Happy Halloween!

Wishing the Internet lots of candy and little scares on this Halloween!

Something About That Water

So we've spent the last several days struggling between letting the dog be thirsty or letting our daughter have her way with the dog's water dish. She's absolutely obsessed with it. She's crawling around the house like she's jet propelled and if she's anywhere on the end of the house where the kitchen is, all that's of importance is the.dog's.water.dish.

She scrambles over to it at mach five speed and loves to splash her hands in it. Today I got to her one second too late and she was up to her elbows in it --shirt soaking and everything!

If we take up the water dish, not only do we have a dog that looks distraught, we've got a daughter who wonders where her baby pool has vanished to.

Yuck.

Routers, Sleeping, School Oh My!

So I've been busy to say the least.


The little one has been a bit under the weather, but that hasn't deterred any of her sneaky ways.


The other day we were having all kinds of internet connection issues. We'd have a connection and then it would die and I'd reboot and then we'd be good to go again for a little bit and then randomly it would die out again. The router and dsl modem lights looked good. They were warm to the touch,but not too warm...it was just strange. Come to find out, the little stinker that I call daughter who's just turned eight months old, unplugged the router HALF.WAY. So we were teetering on having a connection and not having one. She could have just unplugged it all the way...but nooo half way so mommy and daddy could get frazzled and it would take us longer to figure out the problem.


She's still resisting sleep. She'd rather be awake and taking in her environment. It's not like she's in a bad mood when she's awake when she should be sleeping,it's just that firstly, she needs sleep and secondly, she's such a busy body these days with the crawling and standing that it's hard to keep up with her and wow is it exhausting! So the other night we put her down to bed at 6pm. She slept for 30 minutes, which is all she ever sleeps for unless its super late at night. Thirty minutes and she's awake like clock work right on the dot not a minute too soon or too late. I try my best to get her back to sleep but she refuses. 7pm passes by. 8pm passes by. 9pm passes by. 10pm passes by. Then I'm holding her in my arms rocking her as I stand in the doorway of the computer room talking with my husband. Taped to the wall next to me is a sign I made labeled "sleeping" which I use to tape on to the door of the computer room when the munchkin is napping in her travel crib so he'll know not to disturb the room and wake her. Our daughter takes a close look at the sign, grimmaces and snorts out a chuckle and then like a wild banshee snatches the sign off the wall, crumples it up, and rips it in half. We had to laugh because quite obviously she was telling us just.exactly.what.she.thought.of.sleeping.


Yesterday, I took my daughter to the school I used to teach at. My previous co workers had seen pictures of her, but never had the chance to meet her so yesterday was a good day to visit. I brought her down to the second grade classrooms and had a good chat with my teaching team mates. In one of the classrooms there's a large floor rug that children gather and sit on to read. I put my little one down so she could show off her crawling skills to the children. They smiled and giggled at her and she just hammed it up loving every minute of it. As a proud mother of an 8 month old, I have to say, she did a great job at the school around so many swarming kids. Then, while on the rug still, she crawled right over to the bookcase, sat down next to it, and started dragging out books to read. I'm amazed that she knew what to do!


Well, Im out of time...by now she's probably got the dog hanging by his tail from the stairwell banister and opened every drawer in the house that she could reach and pulled out it's contents.

BABY 1 MOMMY 0

Our house guests have finally left. It seems as though, with the leaving of my inlaws, Teething Hell has moved in.


The little one is teething so badly. We went through four pairs of pajamas last night just from her constant drooling. I.must.find.her.plastic.backed.bibs.


She's crabby. She's tired. Her mouth hurts. I can't blame her. But with her lack of sleep, it's leading to my lack of sleep, which is leading to my husband's lack of sleep...however, find peace of mind knowing--the dog is sleeping JUST FINE!


The only time she's not tossing a fit is when I'm carrying her around in the body carrier. This leads to achey muscles, which let me tell you, are a really lovely addition to being exhausted.


Wish me luck. I hope I survive this.

Truth

If your husband hiccups in for two hours long in hour intervals, and your baby is teething and suddenly in pajamas that are too small and cramping their toes...you ~will~ lose any remaining sanity that you had.

Careful With Your Wording

What better way to celebrate Sweetest Day yesterday than to go out to dinner with the inlaws.


We walked up the street for some good Mexican food and margaritas. We were taken to a booth of our choice and given a highchair for the little one. The booth though was rather small to accomodate the four of us and the baby and the baby's toys and all of our outter clothing due to the onset of cold weather with the changing season.


