Look what we did!

We are all moved in! Here's where we live now.

Isn't it cute?
Wanna see something even cuter?

You are correct, that is a SIX-MONTH ONESIE and NO visible signs of cradle cap. We finally beat it!!!!!

And a bit of confirmation that I'm getting old and boring (emphasis on the boring): Steve offered to take Sam with him to Home Depot the other day (what, is he applying for sainthood or something?) and I was SO STINKIN' EXCITED that I was going to have all of this free time to myself (note: Home Depot is approximately 7 minutes from our house and Steve was picking up one item). I started plotting what I could do with all of my alone time. Should I paint my nails? Take a bath? Watch TV? Write some emails? Take a nap? Decisions, decisions, decisions...
I'm sad to say that I used my alone time to do CHORES like a RESPONSIBLE ADULT and when the heck did this happen because the last time I checked, "me time" trumped laundry, mopping, and unpacking. Ugh. This being-an-adult-business is for the birds. But now our house is put together and we are heading back towards "normal life" again.

In an attempt to "decorate" our home, we (meaning me) found some cheap end tables on craigslist.. See Figure 1.

Figure 1

And then we painted them! (See Figure 2)

Figure 2 (and that mess in the back is Steve's and I refuse to pick it up no matter how horrible it makes our bedroom appear to others)

We also picked up this beauty of a buffet while we were in Nashville picking up the end tables. Is my craigslist stalking paying off or IS IT PAYING OFF?

Finally a place to properly display the Polish pottery. I can tell it's very very happy in it's new home.

Now take a look at The Only Way To Get Anything Done Around Here Without Listening To Constant Screaming.

This is how we spend most of our day. We have a good idea of what our neighbors do and when they do it.

But sometimes even Sammy tires from being carried around like a baby kangaroo, despite the dance party Steve was throwing down while attached.

The upside to this situation is that we get to see unprecedented amounts of his chubby little neck, something that's equivalent to catching a blue moon or watching pigs fly.

Maybe when our house is a bit more tidy, I will post some more pictures of it. But right now our backyard is turning into a lake of sorts, what with all the rain we got this past week, so I'm going to go try and salvage the swingset before it floats to our neighbor's house and they call dibs on it.

Heavy on pictures, not so much on content

Here we are, moved and living in Tennessee, feeling all grown-up, and waking up each morning wondering whose house we fell asleep in. We usually realize it's ours (only to rent, thank God)! But why is there no quilt or comforter on the bed? Oh yes, we also have a small child that methodically pees on our bed every time we change the covers. (Mental note: find small child and change diaper.) No, the kid does not sleep in our bed with us (we see plenty of each other during the day for pete's sake), but the lotion and dressing part of his after-bath bedtime routine take place on our bed and the 3.5 seconds he's naked with no towel cover, he uses to wet our bed. No harm there! Just gotta find a laundromat ASAP because we're all out of covers and Steve's sleeping bag is not the ideal situation for us!

Steve graduated (oh yes he did!) on Thursday as the Army's newest (well, one of the 55 newest) Transportation officers!

Getting pinned!

Singing the Transportation Song (yes, they have a theme song, and no, it's not "Wheels on the Bus" although I thought that would be mighty appropriate)

Our Sam and another Sam (Samantha) - born a few days apart in Virginia

I swear he was a well-behaved child during the actual ceremony. And yes, he's totally outgrown that outfit and the 6-month clothes were already packed!!

New, cool, shiny, well-deserved Transpo pin

Goodbye Ft Lee! I did not even bother to take a picture of your gate as I was leaving because you are such an awful post and I am not looking forward to seeing you again in three-ish years for Captain's Career Course!

Due to messed-up plans, Sam's jumperoo was left in PA for a week and a half. It was sorely missed! We got to Mom-mom and Pop-pop's house at 10:30pm. Sam jumped for half an hour straight and then passed out.

And after play-time came packing-time. What a hassle.... Coming face-to-face with everything you own makes you think twice about keeping the half-written diary from the 5th-grade, among other things. But now that everything fits nicely into our new place, it almost seems worth the struggle it took to get it all here. I'm very grateful that the Army will be moving us to our next home (and also have a new-found appreciation for moving men).

