Some Confessions + a Giveaway!

Sounds like a good combo, am I right? First with the confessions.

Two year molar teething is hard work--for me too. While it's understandable, Carter was a big ball of mood today. The day started out good with a visit to the cousins, but it all went downhill from there. It was basically typical toddler behavior so I won't run down the list for you, but then in culminated with a traffic-y drive home and an annoying man in a stupid white truck.

Picture this. Over-tired Carter sleeping peacefully in his car seat, suddenly wakes up when he yawns and accidentally yanks his pacifier out of his mouth. In his half asleep stupor he starts wailing like the world is ending. I don't think a distraction more dangerous than a crying baby or melting down toddler exists when it comes to driving. I was trying to balance ignoring the crying in order to concentrate with searching for a replacement pacifier. That's a tough act.

The cacophony included a coffee in the center console somehow running down the front of my shirt despite that fact that it was in the cup holder--which means it was magic coffee and it flew out the spout, through the air, and onto my shirt supernaturally. Amid the chaos, I hear a car to my left honk their horn at me. In a nano second of panic I think I am surely drifting into the other lane. I look up, only to see a mid 40s bald man waving and smirking. In that millisecond I wished that my car had the ability to sprout missile launchers, but apparently Volvo overlooked that feature. Looking back, I realize that's a bit harsh and maybe I could have compromised for a slingshot instead.

Moving on...

So the nice people at ChicNova.com allowed me to increase my wardrobe recently and they're doing the same for you. How's a $30 coupon code sound? The shirt and bag that I'm wearing cost $30 total. Na-hiz-ice (nice).

 And I thought it was only fair to show you the picture with my hair blowing in my face. Outfit post issues.

 hat: TJMaxx | shirt + bag c/o Chic Nova | pants: Kiki La 'Rue | shoes: TOMS  (desert print)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

linking up with:  Heather and Megan, my thrifty chic

the shopping trip from HADES

I'd like you to live the experience through my eyes. Shall we?

We walk through the automatic doors and suddenly his eyes brighten. Space! Running! Bines (bananas)! I lift all 27 pounds of him into the cart and he does the splits. Nothing good ever comes out of a toddler doing the splits when placed into a grocery cart. He's not having it. He screams and I place him down so as not to attract more attention to ourselves. Blast, why did I choose today to not change out of my dress/leggings combo that I threw on with old, nasty uggs because I was too lazy to wear my heeled boots? Everyone stares. This enthuses him and ticks his energy meter up a few notches.

First, he plots his attack on the bananas. I place my hand over them to stop him from chucking a bunch onto the ground. He ditches me for the loose bell peppers that have "throw me" written all over them. I scoop him up before he can use the peppers for a rousing game of dodge ball, but just as my hands adjust in his arm pits, out comes a blood curdling scream you would think has come straight from Hades itself. My glasses have now been flung off my face for the third time (of course, the one day out of 365 that I choose glasses over non fling-able contacts).

Simultaneously, as if they can sense a meltdown in progress, two moms with perfectly quiet shopping carts prance through the arena. Their toddlers are strapped silently into the carts' grasps and I feel envious. I've been you! Don't get too comfortable! And don't *&^%%^ judge me!

Finally, against all odds, and partially thanks to Carter's narcissistic phase, I coerce him into the cart with a bine-apple pouch and a video of himself talking on the phone.

As we pass by perfect mom #1, I notice her formerly quiet children are now screaming for free samples and stomping their feet. I feel a little better.

After what feels like a mile-long maze race through the store we make it to the checkout. Hallelujah, refuge is near! But...no. We get the obviously childless (it is apparent by her slowness during my dire state) cashier. I also have to remove Carter from the cart thanks to their we-awkwardly-take-your-shopping-cart-behind-the-register policy.  It takes her a 40 year walk through the dessert to bag my groceries. I want to yell. I want to hold her by the shoulders and tell her that I will not care about a broken egg. I'll gladly take a crate-ful of broken eggs over my current appearance: juggling a screaming toddler on my hip and stabbing myself in the side with a fistful of keys, all while trying not to lose my debit card in the mayhem. Give me my grocery bags, or give me death!  *Oh, and Trader Joe's kind of has this thing where they expect you to bag your own groceries. Halfway through I got "the look" and I wanted to shout from the register-tops, ONE word: BAGGERS!

I fight through the wind and scurry up to the car with hair in my teeth, holding carter (who wouldn't return to the cart), trying to ensure the cart doesn't smash into the car thanks to the howling wind. I load the three pristinely double bagged groceries into the car (which promptly fall over in my haste to get out of the public eye). I buckle Carter into his seat faster than you can say train wreck and bulldoze out of the place. I, Amy, solemnly swear to never attempt to grocery shop on a skipped-nap day as long as I shall live.

an outfit post, gasp!

