Then I mused (out loud) how lovely our bedroom would look with something other than resale beige on the walls. My husband painted it for me.

While my husband was still exhausted from painting, and thus perhaps not at his most contrary, I suggested rearranging the furniture a bit...

(Here is where I admit that my husband knew EXACTLY what I was doing each and every step of the way, and I was fooling no one.)

In short, we went from the bedroom below (king size mattress here, no bed yet) which I like to call "dorm room with a nice dresser"...




(The lump O stuff on the floor is the girl's bedding)

to THIS! The bed frame, my beloved last piece of the puzzle, was delivered today!


(The thing you can barely see off to the left is a lingerie chest Dan uses as a night stand)



(Sorry for the rumpled pillows. Payne had already tested everything out for me)



(Yes, in my joy to use my new shams I put the king sized covers on standard pillows and folded the extra over.)

I have a GROWN UP room now! Hurrah!

Oh, and Payne will be forevermore exiled from our bedroom, because I know the first thing he'll do when unsupervised for three seconds is spike matchbox cars into the headboard...or something equally horrific.

Sorry Son. You sealed your fate when you "cuhwerd" on my black dishwasher with a magnadoodle pen today, leaving permanent white scratches. I love you anyway, but dude.

Nugget is still Nuggette.

Dan and I were still a little nervous about our new baby supposedly being a girl, since Payne was a "girl" until three days before I gave birth. So we decided to go get a 3D ultrasound to double check, and made the dubious call to bring Payne with us.

In the lobby he passed the time running laps around the couches with his slappy flip flops on their very loud laminate wood flooring, and trying to grab the vase of artificial orchids over and over and over again. I think we may have scared the first time parents that were also out there. Hee.

Once we got in the tech guy was awesome and quickly checked the sex. She is still very much a girl. Hurrah! However, the main goal of these things is to get a good 3D image of the baby's face, so he was mainly working on that. Unfortunately Nugget had her face firmly smushed into the placenta for the whole twenty minutes. I can't say I blame her, I mean, it's pretty much the only pillow like thing in there right? I'd probably snuggle up to it too. The tech poked around on her a bit trying to get her to move, but every time he got her to pull her face away a little she'd shoot her little arms up and cover her face. I told Dan she must be modest, so we're off to a good start.

Oh, and the whole time this was going on Payne was climbing all over the couch in the ultrasound room and Dan was trying desperately to entertain him. We thought he might enjoy seeing the baby, but the images were still a little too hard to decipher for him to quite get it. He did placate us with yelling out "Baby sidder!" a few times, in between attempts at pulling the power plugs to the expensive equipment out of the wall...

We got a couple of printed photos of about half of her face, but my scanner isn't cooperating so I can't post them. Since she was so stubborn we get to go back for free in a few weeks to try again. Go Nugget! She's already getting us free stuff! After that appointment we should get a disk with images on it so I can put them up. Yay! I'll warn you that they might only be cute to me, though. I've heard a pretty accurate description of 3D ultrasound images as "A baby smushed up against a pane of glass". (snort)

A picture pretty much says it all.

Sunday was a long day and by the end of it I had pretty much given up.

Here my boss is seen victoriously eating his dessert of "abboh soss" off of his "payt" of a plastic meat cleaver. Oh yeah, and his "dinner" was a slice of banana bread and a cup of yogurt.

I was thoroughly overpowered in the stubborness department. He may have won the battle, but I WILL win the war!

Awesome.

So Dan got Lasik surgery this weekend, and as a result he has to wear these completely fabulous goggle things at night to keep him from accidentally rubbing his eyes.

He looks sort of like this in them.



Except, well, a little shorter and more Irish.

So guess who snuck into the bedroom today and decided to dress up like Daddy?



Ha!