Classy, right? We're the ones from south Alabama and this here ain't no yard sale-- unless you happen to see something you like, in which case I would be happy to entertain your offers.

A lady from the Neighborhood Watch actually stopped Steve to see if he was robbing his parents' house. A lady who has lived next door to them since Steve was living at home... Um, Neighborhood Watchers should probably get to know their neighbors in order to more effectively "watch" the neighborhood. (Does anyone else think we are parked a little far away from the house to rob the place efficiently?) Where's the pink robe when you need it???

Anywho, we eventually got everything loaded up and Steve and his dad made the trip out the TN/KY over two days' time, while Wendy, Sam, and I followed on Sunday. It was a pretty drive through western Virginia, but now I totally understand why people talk about Virginia being a true part of the south. Where we were living (just south of Richmond), it didn't feel too redneck or country, but after stopping for dinner in western Virginia, I realized that it is SO REDNECK. (Sorry Wendy, I know you probably don't approve of my sharing this story..)
Stopped at random exit in western VA. Got gas and were trying to figure out where the Sonic was. Wendy pulled down the window to ask a lady at the gas station for directions.

Wendy: "Excuse me, do you live here?"
Snaggletooth: "Well, I don't live here, but I live a couple streets over that-a-way."
Wendy: "Ok, but do you know where the Sonic is?"
Snaggletooth: "Oh yeah. The Sonic. You just uh take a left on this here road and go down a little ways, and then um, it'll be on, uh, the driver's side."
Wendy (very polite): "Alright, thank you!"
Jenn (in backseat trying real hard not to bust out laughing before she gets the window rolled up): "Driver's side means LEFT!! Hahahahahahahahahaha!!!"

Wendy was too nice to make fun of her, so that conversation ended pretty quickly, although I can't imagine how long we'd have talked about it had Steve been in the car with us.
We eventually made it to Nashville, and then to Clarksville, and finally to Fort Campbell.

Nice place to stay. I highly recommend it. Sam enjoyed all of the amenities provided, like the baby bottles of lotion, shampoo, soap, soft pillows, multiple lights hanging from the ceiling, and obviously the free shower caps.

We rented a house the next day in a cookie-cutter neighborhood because it was the last freakin' house available in this area (thanks to our move lining up with the moves of most of Fort Campbell coming back from overseas). It is nice, and we know we're lucky to score this place. Unfortunately, I have been slightly (what's the word...) busy? unloading things and unpacking so I haven't yet taken a picture of the house. But as soon as the weather clears up, I will snap a photo of the front for your viewing pleasure.

I have to add that moving this far with a 4-month-old would not have been possible without Steve's parents. They drove, babysat, loaded, unloaded, cleaned, and were the biggest help in us getting settled into our new place. Things got tense at times (i.e., fitting that beast of a crib around the corner and through the door), but they always kept their cool and their patience. And Steve, Sam, and I appreciate what you've done for us and thank you from the bottom of our hearts!! We love y'all. Hopefully your next visit out here will be less labor-intensive and more focused on fun.

We made it!

We have finally arrived in Tennessee/Kentucky. We are practically straddling the state lines here, folks. More photos to come later when we're further along with the unpacking and organizing. Here's one of Sammy (pre-move) in Pennsylvania.

We're driving thirteen straight hours to live where????

Almost time to say "Bye bye, Virginia!"

Sam and I are not supposed to be here still. We were never supposed to be here actually (according to the "all about family" Army) because five-ish months of being separated from your family is a cake-walk, am I right? But I am the defiant sort (especially when I'm very pregnant with a due date fast approaching), so to stick it to the Army and all of their rules, I came with Steve anyway! And now Sam's here! Hmph! Take that, Army. TWO extra people that aren't supposed to be here!
And of course our plan has backfired miserably on us...

We must move (or have the Army move for us) all of our household goods from our home of record. Which is Pennsylvania. Which is where we are not. Which stinks because now we are essentially moving TWICE. I would like to point out that this is ridiculous and am totally ready to be legit in the Army world again.

Gah....

