Finally done with Genevieve's room!

I finally put the finishing touch in Evie's room today, and I got all jazzed for some validation, so I'm putting photos up here.

The view from the door:

I guess it was inevitable.

Payne likes to sift through my diaper bag contents while in the stroller. Just before this he was leafing through an old People Magazine.



I suppose it's good he didn't have a stuffed animal or something with him or he probably would have pretended to nurse it under the cover. At least he's modest. Heh.

Oh, and when I was loading them up on the way into the mall today I told Payne, as he was climbing slooowly out of his car seat, "Hurry up! Baby sister is baking out here!" (the highs have been above 105 this week) and he responded in a truly indignant manner "No! Her not bacon!". I love that he thought I referred to his sibling as a cured pork product.

And one more "One month" photo. Dan took this last night and I love it so much!

Happy One Month Birthday Genevieve!

Ok, it's one day early, but Dan and I had the time for photos today.

In just one month you've grown from this:

(One proud Daddy here.)

To this!



(Look at the wee little tongue!)



We all love you, including your Brother, who has recently become a Capri Sun aficionado. He can thank you for his introduction to drinks that don't require two hands for distribution.


In fact, Payne is so well trained in juice pouch technique, that he tells me "Don't squeeze it!" as I hand one to him. Hmph.

Are there baby fashion bloggers?

Because I could totally do this all day.



Squee! I stalked this outfit until it went on sale because Dan forbade me from spending upwards of $30 on a single outfit. Heh heh.

I'm loving the Beaker hair being showed off in all it's glory as well.

Highlights of my day thus far:

- Waking up to the baby crying, only to realize my leg was asleep. Like, dead weight, no feeling, asleep. I moved it and waited for a smidgen of feeling to return for a couple of minutes, but a newborn's cry is hard to just let go on. The second I felt like my leg could hold weight I hopped to and lurched in a manner reminiscent of Quasimodo to her room, laughing at myself the whole way.

- Hearing Payne talk about going to the "why-birdy" (library). This is especially hilarious because he refuses to say the word "bird" in context. He still calls birds "dirps". I guess his bias against the b-i-r-d syllable only extends to the description of winged beasts.

- Putting Genevieve into an outfit that her Daddy picked out months and months ago. (sniffle)

For personal reference.

I'm writing my morning down as a reminder to myself that I shouldn't be trying to do as much stuff outside of the house with two small children as I did with one small child.

The master plan for the day was to get the oil changed in the car, get a car wash, and head to the mall to let Payne play and pick up some dresses that I'd eyed the week before. I was ready for the excursion; packed to the gills in true suburban Mom fashion.

We get to the oil change place. It has popcorn in the waiting room. Score! Kid #1 is happy. Kid #2 is sleeping soundly in her carseat. It should be noted that Genevieve very rarely spits up, maybe an occasional dribble here and there. But when she decides to spit up (thus far, twice ever) she goes, um, full throttle. I think she does it when she overeats and just loses everything with a burp. So I'm perusing the internet on my phone and enjoying the quiet. I glance down at Genevieve and she's quietly and calmly barfing...a lot. We're talking infant volcano. I gasp and start sopping her up with her recieving blanket, only to have her barf some more. I pull her out of the carseat, dry her off, and change her clothes. I then turn my attention to the carseat. I turn it over to unhook the seatbelt straps only to find a puddle of spit up on the floor. I sop that up, return my attention to the carseat, get called up to the counter to pay. The nice man at the counter offers to drive my car over to the car wash section of the shop so I don't have to rebuckle the kids. Awesome, except the baby seat is full of puke. I toss all of the soiled stuff into the carseat and treck across the parking lot, baby in one arm, seat on the other (which has dripped baby barf onto my left foot), yelling to Payne about keeping close to Mommy and not getting hit by cars and stuff the whole way there.

Once we get to the carwash I go outside, strip the cover off of the carseat, and wipe Genevieve down. Meanwhile, Payne is playing with the automatic door. I hear a man lightly admonish him about potentially getting hurt by the door. I'm embarrassed, and want to tell him I'd usually be on that, but I'm dealing with Baby Vesuvius over here. Ugh. I'm also cursing myself for not packing a zip lock bag or something.

Car is clean, seat is relatively clean (thank goodness for carseat covers), we all pack back up. Now at this point a sane person would just schlep everyone home and decompress for a bit, but I had a PLAN damnit. I had packed a lunch. We were going to the flipping mall. So I drive home, run in and start a load of laundry, grab a new change of clothes for Genevieve, zip lock bag, and recieving blanket (and a Diet Coke for myself for "fuel"), jump back in the car and drive to the mall.

We get to the play area and all is well. Genevieve is sleeping soundly, and Payne only gets one time out for a violent offense. I wait for the baby to wake up hungry. No dice. I get hungry, eat a few stale cheerios. I get hungrier (it's not yet 11 a.m.) and eat Payne's bag of nuts (hey, I gave him the ones I don't like). I know I know, I'm turning into a regular toddler food stealer. Still getting hungrier. I pack up the boy and go to the food court to eat the lunch I packed. We finish. Baby is still sleeping. Okaaaaay...I guess I"ll go to that one single store I need to spend 20 minutes max in. Bathroom break, Payne doesn't have poop...he tells me this loudly. He screams after me the whole 20 seconds I leave the stroller outside of the stall so I can pee. There is the usual game of 20 questions regarding what I'm doing in the stall.

