Brixton Makes Three

11 Things

2012-02-29T09:12:00.000-06:00

11 Things.

I've seen this floating around the past few days and Joan at Expecting the Unknown tagged me, so I'm excited to participate!

RULES.

1. You must post these rules

2. Post a photo of yourself and 11 random bit of info about yourself.

3. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post.

4. Create 11 new questions and tag people to answer them.

5. Let the people know you've tagged them!

1. I love languages. I've tinkered around with Norwegian, Swedish, Bosnian, Russian, Spanish, and German. Usually when I meet someone from another country I can say something to them in their language.

2. One time, when I was 19 and traveling in Belgium alone, I was semi-assaulted by a guy. He was very drunk and grabbed my arms and tried to headbutt me because I wouldn't give him a kiss on the cheek. I got out of it not by fighting back, but avoiding eye contact and talking very quietly. I figured if I escalated it it would get worse. He only spoke French, so it was all body language.

3. I've thrown a drink in a guy's face. Trust me, it was deserved. Not my proudest moment though.

4. One time when I was working at a hotel in San Diego, a man I knew in Germany came in randomly as a guest. We were shocked to see each other! Talk about a small world.

5. I grew up in a forest with wild peacocks and my brothers and I would chase them through the trees.

6. I smoked cigarettes on and off for about 10 years. Mostly occasionally, but I often had a pack at my house. Now the idea of smoking a cigarette makes me sick. I am so thankful I never became addicted to them.

7. I am still close friends with a core group of girls from high school. We talk often. One of them (and you know who you are, you little devil) has been my friend since we were 13 and we still played Barbies together when we were 14.

8. I wore a Jessica Simpson hair extension at my wedding. It was awesome. My hair would never have been as thick otherwise. It was expensive, but worth it for that special occasion. Later I cut it and ruined it.

9. I've been a Christian my whole life, always believing in Jesus, but struggled with following my faith. It's become a lot easier as I've gotten older, but now I have to work hard at undoing some bad habits I picked up along the way. Anyone who thinks life is easy as a Christian is nuts. It's constant reflection, change, prayer. It's not about guilt though.

10. If I could live anywhere in the world it would be...I have no idea. Nothing speaks to me. Everything speaks to me. I could live so many different lives. I think it's partly why I haven't been able to settle anywhere.

11. I am very sentimental and am prone to fits of nostalgia and melancholy thinking about the past. Life has so many good moments, it's too bad it goes by so fast.

Questions from Joan:

1. What movie could you watch over and over? So many. Chicago. Love Actually. Pretty Woman.

2. If you could pick up and move to any place, where would you go? See above.

3. Dream job?  Lottery Winner.  Seriously.  I would never "work" again.

4. How old were you when you moved out of your parent's house?

I was 19.  I moved to Germany for a year, came home and lived with my parents for a month, packed up my car and drove to San Diego with nothing but a few wistful dreams.

5. What color walls do you have in your bedroom?

Violet and gray.

6. If you could meet one person, dead or alive, who would it be?

I would love to meet any of my great-grandparents.  They seem really interesting.

7. What inspires you?

The thought of being a better Christian.  Also, a nice sunny day.

8. What is your favorite band and genre of music? 

I'm not really into music.  I like 80s music.  I like Latin music.  I just don't really have favs.

9. What was your worst nightmare and best dream?

Worst nightmare was that Brendan died.  I wrote about that dream here.  Best dream?  I have awesome dreams all the time.  My dreams are very, very vivid and I remember most of them.  Every night is a party!

10. When was the last time you sent snail mail and who to and what was it? 

I sent a birthday card to my bestie.

11. Describe the last time you got pulled over. Well, the cop totally lied and said I didn't stop at a stop sign. I promise you I did. Anyway, he gave me the ticket and I told him I wanted to tell him something. I told him I appreciated the work they do out there on the streets and thanked him. I was serious. I think he thought I was crazy. *Shrug* I tried. This was about 12 years ago.

My questions:

1. What natural disaster freaks out you the most?
2. What period of history would you like to go back to?
3. Manicure or pedicure?
4. What time period in your life would you like to live again?
5. What kind of a parent do you think you are? (Or will be)
6. How do you keep your patience with your kids/husband when they are driving you crazy?
7. Favorite thing on TV.
8. How interested in celebrity gossip are you?
9. What did you major in in college? Would you change it now? (Or would you have gone if you didn't?)
10. Are you a firearm owner?
11. Favorite thing about yourself (looks or personality).

I'm Tagging:

Kim at *Yep, They Are All Mine
Courtney at Baxtron Life
Deanna at Delirious Rhapsody
Liv at Soul Singing Liv

Belly Button

2012-02-25T17:24:00.000-06:00

Brixton found my belly button today.  

I don't have a picture of it and you're welcome.

We were playing on the floor when a little section of my shirt lifted up.  Brixton's eyes took in my saggy, stretched out, hairy, sad belly button like he had just discovered a new planet or something.  His left hand reached tentatively for it.  Making contact, he quickly took his hand away.  Same with the right hand. Maybe he took his hand away so quickly because each time he touched me I'd do a really loud roar in his face. 

Ok, I didn't do that, but that would have been an interesting experiment.  

Feeling a bit exposed and disgusted with the way the sunlight was streaming in and highlighting all the yuckiness of my button, I pulled my shirt back down.

Brixton pulled my shirt back up.

And back down.  He glanced at me.  Then back up went the shirt. 

"Look, you have one too!" I unzipped his outfit to show him.  This involved me having to squish his own tummy in a bit just so he could peek over the top of it.  He touched it.  Not impressed I guess.  No hair.  Couldn't fit a penny in there.   He reached for my shirt again.

When I pulled it down, he cried.  That "I want that NOW" cry.  Good thing newborns come out all sweet and small and sometimes quiet.  Because if they came out a bit older I'm not sure any of us would be here.   And you can't rationalize to a 9 month old why you don't want him constantly pulling your shirt up and staring at your stomach region.  

"You used to live in there" I always tell him.  (Then I want to tell him, And thanks for ruining it, but I always refrain, cuz, ya know, he's worth it).

So you just pull your shirt up and let him stare (uncomfortably) at your flabby, furry, floppy belly button.

**If you read this during dinner time, my sincere apologies.**

Five Things

2012-02-22T08:51:00.000-06:00

1. So you know how I've been like, "I'm not eating sugar, it's awesome, I feel great"?

Well.

Something bad happened today. It's called the Easter candy aisle. Why are you already there Easter candy aisle?! I couldn't help it, really. It was about lunch time, I was hungry, those sweet pastel colors look so gentle and kind. Malted Milk eggs aren't really that bad for you right? I mean it's just malted milk. Reese's Pieces in a carrot-shaped bag? Kind of like a vegetable. Milk chocolate eggs? I just about passed them by until I read the part where it actually said "Extra-Creamy Milk Chocolate." I had to try that out. Cadbury eggs? Ok, those are so bad for you, but oh-so-good too (but mostly not that great, I was just hungry at the time. I don't really even like those that much. Just got them for Brendan. *Wink wink*).

So far I've cracked the seal on the malted milk balls. Eh. I'm kind of over those already. The Reese's are just straight up gone, with the exception of two little pieces sitting right next to me as I type this. (Edit: gone). (Second Edit: Milk Chocolate eggs are gone too. 3 days later).

Brendan called me a little bit ago. "Guess what this is," I told him and then crunched into a Reese's. "A chip?" "Would that be note-worthy?" I asked all sarcastic, you know, because sugar makes me annoyed and angry. "It's a Reese's." I said defiantly, pouring a few more into my mouth and crunching loudly as he cried out, "Baaaaaabbbee..nooooooooooooooooooo!"

2. I bought a rolltop desk from a used furniture store for our new place. Brendan has his "man-desk" with all his important man stuff on it and there's no place for my delicate lady stuff. The desk is wood, scratched, old. $50. I got a huge burst of inspiration and energy yesterday after packing a few (more) boxes for our move.

I decided I'm going to paint the desk. Colonial Red.

After a covert trip to Home Depot, I fired up the sander, strapped on my face mask and started sanding. And sanding. And sanding. I woke up last night numerous times because my arms were burning. On fire. Sore. Aching. I actually had to get up and take some Advil just so I could sleep again.

And today? More sanding. The fun part--priming and painting--aren't here yet.

Brendan isn't very supportive of this project, my first furniture painting venture BTW. I tend to rush through stuff and just want the end product instead of doing it right and someone usually has to pick up my pieces, so maybe that's why he groaned last night on the phone and said, Really?

But I think it's gonna be awesome! And even if it's not I still have to keep it.

3. Brixton's entering into that Separation Anxiety phase of babyhood. I've noticed during several recent outings, that if there are a lot of people he doesn't know around us, he'll look up at me and then reach his little hand out to touch me. Sometimes he tries to fall into my lap (since he can't crawl yet) so that I'll pick him up. It's really cute, but I know where this can go: Daddy can't hold him, he's freaked out at classes, it's mama, mama for everything.

It's a fairly short phase though. And kind of precious, so I think I'll just soak it up.

4. We are moving in T-10 days. I want to/don't want to. Most of my reluctance stems from my lack of interest in packing. I hate packing. I've also been donating and selling things left and right. Lots to do still. And now a desk to paint. I do have great timing don't I? (I had to do the desk now though, while we have a garage.)

5. I haven't been to the gym in a long time. :-( When I know a big change, like a move, is coming, I lose focus. I can only focus on what's coming up and I can't "live in the moment." I doubt I'll have lost my last few lbs. of baby fat to be back at my pre-baby weight. Oh well. Maybe by his birthday.

The Night I Woke Brixton Up for Cuddles at 11:30pm

2012-02-17T06:00:00.000-06:00

I was really hyper the other night. I couldn't simmer down and get ready for bed. Brendan was out of town, so I sat on the couch watching the Food Network and checking out blogs.

Finally at 11:30 I decided to turn in. But not alone. Brixton made a few little peeps and I thought it would be so much fun(!!!) to have him sleep next to me. So I got him up.

He was wide-awake, but so was I.

Did I mention he was wide-awake?

Wide-awake.

We played. He kicked and squealed. We tried Skyping my mom. At 12:15am we turned off the lights and played with a flashlight, the light shining all over the room, reflecting off of mirrors and making fun shapes on the ceiling. Then we played with the seahorse. Brixton was enthralled. I imagined him thinking, "This is the best night EVER!"

12:30 seemed like a good time to go to sleep. At least it did to me. Brixton didn't think so. He thought it was time to hit, pinch, pull hair, roll over, roll onto me, drool (or was that me?), lose his paci seven times, and pull the blanket over his head and make suffocating sounds.

I did my best to ignore him. It wasn't hard. He kept looking at me to see if I was looking at him. And obviously I was since I know that. Every time we'd make eye contact, he'd smile, which is hard to not return.

45 minutes later he was settling down. By settling down I mean he was only hitting, pinching, rolling, squirming, and moving every 30 seconds rather than every 5 seconds.

Eventually we both fell asleep, but this was by far the worst night's sleep I've had since his birth, including the entire newborn stage. Co-sleeping would have never worked with this baby. All through the night he cried out, rolled over, smacked me, pulled all the blankets off of him and even once managed to put his foot on my mouth. Any hopes of him feeling tired and sleeping-in were dashed when he woke up as energetic and chipper as a bluebird at 7:15am, discovered mommy next to him, and practiced using his eagle talons to carve his name into my face.

There was one tender moment. At one point in the night, he rolled right into me, cuddled up onto my arm and slept for a bit. We were curled right into each other and his little head was right under my face. I breathed in his dreamy baby scent and felt my heart grow.

Then, his tiny angel hand grabbed mine, he looked into my eyes and said, "Mama."

Okay, that last bit didn't happen, oh, but a mama can dream can't she?

Reading

2012-02-16T07:00:00.000-06:00

I'm a reader. I love reading. I clearly remember reading as a kid, a little kid, about 4 or 5 years old. I really want Brixton to also have a love of reading. So, we read. Every day. Okay, almost every day, but definitely at bedtime.

I'm kind of a dramatic reader. Just makes the story more interesting, ya know? Each animal in "Brown Bear, Brown Bear" has it's own voice and/or sound that it makes. Some of the birds even "fly". Brixton loves it. I just go on auto-pilot, reading out loud while thinking about lists, finances, blog posts, weather. You'd never know it though by how engaged my purple cat sounds.

Generous friends gave us some books in German. You've never really gotten to know The Very Hungry Caterpillar unless you've read it in German as "The Small Never Full Caterpillar." Translations are fun. One thing that is universal? That caterpillar becomes a beautiful butterfly--the highlight of my dramatic reading, as the butterfly flies high overhead, flapping its wings and coming in close for a kiss.

Reading time is also cuddle time. We might not need to read a book every day, but this mama is in major need of a daily cuddle.

Here are some of our favorites:

Good Night Moon
Sheep in a Jeep
Everywhere Babies
Snuggle Puppy
Baby Beluga (Ok, this is one of my favs..Brixton seems to not like it like I do)
Anything Eric Carle

I can't wait till he's a little older and I can introduce him to the Llama Drama books..what else am I missing? I need some fresh ideas!

Brixton: 9 Months of Love

2012-02-14T07:00:00.000-06:00

Oh, gag, right?

9 Months of Love? Okay, I'm being silly here, it being V-Day and all. Really though, there's been a lot of love surrounding this little guy. I can't believe he's 9 months old, just like next month you'll be reading that I can't fathom that he's 10 months..and on and on.

Nothing much to report. Still not crawling. Eating lots of stuff. Only two teeth. Really fun. Loves to fall backwards and have you catch him. Loves music class. Skyped with Daddy the other day and freaked out with happiness. Really a big fan of the vacuum.

Looks like Brendan's weak brown eye gene LOST. Blue eyes like mama's it is. And now you will get a car for your 16th birthday little guy.*

This tie? From my parents. Bugs. There's a praying mantis under the beetle. Geek-chic.

I gave Brix a bathtime haircut the night before these pics were taken. It's HARD to give a baby a haircut. It turned out pretty good, but I didn't take pics of the back, some parts I would label as 'questionable.'

I can't believe I have to come up with a 1st birthday party theme soon. I'm thinking cake. Balloons. Some gifts. Maybe a pony or a rideable giraffe. A catered meal. Renting out the zoo. I'm thinking small. I love you, but don't expect much, kid.