So back to my original point: Sam and I are not supposed to be here still. We were planning on moving all of our crap furnishings to Pennsylvania this past Saturday and then stay with Steve's parents while Steve came back down to Virginia to finish out the week and graduate from his course. But I got a call this past Friday afternoon from the truck rental company that said that they didn't have the truck we reserved. (Um, again. This has unfortunately happened to us before with this exact company and location and yet we still rent from them because we are suckers for a good deal and that is what they have. Or don't have. Whatever.)

So we decided to stay in Virginia this week with Steve and then head up after graduation to Pennsylvania as a mini caravan of sorts, complete with screaming baby and woman pumping breastmilk in the backseat. I'm sure Steve is so happy that we got to come along for these past five months. What a treat for him.

In other news, I ran into and held a conversation with the infamous Mr. Clean. I had already written all about it, but after reading it over the next day, I decided that I was putting myself to sleep (and not because I'm deprived of it at night, because we're still doing well in that department, thank you!), so I just deleted it.
It was pretty anticlimactic anyway, in case you were wondering.

Other neighbors I will miss (ha! right!) when we move:

• crazy little twin girls that like to hang from the monkey bars by their legs while wearing skirts and love to swing while holding Odie (you should see the panicked look in Odie's eyes while this is happening)
• little (possibly teenage) boy who is apparently homeschooled and does nothing but walk around the apartment complex all day bouncing his basketball up and down the sidewalks
• very, ahem, rotund woman who yells at her Jack Russell terriers because they are not pooping in the exact location that she clearly specified before hooking them up to the leash! Geez! Is it really that hard to poop on command, dogs???
• Buddy, maintenance man, who thinks right now that he will miss us. He will get over that as soon as the next tenant in our apartment calls him to please unclog the drain in the shower because they're standing in about 6 inches of water! (Yes, it's because of my extreme hair loss, and no, I will not alert him to the problem before we leave because, bless his heart, this will be the third time I call him to pull "a small dog" out of our drain. I have since become very skilled at decorating the shower walls with my hair art.)
• lady next door who I hope to never come within 6 feet of again due to her extreme case of CHEST HAIR (not that there's anything wrong with being a lady and having chest hair...). That, and she has (or babysits? who knows) a very drooly, often coughing young child.
• very obnoxious, loud, bigger-chest-than-me-even-though-I'm-12-years-older-than-her-and-had-a-baby-for-goodness-sake Hannah. I thought maybe she had already moved since I hadn't seen her in so long, but as I was going for a walk yesterday afternoon (STUPIDEST time of day to take a walk around these parts since the school buses are dropping off all of the little whippersnappers) and she popped out of her apartment all stealth-like to take a peek at Sam.
• crazy cat people (yes, more than one) who walk their cats around the apartments, ON LEASHES
• silly Indian man who is petrified of Odie
• funny Army officer who works at Domino's pizza as a second job (please GOD don't let that be a glimpse into what our future looks like)
• and in all seriousness, I will miss our good neighbors, Sam, Anthony, and Wil. It is a rare thing to find someone so nice to talk with who can look past the fact that I'm wearing the exact same clothes that I've been wearing for 2 whole days... I will really miss y'all!

And since we're on the topic of mushy exits, I have to go wash more poop laundry because the kid just can't keep it in his pants, and I can't ever remember to check his hiney before picking him up, which ultimately results in poop all over the sleeve of every shirt I wear (which, thankfully, are all of Steve's shirts).

Yes, that onesie is a size SIX MONTHS and doesn't it look like it fits him just a little too well???

At least it's not a bedpan..

Today we are supposed to celebrate love and hearts and chocolate and frying pans.

Frying pans? Yes. Did I stutter? It is the romantic type of gift that my gem of a husband is known for. It is actually the gift he gave me the first Valentine's Day we were together. And after I clunked him in the head with it, I drug him down to the courthouse and we were married. The end. (You always wanted to know our love story, didn't you?)