I know I don't do these all too often, but they're so much fun! Why don't I do them, you ask? 1. my personal photographer is a bit busy at work and only sees the light of day on Sundays (April, come NOW) and 2. I don't trust Carter with my camera. Maybe in a few years, haha. 

I'm ridiculously excited about my new dress from eshakti! Based on yesterday's post and this one right now, it's kind of been a nautical themed week around here. Can you tell I'm ready for spring and summer?! Enough of this cold drizzly not quite rain, not quite snow weather. I'm done.

You can find a similar skirt here.  You can get everything at eshakti custom fit to your measurements. Dresses also come without or without embroidery, strapless, without straps, you name it. The dress I'm wearing even has pockets! Who doesn't love a dress with pockets?

They even have bridesmaid dresses now! How convenient would it be for all of your bridesmaids to just order their dresses to their measurements? No searching through hundreds of dresses to find one that looks good on everybody and announcing your size in front of a crowd. 

I was going to get all in depth and tell you some momentous stories today, but I'm nearing figurative death as we speak. We had a mother of a meltdown at the grocery store today, and there's a nice large smattering of regurgitated refried beans, banana applesauce, and hot dogs waiting for me in the bathroom. Catch ya on the flip side. (wish me luck).

Our Weekend, News + T's Bday!

This weekend has been pretty eventful so far. Let me tell you all about it (it's pretty good so you'll probably want to keep reading).

1. I am officially a makeup artist!!!! Is that not the most exciting thing in the world?? I still have an advanced class I am going to start taking soon because I feel like I need to know everything there is to know/practice as much as possible before actually taking on clients. In my next class I need to do makeup (mostly just corrective stuff like foundation/concealer/grooming) on a male model and guess who the lucky guy is??? TOM! Duh. I think he's secretly super excited about it.

That brings me to the topic about guys and makeup. I think they should wear it. I'm not talking every guy should walk around with purple eye shadow and gold eyeliner (unless they want to), I'm saying--what's wrong with a guy wanting to cover up some dark circles or something?? That's all I have to say right now, but just think about it...

2. I change Kelsey's (the BFF) tire after my last makeup class (for now) because I am awesome like that: (oh and a guy in a plumber's van helped for a little too because the nuts on the tire were frozen -so I guess I should give random guy some credit, after all, he was nice enough to stop and help). Oh also, Kelsey's husband face timed with us to make sure I put the jack in the right spot (after the car had fallen off of the jack the first time--whoops).

3. Carter woke up at 3:30 am with a fever. Aren't mother's instincts insane?? He sleeps in our bed and I moved my hand over and touched him in my sleep and I instantly shot up and was like he has a fever! As soon as you become a mom you get these incredible super powers that make you a human thermometer. It's crazy, isn't it? I got the real thermometer and double checked just to make sure. He's still been pretty happy today despite his mild sickness.

4. It's Tom's BIRTHDAY tomorrow!! We are celebrating today because he has to work from 8am-9pm tomorrow (dumb). Did I ever mention that tax season kind of sucks the life out of me? We are celebrating with heart shaped red velvet cupcakes (I'm making the best cream cheese frosting of all time), Chinese food (after Carter goes to bed--poor sesame deprived child), some Wii games (James Bond and Just Dance--we're so cool), and he got his presents this morning and last night. What did he get, you ask? Well obviously a Tide to go because who doesn't need that at work? Also some clothes from Oakley, and an Under Armor hat and other boyish things that are really fun to buy.

Can I also just say that I wanted to buy him these awesome/adorable ties from Nautica, but Tom needs extra tall ties and it's annoying because extra tall everything is never as cute as the regular sizes. Clothes/shoe shopping is the one big down side of being so tall. We're hoping Carter maxes out at 6'4" or less so that he can wear normal sizes (and go on roller coasters--this one is for my benefit, I'm in love with roller coasters). Did you know you can be TOO TALL for a roller coaster? Darn it all!!

*  *  *  *  *  * 

Have you entered the $100 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway?

you'll want to read this one

So Carter has a dairy sensitivity (coconut milk yogurt^^). This has been an ongoing thing. It has gone from bad, to better, to worse. He hasn't had much dairy recently, and last night he started begging me for some Trader Joe's cool whip. Well, there really isn't that much dairy in it, so I thought what the heck, a couple of spoonfuls aren't going to hurt. Wrong.