*j/k

Stuffing is Delicious

2012-02-13T18:00:00.000-06:00

Yeah, I didn't mean the kind you find at Thanksgiving. I meant the kind you find on your floor after your dog tears apart yet another one of her stuffed toys.

Yum!

Green-Eyed Baby Monster

2012-02-12T15:09:00.000-06:00

This is life lately:

"I'm pregnant!"

"We are expecting number ___ in ____!"

"Please welcome __________ _____________ to the world!"

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.

Just so we're clear, I'm not.

But it feels like everyone else is. And can I be honest? I'm jealous. I thought one little baby would be enough for me. One little warm body, one time going through the newborn stage, one life to raise and teach. It's not enough for me. I want another.

Problem: Brendan doesn't.

I really didn't expect this. Every time I see the happy news on my Google Reader, or the Facebook update, or the clandestine call, I feel that sharp sting behind my eyes. Disappointment. Resignation. Sadness.

Brendan's probably the only one of us thinking with his brain though, and not his hormones (or anything else..a-hem). I'm not a person who functions well in high-stress environments. More kids=more stress=more irritable mommy=no fun.

So, yeah, he must be right.

Because I don't want to experience this again:

Or kiss on some disgusting gummy-smiled mouth. I mean, uh, gross..

Baby faces aren't really that cute anyways..

And anyway, to get this:

You first have to go through this:

And I'm ~~not interested~~ ~~in doing that again~~ sure I would do that again if I got another cute little baby. As long as I could have a guarantee that this baby would actually not grow so fast, not weigh 23 lbs. at 9 months, not already be wearing 18 month clothing. You know, I'd like to have a BABY and not a toddler right off.

Brendan tells me that I just want Brixton to be a tiny baby again, and maybe he's right. Maybe this is just like a biological mirage that tricks you into making another and another and another, because of that promised tiny baby that you can visualize in the distance.

For now, maybe forever, we are a one-kid house.

Pretty Much Everyday

2012-02-10T06:00:00.000-06:00

The anti-thesis of a Steppin' Out post picture. This is the real deal. This is the Stayin' In picture.

I put the Christmas lights up, appropriately, at Christmas. They are staying. We've decided to triple the Christmas lights in his new room. It's such a nice glow.

Yep.

This is pretty much living the dream.

This, obviously, is Brixton's room. It's the attic room, and he's only been up here for the past few months. Once we figured out that if he was up there we could be loud, walk around again, and cook meals without waking him, we decided that he could have this room--the King's suite.

I love the wood paneling and sloped roof. This house first belonged to a magician, back during the Depression. He stored his magic props in this attic. There are traces of all the families that have lived here, children's names and pictures etched in the wood. Sometimes it's creepy.

The other day I noticed a white crayon drawing in the wood, under the N in the 'Welcome Brixton' banner. I had never seen the three crudely drawn pictures before, despite hours and hours of being up here. I was certain a ghost had drawn them.

I touched them, pondered them, and then thought maybe they were pointing towards a secret hiding spot. (I really think like this.) On the sloped eve above the drawings, there are small wood planks. I tried moving them, you know, just in case there was a secret hiding spot.

One of them opened.

Oh. My. Gosh.

There was a secret hiding spot. (!!!!!!)

Well, I was kind of terrified, because like I said, I already thought the drawings where from a ghost. Still, I reached my trembling hand inside the eve and pulled out...

...an old window crank.

Waaa waaaa.

I was so hoping for a yellowed letter, a doll's head, a key, gold coins, a necklace. Something amazing! Not this time.

I'm going to put something in there though before we go. Haven't decided what yet. Maybe a letter. Maybe something creepy.

Suggestions on what to put in there are welcome and encouraged.

On Cloth Diapers

2012-02-09T06:00:00.001-06:00

After falling off the cloth diaper train for a good 6 weeks back in October/November [post], I started up with them again at the end of November. The gDiapers still leak, but I think the fit became a tad bit better in the 6 weeks that we took a break. Leaks, however, are a part of our daily lives now. I honestly would just give up on them, because it's been such an emotionally unhealthy love/hate relationship, but I spent the money and I'm determined to see it through. Plus I like saving (or spending on other things) the money each month that would have been spent on diapers. We still use disposables at night and on certain daytime occasions, so it's not an all or nothing type thing.

I got mad a few weeks ago at having to buy wipes again, so I just cut up 3 of Brixton's old swaddle blankets, made a solution of water/olive oil/vinegar/baby shampoo/orange essential oil and make my own dang wipes too. We already do a few loads of poopy-peepee cloth a week, so what's the big deal with tossing in the wipes too?

We are moving to a condo with a front loading HE washer, so I have to relearn how to wash the diapers. And good-bye utility sink, so I have to come up with a new system for the poo. I looked at the Bum Genius diaper sprayer, but I'm not really keen on shelling out $50 for it. I found a DIY one online, but am not sure. Any suggestions?

One of These Things is Not Like the Other

2012-02-08T08:35:00.000-06:00

Messy baby faces make me shudder and laugh both at the same time. It's so disgusting/cute. This particular day I had to get the camera out because I just felt like Brixton looked like he had a big smear of lipstick all over his mouth, a la The Joker.

This kid always has serious boogers in his nose. I don't know what the deal is. I totally pick them (and no mom, I don't...but thanks for asking).

Brixton so happy! Mommy give Brixton good food! Brixton want to love mommy! Brixton have good morning!

Mommy so funny when make that face! Silly mommy! Brixton like silly face! Why mommy no make more silly face? Mommy make silly face! Brixton want!

Brixton WANT! Why mommy no listen? Brixton angry! Brixton make bad sound! Brixton no stop make bad sound. (This is the face that I was trying to describe in this post. Sorry I don't have a sound clip. Trust me. You don't want to hear it.)

Mommy make silly face! Brixton happy! Good mommy! Do silly face again! Again! Again!

Baby Fat Update

2012-02-07T08:55:00.000-06:00

Since January 2nd I've lost 4.2 lbs. according to this morning's "Offical" weigh-in. I'm skeptical though. First of all, I felt 'heavy' this morning (if that makes sense). I drank a ton of water last night, so I'm wondering if I'm holding on to some of that. Secondly, I weighed myself just a few nights ago (and you know how much weight can fluctuate from morning to night) and weighed less. So, I'm skeptical.

I've been concentrating on working out about 3 times a week, mostly running, elipticaling (?), and my new love: boxing. It's such a workout, the kind of one where your brow is covered with not only sweat, but gritty salt after the sweat dries. Yuck.

I'm still on the no-sugar train. Not to say I've been perfect with it. I had a total of about 2 cans of Coke. A few times I said yes to sugar in my coffee. And the other night, with a delicious Mexican meal, I had the nectar of the gods: Horchata. Awww..I almost drank the whole thing in one gulp. So cold, so rich, so sweet. Ugh, so sweet. My stomach was upset after.

Valentine's Day is coming up and that's one of my sweets days. I will eat chocolate. I will have cake. It's a holiday, a special day, an occasion. And that's okay. Life goes on.

But, no chocolate, no candy, no cookies, none of that on regular days. So I'm still keeping on that, while adding in a new thing: no butter. I love butter. Butter, butter, butter. Bread is a mode of transportation for butter going to my mouth. So no more of that. Next month I'll tackle something else. I'm thinking fried foods or carb portion sizes. But for now, butter.

I have one more month to lose the rest of my baby fat..so I have to technically lose 4 more lbs. I gave myself 10 months to take it off, since that's how long it took me to put on the 33 lbs I gained. I've been lazy with getting it off and true to my procrastinating self. Summer's coming up though and I have my eye on some cute swimsuits and dresses...

Monkey Paw

2012-02-06T06:00:00.000-06:00

Brixton's pincher grip is getting pretty good nowadays, but he still does the whole-hand grab approach often. He's developed a mean case of Monkey Paw.

What's Monkey Paw you ask? What an excellent question. Let me tell you.

Monkey Paw is when a child grabs onto a piece of food with their hand and then they close said hand up tight, like a clam. They don't ever actually eat the food or use the hand again. The food just sits in there, much like how a monkey will reach into a small opening in a bucket and grab food, then realizing it can't get its hand out of the hole, still won't let go of the food, because it's a monkey and not too bright.

Monkey Paw.

Brixton sometimes begins his breakfast with the old standby: Cheerios. He'll happily eat them for five minutes or so before moving on to cereal or yogurt or waffles or whatever his excellent personal chef decides to pull together for him. Monkey Paw is noticed at the end of the meal, when a random Cheerio (not having been given to him since the beginning of the feeding period) falls from his immobile left paw..uh..hand.

Sometimes, during the cleaning up phase of the meal, I have to excavate random food bits from his hand, much to his displeasure. If there's one thing this kid hates, it's having his face and hands wiped down. He would rather spend the day with carrots smeared all over his mug than have Mr. Happy Washcloth come by and give him a quick smooch that just so happens to wipe his face.

Monkey Paw makes me a little nervous, just because I'm afraid I'll miss something and he'll end up eating it when I'm not looking and invariably, choke.

We've been teaching him all about High-Fives lately, so that cuts down on M.P. since one needs all five with a palm for a true High-Five.

Do you ever do a post and you're not sure how to wrap it up? I'm there.

Stepping Out: Nothing to Do Edition

2012-02-05T09:27:00.002-06:00

I had a big day.

Brixton had music class, so I actually changed out of my SAHM uniform of Brendan's flannel pj pants and a sweatshirt (not pictured. You're welcome). We went to music class, had a blast, and then came home. Total time out: 45 minutes. But let's just pretend I look like this all the time okay?

By the way, I HATE doing these pictures. First of all, I feel like waaaay pretentious that anyone gives a rat what I'm wearing. Second, I feel like a complete DB standing in my backyard posing. I can feel the eyes of my neighbors on me, what is she doing? Honey, come look, she's doing it again! Anyone else feel like a complete dork when it comes to self photos?

Can I just add though that it's February. And I'm not wearing 3 layers and a puff jacket/scarf/hat/gloves. Very cool. Another question: Is anyone thinking winter's going to show up in say..May?

Just in case my neighbors weren't already chatting about my weird posing, I thought I'd delight them with my high kick skillz. Wah-BAM!

Sweater: Gap

Shirt: Target

Jeggings (ooooh..yeah): Urban Outfitters

Boots: Nordstrom

Attitude: Mine

Have a great day!

Letting Go of the Absolutes

2012-02-03T14:17:00.001-06:00

Mom guilt. I think it comes in with the milk. Some women experience it more than others, believing they can't do anything right, comparing themselves and their babies to others. Some moms feel a sense of failure if they succumb to letting their child do things they always vowed they wouldn't.

These are the things I call the absolutes.

When we have absolutes, we fail. When we have absolutes, we have guilt.

For example, if I say that I am only going to let my baby have organic food, and then at one time or another am unable to provide that and have to resort to regular food, I will have guilt. I will have failed. My absolute is imperfect.

I don't have many absolutes and therefore I don't have much mom-guilt, but I do have some. I've decided it's time to let that go. My main mom-guilt comes from TV. Before Brixton was born I bravely said, I will not let Brixton watch TV! Or I said, Brixton won't watch TV until he's 3! Or there was also the time I said, Brixton will only watch The Cosby Show! (I really said that).

When we start setting up these rules for ourselves and our children, we are also setting up the opportunity to fail, and with that, the guilt that we have somehow let our children--not to mention ourselves--down.

I have guilt because Brixton is 8 months old and once or twice a week watches 15 minutes of a video so I can prepare food or actually eat it. Why do I feel guilty? Because I put this asinine rule on myself, a rule mired in the perception of a life that I want to have and not in the reality of the day to day aspects of raising a baby.

I can't have absolutes. I can't say Brixton is never going to eat fast-food. That isn't to say that this means he has to eat it, or that I have to give it to him, but how am I to know the future? What if we took a 12 hour drive? What if Grandma slips him a Happy Meal? If I made the hard and fast rule of No Fast Food Ever, then inevitibaly it's going to get broken at some point, and I've failed.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying having rules and expectations for our children and our lives is wrong, in fact I think it's great. It's just when our rules become so inflexible with the ebbs and flows of life that they start to impede on our ability to parent and to parent well. Well parenting involves parents that feel confident in their choices, are flexible in their approaches and are realistic in the expectations, not only in their own choices, but in the environment and society around them.

Where did this all come from?

I ate chicken today. Not just chicken, KFC chicken. Grilled (thank you very much). Coleslaw. Dried out biscuit. I was sitting at the car dealership with Brixton for over an hour and I shared little bits of my chicken with him, along with a few bites of biscuit. In my bag I had my jar of organic chicken/veggie blend, but I wanted him to practice his chewing/pinchers. I felt like I was doing something wrong. It was KFC and I was feeding it to my baby. It wasn't an organic chicken. The real issue: it's fast food, even if it was just chicken.

I can't live in this bubble that says yes to this and an absolute NO to other things. Life is a series of situations. We can't always plan them, we can't control them. I am flexible with what Brix eats because I'm just grateful he has food, but as long as I have the choice, I prefer organic, though I am hardly steadfast on this. None of this should matter.

I'm having a hard-time letting go of my absolutes. What are some that you struggle with?

My Son, the T-Rex

2012-02-02T06:00:00.000-06:00

Brixton's doing this new thing lately. It's a new face with a noise. It's awful. I've been around a lot of kids in my life and I've never heard a noise like this.

First, he scrunches up his nose and makes his mouth into an angry 'O'. His lips are all tense and puckered out.

Second, he looks right at you. Right at your soul.

Third, he emits a sound that is kind of like the T-Rex in Jurassic makes. You know. That sound.

Except Brixton makes the noise through his nose. That's right. It makes this horrible vibrating sound, a rattling like he's got a penny stuck up there or a sinus infection and can't breathe, except he can but he's just figured out the noise Mommy Hates The Worst.

Here's how he uses it:

Me: Here, let's play with the balloons! Wheeeeeee!

Brixton: Brixton no want play balloon. Brixton want pull mommy hair.

Me: Look, the blue balloons is kissing the pink one! Muah!

Brixton: Brixton no like blue balloon. Brixton no like kiss. Mommy make Brixton angry.

Me: What's...wro...NOOOOOOOO!!

