Saturday, August 28, 2010

It will make you feel better. . . I promise

Have you visited the world's funniest blog yet? (And, no, it's not mine!)

Check it out here.

And while you're at it. . . go here. You won't regret it.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

The Life and Times of Bjorn

A few months ago the Hubs decided to grow out his hair. After a few weeks in the awkward growing-out-his-bangs stage, he has finally hit long(ish) male Baywatch type hair. It looks pretty good.

But now that he has this long hair, he has taken to using it as a towel. Or, in place of a towel. (Not that I mind, because, really, let's face it, that's one less towel I find on the bathroom floor after one friggin' use.)

After he washes his hands, he runs his fingers through his locks. Styling it with the water and drying his hands at the same time. Two birds, one stone.

I only mention it because at 15 months my little Bjorn is a sponge. And he now copies his Daddy by splashing in the Dog's bowl and then running his fingers through his own hair. Very cute, but very very wet.

Bjorn has learned how to kiss for real - and not just that open-mouth drooly kiss that is somehow incredibly gross and incredibly cute at the same time.

No, he puckers his little lips and goes "Mmmmmm" until you kiss him and then he makes the kissy "Mwah".

Sooooo adorable. And he kisses on demand. As in "Bjorn, kiss Scout." "Mwah." "Bjorn, kiss Dog." "Mwah." "Bjorn, kiss the pretty lady on TV." "Mwah."

Today I think I was kissed about 50 times. Not bad for this Mama.


As I was doing anything to get out of the house and get my sanity back heading out to run some errands, I heard some babble coming from Bjorn in his car seat.

I look back to see his "phone" wedged between his ear and shoulder, totally going hands free, babbling away as he waved his arms dramatically.

Definetely brokering some major deals.


I know I don't talk to Bjorn as much as I need to. (Me? Not talk? What?!)

Well, I mean, I talk, but not the kind of talk that pediatricians like to hear. I don't explain everything I'm doing as I'm doing it, or point out colors around the store or count the number of apples Mommy is putting in the cart. I'm more the "Yeah, you have a bear. That's great, play with your bear as Mommy checks out the newest toy on Woot."

So yesterday I was completely surprised when. . . .

I asked if he wanted to take a bath and he ran for the bathroom door and grunted as he tried to open it.

Wha-wha-what? Did my kid actually learn something (albeit something as simple as bath, but still!) from me?!

So, in the name of experimental science, the Hubs grabbed him from the bathroom, placed him in the farthest, remotest spot in our house and calmly asked him "Do you want to take a bath?"

And he careened right towards that door.

My little genius!

(He also knows where the bananas are kept and that he gets a banana every morning. He will stand by where they are on the counter and grunt and reach until we get one for him. Same thing with the milk in the fridge and the juice cups in the cupboard. Kid is a GENIUS!)


I finally got out my Wii Fit last week for the first time in. . . well, the Wii told me it had been 167 days. So, let's just say it has been a loooong time.

I played a few balance games on the balance board, making myself look incredibly silly as I flapped like a huge flying, chicken or ducked as shoes and panda heads came flying at my nose.

Then I look at Bjorn.

And he has grabbed the white doggie door insert (about three feet by two feet), placed it next to the balance board on the floor and was now standing on top, pretend-running in place. His own Wee Wii Balance Board.

If that won't make me play more often, nothing will.


Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Cue the Cumber

Today was a baby-free day for me.

Today, a day off work but sans toddler, was intended to be a day to get all my non-baby appropriate chores ticked off my to-do list. (Scrubbing floors, bikini wax, finally get my much talked about tattoo*.)

After dropping Bjorn at daycare, I dressed in my gym clothes only to realize that I really didn't want to go to the gym. So I didn't. Instead I took a nice, long, hot shower.

It was wonderful.

And as I was drying off without a little boy trying to grab my towel, or dropping all his toys in the toilet or the tub, I thought, 'I could get used to this.'