And hurt they did. A few spoonfuls later, Carter gave me the uh-oh-mom-i'm-gonna-puke look. I calmly walked him to the bathroom (he pukes a lot), held him over the sink (just in the knick of time), and he did his thing. He fussed about the "mess" in the sink, then laughed, and got down to run around like his normal self.

I started to clean the sink. In the two seconds that I took to actually concentrate on the cleaning, Carter walked to the other side of the bathroom, lifted the lid on the toilet, stuck his hands in the trash and threw the trash into the toilet. Not a big deal if you're talking a few tissues or something, right? Nope. He threw in a a disposable diaper, a cardboard toilet paper roll, a paper towel and a baby wipe before I got to him.

*I took a picture to send to Tom, but I'll spare you a picture of my toilet crammed full of diapers, cardboard and paper towels. Use your imagination.

I grunted a little and told him to walk to the living room while I grabbed a plastic bag.

As I fetched the debris out of the toilet (glamorous, I know) he came waltzing into the bathroom sans diaper (apparently he ditched it in the living room) and peed in not one, but three places on the bathroom floor (I was incapacitated at this point because I was holding toilet debris and plastic bags). When he started chanting "poop" I almost lost it.

I this time seriously told him to go in the living room, threw everything out in the trash, cleaned up the bathroom floor and washed my hands 50 million times.

Toddlers are hard.

But I'll keep him anyway.

his new favorite things to do

Raising Imperfection and Mommy Confessions

Have you entered the $100 Amazon gift card giveaway?

Mommy-Brain Mixer: A Link Up

Hello, ladies!


If you haven't already, definitely enter to win $50 for an Erin Condren Planner and $25 to Starbucks!

Also, come on over this Saturday for a wonderful new blog series called "The Mom Connection!" You don't want to miss out on parenting tips and advice from some of your favorite bloggers, so put this Saturday, December 15th on your calendar! We will be discussing fighting the battle of getting your kiddos dressed!

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Welcome to week 20 of the Mommy-Brain Mixer, ladies!

Please help spread the word so the Mixer keeps on growing!


If you haven't noticed, one of our favorite things to do is to share stories about motherhood and our littles. One of our favorite things about sharing these stories is your comments with stories of your own children!

Welcome to...

At the Mommy-Brain Mixer, we will be linking up our writings about anything and everything motherhood

We want to see funny posts, serious posts, sweet & sappy stories, mommy-brain episodes, memories from when your older children were younger, thoughts & lessons learned, and anything related to motherhood or little people. You know that post you wrote yesterday about your teething baby? Or that hilarious post you wrote about your 2nd grader's school play? Those are perfect, so link 'em up! 

The Mommy-Brain Mixer is the perfect place to find some great new blogs to follow, make some wonderful new blog friends, and enjoy some entertaining new reads!

*Hi NYABB readers. This is my "Mommy Brain" post if you have'n't read it:  Recent Misfortunes*

To make things even more fun, our friend Mar, over at Raising Bean, is hosting a sister link-up
for you to join, too!


Head on over there after your finished here and link up your recipes, DIY, arts & crafts, and sensory activities!  

Let's get to it, friends!

 

RULES:

1.Follow your hosts 

{the first four in the linky}:

 Cassie from Two In Diapers

Jelli from Jellibean Journals

Cassie from Live.Laugh.L0ve

Julie from From Awkward To Art

If you are new to the Mixer, please leave us a comment so we know to follow you back! We try to get around to all the posts, but as the Mixer is growing, there are some weeks that we are not able!

2. Follow your co-hosts

This week's lovely co-hosts {the next 4 on the linky} are:

Amy from Not Your Average Baby Blog

Noel from Daydreaming Realist

Charlotte from The Life of Mummy Rawles

Ashley from Chevron Stitches

3. Link up your mommy post!

4. Make sure to visit some of the blogs in the link-up and maybe even follow them!

{and comments are always loved} 

5. Tweet about the Mommy-Brain Mixer to help spread the word! 

Tweet

6. Grab this adorable button and place it somewhere on your blog!

 

 <a href="http://www.two-in-diapers.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i523.photobucket.com/albums/w351/laurenjh04/Gracie%20Marie/mommybrain-mixer200.png" /></a><br/>

7. Don't forget to check back throughout the week, as we gain many new links throughout the week!



If you are interested in co-hosting a Mommy-Brain Mixer, send me an email at twoindiapers@gmail.com!

Recent Misfortunes

*Warning* Queasy readers should go elsewhere.


Carter is playing in the tub. He's all "this is the greatest thing in the world, mom, did you know that? Hey! Who shut off my water? MORE!!"

Eventually he realizes the world is not actually going to end if the tubby ends and I get him out. He runs bare buns blazing into my room. Before putting his diaper on, I get lost in my Influenster beauty blogger vox box.