"Here, I'm going to just put my coat and the baby's extra clothing layers on this chair over at the next table because we're so cramped with space."


"Oh, good idea, me too."


So we stack up our things on the chair next to our table just as the waiter approaches delivering chips and salsa.


The waiter glances at the clothes, glances at the baby, glances at us, and back at the clothes.


Maybe to my mother in law, he looked concerned about us using another table, so she opens dialogue with him.


"Well, if the restaurant fills up and you need us to move those, just let us know and we'll take our clothes off...."


And she pauses and smirks.


Then continues, "...the chair."


The waiter looked at us like we were crazy. We laughed endlessly while my husband looks to his mother and says, "You're cut off...already!"


His mother replies, "~but I haven't even had a margarita yet!"

Toys

I've cleaned the house and am waiting for the arrival of my inlaws to come back through the area on their car trip around the country. We've had so much company lately that I'm not sure what it feels like any more to ~not~ have company staying with us.


At any rate, I'm finishing up getting the house ready. I've vaccuumed, dusted, swiffered....made a roast, mashed potatoes, gravy. The key though to getting anything done when you've got an almost eight month old, I've found, is keeping them busy. And to be busy they need toys.


Mind you, she's got oodles and gobs of cute stuffed animals, blocks, plastic letters-one for each letter of the alphabet in stimulating colors and textures....things that light up, play songs, and make noise.


Those are chopped liver in her eyes right now apparently.


So you ask, what has really held her attention?


--An old chip bag that has all those neglected chip crumbs that one only eats out of chip desperation that I've stapled shut so she can whap it all over her play area without the gross dispersion of chippy tidbits in every which direction.


--A leather belt of mine. Mmm leather must be so tasty to a teething child.


--A cardboard hanger that one of her new bibs came on.


And best of all...


--Have your dog drink so much water that he hurls all over the hardwood floor that you just cleaned.


Talk about a look of sheer fascination, you'd think she had just seen Santa Claus.

Some People

I started playing the McDonald's Monopoly game. I play every time they have it just about...I've never won big and I don't even think I come close really, but at the very least it's a good excuse when I'm in the mood to eat poorly..."but hey we'll get game pieces...so let's go anyways..."


(Truthfully, McDonald's games were always a fun pasttime of mine. In highschool, I was a teacher's aide first period and she was fairly relaxed about attendance...soooo every Monday morning was Bingo at the local McDonalds. I'd skip my first period and go play McDonalds Bingo. I'd always win lots of food coupons for free food...and when you're in highschool, free food is always a plus. I also won pens and mugs and other random items that they were giving away...not to forget all the social skills I was working on. It was a great adventure and then I'd head to school and start my day off having won free food for later and having stuffed myself full of an endless cup of soda. The only real downfall was that my mother never understood why all the old people in town knew me and why we got so many "strangers" waving to us. I think at the time I just told her they were just being extra friendly people. "C'mon mom, why can't people just be friendlyyyyyyy? Do they really have to have a reason to wave?" --She's all the wiser now and she still loves me.)


Anyways, so the Monopoly game is back on again and I'm seeking out tickets because someday I think I'm going to win and I'm going to win big! (Just let me say that-I say it every time.)


I won a free breakfast sandwich, so that gave me reason to take the little one there this morning and cash in my prize ticket.




Copyright Insanity Infusion


But before I sat down to enjoy this, I really needed to use the washroom.


Strollers are a pain to maneuver through doorways. Especially if you have one of the big heavy travel combo deals like I have. So with my body propping open the bathroom door, my hands are trying to pull the stroller through the door frame without getting the wheels hung up on anything which would undoubtedly slow me down even moreso.


As I'm standing there fiddling and finaggling my way in, a woman approaches behing the stroller who wants in the bathroom.


An older crotchety woman.


She gives me this look of "moveitorIlleatyoubecauseIhaventhadmycoffeeyetandIhavetopee" look. And then proceeds to push my stroller, that has my daughter in it, out of her way and through the door.


Not taking my hand off the stroller, I just look at the woman. I was taken aback by the nerve she had of moving my daughter out of her way when I was very well in the middle of doing that and doing a fine job at it too.


In this bathroom there are two stalls. One regular small stall and then one large stall handicap accessible.


I look at the woman and say as I point to the small stall, "So, if you want to take that stall, I'll take the big one if no one's in it."


"Oh? Well, is someone in it?" and then she walks over to the large stall door and knocks.


No answer.


So the woman opens the door and walks in. She walks.in.to.the.big.stall.