I could get used to taking a shower without a kiddo waking up from his nap - crying - just as I get under the water. I could get used to a hot, hot shower with non-Johnsons shampoo because there isn't a little kiddo in there with me, who doesn't like hot water and real shampoo that gets in his eyes. I could get used to being able to shave and lotion because he let me get a shower in, but he gets the door open by the time I get out to lotion up.

I could get used to it.

And I can see why people don't want kids. I understand that it is a huge requirement of time, patience, money and compassion. I understand that having a kid can be the most consuming, demanding job and some people aren't ready for it. Some people don't want to be saddled with the baggage of a kiddo. They like being unencumbered and fancy-free.

Me? I kinda like being cumbered.

Yeah, I could get used to having my free time to myself. But not for long. Not now that I have this little person to share my life with and not now that I know what the trade-off would be for not having him.

Do I want a hot shower or a drolly kiss from a puckering-up toddler? I'll take the drooly kiss. (But I wouldn't mind a hot shower once a week - or so.)

Do I want new clothes or gymnastics classes for the munchkin? Let's see him tumble! (And if I can get some cheapy knock-offs at Ross, then all for better!)

Do I want The Wiggles or CSI on TV? Nothing is better than watching him 'dance' to The Wiggles. (But I'll turn to CSI when he's asleep.)

I enjoy my nice, long, hot shower on my kiddo-free days, but I also miss him. There is too much free time, too much silence**, too much too-much. My life doesn't seem as fulfilled or as meaningful without Bjorn with me. Is it an easier day? Oh yes. Much. But easier isn't what makes me happy. Easier doesn't crawl into my lap at night, throw his food to the dog and laugh, and refuse to put on pants or a shirt. Easier doesn't play in the dog's water bowl, grab my hand when he steps off a curb or make me press all the buttons on his Scout doll. Easier isn't better.

I'll take harder. I'll take being cumbered. I'll take my baby boy. (But I'll also take the occasional day care days, too. Nothing like having your cake and eating it too!)

*I've been talking about getting a tattoo since I was pregnant with Bjorn. Something to
commemorate my little baby. While I was pregnant, I, thinking I was going to have a girl, drew the perfect tattoo of my little girl's initials and had it all ready for ink.

Then Bjorn was born, and, well, I was wrong about having a girl, so I went back to the drawing board.

I finally came up - again - with the perfect tattoo, and today was the day for inking. Except my Hubs had to work and my friend had to cancel (no baby-sitter), and since I need someone to hold my hand as I get it done, well. . . it will just have to wait a little while longer!

**Too much silence? Oh yes, it can happen. After a few hours of kid-free, the house seems to be too big and too quiet to bring any joy. Unless you're sleeping. And then it's perfect.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Ten Years From Now. . . . . .

10 years ago today, I met a boy.

(Well. . . it might have been 10 years ago yesterday. Or tomorrow. I'm not very good with dates. It was sometime around this time. . . . . )


10 years ago today(-ish), I met a boy.

It wasn't the first time I had met this boy. The first time was a year earlier, my what-the-hell-is-college-all-about freshman year, when I saw this blue eyed, sorta wild looking boy playing guitar and singing at my church's praise & worship. I leaned over to my roomie (who I had known all of about three days but was (yay!) Catholic and (double yay!!) had a car) and whispered "I want one just like him".

I thought it was such a great line - like Jodie Foster in Maverick when she asks who is that "tall drink of water".

So I saw this boy from a distance and six months later when I was hired on campus I showed up to work. . . . and there he was. We talked a bit, but nothing more.

Fast forward a few more months (which bring us to 10 years from today-ish) and we met again. (For the first time?)

This time we talked longer. He laughed at all my jokes and came back with a few of his own. We swung our legs off the tailgate of my pickup, talking, much longer than was necessary to wait for his car battery to charge.

Little did I know that 10 years later I would be married to this boy, living in another state, living the (ha!) glamorous career as a flight attendant, with a little boy who looks just like his Daddy.