And then it got quiet. Too quiet.

And just as I turned my head, there it was. The loudest (and only) *plop* to ever ring out on my bedroom floor (it's carpet...). And then a little boy ran across the room and out the door.

So I did the natural thing. Cleaned and scrubbed.

A couple hours later Tom got home. The three of us went back upstairs and while Carter was doing somersaults on our bed suddenly I stepped in something a little too squishy to be a bobby pin or a hair tie.

...remnants of the plop. I screamed. Tom laughed. Carter laughed because Tom laughed. And luckily Tom was nice enough to grab an old towel for me.

Apparently I missed a spot on our unfortunately brownish bedroom carpet.

Always, Sometimes, Never: Puke Edition

Today was one of those times when we got to an indoor playground (that was super awesome bee-tee-double-you) and Carter got afraid of the wristband and he threw up. On me. On him. On the floor, and almost on the lady working behind the counter (who had to clean the floor). I feel like I should send her flowers or something. It couldn't have been fun to clean up half digested yogurt and almond butter. PLUS, it's a nut free facility, so we totally ruined that with his vomit too. I probably should have thought twice about bringing nuts internally.

This kinds of reminds me of the time yesterday, when Carter fell and got scared and threw up, and then I was convinced that meant he had a concussion so I called the doctor. Oh, yes, the puke landed right on me again. I guess it's just my life's work to get puked on. It's totally fine. Happily, though, there was no pukage at the doctor's visit yesterday. Just screaming. Screaming about getting measured, weighed, and getting his big ole dome measured (oh and there was that little thing called shots too, we won't get into that).

*Meanwhile, back at the playground (can you "meanwhile" when it's about the same person at two different times? I don't think you can, but whatever)* he fell off a bench and didn't flinch. He was sitting there next to his cousin eating a dehydrated pear, when he thought he'd scoot off. Only his shorts stuck to the paint on the bench and he face planted into the rug; I dashed over, scooped him up while heart-attacking, and then he looked at me like, "Mom, what's your deal? I'm fine, okay?" and proceeded to laugh like it was the funniest thing ever. Moms, how do you not have a stroke every day? These past two days make me feel like such a worrier. I know, I know "kids get hurt," but if you ask me, it happens way too often. And I'm always that overprotective hawk-mom guarding his every move too (apparently every so often I fail). These toddler months we've endured so far have been quite the eye opener. I don't really know what to, exactly, I just know that I would die if I had twins. I would die a legit death filled with a lethal combination of heart attacks and strokes.


Here's a little summary of all that rambling if you're too lazy to read it all, or if you got bored half way through:

Carter always throws up when he's scared. He sometimes throws up when he's sad. And he never doesn't throw up. We are a pukey bunch over here. Apparently I did the same thing when I was little, so I guess I got what was coming to me. Karma's a stitch.

So this was what I like to call a little double link up post. I'm linking up with Ellen, Brie, and Taylor's always.sometimes.never link up, AND at Two in Diapers Mommy-Brain Mixer

Beetle in my {yoga} Pants

No, seriously. There we were, on a mini-vaca in New Hampshire. I was walking from the house to the campfire in some yoga pants and a sweatshirt (this isn't different than any other day). I kept feeling something hit my leg. I thought maybe the baby monitor in my sweatshirt pocket was tapping my leg (this was a big sweatshirt my friends, so yes, my phone pretty much reached mid-thigh...it was a red Ohio State sweatshirt from Steve & Barry's from years ago. But that's not important).

I kept feeling my leg, but nothing. This happened a good 3-4 times. Finally, when I was sitting down next to the fire, it happened again. This time, though, it couldn't have been the monitor because it wasn't in my pocket (critical thinking, I know). I moved like lightning to feel what is was and...CRUNCH...eww, that unmistakable crunching sound when you know you've just squeezed a bug within a millimeter of its life (although I was hoping it was good and dead, don't hate me). I screamed, made my mom roll up my pant leg and take the creature out. This was all done with my eyes squeezed shut and I repeated over and over "don't tell me what it is!!!" I was afraid it would be a spider and that my fear phobia of them would be even worse (if this is possible, it's doubtful). Well it was the darned beetle. It had no business being there. None.

We also got Carter's 12 month photos back. Here are a few (he's way cuter than the squished beetle from my pants).

Whoooaaa. That was way too many. But that doesn't happen too often {ever} around here, so forgive me.

I also really love this one too (well I love them all, but didn't want to murder you with pictures of us), but it's vertical, so I'll put it down here all by itself.

That's all for today. Check your pants for beetles.

Some Hot Weather and more of the real Amy is revealed...

