Quote of the Day: Terrible Twos!

The scene: Like every Friday, I am working from my mom’s house so she can spend some quality time with her dear grandson (AKA I’m soaking up the free babysitting, without which my budget would be shot). As usual, my sweet five- and two-year-old nieces round out the crew at Grandma’s Complimentary Daycare Center And Full-Service Diner.

Carly, age two, is having a rough afternoon. She’s cranky (probably because Bubba woke her up from her nap….woops), whiny, and just generally contrary. She’s acting like, ya know, a two-year-old.

After Carly’s thirtieth refusal to cooperate with a plea to simmer down (“nnnnnnnNNNOOO!”), Grandma is sounding a wee bit bedraggled:

“Sigh. Two year olds. And just think…as soon as she’s done with this, it’ll be Bubba’s turn to be two.”

Sorry in advance, Grandma!

a two-year old, a saint, and a future two-year old

Top Ten Tuesday: Stay At Home SUPER Mom, Part Deux

Yes, I know today is Wednesday…but my darling child decided that last night was PARTY NIGHT and stayed up playing well beyond his usual bedtime, meaning my own evening routine was pushed back accordingly and I was left with no time to blog (well I could have, but it was a choice between watching Breaking Bad with TFW or writing my post, and, like a true addict, I chose the drugs). Mildly interesting blog topics are hard to come by, though, so I’m soldiering forth with my Tuesday post in spite of the date!

Anyway. Yesterday morning at about 6:30, as I was chopping up some veggies to toss into the crockpot for my delicious chicken and dumplings dinner (heat be damned, I am FORCING fall into my life), I received the dreaded text from my babysitter: she was sick and would not be able to work. Since TFW is Very Important at his workplace and my Certified Backup Childcare Provider (my mom) was busy with non-childcare-related activities, I had no choice but to take the day off myself!

(As an aside, I’d like to point out that I was making chicken and dumplings the last time this happened, too! Clearly, that recipe is cursed. Next time I’m craving it I’ll save it for a weekend or just plan on taking the day off.)

Just like last time, I took full advantage of the rare opportunity to play Stay At Home Mom. I briefly considered staying in pajamas all day and using Bubba’s nap time to catch up on the Lifetime movies cluttering my DVR (sadly, I am not joking — there are at least five on there), but motivation prevailed and I got to work on my to-do list. When you only get a few vacation days per year, you cannot waste them on relaxation!

Well, I am happy to report that the day certainly did not go to waste! Are you ready to be impressed by my productivity? Check out the top ten productive things I did during my one-day reign as Stay At Home Supermom:

Weekend Wrap-Up: Hotter Than Hell Edition

First, let me hit you with some cold hard facts:

• It is the end of September
• It is thus technically FALL
• It was 95 degrees both Saturday and Sunday
• …outside. Inside my house it was at least 300 degrees
• I am sick of this weather

Due to these truths, my weekend was perhaps not quite as exciting as one might wish; I spent most of it complaining about being sweaty and thinking longingly about the fall clothing I purchased a couple weeks ago that I have not yet been able to wear. I was already planning on writing a wrap-up post today, though, so…onward to the by-the-numbers recap of one incredibly dull and hot weekend!

(Un)Graceful Baby

Last night on the season premier of Survivor, one of the contestants managed to develop a huge blister on his finger, gash his head with a piece of bamboo, cut another finger with a machete, and sustain a giant cut on his foot…all within the first 24 hours of the game. They hadn’t even participated in a single competition yet, and three of this dude’s four major appendages — and his head — were already hobbled.

Even more amusingly, he had actually been on Survivor once before, but he had to leave the game early that time after he FELL INTO THE FIRE AND PRETTY MUCH MELTED HIS DAMN HANDS OFF.

Honestly, by the time they showed him machete-ing his finger whilst trying to eat a coconut, TFW and I had to pause the TV for a laughing break. I hate to mock a man while he’s down, but seriously, who the hell is that injury-prone!?

Wordless Wednesday: No, You May Not Have (Nor Eat) The Camera

A Lesson From My Mama

Today I’m going to regale you with a tale that centers around two of the mainstays of my life: my crippling tendency towards over-sensitivity and my obsession with my baby blanket, the legendary Quilty.

For those of you who are new around here (welcome! Please be my best friend) or have forgotten who Quilty is (unacceptable; you must remember every word I ever write!), Quilty is, duh, a quilt. It was made for me by my grandmother when I was a baby, and I have been attached to it ever since.

It’s literally on my lap right now.

