Say what?

You know you're a parent when you start using your child's words for something in your own vernacular.  People look at you strangely when you say "he's watching meows while eating a diggle with his big bankie and his mimi next to him."


.............

Silence.

Translation: He's watching cat videos while eating a popsicle with his favorite big blanket with his pacifier next to him.

What? You didn't get that the first time?

Oh, F*^#

Munchkin was being his wild self the other day and tripped over a corner of the rug, fell, promptly got up and declared "son of a bitch".........  I look at Hubs and tell him that one is his fault.  "I don't say that," I tell him.

Then two days later he held his bag of popcorn upside down and all the precious kernels came flowing out.  "Oh fuck", he says nonchalantly. Hubs turns to me and says "that one is ALL you, babe."

Son of a bitch, definitely time to stop fuckin' swearing.  (Sorry, had to get a last one in.)

First World Problems

My morning is rife with problems....first world problems.

I stayed up too late watching my big screen TV so now I'm tired.
I forgot to charge the Kindle so my toddler is pissed.
And I can't find the granola for my greek yogurt so I have to eat it plain.

Thank god we weren't out of coffee creamer or shit would've gotten real.

No Kid Zone

I just read an article stating some airlines are toying with the idea of making a "kid free zone" on certain flights.  Apparently people are complaining about the antics and attitudes of children on flights.

As a frequent flyer as well as a mother, I understand a bit of where these people are coming from.  I've been on the flights where the 10-year-old just won't stop kicking your chair or the 4-year-old incessantly screams because he or she is bored/uncomfortable/etc.  Sometimes it's a parenting issue and sometimes it's just one of those days.  Sitting by that can be trying, especially if it's a long flight.

On the other hand, kids on planes get a bad rap.  I've been the person receiving dirty looks at the gate when I roll up with my toddler.  I've also been the recipient of praise after landing from people who didn't even realize I had a toddler on the flight because he was so well behaved.

But I think kids are an easy target.  You know what other kinds of "sections" we should have on planes?  No reclining sections.  I'm 5'2" and even I get cramped when the person in front of me reclines into my knees 5 seconds into a flight.

Why stop there? Why not an "armrest stealing free" section.  You want BOTH arm rests?  Go sit in the back, buddy. I'm in an "armrest for everybody" section.

Moral of the story:  If you don't like flying with other people's loud children?  Invest in some really great ear plugs, and I will too because I'm sick of your bitching.

Uncertainty

On, Teb. On. *

Officer Sean Collier was laid to rest today.  To refresh your memory, this is the MIT officer who was ambushed and murdered by the Boston Bombers.  I will not use their names and I really don't care about their politics or the politics against them.

Do you know what I care about?  The fact that another officer was gunned down.  Another police family lost a member who was just doing his job protecting others.  And all of this within days of something else that was horribly senseless and tragic.

As Monday turned into Tuesday, the names of the dead were released, the horrific images of the wounded were published, and then a cop was killed, I started to lose my faith; my faith in humanity, my faith in God, my faith in my country.  How much more of this can we take?  Will there be a national tragedy every six months from now on?  More people going to the movies and never coming home? More students never getting to grow up?  More photos of happy people, happy moments flashed across the screen; the faces of lives cut way too short in a senseless way. It makes me want to never leave the house, never go anywhere, yell, scream, throw things.

I looked over at my son.  My happy, smiling, ABC singing light-of-my-life and felt a pit in my stomach.  This innocent little man screaming his ABC's with this tragedy playing out on the TV behind him, what sort of world did I bring him into?

Then a friend of mine posted a quote from Mr. Rogers.  "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers.  You will find people who are helping.'"

I pulled myself up off the floor after reading this and focused on the hundreds of people who rushed INTO the bombing immediately to help those mortally wounded knowing full well a second bomb was likely.  I saw the man in the cowboy hat clamping down an artery with his bare hands for a stranger where a leg used to be.  I saw cops, EMTs, marathon volunteers, marathon runners, and bystanders creating turniquets from anything and everything to stop the bleeding.

The helpers.

It took two "men" to carry out this atrocity.  In mere seconds it created thousands of helpers, no questions asked, no hesitation.

That is the world in which I'm raising my son.

In the words of Big Papi, Mr. David Ortiz, "this is our fucking city and nobody is going to dictate our freedom."

(*From "Galaxy Quest")

She's Crafty

About two months ago my friend and her husband bought a house.  I made her a housewarming gift, a wreath for her new front door!

I love making these; I'm even thinking of opening an Etsy shop to start selling wreaths.  Any takers??

10 Things Tuesday

1. I'm really excited it's "afternoon thunderstorm" time again!
2. Sometimes it's nice when Hubs is out of town because I get sushi for dinner and watch trashy TV.
3. I'm ready to know where we're going to settle.
4. My faith has been both rocked and strengthened in the past week.
5. Munchkin can now count to 10 (sometimes 14).
6. I watched "What Would Ryan Lochte Do?" and I think my IQ dropped a few points.
7. There are mounds, not piles, of laundry in the basement. Ugh.
8. I would run you over for a chocolate frosted brownie right now.
9. Coffee is an addiction.
10. I want to learn how to paddleboard.