I kid. Now some people I know would equate receiving this particular gift with getting a vacuum cleaner for their birthdays (got one of those, but wouldn't mind a dustbuster!). I understand where the man is going with this whole frying pan idea. He knows that while I do enjoy flowers and chocolate, I would much prefer a useful gift instead (not that chocolate isn't useful in keeping me in elastic-waisted "transition" pants). And in keeping with tradition, I have requested a very specific type of frying pan this year (ohmygosh teflon-FREE please!) so that I might continue cooking up yummies for him. (Also, I tossed our current frying pan out already because it was becoming a health concern of sorts and I don't feel the need to carry the teflon-flaking pan with us to Ft Campbell to potentially sicken us there.)

And since it is somewhat weird to give a man flowers and chocolate (because I really don't enjoy parting with chocolate, and he shouldn't have to pry his very own gift out of my white-knuckled hands), I got Steve something useful as well. Not as useful as a frying pan, but it is better than dying, drying flowers (or chocolate that I'm just going to steal while he's at work anyway).

And no, I'm not counting the baby as his gift. Even though I did incubate his child in my body for nine months and let his child leech fried chicken and sweet tea off of me and was in labor with his child for 23 hours (reminder: there are 24 hours in a day, so I was in labor for almost one full day) and conceded to allow his child to have red hair and become a complete mini replica of Steve, I have sadly already used that as a gift to Steve for Christmas and his birthday. I'm not sure how much longer I can milk that as a gift.

So he gets a coffee press. Now all we have to do is a find a place that sells expensive lah-dee-dah coffee to be used in the press and he will be a happy man. Yes, it must be expensive because the one time I skimped and got him the coffee that was two bucks cheaper at Walmart (yes, I shop there incognito on occasion- don't judge) was apparently one of the worst transgressions of the century and I have still yet to hear the end of the cheap coffee incident.

How the man remains married to such an uncultured palate is a mystery to me. It must be that he knows I'm going to make something yummy for him in that new frying pan.

I have no idea what this face is. But I could not, for the life of me, get him to smile at me- his first Valentine. I love you anyway, Sammy!

Babies are smart

I am happy that Sam has his wits about him (because there better be some high-quality brains in that 42cm head of his) but also slightly distressed that he's already using those wits against Steve and me at such an early age. I don't know the milestones as far as when babies begin plotting against their parents and all, but I am mad that babycenter.com did not inform me of this sooner!! Sam has been doing quite well lately in the sleep department, so after a couple nights of getting some really good sleep, Steve and I got a little crazy and rented a movie. I know, right? What were we thinking? Why couldn't we leave well enough alone and just go to sleep for Pete's sake? Why did we tempt the sleep gods by staying up "late" (10 frickin' pm!)? Sammy has paid us back for watching said movie without him and tonight I will just plan on konking out minutes after he does so as to avoid this situation again.

Don't get me wrong. He still slept a good portion of the night and went down without so much as a peep at 7pm on the dot. He slept til 1-something, took a bottle, went back to sleep, and I really can't remember the other times he was up, but I feel like I've been up all night and I think I might have only gotten up one other time besides now (5am). Oh well. He was a good baby yesterday and I expect a good baby with naps today, although just to be safe, I will not mention that out loud in case he tries the whole plotting thing again.

Like I said earlier, Steve and I rented a movie to watch last night. It wasn't until after we rented it that we realized that we had already packed up our dvd player and put it in storage in PA. (FAIL) We ended up watching it on the laptop in our bedroom due to our lack of couch in the living room. And I think that's where Sam got a whiff of us having fun without him and began cooking up his evil plan. Or maybe he just got a whiff of dinner--it was QUITE gourmet, let me tell you. I wish I could have taken a picture, but Steve was very anxious to eat since he wasted a lot of time yakking on the phone and we didn't start dinner until 8pm. I will try to recreate for you all of the yummies that graced our paper plates.
Our first course consisted of a lovely spread of Ritz crackers topped with provolone cheese (the sneaky commissary blinded me again with their good deals and I bought three packs knowing full well that we were leaving in one week!!) and beef bologna. (I'm sure everyone is now salivating.)
Second course was simply grapes (you don't have to tell me I'm a good cook). And we had some of our delicious $7 wine in a red Solo cup. I don't have to tell you people that it was a super-classy kind of meal.
And before anyone goes thinking that we have no food due to the aforementioned dinner... you would be correct. I gave all of our remaining food and condiments and BUTTER (how on earth did I not use up all of the butter before leaving??) to our neighbors and I actually had to ask for the jelly BACK due to my love of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and the thought of going without it for an entire week somehow outweighed the embarrassment of asking for it back. Luckily Sam knows me well enough to not think less of me for that (or at least she won't admit it to my face).