Brixton:

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! (via)

Brendan was working out of town a week ago or so and we were talking on the phone. T-Rex came out of nowhere. "What was that?" Brendan asked, quietly, like he really didn't want to know the answer. "Oh, that's just your son, the T-Rex."

I told my parents about The Sound. My mom, like all things Brixton, thought it was hilarious. This kid could shoot down the moon and my mom would think it was the best thing ever. My dad actually brought The Sound up in conversation, wanting more details, a description.

I gave him those things, lamenting over how awful The Sound was, how it was completely unstoppable, it was horrendous.

He laughed.

He laughed the kind of laugh that parents finally get to laugh when their kids have kids. It's a laugh that comes from finally getting some revenge on those days years and years ago, when I was the baby driving my parents crazy. It was a laugh that said, "I enjoy the torment you are going through. Really. Keep telling me about it." I stopped, because I didn't want to add to his sickness.

So weird. They don't really look alike. Except for the teeth.(Via)

Pinning!

2012-02-01T11:41:00.000-06:00

With our move coming up in about a month, I've been really thinking about making some changes to our home decorating situation. We've had basically the same stuff for about five years, when we got married, and I'm ready to freshen things up a bit by adding new colors and textures.

By the way, this is our 7th move since being married in May 2007. San Diego to Denver. Denver to San Diego. San Diego back to Denver (yeah, I'm not kidding). Had to move into new apartment in the same complex. Denver to Schaumburg, Illinois. Schaumburg to current house. And now current house to Chicago proper.

Phew. That's a lot of moving y'all.

Our current living room is a modge-podge of design, something I find a bit French/classic style. It works for our 1924 house, but the condo we are moving into was built in 2008 and is very contemporary--the light fixtures, window treatments, kitchen--is clearly NOT 1924. Which is going to be a challenge to incorporate my stuff as is.

I'd like to move upward and onward from French classic and travel south a bit to more Spanish/Moroccan themes, textures, and colors, which I find inspiring and romantic.

Pinterest is a moving girl's best friend when coming up with ideas for new living spaces. While it can be a time-suck, like blogging, at least it's a useful time-suck. As long as I'm not just pinning eye-liner tutorials or how to make waves with a flat iron.

I've found these things, which I really like and hope to get/do/make (click photos for more info):

These rugs are AWESOME! The colors are vibrant and I love the design. I would love a big one for the living room, but we already have two rugs for there, so I'm thinking our bathroom.

I'm not a seamstress and I don't know much about fabric, but I do know that I often see beautiful prints that I like, but don't know what to do with them. This idea=genius. And cheap. And easy to do for DIY novices like me.

Our current headboard? A wreck. We love a good deal (especially Brendan..ahem) and we got our headboard from someone selling their brokedown Ikea headboard/frame on Craigslist. It's a piece of junk. JUNK. So the idea of grabbing a few 2x4s and some stain is DIY friendly, cheap, and easy for me to convince Brendan to do.

I love me a gallery wall. This one appeals to me with the varied colored frames and sizes. The only concern is exactly what the picture shows: a small hand reaching up and touching, which invariably turns into grabbing, which turns into shattered glass on the floor. So I'm thinking a gallery wall like this, but maybe not starting at the floor. I'm going to have a crawler soon, after all.

Admittedly, I'm a little late to the Chevron print party, but I'm here. I love this. Anything that doubles as pretty storage (especially when you are losing about 700 square feet and a grip load of closet space) is a win. I would love this for the foot of our bed to keep our sheets and such in.

Isn't this cute?

Colorful? Check.

Easy to do? Check.

Fun for Brixton's room? Check.

Cheap? Check.

Find me on Pinterest under BrixtonMakesThree.

Happy Pinning!

Please Vote!

2012-02-01T08:58:00.001-06:00

I hate it when Top Baby Blogs resets their numbers. It means I have to ask you to press the little "Vote For ME" button on the top right side of my blog. But, I am asking, however lame that feels.

Three Things

2012-01-31T08:42:00.000-06:00

1. Sunday was the 3rd day in a row I was hanging out in my pajamas. Brendan said, why don't you take off for a few hours--go see a movie or something? I actually heard these words coming out of my mouth, as a sat on my nest on the couch: "No. I just want to be with my family." (Read: I'm too lazy right now to get out of these PJs and into some real clothes.) But, thankfully, somewhere inside of me a spark of life still exists and I realized what I was saying and what I was giving up.

20 minutes later I was driving (alone!) in my car, an hour later I was sitting (alone!) in the movie theater, stuffing my face with popcorn, getting annoyed at two chatting ladies. I finished my popcorn before the movie even started, but did enjoy the random kernels that I dropped on myself later in the film. I saw "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close." It was good. I cried, but not too much. Should it win the Oscar for Best Picture? Hmmmmm...I don't think so, but I've only seen one other movie that's been nominated. I love the Oscars. Anyone else?

2. I tried to take a shower yesterday while Brixton was awake. Normally I strap him into his bouncy chair and put it in the bathroom, so I can peek out at him and make him smile. Yesterday, I thought I'd put him on a blanket on the floor, with a pillow behind him in case he tipped over. And toys, of course, lots of toys.

It didn't work. One minute into the shower he started crying, the kind of cry that makes you instantly have low-self esteem and tears your heart out. I heard a thud. More crying. He tipped over...forward, and was now somewhat pinned by the tub itself and his own inability to move. Now his face was looking up at me, red, tears falling out all over the floor.

I felt bad, but hello...I had to shower. And he wasn't hurt or in danger. I quickly finished up, his angry cries echoing through the bathroom. The second I got out of the tub, he was fine. Maybe he was just in shock from seeing his mother like that, but he stopped crying right away. Maybe this is the start of the mommy-only obsession phase that babies go through. Sigh.

3. We are moving in one month! Several months ago we were presented with the opportunity to move into a friend's condo in Chicago. Right now we live about an hour west of the city in a boring suburb that kind of sucks the life out of you. But I chickened out and the whole thing ended up falling through. About two months ago, the opportunity suddenly came up again. Our friend was unhappy with his current renters and wanted them out. When chances come up twice, I take notice. I was having a hard time deciding. The thought of living in the city was giving me really bad anxiety. I was already struggling, but that thought was pushing me over the edge.

It took me about a week to decide to go for it. I'm excited for the restaurants, the things to do, the playgroups, the people, the fashion. Our condo is quite a bit smaller than the house we live in, so I've gotten rid of a lot of stuff and am already plotting how to decorate. Pinterest is quite fun these days. The kitchen is huge though and we can't wait to cook and bake in there.

We are finally going to find a babysitter and go on dates. I want us to take swing dance lessons together. I've already joined some meetup groups. I'm hoping this will bring about some much needed positive change in our life.

And now, I need to start packing. Ugh.

Favorite Pic From January: Paper Mama Challenge

2012-01-28T20:36:00.000-06:00

Classic mid-day, just fresh out of the car seat and plopped onto the bed, nap. It was one of those rare, wonderful moments when he just stayed like that--arms splayed out, cap askew, lip tucked--for a good 45 minutes.

In the Gentle Night

2012-01-26T10:39:00.000-06:00

Brixton likes his mama to put him to bed. Every night is the same: quiet playtime, books and a night-night bottle. His long body barely seems to fit anymore across my lap, his fat hands reach up and touch my face in the soft glow of the lamp, his eyes lock with mine and he smiles.

Some nights he wakes and cries. Daddy's strong arms hold him, but he cries still, the tears trailing down his face like a trickling stream down a canyon front. It's mama that he wants. His arms reach out to me, his warm body cuddles into mine, the wet tears pooling in the bowl created between my neck and collar bone. I hold him close, breathing him in, this baby.

Looking back at those early newborn days is like looking back a century. Gone are the 3 nightly feedings, the tiny infant stir metallic over the monitor. Gone are the countless diaper changes, the spit-up rags decorating the floor, raging cries in the night. Those nights I dreaded, the ones I worried about so much, with the exhaustion and stress, passed with barely a whimper. Sometimes, I look at the baby now in my arms and wonder how that time could have already gone by. Wasn't he always this big? Didn't he always sleep though the night? No, but I blinked and those moments ended.

Sometimes while rocking him, he falls into a soft slumber. The light falls across the roundness of his cheeks, over his pouting lips, across the gentle arc of his nose. His eyelashes, so thick and long, outline the slope of his eyes, my eyes. His easy breathing, punctuated by the chirps of dreams far away, a rhythm that lulls me to sleep.

I look at him in wonder. Is this real? Is he really here?

All this time passed and still I marvel.

"I Had an Unmedicated Water Birth"

2012-01-22T20:20:00.002-06:00

That's how she introduced herself.

Twice in the past week I've met two women that felt compelled to identify themselves by their birth stats.  Seriously?   This is the first impression you want to make?  Here's how it went:

"My husband and I are into salsa dancing (me--fun!), organic-gardening (interesting!) and traveling (me too!).  I had an unmedicated water birth (uuuuuuuuuuuugh)."

Is this really how anyone needs to introduce themselves?  Because instantly, in that one moment I lost interest.  I am not interested in urban mommy warfare.  I don't play the I-can-out-organic-you game.  Oh, you weren't trying to be smug?  Well sorry, because that's how it comes across.  I didn't introduce myself as "I like roller-skating, reading, writing and I had dreadfully slow labor followed by an epidural, pitocin and morphine to take the edge off my c-section.  Nice to meet you."  Even if I had given birth unmedicated on a rocket ship to Mars I wouldn't introduce myself that way.  

Can you imagine those playgroup sessions if we did label ourselves like that?

Me: Hey, have you talked to Unmedicated For 15 Hours Then HAD to Get the Epidural lately?

Unmedicated Water Birth:  No, but Emergency C-Section told me she talked to her last week and she's fine.

Foreceps Delivery:  Ladies!  So good to see you!  Did Labored Naturally For 20 Hours Then Had to Have a C-Section text you?

Me: Yeah, she's running late picking up Home Birth. 

Is it wrong to be proud of how you gave birth?  No, but it's lame to use that in your just met someone bio.  Save it for another time, when I already have a pretty solid idea of who you are beyond labor.  

Sorry, that's just been irking me lately.  It's one of the worst things about being a mom/blogging/life.  The pointless competition and attempts to out-do each other.  Okay, okay, maybe I'm being a little too harsh, I do still want to get to know this person and be friends, maybe she was nervous or it just felt like something she wanted to share--checking to see if I'd eyeball her like she is a crazy person or if I'd understand that kind of birth experience. 

Still.  

Little Snowflake

2012-01-19T06:00:00.000-06:00

Winter finally decided to make an appearance, which gave me a chance to properly introduce Brixton to snow. It never quite goes like you think it's going to. I'm thinking he would be completely mystified, amazed, intrigued. Instead he just kind of sat there, wondering why mommy had him out in the sub-freezing temps and where the colorful grass went.

This picture kind of made the huge task of suiting him up worth it. Stuffing this turkey into a snowsuit involved me breaking a sweat, Brixton bursting into angry baby tears, and then I dropped my camera into the snow. But I captured those eyes. Those crazy eyes.

I dropped my camera in the snow while setting Brixton down. The snowsuit made his body not very bendy, so the whole thing was a mess. I was so busy wiping off the quickly melting snow from off my camera, that I didn't notice I had switched it to the continuous shot mode. After seeing the blinking light (normally telling you to run into your spot and smile) and the melting snow, I was convinced I had just broken my camera.

Snow photos ruined. Mommy mad.

I hauled the snowsuited Brixton back inside, plopped him on the guest bed and tried to figure out the problem. I pushed the button for a test photo and all I got was the blinking light again. And then..click..click..click..click..click..click..click in rapid succession. Oh.

Brixton must have known the whole time with that little smile, because the above is the shot I got. Ten of 'em.

It's only January, so we've got a few solid months of this winter thing. I don't mind, though. I get to see my Brixton with a cold, red, nose. Worth it, though I'm not sure he'd agree.

Brixton: 8 Months and Some Change

2012-01-18T22:02:00.001-06:00

Brixton turned 8 months (!!) on the 7th, so this post is slightly overdue. Not much going on with him since our 7 month post. He gives bizarre kisses now, will head-butt me if I hold my head close to him and say 'bump', loves naked time, playing with the remote, talking to Oma on the phone, screaming really loud and attempting to give us black eyes.

He's eating more and more solid food, so much so that I think in a month or two he might be done with "baby food" altogether. My freezer store of pureed food is dwindling, and I don't think I'll make any more. Some of his favorite new foods: tofu, blueberries, barley soup, crackers, and egg yolks.

Question: Our doctor told us it was okay to give Brixton eggs (didn't specify to not give the white), strawberries, peanut butter, etc. I've always been under the impression that those things were to be introduced at 12 months to prevent allergy developments..thoughts? The only thing he told us was no honey. I gave Brix a PB&J sandwich the other day, which he loved, but I couldn't help but feel like that was wrong. I don't want my little buddy to develop food allergies..

He still isn't crawling and can only roll over in one direction (to the left) and only from back to tummy. *Sigh* I'm trying not to be that mom, the one that compares him to everyone else, but it's hard. Especially at 4am when he cries because he's stuck on his tummy and wants someone to roll him over. I just remind myself that you never see a 2 year old that can't crawl, roll over or flip to their backs, so he'll just continue to develop on his own time.

Plus..he's immobile. A blink in time, when I can set him on the floor, walk away for 30 seconds and when I come back, he's still there. In the coming months it's just not going to be possible so I'm savoring those moments now.

Brixton loves our dog, Lola. She's a great dog. Does anyone want her? J/K. (kinda).

The pics this time are pretty blurry as I'm trying to use my camera more on manual mode--just practicing so bear with me!

Paper Mama Photo Challenge: White

2012-01-17T18:59:00.001-06:00

Still fresh off of our 3rd place showing for The Paper Mama's last photo contest, I thought I'd try out this little shot for this week's white challenge.  Fresh snow, snow suit, big smiles.  

Pieces of Magic

2012-01-17T17:14:00.002-06:00

I'm living in a snow globe right now, the soft flakes falling silently.  It's pretty, but not inspiring for a gym workout day, which I just called to cancel my reservation for Brix at the childcare corral, feeling guilty the whole time.  

2012 is kind of off to a slow start.  Not a bad one, just a little slow.  I feel like I'm moving forward with a tether clamped down on the back of my pants, getting nowhere fast, but still fighting the good fight.  

