Sam was finally baptized, but at least we didn't wait til he was 8 years old

Sammy was baptized into the Church this past Saturday evening, along with two other children. I say "children" instead of "babies" because my son was the only real baby there. The girl there was probably well over a year old and the boy was AT LEAST eight. And you would have thought you were attending an exorcism instead of a baptism. How a child his age can have such a fear of water is beyond me. The priest kept saying, "It's only WATER. Calm down." But the boy was kicking and screaming and flailing and carrying on like he was being sprinkled with poison instead of HOLY WATER. Fear not, we have pictures. It's also on video, but I have no clue how to load that onto my computer yet so that will have to wait until a later date.

Check out the guy in the back trying to stifle his laughter.

The mom is going, "Do you think anyone will notice if I slip away? My husband wanted to do this "hands-off" parenting... Time for him to reap what he sows..."

Check out the cutest, newest little member of the Church.

That was taken seconds before he pooped his pants. We were sitting on the front row so I didn't want to leave to change his diaper, but every time he moved he reeked of corn, so we eventually had to duck out and take care of business.

When Sammy did corn-poop his pants, it proved to be the sign of things to come. It was his dinnertime/bathtime/bedtime during Mass and he was not happy about being in church. So he screamed during a lot of it.

And then Simba Sammy was presented to the pride? God? The altar? The Church?

Odd. I've never seen that before in all the baptisms I've attended. And yes, he screamed during that whole sequence as well.

The priest was very intent on having Sammy TOUCH the candle. Yes, please keep putting that candle (AND HOT WAX) as close as you can to my baby's highly flammable baptism romper that is probably 200% polyester. (Can you see my restraint? It's all I can do not to slap the candle out of the priest's hand.) Although I have to admit that it shut him up for a good 45 seconds.

And that was the end of that. We had to leave IMMEDIATELY after the baptism part of Mass. I know that doesn't look good, but who schedules baptisms (for supposed BABIES) during dinnertime and bedtime? Obviously, PEOPLE WHO DON'T HAVE CHILDREN. Oh well. We got home and stuck him in bed. He let out one little squawk as he rolled over and passed out in his crib. The rest of us proceeded to eat and drink and drink and drink. 

Or maybe I was the only one drinking that much. 

All I know is that I sure had a good time and woke up with a fierce case of Cotton Mouth the next morning. (Totally WORTH IT)

Sammy was in a much better mood the next morning. He was happy to see his people.

Sam & Mom-mom
(& Odie-- who is NOT allowed on the couch... except for when Pop-pop says it's ok...)

Pop-pop & Sam

Uncle Dan (the Godfather) & Sam

Hodgie-Baba & Sam (what a ham this child is)

Pops & Sam

I haven't posted in forever because I sort of got my social life back

Strange thing happened this past week: I gave this library program on post a shot. "Baby & Me Lapsit." I'd been looking at it in the newsletter and thinking about it, but never quite getting around to going to it. Now I know you're probably thinking that oh, you don't have anything to do during the day, why haven't you done this sooner? NAPS, people. Naps. I wouldn't screw with that precious sleep schedule if someone offered me a million dollars. (Well maybe for a million. Then I could hire a night nanny so I could continue on with my sleep.)

But the stars aligned this past Wednesday morning (although it didn't appear that way at first) with Sam waking up at 5:30 (not normal for him), which means that he took his morning nap at 8:00, which means that he was up by 9:00ish, which means I had time to take a shower, wear something without an elastic waistband, and get him ready to leave the house by 9:30. So we made it there on time. Early, in fact! I saw a few moms standing outside waiting for the library to open and as I was looking at their kids, I was thinking, "This is a mistake. Sam's too young for this. These kids are so OLD, like one or something, and being friends with them would be nice, but I was really hoping to meet someone who is in MY BOAT. Specifically, the seven-month-old boy boat."

So we go inside and sit down in the kids' room and I'm watching the other "babies" run around and scale bookshelves and eat paper. Sam finds them all very fascinating as there is not this much live action at home. Sometimes I will exercise in front of him but he seems to find that to be extremely scary. (And after watching myself do jumping jacks in front of the mirror once, I totally get it.) And the dogs STINK at providing entertainment unless there is an annoying squeaky toy at their disposal.
Hello TANGENT!