We make it to the store. I'm grabbing what I want to try on as Payne is trying to drink my root beer (damn you stroller that faces the child towards the cupholder!). Genevieve is stirring. Shit. I give her a paci and make a beeline for the dressing rooms. Right that second I get a whiff of Payne, who has apparently taken a pretty righteous poo. Awesome. I park the monster stroller in the available monster dressing room (yay for small favors!) and plop Payne down on the bench in there with my root beer. I throw a burp cloth at him knowing how this will inevitably go down. Genevieve is crying. I re-paci her. I try on clothes in record time as I watch Payne spill root beer all over himself, over and over again. Once my jeans are back on I change Payne's diaper...as Genevieve openly screams. I get Payne back into the stroller, turn around to put my shirt on, and turn back to see him trying to give the baby her paci (read shoving it into the very back of her mouth as she squeals). I yank him back, he cries. Oops. I pick up Genevieve and stroll at maximum strolling speed to the checkout counter. I check out with Genevieve crying, while the saleslady tries to strike up a conversation about breastfeeding...alrighty.

I powerwalk back to the play area, one hand on the stroller and one hand holding the wailing newborn. People look sort of aghast as they pass me. Payne falls out of the stroller (because he won't stop crawling all over the damn thing when I forget to strap him down). I get him back in. He cries the rest of the way to the playground.

FINALLY, we get to the play area and Payne plays while I nervously feed Genevieve, hoping she won't spew all over the both of us when she's done. When she's finished I stop Payne from "tickling" the other kids a few times and then we decide to head home. The car themometer reads 113 when I'm pulling out of the parking lot.

WHY did I do this? I can't help but laugh at myself when things get crazy and I know it's my own fault. The real kicker is that I'll probably do something similar to myself next week.

The child has gone Emo.

Payne emerged from his nap yesterday like this:

Crying, and moaning "hewp meeeee!".

When asked what he needed help with he responded with "Bwaaaaah! (sob)" from under his blanket.

This continued for 30 minutes. I still don't know what it was about.

AND I got Genevieve into the first outfit we ever picked out for her! I miiiight have hit the mall about one hour after the ultrasound where we found out her sex. Heh heh.

Only my son could injure himself with his snack.

The offending foodstuff.

Ahem, due to a somewhat chaotic morning involving trips to various Wal-Marts to procure the correct car battery, I was forced to eat my kid's apple.

Don't judge me. It was eat the apple or eat the baby.

So Payne was snack-less and hungry in Wal-Mart #2. I bought him the handy little snack cup pictured above. All was right in his little universe until the adorable wee edible bears were gone. What does he do? What every man in America would do (it must be written into their DNA). He put the cup up to his lips and tilted it back to get all of the crumbs and severed baked bear limbs collected at the bottom.

He tilted it very far back.

So far back that he managed to dump bear dust into his eyes.

Bear dust in the eyes really hurts, as all of Wal-Mart #2 is now aware.

Fitting Ensemble.

If only he could made it smell good...

This is what my life has become.

I sit here writing this as my baby is snoozing in her car seat and Payne is giving me fifteen minutes of peace...because I'm feeding him boxed macaroni with a smattering of guilt easing canned carrot bits (scratch that...I got in the first sentence during that brief moment of peace and had to come back later).

BUT I did it! I went somewhere with both kids alone and accomplished a whole task! I took both of them on a short grocery run.

The slight issue? I had to resort to something I previously swore I would never use.


(Yes, Payne is indeed eating my grocery list here. I'm choosing to be ok with this until the next study comes out revealing the carcinogenic qualities of Post-It adhesive.)

Yep. The dreaded car shaped monstrosity that all others in the grocery store curse. It's the Suburban of grocery carts, but I'll be damned if Payne didn't behave better in the cart than he has in months! I'm not entirely sure that the way I had Genevieve set in the cart is officially approved by the Grocery Cart Association of America, or whoever decides that stuff. However, I couldn't figure out any other way to situate her and still have room for, you know, groceries in the grocery cart.

Surprisingly, the run to the store was the smoothest part of the day, considering before the outing Payne poured water all over the couch and afterwards Genevieve threw up all over Dan. Heh heh.

And just for fun, I bring you the baby's outfit of the day:


I promise I didn't leave her slumped like that! But look! Rainbow striped baby leggings! Monkeys emerging from pockets!

Ok, I may have an infant clothing, um, dependency.

A little bit of perspective.

This morning Payne was introducing Genevieve to the wonderful world of Elmo:



Payne has figured out that a Boppy pillow is fabulous for head and neck support while lounging.

I just can't get over the difference in scale between the two of them! It's amazing that it only takes two and a half years to go from baby on the left to toddler on the right.

Oh, and I'm tossing in this photo just because I love the facial expression, and the karate chop action:



"Ohmygosh! Did Mr. Noodle really just do that?!"

