Let's talk about my extensive el-bee collection

El-bees. A nicer way of saying POUNDS. <sigh> The time has come. My scale is no longer sliding counterclockwise at a delightfully rapid pace. Apparently that fudge was stickier than I thought because my hips? They are holding onto it like there's no tomorrow. With Sam, I got back to my pre-pregnancy weight fairly quickly (although that was not necessarily a number to be too proud of). It seemed like the pounds slid right off following his birth. Continuing with the pumping only helped more. But this go-round I seem to have stalled out already. (I know Mom, I KNOW, nine months to put it on, nine months to take it off. You are sitting on my shoulder as I write this.)

Some people make resolutions at the start of the new year. Something about the first of the year being inspiring and turning over a new leaf and crap like that. You wanna know what's inspiring? Putting your maternity clothes away, getting your "regular" clothes back out, and finding that NOTHING FITS. Surprisingly enough, I am actually getting quite tired of my yoga-pants-Steve's-tshirt uniform, and I would just love to fit back into some of my old clothes. Or! Crazy idea! Buy a few new clothes! I refuse to buy anything to fit this size. That would only provide more incentive for me to stay here. Although I DO have one pair of "fat jeans" that I bought right after having Sam. (It was coming up on wintertime and I needed something to cover my bottom half so everyone in the greater Richmond area was not assaulted by my thighs.) But ya know what? Those gigantic things don't even fit me right now. <SOB> And not that I would wear them anyways what with it turning a thousand degrees here overnight and my propensity to sweat through anything that isn't mesh. So nothing can light a fire under me like the thought of wearing SHORTS. And TANK TOPS. And dresses that don't have the term MATERNITY associated with them. And I won't even get into SWIMSUITS. Gack. The clothing- while definitely vain, it is a motivator. And vanity be damned- I JUST WANT MY BODY BACK.

So while I've already lost 25lbs, there is still a looooooooooooong way to go. You might think 25lbs sounds impressive. And it sort of does- IF you don't see what my current weight is and IF you don't add up what I should have already lost . But when you see where we need to go from here, you would laugh so hard you'd soon have yourself a set of six-pack abs.

According to the CDC and their nifty (albeit thoroughly depressing) BMI calculator, I am overweight. Not yet obese, but had Molly come a few days later and I had consumed a little more fudge, we might be talking about that. (SCARY, right?) My BMI is not where it should be. My body is not where it should be. I seriously slacked in the working-out department while pregnant with Molly. I ate far too much fudge. I didn't drink as much water as I should have.

I can now state loud and proud that I drink more water per day than your average camel, I have eaten more salads than I ever dreamed possible, and I started the Couch-To-5k program last week. This is A Big Deal, y'all. I am also getting in a little resistance training as I am pushing 75lbs of stroller, carseat, and babies during these "runs." I'm hoping that once I complete the C25K program and go jogging without a stroller, I will run a four minute mile or something incredible like that. As of right now though, it is PAINFUL. It is UGLY. It is SWEATY. God only knows how much those things will exponentially increase once it gets hotter outside. BUT (and this is a major but), I feel so GOOD after I complete one of the sessions. My mood is better (ask Steve!), my muscles actually feel useful again, and I get the bonus of an extra shower.

So to recap:
Motivators- my vanity, clothes fitting, scale numbers, feeling good in my skin again
This doesn't hurt either.

We finally got a new scale (after our old one would tell me I lost 13lbs in 4 seconds- as much as I love it's ability to suck up, I need something a little more accurate) and after opening it up in the kitchen and having Sam play around on it, I guess we got kinda lazy and never moved it to the bathroom. I think it's a pretty effective place to keep a scale.

Also, I'm nowhere near brave enough to tell you how much I currently weigh, or even my goal weight, but I set up a new tab to keep track of how much I have left to lose. Go click on that to feel better about yourself or to have a good laugh. I'll try to update weekly.

And if you made it to the end, here is a cute Molly picture as your reward.

One month (and loads of cute pictures OF COURSE)

Dear little Molly,
One month ago today you joined our family. We were so excited and SURPRISED to meet you and find out that you were a girl! Well, I was surprised. Daddy says he knew all along. I think he's just naturally lucky. I mean, look at the family he scored.