Just as the program is starting, another mom walks in with her baby, but her kid is an actual BABY. She sits down next to me and we say the obligatory hellos and how old is your baby and is he eating squash yet? No? Oh he likes peas instead? Wow that's interesting, my kid won't eat anything green, is that a Carters' outfit? OMG I love Carters' too! It DOES stink that there are no Carters' stores here. And have you been to the Target here? Talk about stink. Oh? Is it time to sing songs to the babies now? Ok, I'm sorry, we'll keep it down over here.

So we sing a few cutesy songs to the babies and one of the songs is a "Hello, hello, hello and how are you?" song and it incorporates all of the kids' names into the song. As soon as they got around to singing Sam's name, he started SCREAMING. I have no clue how that upset him, but it did. He ended up screaming during the rest of the songs and proceeded to look extremely socially awkward, but after the program ended (maybe 10 minutes later) and playtime began, I realized that he was probably very HOT (since the HEAT was on ohmygosh kill me now). I took some of his clothes off and he started feeling better. Then they all started playing with this community bin of toys and YUCK please don't let my child touch those toys, have mercy there is no telling how many germs are crawling all over them. But then a child (a walking, coughing, snotty, child- not a BABY) comes walking over and grabs Sam's rattle from him and STICKS IT IN HIS MOUTH. His pregnant mother tells him to give it back and he just drops it on the floor. Suddenly that is the only toy that Sam wants to play with and I was trying not to be That Mom who is sanitizing everything in sight, but I realized that... I AM HER. I couldn't bust out the baby wipes fast enough. If I'd had access to a pot of boiling water, I would have taken care of business right then, but they don't keep stoves in libraries these days so a wipe would have to do.

Back to my new FRIEND though... Her baby is 6-months-old, her husband is close in rank to Steve, we even drink the same WINE, we both see nothing wrong with putting a bottle away in one sitting (WINE, that is), love Target, hate ours, both from the South, both stay-at-home-moms and loving it. I think it goes without saying that this. is. awesome.

I'm so glad that we both ended up going to that library program this week (it was the first time going for both of us) and I'm so glad that someone else at Ft Campbell needed a friend. (How desperate and dorky does that sound, but ohmygosh, making friends is HARD.)

Now tell me if this isn't the sweetest picture you've ever seen in your entire life.

I love my life.

I don't know everything, but since I'm aware of that fact, I technically still know everything that I need to know

I made a HUGE mistake this past week. I didn't drop Sammy on his head or feed him beer instead of milk or leave him in the grocery cart, but I did get rid of his jumperoo. No need to tell me how AWFUL and STUPID I am, because I already rode on The Guilt Trip all of last week.

You see, I started thinking it was time to say sayonara to the jumperoo since Sam's feet were slamming into the ground harder and harder every time he bounced, and I started to worry that he was going to break a kneecap or stunt his growth or slip a disc out of place in his back. It was already raised to the highest level possible and I just didn't see any need to keep it around if it might potentially hurt him. (This is where the stupid starts: Hello Jenn, did you REALLY think that you would never have another child who might also love to jump and bounce around as if s/he is half-kangaroo? Maybe just break it down and place it in the attic? No? Wanna be stupid? Ok, keep going with your current train of thought then.)

 The last bounce. Sadly, I even recorded it.

Notice the smiles, the enthusiastic bouncing, the lazy, sleeping dog in the background.

So I sold his jumperoo to this lady who told me that she had to have it TODAY. I was thinking, Oh poor her. I know the feeling! I'm glad this jumperoo is going to someone who is really going to appreciate it and enjoy it! I'm glad some other baby will be distracted for minutes on end so his/her mother can get the dishes washed, laundry folded, bladder emptied, coffee poured, etc, etc. (Jumperoo, I could sing your praises all the live-long day.) So I meet up with her and we start talking about how truly AMAZING the jumperoo is, and yes, we loved it, it saved my life/sanity/bladder on numerous occasions, you're going to love it too, blah blah blah, by-the-way, how old is your baby? 