(Those who don't know of Mr. Noodle; consider it a sign that you have a life.)

My Beloved Daughter...

Your hair gets puffier with every passing day. I love it.









But, well....

Please forgive me.

It reminds me of this:



I may or may not have started calling you Beaker....occasionally.

Ok, a lot.

Feel free to take this into consideration when you're selecting my nursing home.

My son may be requiring an exorcism.

So last week Dan was commenting on how good Payne was getting in church (I stayed home with Genevieve). We both rattled on a bit about how all of our efforts seemed to be paying off really well, and we may have indulged in a little mutual back patting.

This week I was really excited to take them both to Mass on Saturday night. I even had matching outfits for them, see?



Look at the angelic little buggers...



Yep. You're seeing that right. I put her in the world's tiniest shrug. heh heh.

Ohhhh don't let the photos fool you. Payne did one mean impression of the Antichrist. There was yelling, and pulling up of my nursing cover in public, and licking of the wall (yes, licking), and hitting, and rolling of match box cars across highly textured walls (thus creating an incredibly grating and loud noise), and dumping out of goldfish crackers, and spitting...in the house of God.

When I reached my threshold for offenses that mortify amongst others, without thinking I yanked him out of his seat to go to the back (Dan was holding the baby). I marched him outside for punishment, time out, and a stern lecture, which I was quite pleased with, if I do say so myself. Then we went into the front lobby to wait for an appropriate time to return to our seats. I was sure I'd put the fear of God in him (pun intended!). Oh yes, I'd been delightfully severe and he would understand such actions are unacceptable! In the lobby he proceeded to roll on the floor and try to get me to swing him in circles. Normally this wouldn't be something I couldn't handle, but since I'm only a week out from a c-section I can't really physically restrain him well, and I can't carry him. I tried the iron upper arm grip (we all remember that one from our own childhoods, right?) and the menacing whisper. When he popped me in the arm instead of shaking in his boots, we went back outside for more punishment, time out, and lecture. Then we returned to the lobby, where he continued to loll about the floor in a "super model in an underwear ad" sort of way. Then he farted loudly....twice, after which he wouldn't stop laughing and yelling "My poop!" in front of, oh, ten other people?

At this point I realized I wasn't going to be able to handle him myself, and joined the line for the Eucharist going down the center aisle, so I could return to my seat and hand him off to Dan. Well, the little demon alternated between dead weighting me and performing a sudden violent bounce maneuver that smacked his two inch thick skull directly into my c-section incision. I battled valiantly, but my face must have revealed my desperation, because a roughly 75 year old woman stepped in to help me hold up my son the rest of the way down the aisle. Awesome.

Finally we made it back to our seats, where Dan immediately took over and marched Payne back outside. They returned for the last five minutes of the service, where Payne continued to hit, yell, and cry. My beloved son polished off his hour of "worship" by being carried out of church under Dan's arm, kicking and screaming all the way to the car.

I'm considering this week's mass a lesson directly from God about humility. I will never again brag to myself about my parenting skills. Oh, and Dan is out of town this coming week so I'll be doing church on my own. Pray for me!

A new phase.

Yesterday Payne went down for his nap in a t-shirt and a diaper.

He walked out of his room after his nap in a t-shirt, his plaid lobster print swim trunks (his "wim suit"), and camo crocs.

Today my Mom was over helping me out while Dan enjoyed some much deserved man time. While I was feeding the baby my Mom reported that Payne located his trunks, took off his shorts, and insisted she help him put on the trunks. He then wore them to McDonald's for some chocolate milk.

The trunks now "live" in the baby gated laundry room. Heh.

Haaa!

Let me run you through Ethel's line of thought leading up to this photo:

"Oh..My...God. Does that pillow have a hole in it?! Are such wonders possible? I mean, it takes all the work out of burrowing! I'm going in!"





That's right. I slapped a hair bow on my poor defenseless six day old baby.

Funny Things My Kid Said.

Yesterday a friend came over to see the new baby. As she pulled her out of the baby swing, Payne ran over, stood directly in front of her and said in no uncertain tone "Dat's not yours!".

Today Dan was talking with another friend about beer while Payne played nearby, seemingly ignoring the conversation. Dan called one of my much beloved beer substitutes (Ace Pear Hard Cider) "dirty juice". Payne turned abruptly to us and spouted "Dat juice not dirty. Is clean!".

Oh, and Payne had decided that Genevieve is supposed to be in my arms at all times. Whenever anyone else is holding her, he points to me and commands "Her turn next".

I love him.

Hello. I keep my children in inappropriate places.

IN MY DEFENSE: I was alone with her and was taking a shower. The shower faces the bath tub. I used to keep Payne in his carseat in the bathtub when he was little too. Heh.



IN MY DEFENSE: Ethel hurt her back and is on "Doggy Bed Rest" in the kennel. Payne wanted to get in there. He was handing his Grandmom books through the slats, like a good little prisoner.

Brief funny from today.

Payne was asked if Genevieve was a good girl today.

His response: "No. Her real cute!"

(snort)



I think she approves of the sentiment.