I REST MY CASE.

You have been quite an easy addition to our family. You sleep well (PRAISE JESUS AND MARY AND JOSEPH AND ALL THE CHOIRS OF ANGELS IN HEAVEN), you eat like there truly is no tomorrow (I can appreciate that you're just trying to live life to the fullest), and you generally don't cry unless something is wrong (or if you sense me sitting down to eat a meal).

You have already outgrown all of the newborn onesies and diapers. We opened a pack of size one diapers while waiting for your cloth dipes to arrive and it looks like blood is finally circulating to your lower half again. That might explain the blowouts you've had over the past couple of days.

You have quite the ability to sleep through just about anything. Except, of course, if I happen to scratch my nose in the middle of the night. Your little ears pick up on that a lot easier than your brother running through the house, shrieking, and banging lids onto pots.

Your hair is MOST DEFINITELY auburn, or some form of red. It is glaringly obvious when you're in the sun. You have THE SHARPEST nails on the face of the earth and I only remember this when I am burping you and you make it your personal mission to scrape every trace of skin off my chest. Your eyes are a deep blue and I so hope they stay that way because they're gorgeous. Your brother's blue eyes stuck, so maybe you'll luck out and keep yours too. Also like your brother, you are coming down with a mild case of baby acne. <sigh> I was hoping you could avoid it, but yours isn't that bad unless you're really freaking out over something and your face turns the color of a thousand tomatoes. I will also note that you had your first bath recently (oy that nasty little umbilical stub did NOT want to come off... ewww...) and you basically turned purple from screaming so much. Soothing? Relaxing? A time for bonding? A cue to signal that bedtime is approaching? I guess Johnson and Johnson will have to sell that crap to someone else because YOU AREN'T BUYIN'. I hate to break it to you, but you are one hot-natured little lady, and baths are going to become a frequent thing for you. That, or you are going to really start smelling like old cheese. And I think it goes without saying that you have THE MOST kissable cheeks in all the land. I cannot get enough of them.

I swear I've seen you smile so much. And not just when you're dreaming. Or farting. But you have honest-to-goodness smiled at me more than once. You've even laughed. The laughter was most likely from the farting, but the smiles are genuine. I don't care what the doctors say. You are a HAPPY baby.

You should also note that you are wearing clothes designed for the female portion of the population. We have had quite the generous bunch of neighbors and friends and family that wanted to make sure you weren't wearing stained-up green and yellow onesies from Sam's younger year. And while I won't purposely buy you tons of pink things, you do look mighty cute in them.

You are one sweet little lady and we are so happy to have you in our family. Keep up the awesome eating and sleeping and overall niceness!! You will earn many many gold stars from doing that, and one day, you can redeem them for.... a stick of bubblegum or a nickel or a teensy piece of chocolate. I KNOW, you don't have to tell me how awesome the prizes are.

Love,
Mama

You know, just your typical Wednesday

 There were dishes to wash...

Baby clothes to fold...

Underwear-clad children to keep out of the trashcan...

 

Diaper laundry to do...

Regular laundry to do...

 

Lunch to eat...

 

Errands to run...

 

Flowers to water...

Babies to feed...

 

And glasses to raise because we've made it to the end of another day.

 

You know you're a mom when...

Thanks for all your "mom-isms" submissions! I had a really fun time reading them. I might have gotten a funny look or two from Steve at 3am due to my incessant giggling, but he never remembers anything from that time of day anyway, so who cares. (Also, I don't just stay up til all hours of the night reading the internet. Unless I'm pumping. Then I MUST read the internet or I might just fall asleep all hooked up and turn into an honest-to-goodness dairy cow. Which is something else I never would have thought I'd say pre-kids.)

So here they are! Your mom-isms in no particular order:

"If you stick your finger in my ear one more time..."

"Are you biting your toenails?"

"Have your pants been undone all day? Didn't you feel a breeze?"

"We go by the 5 minute rule here, so just pick it up off the floor and eat it!"
(I swear the floor was clean...mostly)
     - Kris at The New Normal

"Bennett, ugh, why are you crying? Look mommy's going to load dishes, crawl in! Yay, fun!"
And then proceeded to let him play in the dishwasher (door open, I don't suck at motherhood THAT bad).
     - Kate at Daffodil's

"Do NOT step on your sister's head."

"Stop putting your hand down your pants."

"Bend over so I can wipe your bottom."

"Do NOT wipe your boogers on me!"
     - Ruthie at My Trash and Treasure

"Is that a booger in your nose...let me get that out for you!"

"Did you go Poopy? Yay, you went poopy, yay!"

"Gotta wash that little _____, and between your cheeks."
      - Kieran at J & K Happily Ever After

"I totally miss going to the bathroom by MYSELF...ALONE!"
     - Georgia Girl, Jersey Wife




So it looks like most of us are talking about poop, boogers, and other gross things. I'm so glad I'm not alone. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go sterilize a spatula that I used to pry a stubborn poop off of a diaper.

The day I went on a date with another man

I have been on the hunt for some Ft Campbell postcards lately. I've got some mail I need to send out, but I don't just wanna use the same old cards I've got lying around my house. After checking the PX and finding zilch, I decided I would go to the museum gift shop yesterday and see if they had anything. Instead of piling the entire crew (wow, all four of us) into the car and driving the 2 minutes across post, I just took Sam. Steve warned me that since it was a DONSA (fancy Army-speak for Day Of No Significant Activity, aka: DAY OFF WOOHOO), the museum would probably be closed. I disagreed and really wanted to get out of the house, so we went anyway.

We arrived at 4:28. The museum closed at 4:30. The gift shop closed at 4. Boo. Luckily, I had a Plan B up my sleeve. There is a memorial park across the street from the museum that is full of airplanes and helicopters and little monuments honoring fallen heroes. So instead of turning around and going home, Sam and I had a little date- a walk through the park.

We saw a helicopter here,

a helicopter there,

some silly baby belly

a monument or two,

and some rocks, of course.

I love this little guy.

 

PS. I've finally joined the rest of the world on Instagram. (I KNOW, what is happening to me?!) I have no clue how to find anyone on there (except by pure luck, of course), so you can find me at jmr0006 if ya like, and I'll follow you back.

18 months

Sweet Sam,
Forgive me for not doing this on time. You, combined with your sister, require a lot of attention these days, and while I've been thinking about your 18-month post in my head for a WHILE now, I'm just getting around to actually typing it out. Also, I will note that I could have had this knocked out an hour ago if you had agreed to nap like a normal toddler. But I digress.

Eighteen months old. Wowza. You are a BIG KID. I always thought you looked just like my little bitty baby until Molly showed up. And then Daddy and I changed your diapers at the same time on the bed the other day and the difference in size almost knocked me over. (Or was it the smell?) I cannot get over how gigantic your hands and feet are. I know it's all a comparison against Molly's tiny features, but up until she got here, you were tiny to me! I mean, you seem to weigh 60+ pounds when I have to lug you up the stairs with one arm, but we haven't been to the doctor yet for a checkup, so I can't comment on weight. (Although I can do actual curls with you in my arms, so chances of you weighing anywhere close to 60lbs is very VERY slim. Mama needs to work on her guns, that's for sure.)

Cute things you do right now:

You say "yeah" all the time. It is so stinkin' adorable. When you get on a "yeah" roll, I start asking you questions just so you'll respond with the right answer. I love it. Can't wait for more words to pop out of your cute little mouth.

You are babbling a lot more, but not really saying anything. "Uh-uh" means a PLETHORA of things. I have to assess the situation and respond accordingly. Because sometimes it can mean: 1) choo-choo 2) honk-honk 3) beep-beep 4) woof-woof) 5) tweet-tweet 6) more chex please 7) Odie 8) stinky 9) helicopter 10) motorcycle
I could go on, but it sort of goes without saying that those little grunts are your way of communicating right now.

When you sit in your highchair, you will put your hands behind you head and "flex your guns." I'm not sure where you picked this up, but you like for us to attempt to tickle you when you do it.

You are really interested in helicopters right now. Yesterday at the playground, one was flying in circles over us for what felt like an eternity. And you HAD to stare at it continuously, lest it fall right out of the sky. Also, the pointing was really cute. But then you got distracted by a group of birds hanging out and I was alternating between saying "tweet-tweet" and "helicopter." I never know who needs water more after our trips outside- you for all the running and playing you do, or me for the incessant, constant chattering about our surroundings.