Y'all, the child is ONE MONTH OLD. But she says he can hold his head up very well. Yes, I'M SURE. Typically when people prop you up on Boppies and Bumbos and pillows and want to see things that aren't there, children at one month of age can hold their heads up like you and me. I, um, IMMEDIATELY realized that I was making a mistake, but there was really no going back from that decision so I had to let her keep it in her car instead of flinging my body over it and begging for it back. 

<SIGH>

Obviously, I immediately had to go searching for a jumperoo to replace the one that I had just sold because what was Sammy going to do when he woke up from his nap (YES I AM THAT EVIL TO SELL HIS FAVORITE THING WHILE HE WAS ASLEEP) and realized that his jumperoo was no longer there??? Chaos would ensue and I could already picture the dishes overflowing out of the sink, laundry piles stinking up our house, me, standing in my Depends, trying to make the crying stop.

Well I found one. He actually seems to enjoy it slightly more, but I can't tell if that's because it's new (to him) or because the toys are different or it plays different (but equally annoying) music. Anyways, he loves it and you should have seen the look on his face when he first got in it to bounce. Pure joy. I realized that I had made a HUGE mistake in selling his old jumperoo and have not gotten out of my guilt-funk yet. Steve tried to console me by telling me that we would have had to get rid of it sooner than later anyway since the old one was at the highest setting, but it doesn't make me feel much better. Because in-between the old jumperoo and the new (to us) jumperoo, we got a (new to us) walker. And he HATED it. He stood there and tried to jump up and down, but instead, would just run straight into the couch, or on top of a dog, or into the wall, and it looked very confusing and frustrating for him. Being a new (and very ignorant) parent, I assumed that walker was the next thing on the list after he outgrew the jumperoo. I think the walker will hang out in the garage for quite a few more months. He is SO not into that thing.

 Evidence of walker-hatred. Stupid mommy going on in the background like he might actually be enjoying himself (while he runs straight into the kitchen counter).

And now, finally, the new and improved jumperoo. Thank goodness.

I will try and think through these things (you know, from start to FINISH) before acting like a crazy person again. And I'm already DREADING the day that those chubby little legs don't fit into those holes in the jumperoo anymore...

Mothers' Day recap

My second Mothers' Day (I was pregnant with Sammy on my first, technically!) was AWESOME. Awesome awesome AWESOME. I got to take a shower, SHAVE MY LEGS, go to church, receive a rose and a special blessing for mothers, expose myself at church again, pick out a new phone, my husband made dinner, and Sammy was extra-cute. I even got a card from the dogs!

Yes, I guess I can't slip anything by you, Internet. I had yet ANOTHER wardrobe malfunction at church. I'm not sure what sort of a sign that is. Why does God want me to expose myself (my CHUBBY, WHITE self) to lots of innocent people? Maybe they aren't so innocent and God wants to punish them by making them look at me, exposed? I can't get inside the Big Man's head, but it happened again.. At least it didn't happen IN church this time. I was walking to the car (go figure, we got a REALLY good, close parking spot Sunday) and I was wearing this cute white dress that I wore way back in the day (like, possibly high school) and Steve had to get on his knees and wrestle with the zipper just to get the stupid thing on me, but it finally zipped. So I'm wearing my cute heels and I'm feeling good, just got out of church, fixin' to head to the store to get my new phone and then, dun dun DUN... My heel gets caught in a little crack in the sidewalk and I ALMOST face-plant (which probably would have been more embarrassing), but I do that whole crazy-waving-arms thing to steady myself and then comment on how graceful I am. Only then do I feel a light breeze through my dress and realize that when I was wobbling around on the sidewalk, I must have inhaled deeply (like I normally do when I get nervous about eating concrete) and POPPED THE ZIPPER. I thought I just popped the top snap thing off, but upon closer inspection (inside the car) Steve pointed out that, no, the actual zipper was still at the top where it was painstakingly wrestled a few hours before. The actual zipper was busted, and steadily creeping down, further and further to reveal..... my panties (You: Oh no not again, please tell me you weren't wearing the same ones as last time.). Rest assured Internet, between flashing the church at Easter and now, I have re-stocked my underwear drawer with good quality Target panties. We can all breathe a big sigh of relief. And after seeing pictures of myself in the dress I decided that I didn't care for that dress much anyways. Makes me look sort of.... pregnant? Not exactly the look I'm going for these days...