Mommy Fail

 Not nearly enough caffeine was consumed today.

Case in point:

Instead of making Munchkin a PBJ for lunch, I made him a PBS...peanut butter and salsa.  The salsa and jelly are in almost identical jars (ya know, except for one is sweet strawberry and one is...well...salsa) and apparently I wasn't paying enough attention.  Munchkin made a face, which I wish I got on camera, and pushed it away, shaking his head saying "no, no".

He understandably didn't want another sandwich.

Gross.  Sorry, buddy.

Need

I believe....no, wait...I KNOW I need this chair.  That is all.

Sports?

I hear the mail lady delivering our mail and I go check to see what she's flung our direction.   (see more about that here).  What do I find?

Fan-freakin-tastic.  It's not bad enough this magazine is so airbrushed that the models don't even actually look like that in person, but how exactly is a parka a swimsuit??

On a positive note, if you can even look past boobalicious for a second, the mail was at least in somewhat of a nice pile instead of being chucked halfway into my living room.

Silver lining!!

Not-so-much Helping Desk

One of the perks of Hubs's job is he has company laptop.  One of the drawbacks of Hubs's job is he has a company laptop.

The latter means when something goes wrong, he needs to call the Help Desk.  What does this mean?

First, it means he calls someone who answers the phone with the thickest Indian accent you've ever heard and says their name is Bill.  It also ends up in general hilarity most of the time because Hubs can't understand "Bill" and "Bill" is reading horribly from a script that pretty much has nothing to do with anything.

This is how the conversation tonight went:

Bill:  Thank you for calling the Help Desk.  This is "Bill".
Hubs: Hi, "Bill".  This is Hubs.  I'm employee number _____ and I'm having a problem with my keyboard.  For some reason, right in the middle of using my computer this afternoon the keyboard stopped working.
Bill:  Alright, I'm going to ask you to anodinokdrenodin.
Hubs:  Um.....what?
Bill: I'm going to ask you to take the battery out and press the power button for 45 seconds, put the battery back in and turn it on again.
Hubs: Oh okay.
(we wait 45 seconds)
Hubs: Okay, now some letters are working but the g, h, backspace, and apostrophe won't work.
(silence)
Hubs: Hello?  "Bill"?
Bill:  Sounds like a problem with the keyboard.

At this point in the conversation, I need to exit the room because I'm laughing so hard I have tears streaming down my face.

And the verdict is?  Something is wrong with the keyboard and they're sending a local tech.

Thanks, "Bill"!!

Handy Helpers?

You know you haven't had enough sleep the previous night when you're being cynical and making snide comments about Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

The wind here in Michigan last night was absolutely howling.  The 1970's windows on my 1940's house almost peeled away and continued to wake up Munchkin.  Munchkin ended up in our bed a good portion of the night but there wasn't much sleeping going on.

I think we got about 3-4 hours of sleep all night.  Now we're watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Mickey's "handy helper" isn't opening the door when his friends knock.  "Oh no, how will my friends get in now, Pluto?"  says Mickey.

"Maybe you should just open it yourself, MICKEY.  Geez."

Yeah....I need a coffee the size of my  head.  And maybe a handy helper.

The Two Year Difference

I'm trying to focus on the positive today with so much other hate and hurt happening in this country.  Two years ago we were spending our son's first Christmas in the NICU, no signs of the happy holiday it should be except for his red and green knit hat and a light-up snowman my mother had sent.  No cute Christmas outfit, no visit to Santa.

Two years later and we're celebrating this wonderful holiday with our two-year-old who is a walking, talking, goofy, happy little man who loves to shoot hoops, chase his kitties and do absolutely anything outside.  We went for a walk in the snow which he adored as evidenced by his constant squealing and kicking feet.

He opened presents with gusto, actually pausing to see what was under the paper and in the box.  He chowed down on Christmas dinner and watched "Toy Story 3" while eating popcorn.

I'm the mother to an amazing little man and every Christmas, every day, I witness a miracle and give thanks to God  he's blessed us with this little man.

12/25/2010

12/25/2012

Never a Dull Moment

Life of a Mom:

Go to get something out of the freezer for dinner, find several freezer bags I've sectioned bulk meats into.  Take one out.  Can't tell whether it's chicken or fish......defrost anyway.

Anyone up for Dinner Surprise??

Broken hearted

My heart is broken.  My eyes can't handle the emotion and feeling that needs to leave my body to make me feel better.  There is no way to make this feeling go away.  It makes me afraid for my son, afraid for the future of this country.  It makes me afraid that when, not if, this happens again more loved ones will be lost.  Will it be yours?  Will it be mine?