Speaking of the playground, you are finally enjoying it. We've been to a few on post now, and you have taken a special liking to the slides. You aren't afraid to go down on your own, and yesterday you chose to go down head-first a few times. Hodgie reintroduced you to swings while she was visiting and you are no longer afraid of them either.

You enjoy playing with your trucks and trains, but since Odie has migrated inside, you are really getting a kick out of playing with her. You chased her around with a bag of chocolate chips the other day, and I don't think you realize that those things can actually kill her. She is such a good sport with you. We need to work on GENTLE petting though.

You are still gluten-free and avoiding peanuts like the plague. I made you a smoothie yesterday and you took it down like a boss. You still refuse to eat anything that tastes remotely healthy, so I've taken to hiding spinach in these smoothies. It tastes just as good, but I am sneaking a veggie in on you. HA.

Pretending you are eating real-life carbs.

Possibly the cutest thing you've done since Molly arrived? She was crying in her swing, Daddy was at work, and I was pumping. You grabbed her pacifier and stuck it straight in her mouth.
And then I died. You are too sweet and I'm so glad you are adjusting to her arrival sans violence.

With that said, you still have your moments, child. You are completely aware of when you're doing something you're not supposed to. You will even look at me right before you do it. You will sometimes scream (at a decibel that probably shatters Odie's eardrums) when things don't go your way. You have taken to tapping me on the leg if I'm not reading your mind and fulfilling your unknown wishes. I say tapping, but I have a sneaky suspicion that we will soon classify it as slapping. I tell you "no" and you always continue doing it until I distract you with something else.

You pitch the most dramatic fit when we have to come in after playing outside. I swear you could win Oscars for these tantrums. God forbid someone goes outside to throw away trash or get the mail or water flowers without you because you act as though you have been locked inside your entire little life and that I am the cruelest mother EVER. In reality, you just have a knack for getting really REALLY dirty when you're outside and I have to save all of that for the afternoons when there's no chance you'll take another nap in your crib.

You still thoroughly enjoy playing with recyclables.

You mow the grass with Daddy in the backpack and look so proud while doing so.

Your favorite book at the moment is the bilingual Ana Cultiva Manzanas. You mostly point out the dog, the birds, the cat, and Annie's truck. (I believe you are under the impression that every book is one of those books that has noise-making buttons. You think that if you point at it hard enough, the dog will bark, the cat will meow, the bird will tweet, etc.) Daddy and I oblige by making the noises associated with those pictures and we rarely even read the actual story anymore.

You can climb the stairs all by yourself, but sometimes lack the motivation to do so. (FRUSTRATING.)

You are wearing size 18-24 month clothes. I refuse to buy clothes new for you anymore because you are so rough on them. You play like a boy and that is perfectly fine by me. Just don't expect to go anywhere but church in "nice" clothes.

You IDOLIZE your father. You have recently been caught dancing, and when I asked Daddy where you learned such a thing (HEATHEN), he informed me that y'all had a dance party before bed the other night. So now you do this side-step move, turn around in circles, and basically high-step around the house. I don't know if I can smile any bigger when you bust a move. Especially when I picture Daddy doing the same thing.

You had your hearing checked today, and while you acted like the audiologist was sticking fiery torches into your ears, we learned that you can hear just fine. Apparently it is a listening issue. So now that I KNOW you can hear me, THE JIG IS UP MAN.

When outside playing in the backyard, you used to trip over the cement stepping up onto the patio. So every single time you were approaching the concrete, I said, "STEP UP" and that seemed to help. And when you did it, I would cheer and clap. Now, you are remembering to step up all on your own. When you realize your achievement (of not face-planting into the concrete) you clap and get a big grin on your face, and I can't help but join in.

You finally got some new shoes for the summer. Lord you have some sweaty feet. I mean, I won't pretend like I don't know where you got that from, but socks and shoes were just too much for you in the heat. Also? A big pain in the patootie to put on every single time we went outside. So I researched all of these toddler sandal-sneaker hybrids and read reviews and finally settled on a pair. You are REALLY enjoying them and you seem to be walking and running easier and tripping a whole lot less. Your feet also seem to be a lot less sweaty after playing outside, so that is just icing on the cake. It takes a lot of the sting of the sticker shock away, knowing that you are using them every single day and that they are working so well for you. (But seriously though, how can people charge so much for such tiny shoes?! Especially knowing they will only be worn one season?! It is MADDENING.)