Being that it was so important to me, I took really, really good care of it from a very young age. This was not a “drag around the house” blanket, no sir. I took it everywhere (still do), but always very delicately; it would be folded with care and gently and deliberately spread out over me for TV watching and the like. At night it took a bit more of a beating since I liked (and still like…) to cuddle up with it half under my head and half wrapped around me, but thanks to my diligence, Quilty remained in fairly pristine shape for years longer than the pathetic blankets used and abused by most children.

Until one horrifying night in third grade when I discovered that the stitching around the adorable head of an appliqued bunny had unraveled.

Quote of the Day: Bathtime Edition

The scene: Mama is bathing baby. In typical fashion, Bubba is splashing, eating the toys, taking giant gag-worthy slurps of disgusting bathwater (complete with his own filth and plenty of bubble bath), and alternating between attempting to stand up and trying to “swim” to the other side of the tub (equally dangerous pursuits).

Daddy is hanging out in the bathroom as well, keeping Mama company but staying well out of the splash zone. His bathtime participation is limited to Glorified Towel Rack.

After half-diving into the tub for the umpteenth time to rescue Bubba from certain doom (unfortunately, “sit on your bottom, Bubs!” apparently translates to “STAND UP AND GET THAT SHAMPOO BOTTLE! YOU CAN DO IT! NOW SWIM, SWIM!” in baby babble), Mama is soaking wet and has decided to put an end to bathtime.

Mama (to Daddy): “Alright, I’m over this. Hand me that towel. He’s having fun, but I’m irritated.”

Daddy: “I have a feeling you’ll be saying that a lot over the course of the next 17 years…”

Zing.

Top Ten Tuesday: What Was That Sound?!

I am very sensitive to noises. TFW is constantly mocking my frequent screeches of “what was that?!” at every creek of the house or rustle of leaves. I once nearly had a heart attack when my shaver fell down in the shower at 4am; TFW happened to be out of town at the time and I laid in bed paralyzed with fear until the sun came up, convinced that someone was trying to break into the front door (the fact that said door is in the complete opposite direction of the sound’s origin did nothing to assuage my terror, nor did the fact that my dog — who sleeps right in front of that door and barks for ten straight minutes if someone so much as walks down the sidewalk in front of our house — hadn’t made a peep).

Since becoming a mom, I am even more tuned into the noises around me. Unless the baby is right in front of me to prove me wrong, I assume that every mystery sound is either the baby choking to death or an intruder sneaking in to kidnap him. Try not to be jealous of the constant state of stress I live in with this type of a brain.

Of course, not every sound terrifies me (just most of them). Some sounds are downright fantastic! That said, as a mom, I’ve found that my definition of a “great sound” has evolved since my baby-free days, when I would have cited things like a Bad Religion concert or perhaps my husband saying “want me to pick you up a soda on my way home?” (true love) as my favorite sounds. Those things are definitely still up there on the list, but there are a number of new sounds that I have only recently begun to consider music to my ears. Below are my top ten favorite sounds in the world…since becoming a mom:

Where’s The Glitter?!

Thanks to the wonders of hand-me-downs and baby showers, I was able to get through nine months of Bubba’s life without having to spend more than about $30 on baby clothes ($14 of which was for glow-in-the-dark space pajamas; definitely a necessity). Unfortunately, the majority of my stockpile is smaller sizes (pro tip: if you ever buy baby clothes as a gift, give something in a much-larger size — mama will sing your praises a year down the line!), and I was forced to suck it up this weekend and spend some actual legal currency on baby clothes for my growing lad.

Other than grabbing some socks or onesies from Target every now and then, I really hadn’t spent much time actually perusing baby clothes stores. After doing some serious shopping in several different stores yesterday, I learned two valuable lessons about shopping for baby:

Thank You!

Between my wedding in 2009 and having the baby in 2011, I think I’ve written no fewer than 4 million thank you notes in the past couple of years. I’ve crafted thoughtful (and timely! always on time!) thank you notes for everything from dishes to diapers, and have even perfected the art of the vague “thank you for coming to my wedding” card where you’re fairly certain that the recipient probably gave you something but you couldn’t match up any of the card-less presents to them (and then you say a prayer that they didn’t actually come empty-handed, which would of course turn your lovely gesture into an unintentional guilt-bomb). I’m pretty sure that qualifies me as a Certified Thanking Expert.

Of course, I’m not perfect. I do my very best to crank out those notes every time a situation calls for one, but there are a few I haven’t gotten to yet. If anyone can swing by and help me print up and address these, I’d be forever in your debt: