sock monkey

My sister and I have an idea for an invention for a nose warmer. It looks sort of like one of these Pee Pee Teepee things but with a large rubber band attached to it (yes, our patent is pending... don't think of stealing it).

The only problem is, even if we made it with some sexy lady cheetah print, it would still be, well, ugly.

But don't you love our resourcefulness. You have hats to keep heads warm, boots to keep your feet warm; what about our noses? You can only wear turtlenecks pulled over your nose so many times in a week until people start to think that you have A) a hickey (ah... high school) or B) something growing under there.

Yes, we are a resourceful bunch

and Wyatt is clearly my child.

He's into boxing right now, but no, I'm not going to get my three year old a pair of gloves to beat up his brother while his sitting helpless on the toilet. So, he takes off his socks, puts them on his hands and calls them his boxing hands.

Today, he decided that it would be fun to wear his boxing gloves for eating lunch.

Plus, he said that his hands were cold.

3 months

Last week, I lied about your age just so you could get into the gym with their 3 month minimum requirement. Probably not the first time that your age will be lied about, but I promise you, it will be the last time *I* lie about *your* age.

I want you to be (the real) three months forever.

a kick in the nerds

Kevin walked (and when I say 'walked', I'm talking about a little peanut of a boy, just barely 1 years old, where walking looked somewhat like a circus act because of his little stature) into my house my first morning of starting child care. I watched him for over three years and to no surprise, Henry and he were best friends.

I haven't taken care of Kevin in over three years now. They see each other every month or so for a play date, but that's it, but whose name does Henry write on his Popsicle stick as he decorates it with his Sharpie, Kevin's. KEViN + Henry.

His best friend in Kindergarten is not in his class this year. When Henry sees him at recess, he's thrilled, only his 'best friend' has managed to give him a bloody nose, kicked him in the 'nerds' (as we like to call them here) and refused to play with Henry, 'maybe in a day or so' he tells him. Henry is *still* waiting patiently for him, still calls him his 'school best friend'.

He is amazingly loyal. I love that so much about him.

This week has been tough. For some reason, I've just come to realize that parenting is always going to be hard. I'm not up worrying about my baby's napping schedule or pondering over getting ABC's taught, I'm sitting here with my stomach twisted up, worrying about my first grader. More talk of ADD. More wishing we had a crystal ball wondering if immersion is the right thing. More fretting in getting our other kids in the school if we pull Henry out. More contemplation about moving into the same school district as the school.

Today, I kind of wish that I could go back to that day when Henry and Kevin sat next to each other, high chair to high chair. I wish that I could simply be worried about not getting their lunches too hot.

Being a parent to a first grader can suck as much as being a parent to a newborn, differently suck, be still well... suck, but I can be loyal too; I'm sticking up for Henry, trudging through this unknown academic terrain for him.

I wish I could just make it easy for him, of course, that would only make it easier on me but if he can take a kick in the nerds once in awhile, so can I.

I think a baby seal just died

If you guys all remember, I was part of this prenatal group care. It was 13 couples, nearly all of them pregnant with their first, meeting together monthly to talk about the woes of pregnancy (along with getting measured on a cot in the back of the room with the others pretending not to listen in on how much weight you gained in a month).

Well, I've been invited to a sort of reunion this upcoming weekend. I'm pretty sure nothing could be more fun than a bakers dozen of new mothers comparing babies, boobs and birth stories.

I think the whole scenario might look a little something like this:



(Watch it! I promise I would never post a video that wasn't hilarious and totally worth 3 minutes of your time)

And before you all call me out on the similarities of the Kate Gosselinish mom and myself; the similarities stop at having 3 kids, my son learning Mandarin and my really cool robot voice.


originally posted here

butt blind

Wyatt was thrilled to see those sisters again this past week at McDonald's Playland(yes, I said again this week). He was over the moon excited that (1) he knew they would play with him since they did the previous week and (2) that they were cute little girls that would play with him.

One of the sisters had an arm that was only a mere, maybe, 6 inches long, short enough that she wasn't able to use this arm at all, not that it mattered; she climbed the ladders and crawled through the tunnels faster than her sister (or Wyatt) could.

The first time Wyatt started playing with them, I sat there ears tuned in, waiting to see if he would say anything to her about her arm, not because he's rude, but because he's three; he doesn't have this politeness sensor. He's a curious kid, he likes to talk a lot, and well, like I said, he's three.

I waited in anticipation, ready to smooth out any awkward situation and then...

I waited more.

He never mentioned anything. Not even, as I expected, a little question or two on the way home, pondering his fun playtime from the back seat.

I was so proud of him: he has this natural blindness to something that was so obvious to me. What mother wouldn't be proud of her son in a moment like this?

So of course, yesterday morning, as I finally was able to squeeze into a pair of my own, pre-pregnancy/now I'm just fat jeans, what does my three year old, blind to differences, child say to me as I turn to switch on Team Umizoomi.

"Mommy, I can see your biggggg butt."

WW - baby's first vibrator

I'd never even heard of the term BPA free when Wyatt was a baby, so I shouldn't find it surprising that with Edith, there are some new products out on the market...

For the girl that has everything (or for the girl that has everything *else* handed down to her).

And I know it's just so wrong, but come on, it's pretty funny too.

gut rot

It started mid-afternoon, getting worse as evening approached. My stomach would twist, I felt like I could throw up, my heart felt flat and sometimes, especially in the beginning, I cried, like clock-work, every Sunday.

Halloween night, six years ago, was the first night that I *didn't* experience the pang of having to leave my son in the care of someone else as I settled into my cubicle. On a Monday, six years ago today, I started staying home with Henry.

I remember telling my husband that I felt like the luckiest person in the world.

I don't always feel like that anymore, especially when the weather has changed, the nip in the air changes our moods. When we all get forced inside, we all get on each others' nerves a bit more.

But Halloween seems to be this yearly reminder for me, I am lucky. I get to hear the funny things they say about their lunch. I get to see them 'reading' magazines while on the toilet. I get to look into those eyes as they sparkle with a smile, all day long.

There might be some gut rot come Halloween, but it's from eating too many Kit-Kat bars I've snuck out of my boys' bags when they were knocking at the door at a neighbor's house.

Lucky me.