You are such an energetic little guy and watching you play and babble and learn every day is so much fun for me. Please don't get any cuter or older. I don't think my heart can handle it.

I love you, sweet boy.

You might be a mom if...

Have you done things or said things since becoming a mother that your former self could have NEVER imagined doing or saying? I've been catching myself lately and am wondering if you have any that you'd like to share. Obviously they need to be funny. That's really my only criteria. Nothing sentimental or mushy. Just funny. Because we all need a laugh, amiright? Especially those days where you swear it's 7pm and its only 3:21 in the afternoon. (Not that this happened to me today or anything.) So send me your "mom-isms" and I'll post them and link back to your blog. Or if you don't have a blog I will still post it with you name. Or anonymously if you want. Hell, even if you don't want it posted, I will still appreciate the laugh at 3am while I'm getting my milk on.

I'll leave you with a few of my own..

At Forever21 trying on a dress last week- Who WEARS stuff like this?! These dresses are way too short. The only way I got it on was one boob at a time.

On a related note- Why did I EVER wish for boobs?! I HATE them! Just in! my! way!

Said to a friend recently- "I just can't WAIT til Molly uses up the rest of these disposable diapers we opened so that I can put her in cloth!" (Old me would have laughed. Hard.)

"Oh just let him play with that trash. He really enjoys it."

My child says "Yeah" all the time. Yeah this, yeah that, yeah, yeah, yeah. Sometimes it's a question-like yeah. Yeah?
Now being a good Southerner, I prefer "yes ma'am" or "pardon me?" but since we are currently working with a zero word vocabulary, I love hearing "yeah."

I no longer shower every day.

I recently pulled raisins out of my washer. Usually wouldn't be a big deal, right? But this was after a load of diaper laundry. I could not get that smeary load off the diaper, so I tossed it in and hoped for the best. Won't do that again Also? We will be cutting back our raisin consumption.

Steve and I are contemplating going gluten-free so that we are all eating the same (healthy) things at each meal.

I strive to buy organic products. (Old me has her eyes rolling so far back into her head.)

When I used the term "stockpile" pre-kids, I was probably referring to wine or chocolate or peanut butter. Now I am talking about breast milk. And we totally just bought a deep freezer to accommodate it all.

Hypnobabies. Nuff said.

Said to Steve one evening- "What is this, damn New Years' Eve? Why are these kids running around outside and screaming so late at night?! They're gonna wake Sammy!"
Steve- "Well, it's only 7."

"They should really make carseats like roller coasters- just pull down the bar and bam! You're safe and ready to go. These straps are for the birds."

"AWESOME POO POO!! Give Mama a kiss!"

"If you lick that plunger, so help me God.."

Now send me some of your own!! lifewiththelieutenant@gmail.com. Don't forget to include your link.

PS. Please excuse any typos as I am typing this one-handed on an iPad. Also, I will return with adorable pictures soon.

One and a half years down- are there really only 18.5 left?! Please sir, can we have some more???

It finally happened. Steve had his cute little butterbar ripped off on Friday and I delicately replaced it with a single black bar.

I was encouraged by the Battalion Commander as well as the Company Commander to "PUNCH IT!!" on there (the enthusiasm for that punch... like frat boys watching a keg stand...), but since this past year as a lowly Second Lieutenant consisted of multiple excursions to hell and back, the most I muster was to make a fist and tap it against his chest.

I am so incredibly proud of him for making it through this first year and a half. He's done SO MUCH WORK y'all. It's been ridiculous and unbelievable and chock-full of long days and late nights and I sure as hell hope that this coming year provides a bit of a slower pace for him. That tiny little black bar was hard-earned and I get butterflies in my stomach whenever I see it on his uniform.

It was also mentioned that we should throw a party for his company to "celebrate" his new pay grade. One soldier yelled out "CHUCK E. CHEESE!" I am thinking we will just ask them to send us the bill rather than eat gross pizza with a giant rat while my son attempts to lick every germ-infested surface available.