We can all agree that for whatever reason God made that zipper pop, it was probably for the best. Amen.

So the second most interesting thing in this post would be... the new phone! As Steve so bluntly put it, "Twelve-year-olds have cooler phones than we do," and it was time to do something about that. My phone was on its way to a slow, lingering, painful death, so we pulled the plug on it early and I got an iPhone! Now I am so "with it." Well, until you ask me to do something on it. Then I turn into some (VERY UNCOOL) 70-year-old who is sort of squinting and poking at it with one finger and saying, "How do you make a call on this dagblasted thing?" But I am slowly figuring it out. (S-L-O-W-L-Y being the operative word.)

I also gotta thank y'all for your suggestions about what to do with all of the Rapidly Reproducing Strawberries. I've made smoothies, put them atop yogurt, fed them to Sammy (although he was not a huge fan), and made that strawberry pie- which completely DISAPPEARED in two days flat. I would love to say, "Oh that Steve! Such an appetite!" But I would be LYING. I was a true partner in crime, doing my fair share of the pie-eating. So maybe desserts would be something I'd consider making more of since we eat them faster than green grass goes through a goose.

Just look at those sweet rolls!!

Or maybe not since I am still staring at my broken-down-zipper-dress that popped open on its own free will (probably due to the PIE).

I need advice from someone who either took Home Ec and passed or has made something from scratch (successfully)

This morning we went to a strawberry farm and picked two gallons of strawberries!

Proof that we did the dirty work! Sammy was such a slacker. He was all, "Wah, wah, waaaah, it's getting less and less humorous every time you refer to Dad and me as your strawberries, can we GO yet? Waah."
And I was all, "Hush your mouth child, Mama clearly needs a tan so I need to bake out here for at LEAST 15 more minutes."

Not only were we working on our tans, but taking pictures of strawberries just didn't seem to get old. They're so stinkin' pretty!

My strawberry men smelled of SPF 100 and gave me the wild and crazy urge to skip the strawberry farm and drive straight to the beach. Why oh WHY is Ft Campbell located in the middle of NOWHERE?

 

And now for my real question... What on earth should I DO with two gallons of gorgeous strawberries??? 

I made this pie already...

But that still leaves me with approximately two gallons of strawberries, maybe even three. They are rapidly reproducing in my fridge. If you feel so inclined to suggest a strawberry recipe, please keep in mind that I am not good at dessert-making, so something that involves dough rising is most likely WAY OUTSIDE of my cooking comfort zone. I already ruled out jelly/jam/preserves because it takes us months to go through our tiny jar of jelly already (I don't have room to store 15 more jars of the stuff) and strawberry shortcake is going to send me straight back to my maternity shorts (LET'S NOT REVISIT THAT). Help? Should I just cut and freeze them all? Steve suggested dipping them all in chocolate and eating them because how many calories are in dipping chocolate? Only a thousand? So what? Let's eat them all! Along with the chocolate! So you can see why I need some serious help.

Thanks in advance.

Don't forget

Mothers' Day is Sunday!! As in, THIS SUNDAY HURRY UP AND GET YOUR MAMA SOMETHING!! I'm not sure why I'm screaming in all-caps because Steve doesn't even read our blog. Not to worry though, I've been dropping some MAD hints starting three weeks ago about Mothers' Day and how I'm a mother and all and no, I may not be YOUR mother personally, but I am Mother to YOUR CHILD, a child who can't burp very well on his own much less drive to the store and buy me flowers and a sweet card with nice sentiments written inside.

Cute though, isn't he?

We'll see if he remembers or if he wakes up early Sunday morning, realizes his fatal mistake, and makes the Early Morning Trip To Walmart to do the Walk Of Shame to the greeting card aisle with all of the other men who forgot what day it is.