So I continue, "orrrr I guess I'll wait until you're done and THEN I'll use the stall."


She stops in her tracks. "Oh, you're going to use this one?"


No lady, I was planning on leaving the stroller and unhooking my daughter and taking off her bazillion layers of clothing because it was cold outside when we left the house and there's no way she'd fit inside the small stall unless I took off all her layers not with me in the stall as well not to mention managing to hold her while I used the facility at the same time.


But instead I say, "Well, yeah I HAD planned on it since I DID need to bring the stroller with me..."


The woman replies, "Fine. I'll use this one."


And she walks to the regular sized stall and slams the door.


Some people are so strange.

Turn Right

We decided to go for a walk tonight. The three of us. Got all bundled up and as we leave I realize it's raining.


"Oh, let me grab an umbrella."


"We don't need one...it's going to stop."


So out we go and walk a few blocks and the rain continues.


"Going to stop eh? I think it's starting to rain harder..."


"Well...I mean, it's got to stop eventually some day."


We continue on a few more blocks and as we approach a side alley we notice a man who looks a lot like Bob Marley walk up ahead of us.


We stopped to chat a bit about whether or not we wanted to go get coffee or if we wanted to go to the pub for a beer and an appetizer before our tv show started which we had to be home for.


We opt for the pub and my husband says, "Turn right!"


So instead of walking on the main sidewalk, and mind you it's still raining, we walk down this side alley instead to cut through the buildings and get to the pub in a more timely fashion.


It was dark and gloomy in the alley and my husband turns to me and asks, "Geeeeesh, who's idea was it to walk down this dark alley anyways..."


Just as those words rolled off his tongue, we see the Bob Marley look alike standing up against the wall around the corner of a small inlet...


and...


he's PEEING! Right.there.peeing.in.the.wide.open.up.against.the.brick.wall. Gross.


So naturally my husband starts up a conversation with the man, and the man returns the same friendly conversation.


Is this a man thing? They acted as if it didn't happen. As if they were at a ballgame together. And on our way we went.


The child in me, who still laughs when someone burps really loudly, couldn't help but to try my best from chuckling at a strange man oddly peeing out in the wide open on the side of a building. I burried my face into my daughter's hat as we walked past, as I was carrying her in the front body carrier.


She wasn't any the wiser so she just stared at the man.


I am pretty sure though that as we passed by and were nearly out of earshot...I heard the man say, "oh @#$!%^".


I don't think he expected to see us any more than we expected to see him, but hey...it got us to the pub faster and we made it home for the start of our show!

Hair is a funny thing.

In response to this post.


My husband was in a similar situation in college. He didn't have a good hair stylist to go to and he decided he'd just start wearing it short short. Instead of going through the rigamarole of finding someone though, he thought he'd just do it himself with electric clippers.


That worked out great. However, on occassion my husband gets starry eyed and a romantic twinge hits him. He thought it would be ~special~ if I cut his hair. Trust me. This.was.a.bad.idea.to.start.with.


My husband, myself, and his younger sister were all living together when he calls me in to the bathroom.


"Hey, you wanna cut my hair, please?" handing me the clippers.


Of course his younger sister joins the fun. She probably had a good idea that this was going to turn out poorly and didn't want to miss a moment of it.


"Me?? Why me? Why not your sister? I'm not good at this."


I dawdled and dawdled and figgeted and twiddle my fingers and swung that clipper left and then right and twirled it through the air several times...


"Really? You want me to cut your hair? I haven't a clue how to do this!"


"You just take the clippers and run it over my head...it's simple..JUST.DO.IT."


I was nervous and when I'm nervous I become even more clumbsy than I already am. So because of this, I drop the clippers on the floor. And in the process of them dropping, the razor length clip on gauge falls off leaving the shaver bare. And a bare shaver would only be used for very very close cut shaving.


I scramble and pick up the razor length clip gauge and snap it back onto the electric clippers.


Meanwhile, my sister-in-law is getting antsy and my husband is getting impatient...no one wants to wait for me to worry about it any longer...they.just.want.me.to.cut.


In haste, my husband grabs the clippers from my hand and swipes it over the front middle part of his head.


His sister let out a "GAASSSSSSSP!!" followed by extreme laughter.


This was then followed by me crying with endless, "ohmygawdimsosorryifeelsobadpleasedonthateme!"


You see, when the clippers fell and I grabbed the gauge to put it back onto the clippers...what I didn't realize at the time was that I didn't grab the one inch gauge..I grabbed the 1/8th inch gauge.