It just so happened that Molly's two-week check-up was immediately after the promotion ceremony and I had no time to pump beforehand. That is not to say that there was any shortage of milk (I freeze AT LEAST six ounces daily), but more so to alert you to the fact that I needed this appointment to go quickly so as to not be completely soaked by the time I got home. Did I mention that Molly's doctor is a chatty fellow? Any other day, I would appreciate that. But yesterday... not so much. Luckily we made it home before we drowned in the car.

Molly clocked in at 9lbs 4oz. I was guessing that she was at least 10lbs by now. I mean, the girl can put away some milk. Apparently all of that screaming helps burn it off though.

My mom was here this past week to help with the transition of Steve going back to work. LET ME TELL YOU HOW HELPFUL THAT WAS. I mean, Molly sleeps well for a newborn. At least in my book. My only other newborn experience was Sam, and he woke up every hour, on the hour, for four months straight. So anything more than an hour kinda feels like angels are sprinkling glitter down on us. But Molly has this habit of wanting to be awake from 3-5am every morning. Sometimes longer. And once we finally get her back to sleep, it seems that Sam is waking up. With my mom here, she would get up with Sam in the morning, allowing me to sleep in until Molly woke up. It seems that my new routine might involve drinking heinous amounts of coffee and starting each day at 3am. We shall see.
My mother also performed tasks usually reserved for martyrs when she dealt with Sam during the witching hour, leaving me on the couch with a glass of wine and a sleeping Molly on my chest. To add to her list of achievements: doing diaper laundry multiple times, washing our sheets and clothes, reading the same book to Sam 6,497 times in a row, changing too many poopy diapers (from both children), feeding The Whiny One meals, buckling The Whiny One into his carseat, and accompanying me on a shopping trip to Nashville. By-the-way? The shopping trip to Nashville? WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN SO LONG AS I SHALL LIVE. The only way it will happen is if I weigh as much as my military ID says I do (which, HAHAHAHAHAHA THAT COULD TAKE A VERY LONG TIME). I can buy my kids' clothes online for far cheaper than I can at any of the "factory stores" and trying on clothes for myself two weeks after popping out a kid is like requesting postpartum depression on a silver platter. So while it was definitely an adventure, and I'm glad we got out of the house, I am in no rush to do it again. Especially alone.

I must have cropped her halo out of this photo because it is DEFINITELY floating around up there.

My mom left to go home today (something about a husband and a job and friends and not enough Diet Coke here). There was lots of whining and wailing and gnashing of teeth. Mostly from me. I am hopeful that we can limp along without her here. But just in case we can't, I'd better go ahead and take that Reester bunny out tonight.

Shameless self-promotion and where I talk ignorantly about Twitter

It has been a very eventful few days around these parts. I mean, in between Steve going back to work, my mom flying up to visit, being serenaded by a 9-year-old boy at the playground, and Molly losing her umbilical stump, I have barely had time to think about how I'm going to eat that Reester bunny without looking like a total fattie. (For the record though, I WILL eat that Reester bunny. It's just a matter of finding the right time and place...)

Now that my news updates have you all sitting on the edge of your seats, I will confess that I have given in and joined TWITTER. OMG. I still refuse to join the rest of the world on facebook, but I'm feeling very 2012 with my Twitter account, despite not really knowing what it is that I'm doing on there. Not that I post anything particularly interesting or enlightening. I mean, you can tell by my posts here that I am not the "short and sweet" type. I feel the need to describe EVERYTHING and 140 characters is kind of limiting for me. I'm hopeful that I can rise to this challenge though. If you'd like to follow me, please do so. I would love to follow you back. Right now, I am following a few friends, but Twitter has me following a couple of random folks too, and I could really care less what they are doing, sooo... There's that!