I never gave a TON of thought to Mothers' Day before now, even though I was and am very thankful for my mother and all she's done for me throughout my life. I guess I could never imagine just how MUCH she had done for me until I had a little nugget of my own to care for. And now I know. Mothers' Day now holds a TON of significance as I have a whole new way of looking at my mother. I'm looking at her through Mama Eyes. My own Mama Eyes. And now I have the full-on right to say things like, "I've just got that Mama Feelin'," or, "If you don't stop that right now, I'm gonna snatch you bald-headed!" or, "Let me tell you about your birth... You see, it all started with 23 hours of labor..."

I also don't think so highly of my own birthday anymore. Before I was all, "Oh cake and presents for meeeee!!" but now I'm wondering why on earth Sam would get presents and cake for just surviving another year of life. (Although with us as first-time parents, it is definitely something to be celebrated with wonderment and awe.) I'm feeling that when Sam's birthday rolls around, someone should bake a cake for ME.
"Good job Jenn! A year ago today you worked and worked and worked some more to bring that giant watermelon of a baby into the world! You also shared your body and bodily resources with this (not-so) tiny person for nine months, rendering you the only designated driver for miles around. And since then you've endured months of sleepless nights (and days!), turning your own body into a virtual Dairy Queen, cleaning carrot-poo diapers that stretch from butt to neck, being drenched in stinky baby vomit, and crying over the silliest things, like teeth and diaper rash and the thought of sending the little person to kindergarten. Happy birthday to YOU."
Now that's more like it. I appreciate (times a THOUSAND) what my mother put up with and did for me when I was a helpless, needy, floppy (and possibly very annoying) infant. And not only that, but she did it all with another small person to care for! And then she had twins! Four children under four years old! (Insanity or courage?) Regardless, my hero. I can only dream of having the organizational skills and extreme PATIENCE (my GOD, the patience in that woman) that she possesses.

So... all of that to say, be thankful for your mother. She's done SO MUCH to make you who you are.

And now, a few funny quotes about mothers.

“A mother is a person who, seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.”
-Tenneva Jordan

"There never was a child so lovely, but his mother was glad to get him asleep."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

"It's not easy being a mother. If it were easy, fathers would do it."
-The Golden Girls

                                                                                   
"My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.                                                                                               
-Erma Bombeck

Wouldn't you just LOVE a quick and easy recipe for dinner this week?

Well I am here to give it to you! I am no "foodie" and this by no means comes close to gourmet, but when the baby's screaming, your husband is hungry, and all you have is raw chicken and the burning desire to call your main man, Mr. Caesar (as in Little Caesar's), this will do.

Italian Chicken Stirfry (but stirfry sounds Oriental, and this isn't Oriental, it's Italian, so I'm not really sure what to call it. Maybe Italian-Chicken-Pasta-Vegetable-Dinner is more descriptive and appropriate. I'm not really sure. I am starting to think I will never be contacted about writing a cookbook.)

Ingredients:

• boneless, skinless chicken breasts
• some sort of mixed vegetables (I use frozen because I am all about convenience and something about someone else washing and cutting vegetables for me just screams, "BUY ME NOW!")

 

• pasta of your choice
• Kraft Italian Cheese and Herb Cooking Creme

 Begin by boiling pasta. Use the handy-dandy noodle basket I told you about! 

Then brown the chicken.

Next, dump in your veggies and Cooking Creme and mix.

After stirring over heat for a few minutes (until heated through), get your pasta situated in your bowls, it's almost dinnertime!

Spoon out the chicken/veggie mixture over pasta.

And voila! Dinner is served! Meat, vegetables, pasta and sauce! 

This is a 15-minute meal that is sooooooooooo easy. You can't have too many weapons in your Quick Dinner Arsenal. (Also, sorry about my crappy lighting... I realized that this might not look as appetizing as it did in person, but I promise you, it is GOOD.)

You can also substitute (for the chicken) crab meat, imitation crab meat, no meat, beef, pork, you name it- stick it in there and cover it up with this sauce and people will eat it. 

There are other Cooking Cremes out there, and I've tried all of them except Original (because really? How BORING) and they are all great.

The Garlic Cooking Creme goes great with fish and Santa Fe Cooking Creme is great mixed in with brown rice when you're making taco salad (or any other Mexican food).

Scientific fact: People are happier when they aren't hungry. Check out the evidence.

Make this meal for your family and they will be this happy too.