So, needless to say....that short short hair style my husband wanted...he got..in an extreme way!


I think about all my husband said was, "OH @#$%^&!>..." and then proceeded to shave the rest of his head.


I still feel bad about this...although it does make me giggle. And honestly, it WAS an accident!

I Didn't Think I Would

On our walk home today, we passed the school yard with all the children playing. I didn't think I'd miss teaching. This is the first year in seven that I haven't gone back to work. I ~love~ being home, don't get me wrong. There's nothing that could change my mind about spending my days being a full time mommy, but for the first time since taking on this new job, I actually have a tinge of missing teaching.


I was looking through some of my old photos, and reflected back on the end of this past school year when we had our class picnic. Myself and my two team teachers surprised the children when we mysteriously disappeared for a few moments (leaving them fully supervised mind you) to snatch up some Super Soakers and absolutely DRENCHED the children.


It really made up for all those days that they gave us a hard time. Oh yeah? Remember when you didn't do your homework? Remember when you mouthed off? Remember when you didn't raise your hand to talk and you tore up that other student's paper? Well, it's payback time!!...


And what did they say?


"MORE!! Hit me again!!"


and


"Hey!! You didn't get ME!! GET ME GET ME!!"


and when our water guns were empty...in a thundering unison, all 80 students belted out,


"REFILL REFILL REFILL REFILL!!!!!!!!"


That certainly wasn't what we had expected, but it sure was fun.


I got you!
Copyright Insanity Infusion

Professional Mommy

My husband and I were discussing baby names. While everyone has a right to name their child whatever they want, I sometimes wonder why parents give children some of the names they have.


This one couple in particular that we know, named one of their children after a beany dinner and their second child after a state.


This then brought up our next topic of discussion: having a nanny.


This couple also has a nanny to tend to their children, because the wife is busy being a 'career' woman....a 'professional'. While I think it's wonderful that women are thrilled to be part of the work force...when you have children, if you can afford to, why not stay home and be a 'professional' mommy? Why work so you can then pay someone else to watch your child/children grow up?


I'm thankful to be a 'professional' mommy to our daughter...and I told my husband this. It feels good (yet completely exhausting) to spend our entire day together and be the first one to see her when she wakes up and be the last one to see her before she falls asleep.


I continue, "You know, the paycheck I get is far better being a professional mommy than being a professional in any other job I could have..."


"...we're so rich this way...we're given so much by watching our daughter grow and not having someone else getting all the special moments because we're working outside the home..."


Shortly after, my daughter passes an earth shaking amount of gas to which my husband responds, "...I think she just left you some currency in her diaper...must be payday."


Men and women rarely see the romance in things the same way I'm learning.

Can Carry Only So Much

I thought it would be a great idea to walk a mile away to a grocery store with my 20 pound child in the Bjorn body carrier with a backpack on my back to carry home the groceries in. That was not such a great idea. See here.


But then I stopped at Walgreens to pick up some other things, which I added to my backpack.


Then I stopped at the market to pick up even more things.


Backpack was stuffed by the time I got home, not to mention I had a bag to carry by hand as well!


All the while on our return, the baby was sound asleep nestled warm against me. If she only knew that I was about to drop dead toward the end.


I told the market clerk..."If when you get off your work shift today and you see me lying in the street passed out cold, please drag me off to the side out of traffic's way. Thank you."


Now that I'm home, I'm exhausted.

Superman - Rest In Peace

Christopher Reeve passed away yesterday. I can't help but mourn his death. My entire life, while there aren't Superheros in tights fighting crime in the streets, you just couldn't help but to think that Superman was real.


And when didn't good prevail over evil? I think we all hoped that he would fully recover from his spinal cord injury...I think we all believed deep down inside that he would, after all -- when didn't Superman win?


Rest in peace, Superman. May you be running and flying free while fighting crime where ever you are.


You will be missed.

Don't

Don't tell me my new Fairie Dust nail polish should be called Disco Hooker instead.

Truth

If you hang yourself half way off your swing and semi upside down while it's in motion and hold youself like that for awhile after I've fed you a bowl of oatmeal, you will spit up all over the floor.


And you don't need to keep checking to see if your spit up is still on the floor with each tick tock of your swing. It will still be there each time you check until I wipe it up.


And if you drop your biscuit on the floor off the same side of the swing before I get a chance to wipe up your spit, your biscuit will be covered in spit and trust me, you won't want it any more. So there's no need to cry for it because you can't reach it.

Beautiful Brown Fat

So today I learned something new.