I am on the cusp of some major accomplishments for myself, however.  Okay, "major accomplishments" might be over-doing it, but in the past 2 weeks I've done two things I never thought I could do.

The first: I haven't eaten any sugar for 16 days.  

(Trumpets blaring)

Did you just say 'big deal' in your head?  That's not very nice.  Let me educate you why this IS a big deal to me.  

Sugar was my best friend since childhood.  We did a lot together.  I would ride my bike to Stratton's Market and buy as much as I could afford, go home, lay on my bed, read a book and eat all of the candy.  Lemonheads, Gobstoppers, Red Hots, Skittles, bubble gum.  I wasn't into chocolate.  I liked my candy pure, refined and saccarine sweet.  

I grew older.  An "adult", a term I would use loosely to describe myself.  I was on my own, finally able to pick what to eat.  I knew a lot about nutrition and was really interested in it.  I didn't balk at vegetables.  But I never ate right.  Breakfast was never eaten, lunch was something on the go, dinner was literally sometimes candy, popcorn and a soda.  I'm suprised I didn't get rickets, gain 30 lbs or just plain drop dead.  I ate like that throughout my 20s, my weight stayed pretty much the same as in high school, but I was suffering, it was just that the conseqeunces weren't what you'd expect.  

I have referred to myself before on this blog as being moody.  Confession: that's an understatement.  My daily life is like PMS on your worst day.  I live on a street corner called Irritable and Cranky.  My floor is made of eggshells.    Don't get me wrong, I have a really nice mask I put on when I go outside into the world.  It has a big smile on it and is polite.  But close friends have seen me without said mask.  Family has seen me at my worst.  And of course, my long-suffering Brendan, the-nicest-guy-in-the-world, works so hard, always comes home, just wants to be loved, husband.  

Guess what genius?  (This is the part when I talk to myself).  Sugar is bad for you.  Eating sugar all the time messes with your brain chemistry (I'm serious..it does that and a whole bunch more bad stuff).  Sugar makes you crazy moody, from the blood-sugar crash to the brain chemistry imbalance.   I'm 34 and I just figured this out.  Maybe sugar makes you kind of stupid too, like how Smartphones make you dumb?

I haven't had a bite of it since January 1st.  The first few days I felt a bit panicked, had a headache and during one stressful situation felt an overwhelming craving for something, anything sweet.  But I didn't cave.

 
Day 8 I noticed that I was a lot less crabby.  I felt      even.  Hmmmmm...What a novelty. Is this what normal feels like?  Now I'm at Day 16.  No sweets.  No chocolate.  No soda.  No sugar in my coffee.  Feeling pretty good.  Okay, feeling awesome.  

The second thing? 

Well, in this post, if you'll notice in the comments section, I was challenged to run a 25k by Savanna over at Savvy and Sweet. FYI a 25k=15.6 miles, more than a half marathon.  I loosely said I might do it, we'll see, ha ha (nervous laugh) that's funny.  

I printed out the training schedule that night.  A bright light started flashing all around me.  

Overwhelmed!

Overwhelmed!

Overwhelmed!

 But also intrigued.  I came to the determination that I don't have to run the 25k.  I don't have to follow the training schedule.  I can still run though.

So I ran.  

The first day I clocked 2 miles and I actually busted out a smile (a real one, not from my mask).  I ran 3 or 4 more times that week.  This past Saturday? I won a 5k.  I was the only participant though and while it did take me 35 minutes, I still did it.  I felt like a Rock Star because finally it was ME on the treadmill..the girl who runs and makes you wonder why you can't do that too.  

I got a new pair of shoes too.  Running shoes.  Love them.  

I'm kind of into this running thing, even ramping the speed up. I got overzealous the first time and had it up to an 8.4 and almost had a Biggest Loser moment where the contestant flies off the back of the treadmill, but luckily I was able to keep my composure and dial it down to a 7 like I meant to do that guy looking worriedly at me from the treadmill next door.

I'm hoping for real changes this time, changes that stick, that become part of my life rather than a resolution. After all, we've got a move coming up..and I need to be at my best for it..but more on that later.

February Button Swap!

2012-01-15T20:06:00.001-06:00

Hi Friends.

January is half-way over and it's time again to discuss the very serious business of button swaps.

Button swaps are fun. Button swaps make you feel special. Button swaps can raise your IQ. Button swaps are cool. Button swaps make spring come sooner. Button swaps introduce you to other blogs that you spend precious minutes of your day reading. Button swaps in February are romantic. If you love me, you'll give me your button (I swear that isn't supposed to sound weird. But it does anyway).

If I already have your button, I'll run it again--let me know if you want it taken down though and after I stop crying, I will.

If you'd like to be cool too, let me know at brixtonmakesthree@yahoo.com.

**You have to have a 150x150 button to participate**

Do You Zoo Bloop Blim?

2012-01-13T16:11:00.001-06:00

"Beep! Beep!  Beep! Beep!"

You would have thought a truck was backing into our driveway, but no, that was just me pushing Brixton in his high chair across the floor.

"Boop!" 

 That's the sound I make when I am cleaning his face and the "Bzzzzzzz" sound is for the spoon coming down toward his mouth.

It dawned on me the other day that almost everything I do, every move I make includes the use of some noise, usually high pitched, usually said with big eyes and a smile some would label as "crazy."  

It's like one day I went to sleep as a normal functioning adult and then woke up in a cartoon, the kind without words, but definitely with sound effects.   

Other fan favorites include:

-Boo!

-Wah!

-Zoop!

-Bing!

-Ahh!

 -Boing!

-jeeeeezzz!

and don't forget..

Voom!

There was a day, I know there was, that I could make food/take a shower/eat something without making these sounds or stretching my facial muscles in such ways that I absolutely start thinking about the wrinkles that this is all going to cost me. So why do we do it? (Because I KNOW you do too..okay, if you have a baby you do, if you don't have a baby allow me to suggest this website). For me, it's keeping Brixton engaged, happy, and strangely..QUIET! If I'm the one making the noise, it's less likely that he'll start the dreaded whine..the sound in my opinion that is worse than the loudest of ear-piercing screams.

There are different types of whines I've found: the "I'm-bored-entertain-me" whine is usually done while looking at you. The "I'm-too-tired" whine is easy to spot, with rubbing eyes and a sour face. The "I'm-hungry" whine involves a desperate look.

But then we come to The Worst Whine.

Usually reserved for days when everything is sunny and bright, maybe you got your Amazon delivery in the mail, maybe your paycheck showed up in your checking with a little something extra, maybe your skin is clear and you've suddenly lost 2 lbs.

You know, that kind of a day.

The Worst Whine strikes often in the evening, just when you've almost crossed that invisible mothering banner that says "Bedtime" and collected your medals by sitting on the couch/eating hot food/showering. The Worst Whine was formerly called the "I'm-going-to-make-this-sound-for-no-apparent-reason-and-nothing-you-do-is-going-to-help" whine, but was shortened for obvious reasons. That great day you were having? Ruined. Your blood pressure shoots up, your tricks don't work, you find yourself in desperate situations, like hiding under the desk in the dark with your ears covered, hoping like a swarm of bees it will just go away.

No one knows exactly what causes The Worst Whine, where it comes from and when it will strike again. We do know that all the zooms, boos, blips, boings, wahs and gagoos in the world won't help you, but they do seem to taunt the child, making The Worst Whine even worse.

And what's that all about, by the way? My child cries, so I make happy faces, noises, dance like a monkey, do all manner of ridiculous things, but because of The Worst Whine, the inner-dialogue of the possessed goes something like this:

"No no Mommy person. Brixton no want smile. Brixton want Mommy cry. Mommy happy ruin Brixton good time no smile. That make Brixton mad."

That's the point I throw in the towel, move my "Bedtime" banner up an hour and call it good.

Zoom zlim boo bloop?

Stranger Danger: A Safety Reminder for SAHMs (for everyone, really)

2012-01-09T13:13:00.001-06:00

I would call myself a person that is slightly paranoid and distrusting of strangers. More so now that I have Brixton. The news stories don't help: home invasions, break-ins, murders. Maybe I'm more than slightly paranoid; I prefer to call myself vigilant.

Today, as I was in the kitchen preparing Brixton's lunch (tofu, grapefruit and cheese--delish), I saw him. A man, walking down the sidewalk, yellow shirt, clipboard, name badge. Ugh. I thought. A solicitor. Why do they have to knock on my door? I'm busy/have social anxiety/don't want to talk to you/don't want to buy anything. He knocked. I ignored. Brixton blew our cover by screaming, so when the man knocked again, I answered.

Blah blah blah, the man said. You know, the same old stuff. I wasn't really listening, just hearing blah blah blah. Until..

Until he asked to see our energy bill to determine if there were "cost-savings" to be had.

(small red flag in brain goes up).

Giving him my energy bill to look at first involves me leaving the door unattended. Maybe he thinks I won't lock it behind me. Maybe he'll come in uninvited. Who knows. Or he could peek around at things while I'm occupied. If I give him my bill, he's got our names and who know what other info he can glean from that. H to the ell no, I'm not giving you my energy bill. (Mama Grizzly roar).

I am reluctant. I am not going to show him the bill. He's not arguing, persay, just trying to persuade me a bit that he can find these hidden gems, these cost savings. No, I say shaking my head. That's okay.

Is there a time when your husband is home?

(*brakes screeching* Red Flag Waving.)

How do you know I have a husband? Why would you need to talk to him if I've already expressed disinterest?

Okay, maybe it was a simple question asked by a young man out beating the streets working hard for his family. And I'm an equal-opportunity paranoist, so the only requirement for me is that you are male and asking me strange questions at my door.

But. Scary things happen, people. If I tell him, oh my husband works out of town, he might (if criminally inclined) think target. If I say, oh he's home in the evenings, it's just me and my tiny baby here all day long, alone and unprotected, well, I might as well make a "Welcome Thieves & Rapists" banner and stick it outside of my home during working hours.

I told him my husband is always home, because he works here. (With an undertone of don't come here again). Then I smiled, because I'm also polite and hoping for the chance that this guy is just working and actually not trying to case my house.

10 minutes later I couldn't shake the feeling that something in those questions was wrong. So I called the cops. Nothing wrong with filing a concern, that's why they are there and if it was nothing, then hooray!, but if it saved somebody from something then it was the right thing to do.

I'm writing this not to showcase my social awkwardness and paranoia, but to remind you ladies, all ladies, but especially SAHMs that you need to be careful what information you are sharing with strangers. Because none of us want to be victims.

The Paper Mama Photo Challenge: Best of 2011

2012-01-07T08:52:00.001-06:00

2011 had a lot of photo moments. From me bursting from within to having a contraction, to Brixton as a tiny pickle to a sitting up-eating, smiling big baby, it would seem hard to say 'that's the one.' But I knew right away which picture I wanted to submit..I love this picture. The amazed gaze. The chunky sleeping newborn. The juxtapostion of a son's hand on his daddy's. The shiny wedding band. How Brixton, only hours old, found the light. Tyra would be proud.

2012: (insert something here)

2012-01-06T06:00:00.000-06:00

2012.

Doesn't that sound like it should be somewhere in the future? Guess what? It's not. It's here. And this post is 5 days late.

I've had incredibly important things going on over here, which is why I haven't posted in a few days. Most of those things involved sitting right here on the couch, feeling completely unmotivated to write. Also trying not to shove leftover holiday treats into my mouth, but more on that in a second.

I started our annual tax-rodeo, which consists of me rounding up our expenses and w-2s with my lasso of financial truth (kind of like Wonder Woman's, but with a hip IRS slant on it). I've been surrounded by the ghost receipts of long-ago client dinners and airfare for the better part of the day, on the phone with tax advisers that are more confused than I am, and cursing the speed of my internet connection with my yearly allotment of swear words.

Brixton took a trip to the doctor's office the other day, where he tipped the scales at 22 lbs. and 29 inches. Question: Did your kid get a mild flat spot on the back of their head? We are kind of freaking out, wondering if his soft spot has closed or if he's going to have to wear one of those head-squeezing, baby-head-shaping helmets. Whatever you do, don't google images for plagiocephaly. And if you do, make sure you definitely don't google craniosynostosis like I did, because you too might find yourself with tears rolling down your face because those children have parents with broken hearts.

I've decided it's time. Not only to lose the last lingering bits of baby pudge I've still got and those pounds I gained after getting married (13 total), but I need to tackle my eating habits. My bad eating habits.

Sample of Said Bad Eating Habits:

8am-coffee with cream and sugar (2 large cups)

1pm-six or seven cookies (or something else sweet). chips. maybe a pb&j. maybe a fast food meal.

4pm-something else sweet. tea. a glass of juice.

7pm-veggies, meat, salad, maybe rice or a potato.

9pm-more cookies, or buttered popcorn (and I'm generous with that butter). popcorn is always eaten with a soda.

That's it. I'm not kidding. And I didn't put water in there because I don't drink it. I've had to get an I.V. for dehydration twice in my life and one more time when I was pregnant (though they didn't say my BH contractions were due to that..but the two bags of solution kind of spoke loud and clear).

So I'm making changes. For reals this time. I've been doing a detox--nothing crazy/totally realistic--just a cleanse pack from Whole Foods and then no meat, no sugar and lots of water and green tea for the next two weeks. It's been...interesting. I'll post about that another time, otherwise I'll be here typing all night and you'll eventually fall asleep while reading.

The following pictures are my NYE celebration. Also known as, we've got an 8 month old sleeping upstairs/I have no makeup on but wanted to wear my leopard print sweater dress/we're old/sometimes I take too many pictures of nothing interesting. Realistically speaking, this was a BIG NYE for us because Brendan stayed awake. The champagne? Disgusting. I didn't even drink it.

And that was two minutes of your life that you'll never get back.

Boom!

Something to Check Out Today

2012-01-05T10:42:00.005-06:00

Deanna, one of my favorite bloggers over at Delirious Rhapsody, has a pretty inspiring message over on her blog today about 'invisible mothers.' Very, very cool.

Click here to be redirected!

A Bad Thing

2012-01-02T06:00:00.000-06:00

I have this big, blue trunk. I've had it for about 14 years and it's filled with yearbooks, cheerleading uniforms that almost fit (chuckle), high school notes passed years and years ago. I can't bear to part with any of it, so I've lugged it around with me from state to state, city to city, up and down stairs, collecting dust across the nation.