So since it's been high 90s here the last couple of days we took a little trip to the grandparents' (both sides live near each other--cute, right?) Tom has some time off right now and it's been awesome. Sister and I spent the entire day in the pool yesterday and today we spent the day in the pool with our best friends. Doesn't the term "best friends" sound so 11-year-old? I love it. But really, they are. They are sisters too and we've been best friends with them for exactly 20 years as of September. CRAZY, huh?

You want evidence you say? Here's a little collage they made for us back in the day. It's hard to see the pictures since this was pre-digital camera--Sorry!

Kels and I were being old ladies in the top right corner, and I'm wearing underwear on my head. Really showing my true colors.

Speaking of true colors. Do you want to know the real me? Like reeeaaallll Amy??? I don't really think you do, but you can meet her anyway. Here she is:

Yup. I put things up my nose. It's kind of my "thing." What kind of girl posts pictures of herself on her blog with pretzels up her nose? This one right here, that's who. You're totally wishing I was your best friend right now, aren't you? Do you want to know what makes this better? This was at the bestie's rehearsal dinner. Classy, as always.

And a few more photos of the bests together:

At the end of our wedding. (Our parents are all besteis too. Even cuter, isn't it??)

So back to our pool day.

It was utter greatness. Unfortunately, I did not remember to squirt the sun block in my eye so now my eyeballs feel burned and it's definitely a little sad, and I'm a little blind. If there's a spelling/grammar mistake right now you must forgive me.

Carter had mixed feelings about the pool.

We're playing disc golf at a brewery tomorrow. Carter is going to visit the petting zoo instead of throwing some discs. We thought he'd get bored.

Stabbed and a Run {don't worry, I'm OK}

Adding  Insult Injury to Injury

There I was, at the counter minding my own business, slicing an avocado for Carter. I was mid day dream (thinking about this lip gloss, probably). I cut the avocado down the middle, pulled it apart into two halves, scooped one side out no problem, sliced it, and then decided to start on the other side. This is where things started to go downhill; normally, like a normal human being, I grab a spoon and scoop out the pit. Because of said daydream a proceeded to use my knife to try to stab the pit in order to save myself the labor intensive step of taking a  spoon out of the drawer that was three inches to my left. 

What comes next is a bit gruesome--you've been warned. As I picked up the avocado  in order to get more leverage with the stabbing (curse you, lip gloss) the knife slipped (obviously, why wouldn't it slip on a slippery avocado pit?) and promptly wedged itself into the palm of my left hand. I'm not really sure if it actually go stuck in there or not because it all happened so quickly, but I can tell you one thing, I was certain it had gone all the way through  (I immediately thought, this is what it feels like to get shot in the hand with an arrow. Don't ask me why, but I've always been terrified of getting shot with an arrow. It seems way more painful than any other kind of shot wound. Maybe this comes from movies I was forced to watch in history class in high school. People were always getting shot with arrows and they always went all the way through). Fear not, it really did not go all the way through, but it sure felt like it. What followed was a small mess of things involving the color of red that I shall not mention because injuries like these make me woozy. I have to say, I do have a high pain tolerance (natural birth, anyone?), but the sight of unmentionables coming out of my own hand is just not something I like to dwell on. 

Right--I also promised information about a run. Tonight, me and my throbbing hand ran 4 miles. This was quite the accomplishment because 1) it's the first time I ran that far without walking at all and without being completely dead at the end  and 2) I did it with a sad stab wound and a zebra band-aid that flew off when I was just getting ready for the sprinting portion at the end. Which leads me to a confession. Normally, as a responsible citizen, I would pick up my flown off band-aids. However, I was just nearing the most important portion of my run and as I saw the band aid lifted into the air I realized it was just not possible to retrieve it because it would have ruined everything (meaning I would've had to stop and then I would've wanted to stay stopped). It wasn't worth the sacrifice. Forgive me. 

Injuries and Messes

Well yesterday was quite the day. I was in the middle of working a long day and had quite the unfortunate instances. They've somehow managed to find me much more frequently in the last year.

And without further ado, here they are.

Unfortunate instance #1: I was lying on the floor on my laptop, minding my own business, when Tom, with his size 15 suit shoes, decided to step over me. I was taking up the only open path to the other side of the room, serves me right for being the weirdo on the computer on the floor. Unfortunately, as Tom's leg swung over my head, the heel of his shoe nicked my head in such a way that it was more of a kick than a nick and I got two large bumps and a bruise to show for it. Luckily, my hair hides it. Not so luckily, I've had a headache all day. It didn't stop me from laughing for a full 20 minutes after the incident. Tom felt horrible, of course (as a good husband should for mistakenly kicking his wife in the head), but I couldn't help but giggle and brace my pounding head simultaneously. I think it has something to do with the way I laugh when people fall.