We also had a light dinner due to the fact that we ate THIS for lunch and my tummy rumbled in excitement just thinking about it... After eating everything on my plate (no reward for that anymore except tighter pants), we decided to go to Target to simply return two packs of newborn bottle nipples and replace them with the nipples made for 3-month-olds. Well, Target, with its mind-numbing sales and colorful displays somehow convinced us to not only buy the 3-month-old nipples, but also a BEDSPREAD. How did this happen?? I do not know. I'm still trying to figure it out myself.

And here's a picture for you because I don't have one that ties in with today's post. Does it really matter when you get to look at this cute little mug?

He's baaaaack!!!

Steve, that is.

Also, our dear friend Mr. Sleepy has started making what seem to be regularly scheduled appearances again so HALLELUJAH THANK YOU JESUS, and I will have to have a serious discussion with him about how he should never take a four-month vacation from us ever, ever again.

In other news, Sam (now close friends with Mr. Sleepy) has officially turned four months old today! (Of course he was 16 weeks old almost three weeks ago, but for some reason the stars do not align as far as months and weeks are concerned in the baby-age world.) Regardless, Steve and I have somehow managed to keep this other human being ALIVE and THRIVING without any middle-of-the-night emergency room visits and without too much loss of hair (on our parts- cradle cap did Sammy's hair in). We have managed to feed him with milk (that I make myself! 24 hours a day! in my own body!) and also a little formula on the side, for times when I'm feeling especially wild and go for that second glass of wine during dinner. (This rarely happens, let me assure you, and surprisingly enough, during the time that would be ideal for heavy drinking- the sleep training period- I have yet to indulge in the good stuff. Don't feel too bad for the wine, I'm sure we might hang out tonight for old time's sake.)

Get outta here! Did I really only survive 4 whole months with these people?? Because it's felt like an eternity...

Along with graduating to the 4-month mark comes the 4-month vaccinations. Like most kids, Sammy is not a fan. While I don't enjoy seeing my child in pain, I understand that it is a necessary evil, and the extreme color of red that his face turns is almost funny. (I dare not say that it's actually "funny" because after laughing about his almost purple coloring in the immunizations room, the nurse gave me a very disapproving look and therefore I don't think it is socially acceptable to say such things. Except here on the internet of course, because I can't see you giving me those same dirty looks.) He got over the shock of the three needles penetrating his chubby little legs in about 30 seconds and promptly blew giant green boogers all over my sweater. (Payback for the laughing? Probably.)

Then we were made to sit in a waiting area with just about everyone that is employed at Ft Lee so that we could get a prescription that, to me, did not seem extremely relevant. Probably because I didn't hear half of what the doctor actually said. I wouldn't call it a language barrier (because I'm fairly certain she was speaking English) so much as a dialect barrier. After saying "Huh?" "Pardon?" "Excuse me?" "Say that one more time please?" "Can we switch to sign language so I have a chance at understanding at least every third word you say because we no speakey the same language?!" Just kidding. I just nodded like I understood her perfectly and eventually had to run out of the room before she was finished typing with her two pointer fingers on the computer (I kid you not) because I heard someone on the loud speaker butchering my last name and I wasn't sure why I was being paged because I hadn't done anything wrong except lie to the doctor about how I understood what she was saying. Turns out that I had dropped my ID card in the parking lot (huge no-no in the military world apparently) and someone had turned it in. The man at the front desk asked if that was even me, and I had to explain in great detail how that god-awful photo was taken when I was mere days from delivering Sammy and that due to excessive heat and swelling and lots of other fluid issues, made me look like the female Hulk. In order to avoid hearing about anymore talk of pregnancy or fluids, he practically threw the card at me and we were on our merry way!