It's in our basement now, in a dark corner that smells lightly of cats.  I cleaned it out the other day, finally decided to lighten the load before our next move (more on that soon).  Between reading pointless teenage scribble and randomly printed out emails without much merit, I found 3 dresses that my mom saved for me, dresses I wore when I was a baby.  

I was filled with a longing, a sadness.  Here I have these cute dresses and no one to put them on.  We aren't (planning on) having another baby, so here the dresses are, sad, cute, babyless. Did I mention how adorable they are?  Here's a picture of me wearing one:

It's really uncanny how alike Brixton and I look, right?

No, it's not him. It's me. 

Ok, fine.  Yes, it's Brixton.  Yes, I put him in the dress.  I was desperate, okay?  

{But doesn't he look cute??} 

Brendan was outside cleaning out his car.  He had no idea what I was subjecting his son to.  And I wanted to surprise him.

SURPRISE!

I called my mom and told her Brixton had something he wanted to show her. We skyped. SURPRISE!

Granted, I still think he looks like a boy, those huge Fred Flinestone feet really give it away. He hated the dress. He couldn't move around in it very well. I felt a lot of comfort in that.

So, Brixton, if one day you stumble across this post...

SURPRISE!

And don't make Mommy mad because I can get these printed out in a heartbeat.

Life Before Baby v.5

2012-01-01T09:09:00.000-06:00

*Snort*

I have to start out like that because I know how this would all turn out. Brendan and I did a few Critical Mass rides in San Diego. I had the junkiest bike ever, complete with a duct-taped bike seat (the bike was free though so whatever). This was 2008, in the summer and hipsters were really starting to take over the city and like many things that hipsters touch, they ruin. They ruined Critical Mass, (and Tuesday nights at the Velodrome), at least for me.

This first ride was so much fun. I loved seeing the annoyed and somewhat baffled drivers as hundreds of bikes just kept whizzing by. But then I started seeing the not so cool part--people guzzling tall boys of PBR and then throwing the cans on the ground, at cars, in yards. People on bikes completely surrounding and harassing the people in cars. Fights. One guy riding in front of me keyed the side of a truck--the entire length of it. I was furious. CM is supposed to be a good time, not a time to commit crimes for fun or because you don't think someone should have a truck. I yelled at the guy. I told him we'd find him later (For what? I have no idea.) Brendan thought the guy was going to stab me when he dropped back and let me pass. I never rode in CM again, I was so disappointed and embarrassed by the people that I didn't want to be associated with it.

What I love about this photo: I loved that shirt, still own and wear those jeans, love Brendan's weird duck smile, we don't own either of those bikes anymore but have a whole basement full of different ones now, we knew people in the background and liked to make fun of them (yes, I'm mean). My weird hair. Also, we wore helmets. Many CM riders didn't and some of them paid a serious price for that.

Life was good.

Life Before Baby is my weekly series that will highlight a picture and story from my life before I became a mom. In my current state, I haven't styled my hair in about two weeks or used makeup. I am still trying to lose the last of the baby weight. I am wearing a tattered, gray sweatshirt most days and that description would fit my mood as well.

So let's revisit ME (and hopefully you!). The person I was, and might well be (somewhere in there) when I can find the inspiration and lose the fear of being spit up on.

If you do a Life Before Baby post, please link up and let me know in the comments. I'd love to know that you weren't always "just" someone's mom either!

Do You See What I See?

2012-01-01T09:04:00.002-06:00

I'm not an HTML maven.

I have no idea how to makes any tweaks to my blog outside of those allowed in the template. And the last time I changed my header and side pics it took me hours to finish.

And now this. I made a change. All of a sudden my header is liberal...leanin' left. No amount of begging for advice on Blogger Help has done me any good, no amount of making loud annoyed grunting sounds, no promises to heaven above of good behavior.

So, I turn to you, readers, random people who Googled, Dad. Anyone? How can I fix this?

Grow, Change, Learn: Goodbye 2011

2011-12-31T15:43:00.000-06:00

we loved much..

we ate well...

we met with new friends..

and loved on old ones..

we had fashion hits..

and some misses too..

But through it all, we had family..

and a few good pairs of boots.

Welcome 2012.

To much, much more of the same..

Told You So..

2011-12-28T21:25:00.000-06:00

I'm pretty sure I just heard my mom gasp.

See? I wasn't exaggerating.

This was our darn tree the day after Christmas, when I unceremoniously stripped it of its decorations and hauled it to the curb.

Can I add too that I was actually trying to be careful when taking stuff off of it, to lessen the needles? Did a lot of good didn't it?

Can you say fire hazard?

And you call yourself a Christmas tree.

You ought to be ashamed of yourself.

Especially because I actually remembered to water you this year.

What a mess. Hope you are enjoying your new home next to the trash cans, though I am finding remnants of your ugly self in all sorts of unexpected places: upstairs carpet, on my sweater, one stuck to the back of Brixton's shirt.

Damn you, tree. Damn you. (Shaking fist).

CHRISTmas

2011-12-27T10:20:00.000-06:00

Happy post-Christmas, everyone!

It's over, isn't it? All that build-up, all the gift buying, stocking-stuffing, holiday-eating, Christmas dreamin' is done for now. It's never like I think it's going to be. I always have some glossy image in mind, like our Christmas has already been edited with some cool effect, but LIFE isn't really like that is it?

That's why life gives us Picnik.

Christmas Eve day was spent..hmmm..cleaning I think. I've already forgotten. I do know that we went for Chinese food for dinner and it was scrumptious (that's saying a lot, since Chinese food is on my 'least liked' list). We dined on pan-fried potstickers, lettuce wraps, seafood noodles and duck. It was quite delicious. It was weird too, because we ate with a famous celebrity. Through the whole meal people kept stopping by our booth to say hi and compliment him. Guess who it was, James Franco! Okay, no, it wasn't, it was just Brixton, but it felt like it was J.F. because so many people came by to oooh and ahhh. (And I can secretly wish it was J.F. though that would have been kind of awkward for Brendan).

**Side story**
The restaurant hostess saw us coming and opened the door for us to give us easy access with the stroller (so nice!). Then we saw her. Tall, slender, about 17, with the body equivelent of a Lambourgini, accented by a very tight red skirt and black top, also accentuated by her managing to stick out her top and bottom at the very same time. You couldn't hate her though because she was so darn nice, but I had so much fun watching the eyes of the families following her to their respective tables. The men were all looking down, a little flabergasted, all singing "Glory Days" in their heads, while the women all looked ruffled, put-out and deflated. "Now he's not even going to notice my Christmas sweater." I overheard one lady say to her husband, "My gift to you this Christmas is her."

I'd like to point out here that I had NOTHING on my lips. They are just severely chapped from Old Man Winter, who likes to make me look like I'm wearing lipstick. Jerk.

Christmas morning. Brixton stirred us awake at 8:30am. Ahhh..I love my child. We spent hours opening gifts, since Brixton had a million and gift opening was interrupted by eating, napping and the aforementioned poo-nuggets. But in between there was this:

Possibly qualifies for 'best gift ever.' He gave me two of these!
*The asterisk are great--right? Full sleep in! Meal Prep! YES!

A gift only an enthusiastic grandparent could give. Notice the pine needles.

"All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.."

Banana Bread French Toast. Amazing.

Hope your Christmas was merry and bright!

P.S. I'm SO enjoying lurking on everyone else's holiday posts! So if you also did a holiday recap, let me know in the comments so I can come visit!

Poops

2011-12-26T20:27:00.001-06:00

So far today, I've changed Brixton's diaper 6 times.  He's batting a 6/6 average for pooping in each diaper.  Don't get me wrong--I'm not talking about 6 huge blowouts, rather a small, tightly compressed nugget lodged tightly between his cheese-cheeks.  While they may be the size of a walnut, they pack a stink punch of the world's largest durian fruit.  Forget sticking an egg under someone's car seat to rot and start to stink up their car, you could stealthily hide one of these nuggets anywhere and drive people insane.  They are so pressured packed  and contured to his body, I swear one day I'm going to open his diaper and be presented with a 33 carat diamond.

I'm not complaining.  I would so rather have a pooping baby than a baby with constipation or loose-caboose.  Thankfully, we are back to using cloth diapers, so I'm not tossing out my precious disposables that many times a day. 

Despite our vigilance about detecting and changing the poo nuggets, he still manages to sneak one by us every so often.  You'll be on the diaper mat, completely unprepared, wipes not out and ready, gas mask unstrapped on face.  You open the diaper and there it is: contraband.  Brixton looks up at you gleefully, kicks his legs about and then promptly pees, the steady stream arching over the nugget: a golden rainbow if you will.

Every night before bed, we have 'naked time.' Mind you, this only applies to Brixton, as I can't really see the whole family partaking and I'm so sorry to have given you that visual.  I lay a thin blanket on the carpet, strip Brix down to his skin and let him air out for 5 minutes or so.  This is by far one of his favorite times of the day.  He screams.  He laughs.  He kicks.  And yesterday, he pooped. 

Indeed, I had just left his side for approximately 30 seconds to run to the bathroom.  When I came back in, I noticed something small and dark by his side.  

"Did you find a friend?" I asked, moving closer.  Then, a gasp.

"What is..is that?  EWWWWWWW!"

What in the world?  How did he get that out so quickly?  Was he hiding it in his hand to throw out as a surprise like a VERY WRONG type of confetti?  He was gleeful.  GLEEFUL!  And kicking.  Kicking in such a way that the poo was making itself dangerously close to becoming a schmeer and that's NOT what you want to deal with right before bedtime.  I called Brendan up, he who was a bit perplexed that I'd call him up to look at a piece of baby feces on a blanket.  But I thought I needed backup, or at least someone else just to be breathing in that stench.

The best part, and the silver..or brown..lining of this whole thing is that I rarely have to rinse out the dirty cloth diapers in our utility sink anymore.  Nope, just a quick shake into the old toilet and we are good to go.

At least until an hour later, when he goes again.

Life Before Baby v.4

2011-12-25T06:00:00.000-06:00

Merry Christmas & Happy Birthday Jesus!

I hope you are enjoying the day with your family, marveling over your children, taking lots of pictures and eating way too much food!

Christmas day, 2005. La Jolla Shores.

Ahh..this one's pretty old now. I was freshly 28. We were together for just over 3 months and so much in that lovey-dovey phase where everything is sparkly and new and fresh and full of promise. We had NO IDEA 6 years later we'd have a baby son celebrating his first Christmas and we'd live in Chicago.

Then it was just about the next party, the next dinner out, the next cuddle movie, the next Fun Thing. I was teaching. There was no recession. I still had so much to look forward to--I KNEW we would get married, even at this point.

After a beach walk we went and watched loads of movies and ate snacks all day long. We also gave each other the worst gifts ever. He have me (someone who isn't really into music) a Sirius (?) radio thing and I gave him (someone who doesn't enjoy reading at all) two books about travel. We laugh about it now!

What I love about this picture: my hair, we look so young!, the beach, the love and hope and promise that I was feeling, it was Christmas and we were both in short-sleeves. Gotta love San Diego...

Life Before Baby is my new weekly series that will highlight a picture and story from my life before I became a mom. In my current state, I haven't styled my hair in about two weeks or used makeup. I am still trying to lose the last of the baby weight. I am wearing a tattered, gray sweatshirt most days and that description would fit my mood as well.

So let's revisit ME (and hopefully you!). The person I was, and might well be (somewhere in there) when I can find the inspiration and lose the fear of being spit up on.

If you do a Life Before Baby post, please link up and let me know in the comments. I'd love to know that you weren't always "just" someone's mom either!

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-23T22:26:00.000-06:00

Wishing you all a very..

See you all soon, after the holiday fun has subsided!

xoxo
Kelley

Oh Christmas Tree (I highly dislike you)

2011-12-21T10:18:00.001-06:00

I try to keep my hatred for inanimate objects to a minimum, since obviously the return on that is pretty limited, but the Christmas tree we brought home is kind of like that child in a horror movie, who is in a creepy orphanage, then the lovely little parents pick it to take home and love and then the child becomes something else, something wicked.

I had my doubts from the beginning about The Tree, and while Brendan did a great job at picking out a handsome one, there was something about it that just didn't settle right with me. This tree is kind of like a beautiful woman who turns out to be a stalker.

I've already asked Brendan several times if we could ditch the tree on the 26th. No ceremony. No sadness over the end of the holidays. Just the sweet satisfaction of that tree sitting sadly on the curb in the cold. I swear I would wave from the window.

Today I asked if we could kick it out once we were done opening gifts.

This tree, this thing, has shed needles with such skill and efficiency, despite my babying with water and a dash of sugar, that I swear it knows.

It knows that dropping needles all over gifts is the wrong thing to do.

It knows that in the quiet evenings, when we are sitting watching TV, I can hear the needles drop.

The other night, at 3 am, it threw a glass ornament from itself. The sound of glass breaking in the middle of the night caused a chain of events in our house that involved the words "Get the bat" and two adrenalin filled bodies going SWAT style into the living room.

There the tree just stood. Dumb. Tree eyebrows raised. The ornament shattered at its base. WHAT? It asked in a voice that only I can hear.

And then another needle dropped. And another.

This morning I cleared out all of the gifts, removed the tree skirt (although I'm pretty sure this tree is a male), and swept up what seemed like 1/3 of the tree's needles. The floor was clean, needle-free. I put the skirt back. A few needles dropped when my hand threatened to touch a branch. (Can that be considered an attack? Did my tree just launch defensive measures?!)

Then I started the task of painstakingly putting all the gifts back under the branches. It was like a sick game of Operation. I broke a sweat, adding the smell of an onion to the peppermint candle we had going. Just as I had the last gifts tucked in, my hand went all wonky. A branch was touched. And then this:

I wish I was kidding.

Now we are just sitting here staring at each other. I have some Christmas music on and the baby's napping. It's like an old-fashioned draw.

Did I miss something here? Is there a secret to keeping needles on trees, besides growing one through your living room floor? (Hmm..that'd be interesting..).

Sponsor Swap!

2011-12-18T09:32:00.003-06:00

Hi!

This is the first time I'm offering sponsorship on my blog.

The best part?

It's free!

I just ask that you take my button and display it on your blog as well!

Along with proudly displaying your button, I am going to do a group post highlighting my sponsors.

Please let me know by December 29th if you'd like to swap!

Just email me: brixtonmakesthree@yahoo.com

It's that easy-peasy!

Life Before Baby v.3

2011-12-18T06:00:00.000-06:00

This picture makes me miss living so close to Utah. Utah, in my humble opinion, is the most beautiful state I've ever been to (I know, right?). I love the desert, love the barrenness, the scraggly plants, the intricate rock formations and winding canyons.

April 2010 in Moab, Utah. We went camping, something I hadn't done in about 12 years. When we pulled up to the campground, it was instant disappointment. It wasn't a campground as much as a trailer park. Our campsite was literally the size of a parking space, all gravel, right next to an old abandoned building with a view of someone's house. I convinced Brendan to 'do something!' and he did. And we scored a nice spot next to a creek. We had a lot of fun hiking, eating s'mores, riding bikes (Brendan), sleeping in (me) and of course, visiting Arches National Park with all of the great rock formations and arches.

What I love about this picture: I'm a dork. I have a million pics of this, trying to get it all right. That's my best pain face.

By the way, I could never hold up a rock any bigger than a cantaloupe. Through all of our moves and hoofing boxes in and out of homes, I would complain and not be able to carry much. Brendan thought I was faking. Then I joined a gym out here when we first arrived and they did The Assessment. Guess what? I wasn't faking. The people there were perplexed that someone could lack so much arm strength. I am the proud owner of T-Rex arms.

Just over a year later I'd have a baby. I guess you could say I'm livin' it up in this picture.

Life was good.

So let's revisit ME (and hopefully you!). The person I was, and might well be (somewhere in there) when I can find the inspiration and lose the fear of being spit up on.

If you do a Life Before Baby post, please link up and let me know in the comments. I'd love to know that you weren't always "just" someone's mom either!

Firestarter

2011-12-16T15:59:00.001-06:00

Um...I think we have a problem:

Confession: I am a closet dancer

2011-12-16T09:11:00.000-06:00

Warning: This post probably isn't very interesting to anyone else but any fellow closet dancers who thought they were alone.  Well, guess what?  You aren't.

It's 10:11 pm and I just came up from the basement. 

The basement is the best way for me to hide away my shameful secret, away from neighbors who might be going out to their cars or looking out their windows, away from the puzzled expression of my spouse.  

I was in the tub, when suddenly I realized it.

I need to dance.  NOW.

Drain tub. Dry. Dress.  Find iPod.  Wet hair.  Basement.

If you'd looked in the basement window, you would have seen a 34 year old girl...ahem..woman, flailing about in a ryhthmic fashion.  Kicking.  Gyrating.  Lip-syncing or just beltin' it out.  Other dance moves involved: The Sprinkler, a very enthusiastic Running Man, the Robot (is dancing ever complete without it?), and something I like to call the Drop It Like It's Hot and Then Come Back Up Slowly Because It Hurts My Knees.  

Every now and then I just get these bursts of energy that can't be used cleaning or making a paper banner or baking a cake. 

The other part of this is the music.  I don't normally listen to rap or hip-hop, but I have to dance to it.  

My top jams:

Usher

Daddy Yankee

Pitbull

Ludacris

Yin Yang Twins

Salt N Peppa

E-40

But something really magical happens when "Pump Up the Jam" by Technotronic comes on.  

I would suggest giving me a wide berth on that one, else you'll be hit by a flailing (yet controlled) limb. 

One day, hopefully far in the future, I may have to give up my secret dancing.  Brixton may not appreciate seeing his mom in that state (heck, Brendan might not even appreciate it now and he's my only possible audience member) but it would be great for shock value.

Now my burst of 25 minutes of energy is gone and I'm listening to Taylor Swift.  And my hair is in that half-dry phase and I have no energy (left) to dry it.  And I have an interview tomorrow.  A job?  No, a mom interview.  As in I'm going to a playgroup thing here in town and looking for mom friends.  So tomorrow I'll go as frumpy, undone mom and maybe next week I won't get this rogue burst of So You Think You Can Dance and be able to actually dry my hair and get to be "Wow, she has it pulled together mom."

*Snort*  They seriously should have just seen me. 

Okay, I know this post is whatever, but I have to believe there are others out there. I understand if you don't want to come forward, so it's just fine to leave me out here hanging.

(Deep in robotic concentration)

Elfing

2011-12-15T13:06:00.000-06:00

I did a post about our Elf on the Shelf here, where I declared that I would do a bit of elf torture on Brendan. For quite a few days, that darn elf would turn up in the most unlikely of places, all of which were places that Brendan frequents (i.e., the coffee maker, the bathroom, the bed..I swear if I could have rigged the elf in or on the toilet somehow I would have..maybe next year).

After a few days, Brendan started stealing the elf back and putting him in places I frequent (the fridge, the closet, the cookie jar). Touche, Brendan. Thus, I have abandoned my elfing for this year..

Here are a few shots of the elf and where he magically appeared:

Brendan pulled the sheets back and found this guy waiting for him. Awkward.

Welcome home, Father. I should have figured out how to attach a kitchen knife to his hands to raise the creep factor.

I like to think of this shot as the 'Take a hint' elf.

Christmas Stockings

2011-12-14T18:57:00.000-06:00

Let's talk Christmas Stockings, shall we?

I've had the same stocking my whole life, as far as I know. It's a nice little stocking, fits loads of candy and other small gifts, is made thick and sturdy and has a bit of that 70s something that you just can't replicate these days.

Each year, when we'd get our stockings out, I would happily greet mine, knowing it belonged to me.

I started shopping around for a stocking for Brixton in August. Yes, August. It was hot out, I had a 3 month old, I just wanted to get him a stocking! I searched around for a bit, but couldn't find exactly what I wanted, so I headed over to Etsy where I began scouring the shops and BINGO!

I knew I wanted a stocking that was big, with a liner and some padding. Something that would last a lifetime as well as something that a boy/man wouldn't be embarrassed of.

I found this cute Santa print and loved it! I was able to customize the cuff fabric and opted to have his name stitched on there (I decided to go big and do his middle name too, just in case he meets someone else named Brixton that happens to have their stocking hanging in our home).

The Etsy shop I found it at is called Bebe Sniklefritz. I just visited it recently and she has all sorts of new prints that I love!

My lovely stocking

Brixton's stocking (obviously, since you can read and all)

Where'd you get your stocking?

Legit Winter Wear Question

2011-12-12T06:00:00.000-06:00

How do you keep your baby warm in winter?

I think this is a pretty legit question because I grew up in a place where if the temp got below 32 we went outside to 'feel how freezing feels'. Then I lived in a place (San Diego) where if it ever got to 32 degrees (which it never did) people would be dressing up like the kid brother from A Christmas Story (except for the SDSU sorority girls..they'd still wear mini skirts, platform heels and tube tops, despite goosebumps and shivering, because looking like..ahem..that..is far more important than dressing seasonally).

Now I live in Chicagoland. Our high yesterday was 22 degrees. There's an icicle taking up residence outside of my bedroom window. And now I have a 7 month old baby, relying on me to keep him free from freezer burn..uh..frostbite.

We have hats. We have sweaters, socks and boots. We have this puffy jacket. Am I missing something?

Because this isn't enough. 22 degrees can be spring. It can be warm. Winter hasn't even really started yet, people. Last year we didn't get past 32 degrees for about 2 months.

Do I get him a baby scarf? A baby face mask? Baby gloves????

Besides slipping on an ice-patch and dropping said baby, my biggest fear about winter is seeing his tiny hands turn into ice-blocks.

So, besides hibernating for 4 months (which is tempting, especially the gorging part before the long sleep) what can I do to keep my baby warm??

Life Before Baby v.2

2011-12-11T06:00:00.000-06:00

So let's revisit ME (and hopefully you!). The person I was, and might well be (somewhere in there) when I can find the inspiration and lose the fear of being spit up on.

If you do a Life Before Baby post, please link up and let me know in the comments. I'd love to know that you weren't always "just" someone's mom either!

Portland, OR. August, 2009. We went to the PNW to check it out and visit our friends that had moved there. We loved Portland, with its cute homes, nice downtown and yummy treats (My Father's Place burgers and of course, Voodoo Donuts).

We went to the top of the Pink Building to enjoy some appetizers and the lovely view of Mt. Hood. Although we were checking Portland and Seattle out in hopes of moving there, we already knew that Brendan had been offered a job again from his old company in Denver and that we were moving back to Denver in about a month. (A move that would ultimately bring us to Chicago, though in this photo we had no idea).

What I love about this picture: my short skirt (again!), that Brendan doesn't own that T-shirt anymore, my long necklace, a sunny summer sky in Portland, the idea that it was 4pm and no one was just waking up from their nap, awkward hair--growing out a very short angled cut with bangs.

Brendan loved Portland, while I was more partial to Seattle. Portland is nice too, I just felt like it was a tad too hipster-rific for me. Any place where people are dressing to out-homeless each other is a place that I'm going to get into a fist fight.

Our friends don't live there anymore, as the dreary weather sent them back to San Diego. "Great place to visit, but.."

Life was good.

Your Car Seat is Probably Installed Incorrectly...

2011-12-09T07:30:00.000-06:00

A few weeks back, okay, a few days before Halloween if we're being honest, the local rec center was having a Halloween Carnival thing. Some volunteers from the police and fire departments were on hand to give car seat safety checks, free, as the colorful sign and balloons indicated.

"Hurumph," I thought. "I have mine in right."

We installed our car seat days before Brixton was born. Logically, it's in the middle back seat, anchored down on both sides. Duh. It's that easy. I didn't install it myself, but Brendan did. I think he even glanced at the instructions, but really, it seemed like a no-brainer how to put it in.

Back again at the rec center, Brixton and I walked down the sidewalk and passed one of the policemen that was giving car seat checks. "You should have us take a look at your car seat, I can already see it's installed wrong." He said.

What?!

Now I was just plain curious. I've driven around with a car seat in the back of my car for the better part of 12 years with other people's kids in them and now my own. Brendan, while almost completely inexperienced with children besides scaring them, has a long list of attributes that inspire great confidence that he'd understand the mechanics and physics of simple car seat installation, such as:

Experience with remodeling/refurbishing houses

Building expensive and complicated road and mountain bikes from scratch

once rode his bike for 24 hours in a row on purpose (irrelevant, but kind of a neat random fact)

used to work in a fabrication shop welding stuff like cars

   I called Brendan and told him we were bringing down our new car seat (our 'big boy' car seat--Britax Marathon 70...hate it by the way) and they were going to install it correctly and I told him ours was installed wrong.

"Wrong?" He said, affronted, his male-dad-ego falling out of his pant leg. *plop*

Long story short, it was wrong. Yes, while the most logical place for a car seat to go is in the middle of the car, if you are putting it there you need to use the safety belt, not the latches to anchor it. Only if you put the seat on one of the sides should you latch it! He said 90% of people that come in there have them done wrong.

Do you?

Anyway, they did install our car seat for us while we watched. (Well, Brendan watched. I drank coffee and tried to appear like I was paying attention, but really I was looking at Brixton and thinking about what I was going to eat for lunch). It took them about 45 minutes to get that sucker in my car and they even used pool noodles underneath it to really get it stable. I think a Mack truck could t-bone my car and Brixton wouldn't even move an inch, that's how tight the seat is. Of course, I'm not interested in finding out if that is actually true.

My point: check your car seat! Many fire/police stations have someone there that is certified to check them for you. Call ahead to see if someone is at your nearest one and stop in! It takes a few seconds to see if it's wrong, but it could save your child's life...

About to make our first big fail as parents without even knowing it. Way to go, guys.

Bilingual Baby: An Update

2011-12-08T06:00:00.000-06:00

A mouse saved her young from a ferocious cat by barking 'bow wow'. After the cat ran away, the mouse said to her offspring 'See, children, it pays to know a second language'

-After Efstatiadis

I wrote of my desire to raise Brixton bilingually in this post, written two months before he was born. I wasn't really sure how it was going to go. German isn't my first language and I speak it imperfectly, plus it's a lot easier to just say things in your own language (duh). It was a slow start. I had to retrain my tongue, my throat, my lips, my brain. I had to start thinking in German. I had to stop translating everything and just start talking.

Within a few weeks, with my German dictionary in close range, I was speaking quite a bit of German to Brixton each day. On good days, I would speak mostly in German to him. Some days I wasn't motivated, but all it took was pointing out a few objects in German and I was off and running. I wasn't willing to give up something that is so important to me just because I lacked the motivation.

We have a small collection of German books, generous gifts from friends, and we read them each day. I have German music, which plays in my car more than I'm willing to say. I also started a German Playgroup in our area and we've met about 9 other moms with children that also speak German.

Brixton is starting to respond to language, whether it's English or German. I'll ask him in German where his elephants are and he'll start looking for them. I ask him if he wants his bottle in German and he gets excited. So something is happening, his brain has filled in the gaps in my own understanding to make it possible for him to comprehend. It's a magical process really, something beautiful to watch unfold.

Still, many days I wonder if I've done enough. It's a daily struggle, a daily battle to slip over to my German-side and let the words flow. I have to say though that the more I do it, the easier it is and more natural it feels.

Some tips from me to you:

Make friends with other moms in your target language. It's good for you and for your child to hear and speak the language, plus other speakers might have different dialects or vocabulary that you wouldn't be able to introduce.

Just start talking! The more you practice, the better you'll get and it won't feel odd to you to be speaking another language out and about. Even if you are just able to string a few words together, your child will learn them. I taught an 18 month old to respond to me saying 'Where is your nose?' in German by pointing to her nose. It took one day. Kids learn fast.

Don't know a word? Look it up! In the early days I kept a list of words I couldn't remember or didn't know--for example, I never knew the word 'diaper' in German. I use it now all the time, but if I hadn't taken the time out to look it up I'd still be using the English word for it. Peppering in English here and there is bound to happen, but I feel like it makes it more likely to trigger a 'switch' back to English.

Get your hands on all the books/cds/dvds you can! Incorporating a second language is a lot more fun for you and your child, when it's actually presented as fun! Not only can you and your child learn new vocabulary from books, but the more you read the books out loud, the better your intonation and accent will become over time. I also translate the simple English children's books (think 'Brown Bear, Brown Bear What do you see?') into German in my head and just recite it the same each time.

Get some practice yourself! Read a book in the second language, write an email, listen to music. Anything that immerses yourself in the language will trickle down to help your child as well.

Relax! If you have a bad day (or string of days) where you don't speak the second language at all, realize that your baby will still be able to learn. Even using the language for 30 minutes a day will help baby hear the sounds and intonations of the language.

Don't Give Up! It's going to take a looong time. You won't see instant results, but if you let it all simmer for a good year and a half or two..well, imagine that day when your child says their first word in the second language. That was all you (so seriously, use that to negotiate for something..a new purse? A spa day? You are amazing, after all!)

Are you raising your baby bilingual? If so, I'd love to hear from you and get any tips you might have!

Brixton: 7 Months

2011-12-07T21:13:00.000-06:00

Dear Brixton,

Mama's feeling a little sappy lately toward you. Not sure if it's the approaching holidays or the fact that the tiny little baby above is growing as such a fast clip. I never, ever in a million years imagined that I'd love you so so much. The past month you have exploded in personality. You are much more interactive with people and especially love to flirt with the ladies. You like to watch things going on around you. You recognize me and Daddy when we walk into a room. We have so much fun playing games with you and making you laugh over and over and over again. You have two teeth. You say ma-ma. You love pinching my skin and still enjoy pulling my hair (just one or two at a time though).

I was so proud of you on the airplane. SO PROUD. Three people turned to us and told us what a great little baby you were, because you didn't squawk during the 4 hour flight from California to Chicago. You love your Oma and Grandpa. You met great-grandpa Don, who is turning 91 in about 2 months. You also met great-grandma S who is turning 92 soon. I'm so pleased they met you and got to see who stole my heart.

Uncle Kevin brought over your cousin, Aiden, who was just one week old. You sat on my lap and stared at him, reached out your fat hand and tried to touch his hair. You were really interested in him, so small, bundled tightly in a blanket. Maybe you were telling him, "Hold on, it gets better" or maybe just "I love you. I love you no matter who you are."

There's someone you didn't meet though, Brixton. She was very special to my parents, brought them a lot of joy and laughter in her five short years. Abby, their pug. Oma was so excited for you to see her, to laugh at her, for her to give you a pug kiss. But God called her back to him, just a week before we went to visit. Abby's sitting on God's lap now Brix, and she saw you visit. She saw you comfort them and distract them from their grief. She saw that you will now be a source of joy and laughter for them and that it's okay that she had to go. They were so good to her, Brix. They are good, your Oma and Grandpa.

Love,

Mommy

(It's mistletoe!)

Do You Elf?

2011-12-06T06:00:00.000-06:00

How many of you out there know about Elf on the Shelf?
image: via

I heard about it about 2 years ago for the first time from a family I nannied for and loved the idea of moving this creepy, slightly pervy little elf around my house in order to elicit good behavior from a child.  When we moved to Illinois, the family here that I worked for had it too and then gave me my own for Christmas last year.

 

Our elf, unnamed at this point, is currently sitting atop our stereo watching me type this post.  It's kind of eerie, really. He's got that shiny little face and that oh-so-innocent thing going on, kind of like you might wake up in the night and find he's managed to wrap his hand stumps around a knife handle or an old, rusty pair of scissors  I hope he didn't see me not share a chocolate bar with Brendan or that time yesterday when I rolled my eyes at him.  Santa wouldn't approve.

I'm looking forward to all the future Christmases when I can point to our elf and remind Brixton that Santa's watching (kind of like a child's introduction to Brave New World with the elf acting like some go-between). 

Last night while I was killing time on Pinterest, I found this blog with an awesome list of things to do with your elf.  And here I thought putting him on a shelf or hidden in the tree was the height of what he could do! 

Since I can't really interact with Brixton with the elf, I'm going to torture Brendan with it. I think when Brendan pulls the sheets back tonight, he'll find elf laying there, looking up at him. Game on.

Christmas Traditions

2011-12-05T07:00:00.000-06:00

It's a gray, dreary day so I thought I'd liven it up with a fun little thing I found over at the lovely Vanessa's blog,  Little Gray Pixel...

Egg nog or hot chocolate? Geez.  Is this Sophie's Choice or what?  I'm going to have to go with egg nog on this one, though by a hair.  There's something about the thick, super sweet eggy goodness that just wins it for me.

Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?  Santa's pretty lazy the other 364 days of the year, so I wrap the presents.  He just takes the credit.

Colored lights on tree/house or white?  I really love either.  Unfortunately we bought LED lights last year at the day after Christmas sale at Target and they were the "cool white" kind.  So I'm really depressed this year about the lights.  Can we not talk about it?

Do you hang mistletoe? No. Brendan doesn't need anymore encouragement thank you very much.

When do you put your decorations up? Whenever the mood strikes.  This year it struck while the calendar still said November--a first for me I believe.

What is your favorite holiday dish? I don't really have one to be honest.  We keep the "dishes" pretty simple over here.  We do usually get some salami to snack on and I'm all over that. 

Favorite holiday memory as a child? The time in Oregon when Santa was running on the back deck with some sleigh bells and he tripped and fell.  Luckily he was okay.  It was magical for a three year old.

When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? I have no idea.  It just started to not make sense to me that Santa could come into the house and no one would know.  

Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?  Growing up, we opened ALL of our gifts on Christmas Eve.  It's a German tradition.  Since I got married, we open them on Christmas morning, which makes the day not quite so boring.  But I still insist on a Christmas Eve gift.  

How do you decorate your Christmas tree?  Very poorly.  It's nothing special..yet.  Brixton has his very own tree in his room.  Each year I am buying him an ornament for it (this year it looks sad since it just has one).  Originally I was going to give him all of the ornaments when he went to college, but my mom pointed out he might trade them all for a 6-pack of beer or something, so when he gets married he'll get them.  

Snow! Love it or dread it? Love it for Christmas.  Hate it in March.

Can you ice skate? Yes.  And I can do a twirl.

Do you remember your favorite gift? No, but I always got lots of books and candy.  After the gift opening ceremony (isn't that what it feels like?) I'd head right upstairs and read and eat candy all day.

What’s the most important thing about the holidays for you? Feeling grateful for everything I have and the loved ones in my life.

What is your favorite holiday dessert? Almond tarts.

What is your favorite holiday tradition? I'm not sure we had any real traditions that I can recognize.  We did all pile in the car, drive around looking at lights and singing Christmas carols.  One time I sang Silent Night and my  mom told me it sounded really nice.  That really made me feel great.  And that was only two years ago.

What tops your tree? A big silver star.

Which do you prefer: giving or receiving? Giving!  So much fun!

Candy canes: yuck or yum? Yuck, but I'll still eat one.

Favorite Christmas show? A Christmas Story.  Classic, funny, a good way to spend two hours under a blanket (that reads a little pervy..sorry 'bout that)

Saddest Christmas song? "I'll Be Home For Christmas"  I always think about the military guys, from WWII till now (okay...you too WWI)..just wishing they would be home for Christmas.

What is your favorite Christmas song?   It's a tie between Silent Night, which I've been told I can sing really well (ahem) and Joy to the World.  I love the high notes and the messages.  

23. Do you peek at your gifts? I used to be the WORST peeker. I was an expert at lifting back taped corners and seeing just enough of the packaging to know what the gift was. In fact, when I was just home for Thanksgiving, my mom gave me some wrapped gifts to take home in my luggage. She hesitated while giving them to me. "I'm afraid you're going to peek!" Apparently my gift-ruining skills have caused trauma for some people, including Brendan, who practically has to bury my gifts in the yard so I won't find them! I proud to say I do not peek anymore.

Life Before Baby: A New Series

2011-12-04T08:55:00.001-06:00

So let's revisit ME (and hopefully you!). The person I was, and might well be (somewhere in there) when I can find the inspiration and lose the fear of being spit up on.

If you do a Life Before Baby post, please link up and let me know in the comments. I'd love to know that you weren't always "just" someone's mom either!

You can't really see me in this photo, but that's part of the fun. My friend and I were at the airport in San Francisco, waiting to pick up our rental car to make the two hour drive to Bodega Bay, the location of our first Girls' Trip. What I love about this photo: the grainy quality, my serious pose, how fit my legs were (thanks to roller derby), my waist, the way that crazy blue light kind of reflects the energy of the whole trip.

We drank Bloody Marys at the airport in San Diego at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. That was the first and last time I've ever drank a Bloody Mary.

I loved this little dress, found at Urban Outfitters, along with the belt. I have a thing about wearing high heels with a short dress or skirt (shows too much leg), so I opted for boots instead. (Still have the belt and boots..the dress is long gone).

I'm not sure about my hair here (bangs like this don't seem to work on my face), but I felt really good at the time. Traveling with a friend, feeling good about myself, off to visit with other dear friends for a relaxing 3 days in our beach house rental.

At this point, I was 30. We had just moved back to San Diego from Denver and I was really happy. Kids were not on my radar, not even a thought.

Life was good.

Hello Santa!

2011-12-03T11:15:00.001-06:00

I told Brendan we had to.

We had to go to the mall.

We had to put Brixton on Santa's lap.

We had to buy the pictures.

Can I selfishly admit I was hoping Brixton would cry? I think that's kind of cute in Santa pics.

But, no. Brixton's newest thing involves a big cheesy grin when we say "smiles" to him. He loves the camera, that one.

I would also like to point out how well Brixton and Santa match. Brendan picked out the outfit and I think he did a terrific job.

I don't know if Brixton told Santa his Christmas wish list, but I assured him that Santa knows. He just knows.

Moscow Dreams

2011-12-01T10:56:00.001-06:00

Not sure what file this is going to go under.

It's either going to be the "stuff that will be embarrassing in 15 years" or the "stuff that is cute and awesome forever" one.

Brendan and I popped into Baby Gap a few weeks ago. They have a great selection of baby hats right now and while Brendan wanted to go for the more subdued knit cap, I knew in my heart of hearts that this was the hat Brixton would choose. Well, it's something I would love to wear anyway.

This was his "going to pick out the Christmas tree" outfit. We just went to Home Depot this year, since a 6 month old isn't going to get a whole lot out of picking your own tree and then cutting it down, but he was quite a star in the aisles there nonetheless. It was mostly men there, and this hat screams manly.Huck Finn. adventure. wolves. shotgun. and that seemed to be enough to garner a few smiles and hellos.

I love this kid.

I wish I could take credit for him and sometimes I try to.

But, while I did grow him in my very own tummy, God decided this little boy would be my child. I can't tell you how lucky I feel.

I know we all feel that way about our kids though and it's a good thing. If we didn't have that bond, that strong love that makes you want to wake them up two hours after they've gone to sleep for the night just for a cuddle, then how in the world could we get through the hard times?

For now, I just thank my lucky stars that Brixton's at an age where I can dress him up in ridiculous hats and he can't reach his fat arms up enough to take them off.

Life is good, indeed.

A Few of my Unfavorite Things...

2011-11-29T06:00:00.000-06:00

I'm tired of Zombies. I feel like they've had a top reign for the past few years and I'm sick of them. Unfortunately, Brendan just got hooked on watching "The Walking Dead" which means that I'm about to start blogging a whole lot more.

Anyone else sick of mustaches? If I see one more kid's party with stick on mustaches or a super rad mustache purse, I think I might puke on it. It's facial hair.

Twilight. The books, not the time of day. I haven't read any of them and yes, maybe they are great, but I'll never know. I already had my friend tell me the ending, so I'm set, without the side-effect of actually wanting to become a vampire.

Betty White. I'll keep this one to myself.

I don't get the whole thing with cupcakes. It's a cupcake.

Anything on your not-so-favorites list?

Hunger

2011-11-28T20:08:00.001-06:00

Yesterday was one of those days where I got so caught up in things that I didn't take time out to eat. We got up late, unpacked from our trip and then decided to get the Christmas tree and decorate the house. Around 4 pm, still not having eaten, I went to the store for eggnog, firewood and a somewhat long list of needs.

As I'm sure you know, going to the grocery store while crazy hungry is a bad idea. A very bad idea. While I did manage to get some fruits and veggies into the cart, some ice-cream, an apple pie, Oreos, chips and cheese also slipped their way in there. When I got home, I enjoyed a few tasty treats while I unpacked the rest of our groceries.

I was hungry.

You hear things again and again in life. Treat others how you want to be treated. Don't eat yellow snow. Tip your waitress. Finish your food, there are starving people in China.

That last one there, the one about the starving people? Yeah, I've heard it. I've heard it when my stomach was full, my cabinets were full, my fridge was full. It's hard to connect with hunger these days. Hunger is an inconvenience, a passing feeling, a gnat buzzing in your face. It is easily taken care of.

Here.

Standing in my kitchen, I had a moment. I was really hungry and I could do something about it. I could have my fill of a wide variety of food and if nothing at my house suited my cravings, a store down the street would offer more. If I ate something that didn't taste good, no problem, I could just throw it away and try something different.

But that person, those people that we use as a cautionary tale, can't. They will remain fixed in their hunger, experiencing the pains, the weakness, while I gorge on apple pie and eggnog. My trash could sustain them for days and that's despite my best efforts to not be wasteful.

Don't get me started on the kids, the mothers desperate to feed the tiny babies, their own babies that they love just as much as I love Brixton, as much as you love and hold and comfort your own children. What if that starving person was me or you? Wandering the streets with Brixton in a blanket, he's tired and weak, I'm looking for anything to keep him going. One more day. Just one more.

We live in a bubble of history. A time when we have food in easy supply, so easy that we take it for granted and assume it's here to stay. What if it wasn't? (Bubbles pop)

Next time you're hungry, think about not being able to "fix" that feeling. Think about your child telling you they are hungry and you have nothing for them.

Let's not take it for granted.

California Love

2011-11-24T22:05:00.001-06:00

California. We've been here for about 10 days. 10 glorious days of sand, sun, friends, Mexican food, Oma, hot meals eaten without a baby sitting on my lap and gluttony. I lost about 2 lbs last month. Guess what? I found them again. *sigh* (Though while writing that I'm contemplating what to snack on during family movie..choices choices).

I'm still lacking any real inspiration for writing, so I'm going to do a lot of pictures. Hang in there, friends. I hope to be normal (if I ever was) soon.

Early morning, jet lagged, discovering the excitement of a French door.

Finally in Grandpa's arms again. I love you Grandpa!

Naptime with Oma. Is this not what love is?