#2: It was time for Tom to leave the house in said suit shoes (suit shoes, is that even a name? Well, I like it) so I followed him down to make sure Carter didn't get messy hands on his suit (things like this tend to happen)--oh, I should mention, Carter wasn't just chilling downstairs by himself. The baby-sitter was with him so that I could get work done. Well no sooner had I reached the bottom of the stairs when I picked Carter up to give him a little kiss and noticed his diaper was awry. I grabbed the edge of it to fix its crookedness and what graced my fingers? Well it was number the second, spewing out the sides, of course. I promptly let out a girlish scream and ran to the bathroom to wash it off. You'd think that being a mom would have me used to such defecations on my hand, and would also raise my girlish scream threshold a few notches, but no. No such luck.

Updates

{I just love Shabby Blogs, don't you?}

So tonight I finally made it 3 miles. I went pretty slow, but it's alright, I have 4 weeks until the dreaded (ha, just kidding, I'm pretty excited) Warrior Dash, so that's enough time to speed up a bit! Totally slacking on the strength training though. Anyway, today on my run, I was attacked by 2 things: the first was a little 8lb dog. I literally looked down because I thought my shoe was untied, but no, that was the dog jumping at my foot, that's how small it was. Then I realized the dog's owner was running after us. I probably should have stopped so that the dog stopped, but hey, I was running my full 3 miles (actually I did 3.12 miles plus a scooter race--details on that in a bit) so I wasn't stopping for anybody, not even a little cute dog. The second thing/person I was attacked by was my 7-year-old neighbor. She is constantly yelling "Aaaammmyyy!!!!" from afar and I had to keep telling her "5 more minutes and I can talk." I kept dreading passing her (I run in a loop around where we live) because I was really trying to  keep my focus and enjoy the awesome Spice Girls song that came on my Pandora at just the right moment.

Anywho, I finished the run, went and talked to my 7-year-old neighbor as promised and was promptly asked to race her while she rode  her scooter. I couldn't say no. We were neck and neck for a while there and then she just kept going so I had to give up once I reached my front door. Apparently she had to flag me down because she was dying to tell me that she's a flower girl in her aunt's wedding. That was actually a pretty good reason to interrupt my run. Being a flower girl is exciting stuff.

In other news, Carter seems he may have grown out of his milk allergy (wooooo!) He's gone through a week of cow's milk yogurt and almost a week of cheese. Next week is the real deal, so we'll see how it goes. Honestly, I doubt I'll end up giving him the whole cow's milk though because I think coconut milk is just so much healthier (and basically has the exact same nutrition--we'll see what the pediatrician says, but I'm thinking it's a good substitute).

Well, off to read The Lucky One. Nicholas Sparks totally sucks me in.

Hush Little Baby...

As Carter's falling asleep I usually sing Hush Little Baby to him. The only issue is that I have no idea what the real words are. It usually starts off pretty strong:

Hush little baby don't say a word,
Mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird
And if that mocking bird don't sing
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring
And if that diamond ring don't shine... (this line is where I go awry for some reason)


And this is where it gets a little rocky. Usually it goes something like this:

Mama's gonna buy you a clementine
And if that clementine's not sweet
Mama's gonna buy you your very own street
And if your very own street's too long
Mama's gonna buy you a ping pong


*          *          *


And as the song goes on and I start to lose ideas, it usually becomes a bit inappropriate for a baby:

And if that big gun shoots real hard
Mama's gonna buy you a body guard
And if that body guard is stupid
Mama's gonna buy you your very own cupid
And if your very own cupid shoots arrows


And then it just gets boring:

Mama's gonna buy you a new wheelbarrow
And if...


How about you? Do you make up your own lyrics to songs? Do yours ever get as crazy as mine?

P.S. In other news, Carter said "book" yesterday. Unfortunately, I missed it but his Daddy heard it and so did Nana because they were doing Face Time on the ipad when he said it! This is his second word. His first was "Mama," which I did hear the first time! And now he says it regularly : ) Now that's music to my ears.

The Journey to Jeans

Currently, the source of my greatest pleasure is watching Tom wear his new jeans. I hope I can portray this accurately for you.

One day, there was a guy named Odysseus, I mean Tom. He was pretty darn tall, but he had one character flaw. He couldn't find jeans that fit. Every time he would go out to buy new jeans it was an event and he always ended up having to special order them. Men's jeans (at big and tall stores, the only ones where he could buy clothes) had two options: option #1: round and short,  option #2: tall and lanky. Neither of these accurately described Tom. He was more of a tall and normal size leg man. Apparently, if you are 6'8" you are not supposed to have normal sized legs.