Also, I was alerted by Ashley that I have been nominated for a Milbloggie! While I was not sure what that was at the time, she quickly sent me a link with all the details. I read through most of it, but what caught my eye was $250 PRIZE CASH MONEY. (In case you were wondering, that is a helluva lotta moolah for a SAHM who has a borderline unhealthy relationship with secondhand items on craigslist and various thrift stores.) I'm not sure if you get people to vote for you or if some elusive panel of judges decides your blogging fate, but goshdarnit, I could buy myself some really decent underwear with $250. And not just oodles of packs of Hanes granny panties from Target. I'm talking, I could knock #77 off my list and never be embarrassed at church again! So as far as I know (remember I said that I only read MOST of the details..), you can't vote on anything yet, but you can go give my nomination the thumbs up. Here is the link:

http://milblogconference.milblogging.com/796/best-u-s-military-spouse-blog-nominations/#idc-cover

I believe my nomination (in the comments section) is somewhere on the third page. They select finalists on Thursday!
I'm not sure if multiple thumbs up helps, but the Big Time Blogs have thumbs up in the double digits, so there must be something to that. I will re-read all of the rules and directions and maybe this is why I stink at making bread? Being flippant with reading instructions? No, no. Surely it is the bread's fault.

Ok, so the takeaway points from this post are:
1. Molly's stump fell off and I don't get skeeved out every time I have to change her diaper.
2. Follow me on Twitter because I have no clue how to find you unless you have a blog with a direct link on your sidebar.
3. "Thumb me" (as Kris said) for a Milbloggie.

If you're not planning on voting for my mama, I will be forced to continue giving you The Stink Eye. I might also inadvertently flip you off.

Here is what Easter looks like a week and a half after you've had a baby

First, let us all say many many prayers of thanksgiving that there were no major incidences at church this year like there were last year when I exposed my hindquarters to the majority of the church. Also, check out how leeeetle my Sammy used to be a year ago! Geez! That belly is almost too much to handle. But on to the present.

After arriving at church early (!!) and dropping Sam off in the nursery, we realized that we wouldn't be able to sit in the main church, so we sat in the annex and watched mass through a tv screen. It was basically a cry room. And since the priest didn't have a microphone on and I don't specialize in lip-reading, I didn't hear much besides the lady in front of me trying to wrangle her very unruly children. After mass and fighting our way back through the crowd, we made it to the nursery to find that Sam had been "a very good boy." Except for that one time he tried grabbing another child's snack and then dumped it all down the front of his shirt. The snack was mangoes. The shirt was brand new, never worn before, and.... white. We didn't even attempt to take a family photo at church. And then we didn't get one at home because, I forget, we don't have a family photographer at our disposal. Silly me! So we headed to Sonic after church so that I could get a Coke Zero (one of the things I gave up for Lent, also, mark off #54), and then home to take horrible Easter pictures.

If you're looking to achieve this look yourself, you can either threaten to stick your child with hot pokers or rent my kid.

Such a happy child...

Obviously we chucked the unruly one in bed for a nap and went to see what the Easter Bunny brought everyone. Unfortunately, the Easter Bunny was a little preoccupied this year (my sources tell me he's looking to open up a dairy farm), and he didn't even bother to bring baskets or any Easter decorations out of the garage. So it was a minimalist theme this year.

The Easter Bunny brought Sam....

I am still holding out on giving Sam candy. Just can't bring myself to do it. Plus, I have no idea what is gluten and peanut-free candy-wise (besides the obvious, but I also must make sure that it was not produced in a facility where other peanut-related or gluten-containing things are processed and that is kind of a helluva lotta work to do just to give my kid something that is no good for him anyways). I like bold titles like this one that alert me to the fact that my son will not require an ER trip after consumption. Unfortunately, after hyping this up, Sam wanted nothing to do with it. Go figure. It's a good thing I happen to love this cereal.

The Easter Bunny brought Steve....

Steve gave up Rip-Its for Lent, so he got two packs of these disgusting things. I don't condone drinking these or any other energy drinks, but he was very good about avoiding these during Lent, and with work starting back up tomorrow for him, I figured it was the least the Easter Bunny could do.

And the Easter Bunny brought Molly....

Whoo! A crap-ton of Reese's products! Newborns are so well-behaved, I'm sure that's why she got such a haul. Ooh, but unfortunately, she can't eat chocolate OR peanut butter yet. Let me think of a way that I could get this chocolatey-peanut-buttery goodness into her little tummy.... Aha! I could eat them for her, and then she could drink the breastmilk I make from it! Sounds like a win-win to me. Also fitting since the Easter Bunny conveniently forgot to bring me anything. You don't have to tell me that I am a martyr.