There is no simple answer to where to go from here.  Better gun control?  Better mental health screenings?  Both?  Neither?  I don't know what the answer is but I do know something needs to change.  This country is having more and more mass shootings with far too many people dying for us to ignore what's going on and ask what we can do to make people safer from rifle-wielding lunatics.  Something needs to change.

All I know is 20 sets of parents showed up at a volunteer fire house praying to God their child was the next one to be safely walked through the door, that they would be on the happy end of a bittersweet reunion with their child and they could go home and have a good cry.  Those 20 sets of parents were still left there when no more children were walking through the door.  And seven other families were waiting to see if their loved one died protecting those children.

No one should have to go through that.  No gun law should protect those who own the guns over those who are killed with those same guns.  You have a right to bear arms, I agree, but those 27 people also had a right to be safe in their school and continue on with their glorious lives.

Super Cute Stuff!!

I love Etsy.  You can find anything and everything...and sometimes stuff you didn't want to see.  But I found the cutest kid clothes and already ordered a few as gifts for friends (and their new babies, yay!).  I love these because it's stuff you can't really find anywhere else.  Not all girls' clothes have to be pink and not all boys stuff has to be sports, that's what I love about this shop.  Adorable!!

http://www.etsy.com/shop/HelgasHaberdashery?ref=ss_profile

Christmas Catastrophe

The fam and I put up our Christmas decorations the day after Thanksgiving (no earlier, people.  no earlier.).  We broke 10 ornaments, two of us were bleeding and Santa got decapitated.

A box broke open and 8 balls fell out and broke on the floor.  G-man picked up two more balls and bashed them together (like he does with his wooden toys) and the ornaments shattered, cutting his hand slightly.  So 10 balls shattered, one person bleeding.  I rushed over to make sure he didn't step on the shattered ornaments and I ended up stepping on the shattered ornaments.  So 10 balls shattered, two of us bleeding.  I put him in the living room to sift through a box of not-ornaments and he picked out a foam and velvet Santa.

G-man ends up leaving Santa in the kitchen where Hubs promptly steps on him and his head pops off.  Santa's head, not Hubs's.

So that's 10 broken ornaments, two of us bleeding and one beheaded Santa and we hadn't even made it to the living room yet!!

'Tis the Season.

Behind a Badge

My father is a sergeant on the police force outside of Denver and has been a cop almost my whole life.  I grew up knowing my dad went to work with a gun and a bulletproof vest because his job was dangerous.  We had breakfast once a week at a bagel shop near my high school and drew stares and questions from classmates wanting to know why I was dining with a cop.  "What did he need?"  "Are you in trouble?"  "No, that's my dad," I'd say with a questioning tone.  It was odd to them to see a uniformed police officer with his kid, a kid they knew.

It never seemed odd to me, that's just my dad.

It's a different way to grow up and as I got older I realized how different being a cop's kid was, and still is.  Every time a cop is hurt or killed in the line of duty it hurts, even if you didn't know them, even if it was no where near home.  Someone, somewhere just lost their someone.  This is a reality every single day for those of us that love a cop.

People tend to forget cops are people too.  They're brothers, sisters, moms, dads, daughters and sons.  Friends, family.  When you call the cops, that's my father or brother showing up to protect you.

A long time ago we decided that anytime a cop was injured or killed anywhere near his jurisdiction, he'd let us know so we didn't worry when it hit the news.

Today I got a call from my dad around 6am his time (we're two time zones apart).  I was getting my son up and my phone was in another room.  I immediately checked his message as this is a very odd time for him to be calling me.  I could immediately hear pain in his voice.

My dad told me this morning a cop from his department had been killed, but that he was not involved and had been called in to help with the ensuing chaos.

I burst into tears; it was a mixture of relief and grief.  I was grateful I wasn't the one getting "the call" all cop families fear.  I was heartbroken for the family who wasn't so lucky.  All cop families are in this together and I am devastated for this family I don't even know.

My prayers, thoughts and heart go out to the family of this cop and the members of his department

Next time you see a cop or need help, just remember these officers have families and they are someone's something behind that badge.

Just Lucky I Guess

There are all sorts of scary things that go along with people who have had HELLP Syndrome.  Clotting disorders, autoimmune problems, heart disease, and inexplicable high blood pressure are all lovely side affects that can come along with the syndrome.

I've had some testing done in the spirit of having all the facts before The Hubs and I decide to have another baby or not.  Do I have these clotting disorders or autoimmune disorders that may have led to Munchkin's early delivery?  Do I have some underlying condition that makes me predisposed to HELLP Syndrome?

Blood test after blood test, doctors visits, sticks, pokes, and a chat with the OB later reveals......

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

They didn't find anything that lends itself to HELLP Syndrome or Pre-Eclampsia, at least what they know of those syndromes.  I'm a perfectly healthy woman of child bearing age that, for all intents and purposes, had no reason to develop these life threatening diseases.

I'm just lucky I guess.