Upon arrival at our lovely home, we were greeted by our lactation-consultant/nurse/advisor-when-we-can't-understand-what-the-fork-the-Dr-is-saying/good friend/SAVIOR, Elaine. This woman is such an angel and I am so very sad that we will not be able to see each other on a regular basis anymore. I'm sure Sam is upset too because she always gives me the sheets that tell me what on earth I should do with him for his entertainment/development, and after this fourth month is up, he's gonna be S.O.L. because you know I don't have a clue. I'm very hesitant to have any more babies unless I can be guaranteed that she will be in the general vicinity afterwards so that she can talk me down out of my manic state from the frustrations of breastfeeding and sleep deprivation. Maybe we can somehow line up our next PCS move to wherever she and her husband are going... (They do call it a "dream sheet" right?) THANK YOU ELAINE!!!!

The infamous boob-whisperer

Back to the little guy-- He was so happy that his daddy came back that he was blubbering away like a fool this morning. Unfortunately for us all, I have yet to figure out how to work the video camera, so I have been resorting to 30 second videos on my cell phone that have the worst picture quality and can't pick up any actual sound that is taking place, except maybe someone sanding walls four doors down. Oh well. He's really not saying anything important yet and I'm sure that by the time he's stringing sentences together, I will have figured out how to turn the camera on (and hopefully remember to stick a tape in there).

Steve is currently driving around trying to find some decent Chinese food out here in the middle of nowhere, but really the only thing we like to eat at Chinese places is sesame chicken. And bourbon chicken too, but apparently that is asking WAY too much around these here parts and the only "Chinese" place in the world that makes it is at the food court in the Auburn mall (and it is the best Chinese food I've ever eaten and I'm starting to drool just a little bit thinking about it). So hopefully he comes back with something resembling sesame chicken and not meow chow because we spent literally all evening on Google trying to find a place that makes bourbon chicken and are at the point where we'd eat just about ANYthing.

Apparently Daddy has some rank breath and would you please quit blowing it all over my sweet, innocent little face already?

The small child that lives with us is now asleep. After only 20 minutes of crying. And it's not even 7pm yet. I am almost certain that Steve and I will be asleep by 8. Sweet dreams y'all and THANK YOU for your sleep training prayers! They are helping!!

Sleep training: UPDATE

Well folks, I am beyond happy to report that sleep training has been successful thus far. We are regressing somewhat in the time that it takes to get to sleep, but the time spent staying asleep has increased dramatically, which has done wonders for my purple (now lavender) eye bags and the overall amount of affection that I show Sammy in the morning hours. Last night he slept SIX STRAIGHT HOURS and I am not even kidding you right now!!! Of course, there is always the possibility that I slept through a couple of crying episodes that took place in the middle of the night (not that that's ever happened before...) but I truly think he slept the entire time. Stinks for Sam that Steve isn't here to casually roll over and smack me in the head and "accidentally" wake me up when I'm sleeping through a crying session. Sometimes Steve pretends that he doesn't hear him so he won't have to get up, and usually during those times, I dramatically yawn/groan, comment on how I've only been horizontal for 27 minutes, make a huge ruckus getting untangled from the covers, and flop back and forth from standing up to sitting down on the bed to put my socks on. It's not until I'm positive that I've pulled Steve out of his deep slumber that I proceed to pick up said screaming child who is neither hungry nor opening his eyes. The frustration associated with this situation is almost indescribable. Once I finally get the nugget back to sleep (which in itself is sorta confusing since his eyes never open), I flop hard back onto the bed to let Steve know just how long I've been up with his son and then make another big production getting settled back into the sheets. You would think the man would be happy as a clam to go out in the field (and get the you-know-what away from us), but I think the below-freezing temps are putting a damper on his full nights of uninterrupted sleep.
As a disclaimer, I must say that my husband does frequently get up in the night to assist me in feedings and other general baby duties so I can't rag on him too much. (I would hate to have to step up my "dramatic wake-up" regimen every night, because between that and taking care of the kid, I would have no energy left for the important things, like getting coffee and gabbing with my neighbor all day long.)