Since this was the case, Tom always bought jeans that were on the baggier side, since it was either that or the skinny jean look,which he was not a fan of. And honestly, that look just didn't suit him.

Well today Tom tried on his newest pair of jeans that were special ordered and it was quite the sight. These were his first pair of "these fit me well" jeans, ordered because I selected 800 pairs of jeans in the store for him to try on until we found ones that would actually fit and not be skinny or baggy. The only problem is they don't fit like the ones in the store. They're a little too short and he thinks they're too tight, and he walks like they're too tight.


Needless to say, it was yet another fail in the epic journey to find Tom jeans that fit. But it made my night and I have faith that one day we'll make it to Ithaca, we just have to keep battling the Cyclops, the Sirens and Scylla along the way.

Part 2: Do You Want to Know What Happened...

After being poked, prodded and forced into painful positions for x-rays, the diagnosis was a sprain. What? A freaking sprain?? All this pain, for a sprain? I didn't believe it. Then the doctor tried to convince me sprains can hurt more than breaks because your muscles and tendons get all torn up. Well, apparently that's what happened because in the next few hours my foot turned lovely shades of blue and purple.

But on with the good stuff. I demanded that we still go to Plymouth. Tom tried to convince me that it was okay to stay home and relax, but I wanted nothing of the sort. So off we went, Tom driving and me in the back seat with my leg propped up and my new, shiny crutches beside me.

Source

When we got there we decided to take a walk around the ocean (yes, literally around the entire ocean). Tom walked, and I hobbled as fast as I could trying to keep up. I don't think I really knew how to use my crutches because after about five steps I was out of breath and my abs and arms ached. I had just run three miles the day before, but apparently I was more out of shape than I thought. I never actually kept up with Tom either. If I haven't said it before, he's a tall one (6'8") and his one step is about six of mine even without crutches. Needless to say, his weekend away consisted of a lot of slow walking and waiting.

Despite my slowness, we saw some sites and even decided to go fishing on the jetty the next morning. Since I could only handle my crutches, Tom had a backpack, a fishing pole, another bag with some sunscreen in it and a cooler on the off chance we actually caught a fish (we don't travel light).

On the way out on the jetty (which is a walkway of large boulders, mind you, with lots of gaps)...here's a picture of one so you can get a visual:

{Source} It was like this but a little more flat with larger rocks (deemed do-able with crutches by me and Tom). The man with the sweet pants in this picture is not Tom. Picture this guy with a bigger cooler and a few more bags, and that was Tom. 

So on the way out on the jetty, an old man sitting in the parking lot starts hollering at us, "I wouldn't do that if I were you!" "That's not smart!" and on and on. These rocks really were flat and some of the cracks even had cement in them. And they weren't wet. So was I taking a risk? Yes, a bit. But was this old timer nosey-ing his way into our anniversary weekend that I was determined not to ruin? YES. And he was pissing me off a bit because he was sabotaging my concentration. It takes concentration to walk on big rocks with crutches, you know. So we gave a little wave like we've got this, old man. And went on with our business.

Our jetty adventure was successful in the sense that I didn't fall, but we didn't catch a fish, and Tom had to carry me on the way back because I got scared (the old man got to me). So not only did he have all our bags, the fishing pole and the cooler, he also had my crutches and me on his back. I have no idea how he did it. Good thing he's big and strong.

Later that night we went out to eat. At the restaurant I had only what I can describe as a contraction, in my foot, that radiated up my calf and into my leg. I couldn't help but moan as it happened, and Tom looked at me like will you quiet down? Do you realize we're in a public place? But I couldn't. My foot was in labor and I had never felt anything like it. Except a baby didn't pop out at the end, I just got more black and blue marks. Now that I have been through actual labor, I can tell you this really was an equivalent pain. I don't know what was going on in my leg, but it was not good.

And sticking with the labor theme...on our second anniversary I was sitting in a hospital bed holding my brand new baby boy who was just one day old. It was amazing (and a tad painful, which brought back memories of our first anniversary).

Here's to a pain free third anniversary!

And here we are in the hospital

If you didn't notice, Carter has gigantic feet. Takes after his Daddy.

Part 1: Do You Want to Know What Happened...

...on our first anniversary?

It was a Friday in May 2010, I was volunteering at a pregnancy help center close to our apartment. It was me and three sixty/seventy-year-olds. The plan was that I would go volunteer in the morning, Tom would get out of work early, we'd meet back at our apartment and we'd drive to Plymouth, MA to do some touristy things like walking out on the jette, eating out and just having fun being lazy for the weekend.