My second mom. And while yes, she loved seeing me, something about my 20 lb. turkey gives people a little more incentive to visit. xoxo

Brixton meets the Pacific Ocean. And in case you couldn't tell, this face let's us know he thinks it was rad.

The water was pretty cold, but that wasn't stopping us from subjecting our 6 month old son to it.

What this picture doesn't reveal is my big rookie beach move. We carried our (super awesome) stroller down on the beach and left it a ways up from the shoreline. I laid my honey bran muffin on it while we did pictures. Anyone who goes to the beach knows where this is leading. Our stroller was covered with seagulls (probably within seconds) fighting over the muffin and also sticking their disease ridden and sandy beaks into my coffee.

Totally. Dude. Brendan went surfing, which was a hilarious idea. I didn't actually see it, but it was one of the worst surfing days to go out. I give him credit for trying though..

A little park time after being trapped in the car all day.

He didn't actually go down the slide by himself, but there was something so cute about the way he just laid there at the bottom of it, flailing his limbs around and peeking at me.

This is Brixton's friend, Blake. They are 12 days apart, Brixton being born closer to Blake's due date and vice-versa.

Friend love.

Brixton's first sink-bath. As with all baths he loved it. His stomach looked rather flat that day. On a side note, if you stuck a cigar in his left hand and added a bit of facial hair, we can almost see Brixton sitting in a hot tub in 40 years. Hmmm. Hoping fate actually can be changed.

I love this picture. It kind of has it all. Uncle Kevin holding Brixton for the first time. Brixton looking like crying in the mouth, while the eyes look rather smiley to me. My dad in the background holding Kevin's week old baby, Aidan. (The cutest little guy, only 7 lbs. Brixton was never that small, as he was born 8.16)

Holidays are best when some sort of low-grade disaster occurs. Minutes before our Thanksgiving dinner was set to begin, my mom's garbage disposal went out. Then a huge tsunami of water mixed with potato skins shot out of the bottom of the sink, flooding the kitchen and causing my mom to almost utter some very non-Kathy words. I just stood there, taking pictures and trying not to laugh out loud. I also fetched towels, just so you can't accuse me of being unhelpful. Although my mom wanted to cry at the moment, I assured her it would be funny afterwards. It's afterwards and it is funny.

The cranberries boiled over at the same time that the sink tsunami happened. I have never seen my mom's stove this dirty.

More park time with Brixton.

My mom's going to pop a vein that I posted this picture, sorry. If you are a 60-something year old Grandma and you slide down the slide of your own accord, I might think that is fun enough to post a picture of.

Something tells me there's going to be a lot of missing going on after we leave...

No-vember

2011-11-14T20:18:00.001-06:00

Can you tell I'm totally not into writing lately? It's a mixture of busy, apathy, nothing interesting to reporty (oh..but there is..biding my time my sweets...) and waiting for our trip to commence. I had a heck of a time packing. I'm a super-organized packer. I write out all of my outfits, including accessories, and which day I'm wearing them. I did the same for Brixton. I just felt like I didn't have anything cute to pack. Seriously everything felt frumpy, dumpy, old. And I'm going home. Not only to SD, but to my childhood..'hood in NorCal where I haven't been in about two years. And I just had a baby, so you know I want to look my bestest. I'm not really excited about my outfits, but I did get some new jeans (pre-pregnancy size with a little friendly stretch to accommodate holiday girth).

Brixton's first tooth broke through today. Completely took me by surprise. I swear one minute he was gummy smiles and the next minute he bit me and made me yelp. Those teeth are sharp y'all. And time keeps marching on...

Is it me...

2011-11-09T17:37:00.000-06:00

...or do the days feel really  l o n g  lately?

I was up last night until 11:40 locked in the bathroom.  I was practicing my winged eyeliner and busy putting a toilet paper roll in my hair and attemping a beehive look (fail).  I wish I was kidding, but I got one of those 11th hour energy bursts and some ideas from the interwebs and off I was, all back-combing, hair-spraying, bobby-pinning.   

*yawn*

And wouldn't you know it, Mr. Brixton decided that his wake-up time was 6:30.  So there we were.  Me with the remnants of what looked like a fun night out still smeared on my eyes and Mr. Pickle, thinking 6:30 is the new party-time.  Today was just as rotten as the weather, and let me tell you, it was craptastic out there.  Brix and I drove 30 minutes to the shops to do some Christmas shopping (or me shopping, whatever).  I went to one store, tried on a bunch of cute clothes, decided on a skirt and waltzed up to the register.  Then I realized that I hadn't seen my wallet lately.  Or I had, except it was sitting at home, not in my diaper bag where I clearly thought it was.  I was so mad.  SO MAD.  Day ruined (but money saved).  To console myself (and to facilitate stress eating) I baked some sugar cookies.  Baked? Oh, I'm sorry.  Burned.  I meant to type burned some sugar cookies.  So I'm sure you can imagine the fury one has when they want to eat sugary sweets to make themselves feel better/worse and then they can't.  Sigh.

Brixton has been, hmmm, how does a mother put this delicately?  He's been a real jerk lately.  Okay, okay, he's probably teething, or sick, or has a poo that's giving him sting ring, or SOMETHING, but I almost am unable to politely tell you how excited I am that soon he will be placed in Oma's arms and then we are leaving.  Up to here (pointing to neck).  He's in that awkward stage of not being mobile yet, but wanting to play with things out of reach and getting really, really mad.  He can't sit up yet without help, lest he topple over onto his face (sometimes funny, of course not if he hurts himself).  

*Secret:* I've thought about getting a job just to get a break from him.  I think I'm just having a moment though.  Haven't gone to the gym in 5 (6?) days..so no break and no exercise..not good.  I'm just feeling antsy, unorganized (per usual) and unmotivated..a triple threat.  

And on that positive note--hope you have a great week!

Stuff Lately II

2011-11-08T06:00:00.000-06:00

I haven't felt bloggy lately, so I just don't blog. Why force it, ya know? I've been a busy bee though.

Halloween:

Brixton went to his first baby party. Tons of costume cuteness in one place. All these tiny babies just reinforcing the sheer fact that my baby is huge. On actual Halloween, I got dressed in my Cleopatra costume at a quarter to four. The doorbell rang at 4pm sharp..is it me or is that really early? Guess what..I totally ignored it. Sorry, but I was in full Cleo-mode, caking on a thick smudge of eyeliner and making sure my hair was as long and straight as the Nile itself. Plus, hello?! It's 4! People aren't even home from work yet! Anyway, Brendan got gussied up in his "Sea Captain" costume and around 5:30 we took a family walk around the neighborhood.

Lola was the star. It's not everyday you see a 70lb. banana-split toddling down your sidewalk. There were lots of people out and I was glad. I had 5 bags of candy at home, waiting patiently in a big mixing bowl to be handed out. After walking for about 20 minutes, I couldn't feel my hands anymore in the 40 degree weather, so we trudged home (and Brixton-the-Lion fell asleep). We waited anxiously by the door..waiting..waiting. Got a few trick-or-treaters..waiting..waiting..waiting. It was 7pm. And you know what? No one else came. NO ONE. Not even a lousy group of teens. I had 5 bags of candy sitting there.

The next few days were spent in a sugar coma. Candy for breakfast. Candy for lunch. Candy after my candy lunch. Why do I feel so tired? (Grabs a roll of Smarties). My tongue had cuts on it from the amount of Smarties and Tootsie Roll pops I ate. Finally, on day 3, I had to throw it out.

Curse you, Halloween! (Shaking fist).

I'm Old(er):

My birthday was the 5th. Thank you. I had wanted to do "Birthday in Bed" where the whole day I would lay in bed while Brendan fussed over me and fixed me food. Unfortunately, there's this other guy who lives here named Brixton, who apparently doesn't know it was my birthday and the day was supposed to be all about me. So Birthday in Bed didn't happen. I did, however, sleep in till almost 10 (heaven). Brendan fixed me French Toast (with white bread, considered a treat in our house) and coffee. Then we raked some leaves (because nothing says 'Happy Birthday' like using a wonky rake to rake up dog poop along with seven tons of leaves). Then we went to a car dealership where I fawned over a way too expensive car (But it's my birthday!). Then we went to the mall. Holy smokes, the mall was crazy busy. Brixton had a blast in the Nordstrom purse section, screaming over a creamy yellow bag, while flirting with the salesgirls. Later, at home, Brendan made me steak, potatoes, broccoli and mushrooms, followed by a red velvet mini cake. Happy Birthday indeed.

Christmas Shopping:

My cards are 80% done, a new record for me. My Christmas shopping is 60% done. And my wrapping is coming along nicely too. I just want to get in front of it this year. I know after we get home from our trip, the weeks are going to buzz by and I don't want to try to play catch up during the busiest shopping days with a 6/7 month old in tow. It feels pretty great to be ahead of the game for once. Now I'm just waiting for the first weekend of December, when we get out our decor, get the tree, begin the celebration. And to top it off we will go into the city to the Christkindlmarkt (German Christmas Market) to snack on some Bratwurst and sip on some Gluehwein. A new tradition is born.

I got the idea for 'Baby in a Pumpkin' from Yellowlovesquare. They did it with their adorable baby. It didn't work quite as well with Brixton. First of all, I couldn't find a pumpkin big enough to accomodate my huge baby. Second, in order for us to even have a shot at shoving him in there, we had to cut leg holes in the pumpkin. Oh well. They turned out cute (ish).

Fall is slipping by isn't it? You know what that means. It's coming. Can you feel it? Remember, we were all just posting our 'Welcome Fall' posts, looking forward to the leaves, the chilly temps, the coming holidays. I haven't seen any 'Welcome Winter' posts. Can't imagine why.

Brixton Keeps Growing: 6 Months

2011-11-07T13:07:00.001-06:00

Brixton, Brixton.  Can you please stop growing?  Other babies your age are so much smaller, so much babier.  You are a monster.  You wake up every day around 7:30 with a huge grin on your face.  You love your bottle and freak out if it doesn't cross the threshold of your lips fast enough.  You eat with gusto.  Your favorite new activity involves crunching wrapping paper or chip bags.  You are starting to sit up more and more on your own.  Your love for Lola is growing day by day.  You are reaching out for things, including mama's face, which you like to squeeze really hard and then gum.  Your first tooth is making its way out.  Pulling hair never gets old for you. 

This is you with Dr. Mike.  You love Dr. Mike, he makes you laugh and smile and has nothing but positive things to say about you.  You weighed 19.8 lbs. today and are 28.5 inches long.  Good thing we already got a new carseat for you because the infant one just isn't going to work much longer.  

This month you get to do so much.  Your first plane trip.  Your first time in California.  Meeting the grand Pacific.  Visiting lots of friends.  Hugging Oma and Grandpa.  Meeting Uncle Kevin.  Your first Thanksgiving.  I am so excited for everything, including (hopefully) a date night out with Daddy.  

I love you, little-big man.   

Football

2011-11-06T20:29:00.000-06:00

My name is Kelley and I am a Chargers fan.

Hey, at least I didn't say Raiders. Oohh...

I can't believe I'm even doing this post. What?? A post about football?? Somewhere, somehow, I became a fan. It started when we moved to Denver and were so homesick for San Diego. It was fun to go to our local sportsbar/restaurant on game days and cheer on the Chargers, while the Broncos fans booed us. After we moved back to San Diego, Sundays turned into lazy game days for us.

Soon we started knowing things. LT being traded. So and so having an injury. What in the heck?

Now, living in Bears territory, we had to take it to the next level. I am now the proud owner of a Chargers sweatshirt. I wore it out to run errands on Sunday--game day. A million Bears' fans were out in force. Entire families covered head to toe in blue and orange. And me in my SD gear. I looked like an alien. San Diego? Where's that? A lady even pointed at me (but I'm not sure why..I was wearing those darn rainboots again and I swear they stir a reaction in certain people).

I think liking football works for me because it also involves really bad-for-you food. Nachos. Wings. Potato skins. Chips. All that good stuff that makes lounging in front of the TV on a Sunday afternoon in the freezing winter totally awesome.

Brixton may be growing up in Bears and Packers territory, but he will be a Chargers fan (or he's grounded). Brendan would also accept Jets fan. Raiders fans never. And I will end this post by stating that Tom Brady looks like a hippie.

Goin' Back to Cali

2011-10-26T19:47:00.000-05:00

I wish the title was Movin' back to Cali, but...it's not.   It's just a visit.  I'm going to be that person on the beach in November in a bathing suit in all of my white glory.  Tourist, the locals will sneer.

I'm not! I'm not! I used to live here! (Yeah. Just like I used to be cool, but I'm not anymore.)

Tickets booked. City Mini stroller bought. Bags packed.  Ok, bags aren't packed yet, but I'm already planning what to pack.  It's going to be a long trip with a lot of traveling.  First plane ride for Brixton and it should be interesting.  We are flying into the OC and then I'm heading on down to SD to show Brixton off to everyone that's interested in having a 6 month old baby shoved in their face.  Then we are flying up to NorCal, to Oma and Grandpa's house for a bit too. On the way home we have a layover in Vegas, so Brixton will get his first tutorial in how to lose $20 on the Wheel of Fortune slots in 3 minutes.

While I'm head-over-heels excited to go back, I'm afraid that when I get home, I'm going to find a lump of homesickness hiding for me in my luggage (TSA never finds stuff like that).  Just booking the tickets put me into a funk that lasted two days, so I'm not sure how I'm going to avoid it.   

But..sea..sand..friends..babies..family..the energy that only California has...Mexican food...the warm sun...how could I say no?!

Gimme a Beet!

2011-10-26T10:07:00.003-05:00

Or maybe not.

Geez.

That picture makes me think of a crying clown. (cue circus music)

Brixton's been eating solids in various amounts for the past 4 weeks or so.  He's had apples, beets, carrots, pears, bananas, corn and a foray into broccoli, which we quickly ended.  When I put the broccoli spoon into his mouth, his expression looked like he was going to explode with disgust and possibily never eat any vegetables ever again.  Ever.  I quickly hid the spoon, started whistling and went into a riveting edition of The Wheels on the Bus in hopes of quickly burying that memory.  We'll see if it worked. 

Feeding Brixton is my least favorite baby chore, followed closely by giving him a bath.  Brendan thinks I'm crazy, because the amount of fun going on during both activities is sky-high.  I think it's just that both things require a lot more prep than just sitting down and feeding the baby or plopping him in the tub. 

What baby chores are your least favorite?