So in an attempt to keep our relationship friendly with our upstairs neighbor, affectionately known as "Mr. Clean," I made some pretzel kisses as a peace offering of sorts, you know, to make up for the fact that I've been letting my kid scream his lungs out for hours on end the past few nights. But Mr. Clean and I never seem to cross paths; he's always getting home when I'm driving away or vice versa, and I'm not exactly sure what he does that requires him to get home at 2:45 in the morning on a Monday night, but I didn't feel that that was the appropriate time to present him something with the word "kisses" in it while dressed in my pajamas. I was later comforted by my mama telling me that screaming children are an expected thing to hear when one is renting an apartment and that he probably doesn't hear him anyway. As much as my head disagrees with this particular train of thought, my tummy sure agrees with taking care of the peace offering I was planning to give him and that totally doesn't help with the losing of the baby weight and oh my goodness I am going to be in a wedding in six months so I've got to quit eating this junk already! Pray for Mr. Clean that he will make it through this week without drilling a hole through his floor, squeezing through it, and beating me with a rubber hose for letting my child scream through the ceiling at him at all hours of the night. If I see him, I might try to salvage a few of those yummies to give him and then remind him that we will be outta here by the weekend.

And this is one reason we go for the coffee in the mornings...

Confession

I started writing a post the other night (in the middle of the night) about how I'm just not a baby person. It sounds so bad (mainly because I have a baby and all), but after thinking about it with some sleep in my body, I decided that I'm not a newborn person. Maybe if Sammy, I dunno, WENT TO SLEEP FOR MORE THAN TWO HOURS AT A TIME I could appreciate all of those little newborn quirks more. But that is apparently quite unrealistic.

People still tell me to "enjoy this time," "This stage goes by too fast," and "He's four months already? Time just flew by, didn't it?" Well I'm sure time flew for you- You were fast asleep in your bed all night, every night. Time cah-reeped by for Steve and me. We were navigating the new waters of parenthood, while also navigating the equally new, choppy waters of the Army, all on minimal sleep. And I will risk sounding like a bad mother when I say THANK GOD that this stage goes by fast. I will also say that Steve has been a saint to get up with me in the night to help with Sammy when I feel like I'm going to pull my hair out (or some other act where youth services might get involved) despite the fact that he has to be up at 4:30 (yes, that's AM) to go to work for 12-15 hours straight. Obviously I am quite fortunate to have such a husband!!

He's sooo taken, ladies ;)

Steve is off "in the field" somewhere this week (pretty sure he's on vacation though) and Sammy and I are hashing this sleep training thing out together. It's like a battle of the wills. Luckily my wills have large cups of coffee on their side. I was petrified the night before Steve left. Nothing but crying, crying, crying as I realized that I will have no one to pass him off to at the end of the day, even just for ten minutes. You have to understand that some days, I LIVE for the hour that Steve comes home. Of course I'm happy to see him and have a grown-up to talk to, but I relish the moment I get to pass that whiny, needy child sweet little bundle of joy off to his daddy. So the thought of that moment not coming for an entire week was a little unnerving. I was on the computer searching airline tickets to see if I could bribe my mama to come up and save me, and all the while Steve was telling me to go back to Pennsylvania. As much as I love being at my in-laws' home, those poor people deserve a break!! They had us there all last week, we'll be up there again next week, they've been babysitting our dogs for too long, and it's just not fair to dump more on them. And now I am so happy that I stayed here with Sammy. We started sleep training (it's going better than I ever imagined!!) and I'm realizing that I can do this on my own and keep my head well above water. And while I still cringe at the thought of a year-long deployment (that is in our not-too-distant-future), I feel like this little stepping stone of a week will help. So keep sending the sleep training prayers our way because we're still working at it, but things are going WELL and I'm giddy with the thought of sleep in our (very near) future.

I realize this was a risky move-taking his picture while he's asleep and all- but I needed a picture of such a monumental event! (And he didn't wake up) Isn't he a freakin' ANGEL when he's sleeping???

Sleep training

So here we are: four months old and sleeping (if that's what you call it) like a newborn. We had one freak week where Sam slept for eight hours straight every night (can we say bliss???), but ever since then we have had to bathe, lotion, swaddle, feed, rock, jiggle, pace, and then very VERY carefully place him in either his swing or his rocker/sleeper. Then we must hover over him for a few extra minutes just to be sure that the sleep "took." Wake and repeat every two hours as needed. And it is usually needed. If you're not tired just from reading that, then let me tell you that it is exhausting. And I'm so over it.