After a morning filled with baby-clothes-separating, the director asked me to grab a few empty boxes and take them to the trash on the way to my car. I said "sure, no problem," grabbed them and walked out the door. Unfortunately, there was a stoop about four feet wide,which I forgot was there. I kept on walking as if I was already on the pavement, but to my dismay the stoop stopped and I rolled my ankle on my unexpected step down (I don't want to say just rolled my ankle because that sounds like it was nothing. I basically stepped down, it turned to the right, I heard a pop and instantly felt dizzy). Somehow I managed not to fall and I kept hold of the boxes. I was in a daze and wasn't really sure what to do so I just stood there, on my one good foot, in excrutiating pain. I had sprained my ankle before, but this pain was so much worse. I even fractured my leg on another occasion and this hurt three times as bad. As my hearing started to go and blackness started to cover my eyes I heard the old ladies scrambling after me. I passed out for a second and one of the seventy-somethings caught me and another brought out a chair. Yes. Me, the (at the time) twenty-two year old was the one who got injured, and not my brittle-boned companions. 

Tom ended up coming to pick me up, and we spent the afternoon at the hospital. Not exactly a great start to the weekend.

I Laugh When People Fall

It's just a reflex. I don't want people to fall, I feel bad, I hope they're not hurt, but despite all of my good intentions, I laugh. Once in college I remember seeing a kid fall off his skateboard trying to be Mr. Cool while passing a group of girls. I had to turn around and walk the other way (I'm not completely horrible, his friends were there to help him).

Sometimes I even laugh when Carter takes a little spill. How bad is that? He'll teeter while holding onto his toy box, fall onto his little fluff bum and sometimes tip over. Even though I'm springing into action to catch him, when it's all over, I find myself trying to stifle a laugh. I think it's the wide eyes he gets when he realizes he's going down (coupled with the fact that I know he's not going to get hurt).

Sometimes when I laugh, though, I think to myself how horrible of a mother can I be? 

I really hope I can get over these laughing fits by the time Carter is older. How nice would that be for him to be learning how to ride a bike, he tips over, and here comes dear mom to the rescue, laughing all the way?

I think Tom would appreciate if I could get over it too. I don't only laugh at falling, but I have a weakness for little/non-serious injuries as well.

Sometimes it gets me into trouble because it has gotten Tom kind of pissed on quite a few occasions. He'll just get Carter down for a nap, turn, stub his toe on the crib, cringe in pain, and I have to run out of the room covering my mouth with both hands. Sometimes a little giggle slips out, Carter hears it, flails, and we're back at square one.

It's pretty bad, but I make up for it because I laugh at my own falls and injuries too. And I don't mind being laughed at when I fall because...it's just hilarious.

Mom Brain Follow Up

Source
This is not actually me, but it might as well be. 

Just thought I'd let you know that in addition to melting my food processor I have also done the following this weekend:

1. threw out T's good razor (not a disposable) while cleaning the bathroom
2. put salad away in the cupboard
3. spilled a large Dunkin Donuts iced coffee that T was saving in the fridge for morning (there was a coffee flood in our kitchen)
4. dropped a bag of groceries and broke the eggs
5. put the broken eggs back in the grocery bag, which then leaked on the floor (it was a paper bag).

This has not been my week. A girl could use a nap. Luckily, T is sweet and let me sleep in this morning and took C, hopefully it helped.

Mom Brain

I thought Pregnancy Brain was bad, but it turns out Mom Brain is even worse. The other night I decided to make pasta for dinner. The food processor was out on the stove because I needed to clean it after making some baby food, and there wasn't any room on the counter due to the dinner-making (we don't have lots of counter space).

Things you need to know:
1. We have a gas stove
2. The processor was on the back right burner
3. The "Power Plus" burner (perfect for boiling water) is the front right burner

Just before turning on the Power Plus burner, I thought I have to move the food processor before I turn it on. Then Carter squeaked and I went over to help him retrieve his toy from under the couch and when I returned to the kitchen, I put the water on. Then I scooped up little Carter and took him downstairs to switch a cloth diaper load of laundry (luckily it was cloth diapers because that's the fastest kind of laundry to switch from the washer to the dryer). On my way up the stairs I smelled this horrible burning smell, so I started to run up the stairs a bit faster. It smelled like the time I burned the clutch in my Dad's Jeep Wrangler at the beach {woops, it was a true mistake, we were stuck!}

I rushed into the kitchen to find this:

It was a sad day. Now my once only-used-a-few-times food processor looks like a piece of shih-tzu poodle.

If I only had a brain...