Brown Fat.


On the base of my daughter's neck in the back where her neck and shoulders meet, she's got the cutest little pudge of fat--charmingly chewable. I pointed it out to my husband, and he says, "Oh yeah--brown fat."


Like I was supposed to know this? Is this common knowledge that I'm just naturally clueless about?


I guess it's something newborns and hibernating animals share alike. In newborns, it a layer of fat in the lower neck area that helps the body regulate a core temperature and to aid in keeping the blood warm as it travels to the brain.


Most humans grow out of and lose this fat, while bears keep it their whole life due to their hibernation habits.


Although 'brown fat' doesn't make the idea of 'fat' sound any better, it sure does look cute on my daughter. I guess it's called 'brown' because the actual fat under the skin looks darker than regular fat?


I was fascinated by this tidbit of trivia!


I married such a smarty!

Where's My Seat?

This has been on my mind for awhile. It's bothered me but I haven't had the words to write about it.

As you know, I pass the retirement home up the street from me on our daily walk.

On many occassion, I've noticed that in their dining room they have name tags that dedicate one seat to one person at a particular table setting. Why do they need name tags to dictate where they sit?

Is this a carry over from when you're young?...the ~cool~ lunch table...the ~cool~ seats on the back of the bus? I mean..is there an ~in~ table at the retirement home?

Come to think of it..maybe it's to help keep track of particular diets. Mrs. Smith can't have salt. Mr. Jones can't have sugar. You think?

I'm bothered that they have name tags.

If it is because of particular diets, is it such an impersonal place that the workers can't know a resident by face? so much so that they need to have name tags?

Or maybe it's because particular residents don't get along well so they put name tags down to keep them from sitting at the same table...a sort of keeping the peace so no brawls break out?

But even then, you'd think in their ripe age they'd manage to either keep their own distance or have learned how to play nice by now.

I mean really, why the name tags? I feel like going in there and scooping them all up.

You Aren't

Don't zoom up to the stop sign in your Dodge truck like a bat out of hell, so that I'll look up at you in your cheap sunglasses and wrinkled button down.

And don't assume I'll think you're cool, because you know how to push down your gas pedal.

You're also not cool when you don't let me cross the street with my daughter at the cross walk, because you're too busy peeling out around the corner so you can park your truck up the street one block.

You aren't cool. You just aren't.

Ansty and Envious

I'd like to rearrange every piece of furniture in my house.

Today it just doesn't seem like it's organized the right way. There's the chance we'll be moving come April or so and that has me so antsy. I need to just hold tight and not go crazy and start rearranging furniture.

Somehow though I think a new look to the place would help me cope with the anticipation and stress of an upcoming move. But then I think, why bother?...you'll have to pack it all up into boxes if you ~do~ move.

My husband's uncle gave a call today and talked of all his great travels..."I flew here this last weekend, hopped over to X on Monday, then I'm off to X tomorrow on an early flight, and then to San Francisco on Wednesday next week...but first there's the dinner party this weekend at my house and wedding and and and..."

It just sounded so busy and fun and adventuresome.

It's Good To Have Friends

The older I get the more I realize how nice it is to have good friends.

Thank you to my friend and her family for coming over.

Thank you for sharing in the devouring of the sinful Atomic Cake too!


The Atomic Cake 

In Awe Endlessly

My Miracle 

It's still amazing to me that we have a daughter.

She's a miracle.

A beautiful creature that knows no hate or tragedy or illness or anything other than love and happiness.

I can't believe it some times.

Watch Out For the Post!

My parents are still visiting. We decided to head up to the British Pub up the street for some beverages and appetizers. It was a nice time-aside from the tumble our little one took from the highchair onto the floor (She's just fine!).

On our walk home, my mom decides she's going to roll the stroller while my husband carries our daughter.

As we pass this BMW parked along the edge of the parking lot, its alarm system goes ~beep beep~ and its lights flicker.

Mom stops briefly aghast thinking she caused the BMW to flicker and go beep beep. Upon looking up she realizes it wasn't her and sees a group of people heading toward the car and comments,

"Oh! That was youuu! I thought I made the car do that!!"

They smile and the owner jingles their car keys in our direction.

Meanwhile, Mom is so busy being friendly and continuing the conversation, she doesn't notice this large metal sign post ahead of her....

PINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!

She walks the stroller dead on into it and it makes this loud, yet extremely comical, ping sound halting her movement.

We all started laughing, as did the group of people, with a said comment,

"But THAT ~was~ YOU!"

We laughed until we cried.