He's cute when he smiles at me, but oh, he is infinitely cuter when he's asleep. Trust me on that one.

I'll post some sort of update in a few days as to whether it works or not. Meanwhile, please pray for us that it does. Four months of interrupted sleep is not good for our bodies, people, and we are desperate for a guaranteed four-hour chunk of sleep every night. We're not asking for twelve hours. Not even eight. Just four consistent hours every night. Amen.


Something other than sleep training, PLEASE!
Sammy and I stayed in PA this week with Mom-mom and Pop-pop since Steve was really busy with work and meetings, and it was such a great week. What a saint Mom-mom was to let me make dinner while she held and entertained Sam (cooking is so much more fun when someone isn't screaming at you to hurry up with that raw chicken because the fishies aren't signing their song anymore and I'd like to see what's going on over there RIGHT THIS INSTANT!!!). She also hung out with him in the evenings while I went to bed early which is about as close to heaven as I can imagine right now. Not to mention the daily conversation with another adult, guaranteed shower time (without the background screaming), and did I mention the tons and tons of snow that are on the ground up there?? Unlike the rest of PA (you know, the people that actually have somewhere to be during the day), I was enjoying the white on the ground and got excited about the potential for more to fall while we were there. Multiple people tried to talk me out of liking the stuff, but that was near impossible since I come from a place where it is a true novelty. No pictures of snow though. I was too busy enjoying it to take a picture of it. Marci also enjoys the snow (probably more than I do), while Odie share the rest of PA's opinion of it, and looks very put off when she's forced to go out in it.

Marci on New Year's Eve 2010

In other news, Sammy got two new toys: a bouncy seat and a jumperoo. The jumperoo has gotten rave reviews. The bouncy seat leaves something to be desired apparently. Lucky for us, I got a good deal on craiglist so it doesn't really matter.

Watching those chubby little white legs jump up and down is so stinkin' cute! It almost makes the music that comes out of the thing bearable.

And his latest hobby is trying to see how many fingers he can shove into his mouth at once. Not a great habit to pick up, but a very cute one at his age.

And just because it was so darn good, I made that torte again. Seriously, if you haven't made it, you're missing out. It's easy, loaded with calories, chocolate-y, delicious, and easy. It requires no baking, so I will mention again that it's easy. My only personal changes that I would make to the original instructions are:

• use strawberries over raspberries (raspberries seem to be rivaling gold in their worth right now)
• use a glass circle (or square) pyrex instead of a metal cake pan. The first step that involves the Saran wrap can be a beast since Saran wrap does not stick to metal. It still turns out either way, but works just as well in a glass pyrex.

The recipe is here and you should all run out to the store and get the eight ingredients that it takes to make this because you will so not regret it, and I am not one to waste your time on not-so-tasty desserts. (FYI: One box of Nilla Wafers will make exactly two tortes, assuming that you only snack on a couple of them during the process.)

Steve and I found out that we are lucky #63 on the wait-list for on-post housing at Ft Campbell, which equates to somewhere between four to six months. This situation is not ideal since we do not want to rent off-post for four to six months and re-move everything (including baby and two dogs) on-post. So we are looking to rent off-post for our entire stay at Ft Campbell. We found the perfect house to rent in a nice cookie-cutter neighborhood with reasonable rent, but when we called the realtor, he told us that it wouldn't be ready until April and that someone else already wanted it. Boo. Apparently most of the units at Campbell are getting back from a deployment, so housing on- and off-post is in high demand. Lucky us! :) Please keep us in your prayers to find the right house. We can only search online for now, but when we arrive at Ft Campbell in three-ish weeks, we will only have ten days to find and move into a place. And that place must have a fenced-in backyard because I will not spend all my days walking behind Odie and coaching her on when and where to poop and then picking it up and carrying it around while she and Marci proceed to sniff every living thing within a ten mile radius of our house while Sammy wails because the scenery is not constantly changing before his eyes. I just won't. So please kindly include that in your prayers as well. Thank you.

Family picture! Because we haven't had one since we were in the hospital with Sammy. Our backdrop is pretty classy too, huh?