10 years ago, if I would have known what the future would bring, I would have never bought a new car, never bought a house in AZ, and tried harder to pay off my credit card.

I would have studied abroad in London, taken that trip to Australia and learned to surf in Hawaii.

I would have driven to that antique junk store outside Houston I love to search online and I would have continued ASL classes.

I would never have gone for my masters in Education and I would definitely not have spent any of my school loan money for waaaay too many trinkets in Hawaii.

I would have still married that man I met 10 years ago. And gone to Houston and Phoenix and wherever else he wants to go. I would still have that little boy with him and would still love to have more kids who look just like him.

10 years ago, I could never have expected so much to happen in what seems like a very small amount of time. And 10 years from now. . . . well, I have absolutely no idea what to expect. That is what makes this all exciting.

Because 10 years from now. . . . is still going to be the best time of my life.

****Happy 10 Year Day-I-Met-You (I Think) Anniversary!****

Friday, August 13, 2010

Well, it IS football season

We are now in the stage of "throwing things".

And when I say "things" I mean everything. (Including fits.)

On one hand, the kid has a great arm and I am super excited to start teaching him to play football and baseball.

On the other hand, I no longer give him my phone, the remote control or anything else I may ever want to use again.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Motherhood: The Great Equalizer

In the book "Little Earthquakes" Jennifer Weiner writes (through her lead character) that she always thought "pregnancy was the great equalizer" where skinny women get fat and fat women are fat and finally there is no competition between the two.

Which we all know to be a load of bunk.

Pregnancy is not equal among women. In any way.

I gained 51 pounds. In the last two weeks a road map of purple and blue lines appeared across my belly and hips.

While a friend gained 30 pounds, had no such road map and can happily and easily still wear her old bikini.

My skin cleared up completely from the adult acne I was so accustomed to dealing with. My hair was thick and gorgeous - but the hair on my legs barely ever grew.

While a (different) friend had acne that took over her face and chest and didn't diminish until after she finished breastfeeding.

I didn't have a lick of morning sickness. We all know that there are thousands of women who do. Badly.

There is nothing fair about pregnancy. There is nothing equalizing about it.

Except. . . . . .

Now that I have what I know to be the most adorable, gregarious little boy E.V.E.R. I feel validated in a way that making lead in the school play could never do. I made him and he's pretty awesome, so, by default, that makes me pretty awesome.

That makes me feel equalized with those other moms.

Those moms who were beautiful and popular before and are beautiful and popular after (can you be popular at the age of 30?!?!).

While I was awkward and silly before and am awkward and silly still.

Because I don't care how "cool" they are - I care about how they got their littl'un to stop sucking her thumb or how littl'un liked his first day of school. I care about how they feel being a SAHM and I commiserate with how hard it is to find a sitter for date night. Or the right heels for date night. Or a friggin' time for date night.

Pregnancy may not be the great equalizer among women but it definitely leads to something that is.

Because when it comes to motherhood, at one time or another, we will all have Cheerios in our hair, spit up on our shirt and a poopy diaper leaking all over our brand new white capri's. And poop is a great equalizer.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Best Advice Ever

While I was pregnant, all my Mommy friends dumped loads of advice on me. Whether I wanted it or not.

And I never understood some of it. 'Til now.

"Enjoy going to the bathroom by yourself." said a friend with a rambunctious 2 yr old. " After the babe is born you will never be alone in there again."

I laughed, thinking that was a strange thing to say. Of course I will be going to the bathroom by myself. No one wants to be in there together when you're doing bathroom things!!!

But it's true. I have not gone to the bathroom by myself but maybe five times since Bjorn was born. And each of those times he has crawled, walked or ran to the bathroom door and pounded on it until I relented.

So, Preggo Mama's, as crazy as it sounds - enjoy your bathroom moments alone. Bring a book. Play games on your IPhone. Whatever. Just enjoy it.

It won't last long.