Speaking of my tiny Easter angel, here she is all dolled up in her little spring dress.

After naps and lunch, we took a walk to a new playground. Well, obviously not NEW, but new-to-us.

It is not uncommon for me to catch him elbow-deep in both nostrils.

Mother-daughter bonding. (And by "bonding" I do mean "sharing a helluva lotta sweat".)

During the second round of naps, Steve, Molly, and I sat in the rocking chairs and hung out on the front patio together. Instead of ignoring the six-year-old neighbor-child (who never has anything less than 46,982 questions for us), we might have had a little fun and antagonized her a bit. First she asked me to time her while she rode her bike around our circle.
Neighbor girl: "How fast was that?"
Me: "Ummm, I'd say.... 20 seconds."
Neighbor girl: "Are you sure it wasn't... 19 seconds?"
Me: "Actually, I think it was 19 seconds."
Neighbor girl: "Ok. Time me again."
(Repeat 46 times)

While staring at the yellow marigolds in front of us,
Neighbor girl: "What kind of flowers are these?"
Me: "I think they're called..... um, Steve?"
Steve: "Yellow mumulas." (pronounced "muh-MOO-lahs")
Neighbor girl: "I don't think that's right. I'm pretty sure they're sunflowers."
Steve: "Sun flyers?"
Neighbor girl: "No, sunFLOWERS."
Me: "You mean solar flares?"
Steve: "She's saying 'solar flowers.'"
Neighbor girl, getting frustrated: "No. Repeat after me. Sun. Flowers."
Me and Steve: "Sun. Flyers. Solar flares. Solar flyers."
Neighbor girl: "UUUUUGGGGHHHHH. Listen to what I'm SAYING. SUN. FLOWERS. SUNFLOWERS."
Me: <cannot stop laughing>
Steve: "Yellow mumulas. Oh look! A squirrel! See if you can catch it!"

Neighbor girl runs off to catch it. We sneak back inside. We both confirm that we're going straight to hell. But not before we eat all of the Reese's eggs.

The post where you become jealous that your weekends aren't as exciting as mine

Since we are one week into April (omg where is the time going???), I figured that today was as good as any other to do our April footprint craft.

You can see October, November, December, (I skipped January), February, and March by clicking on each respective month.

I am enjoying the baby flowers sooooo much! So much so, that I refuse to weed out the dead ones!

It was Molly's first footprint craft and I was hoping for A Very Positive Experience with her so that I can count on at least one non-screamy child while I force them to make cute things with me. And she was good. She didn't like it when we cleaned her feet off afterwards, but she seems to detest being cleaned in general. Sam did the usual- shrieking like we were hacking off his foot with only a shot of whiskey and a leather belt for comfort. Luckily I had the presence of mind to do this activity while Steve was home, so he was there to help hold feet and grab paper towels and we've basically got this footprint craft deal down like a Nascar pit crew. Then I decided that since we were all home, it would be A Family Craft and we needed a piece of everyone on this canvas. So some of those delicate little raindrops are Steve's fingerprints too. He is so good to me.

While in the mindset to tackle this day head-on, we ventured out to Walmart. (Between my Nascar reference and our first full family outing being Walmart, I am clearly showing my redneck colors loud and proud, huh?) And since we were only getting a few things at Walmart, I thought it would be a great opportunity to test out the BOB stroller. But first I had to go on youtube and watch a tutorial video on how to fold the dang thing. And then we finally GOT to Walmart and I could not, for the life of me, remember how to unfold it. Steve finally figured it out and this very classy picture is his reward.

My child likes to be comfortable.

Honestly, I could have gone a bit more redneck and had a random person take a family picture with Walmart in the background, but we parked really far out and I'm just not gonna ask anyone that no matter how many laughs it might get here on this ol' blawg.

To top it all off, I figured out my Moby wrap. And Molly did not slide out and eat concrete! So... success! It also nicely camouflages this, um, "voluptuous" postpartum physique I've got goin' on these days, so it is clearly earning gold stars in my book.

So wow. That was our day. We are some of the most riveting people ever, huh? A craft and a trip to Walmart AND Moby wrap success that allowed me to carry two children to the playground (because I am the only one with functioning legs, no?)! We go so crazy on these holiday weekends.