A Weekend of Complications in Vanity

Eight months after having a baby and I'm finally starting to feel like my old self again.  Seriously, it takes a while.  Who knew?

So I'm ready to get back to my old ways.  Refreshed!  Revived!  Rekindling my romance with make-up, clothes, and self-image!

We had a wedding to attend this weekend.  It was an important one as my Mom and I were the matchmakers and we wanted to look our best.  So first, I had to find the perfect outfit.

My Mom went to the mall and picked out a lovely outfit that I thought would be it.  But here's a little note.  Your body doesn't look the same after you've had a baby.  Gravity starts taking hold.  Some things are bigger.  Some are smaller.

Wait, no.  Not really.  I haven't found anything smaller yet.

Anyways, I get the outfit home and I'm P-U-M-P-E-D to try it on.  And here's what it looks like...

And before you ask, no.  I'm not pregnant.

Let's just say that shirt wasn't exactly the right fit.

So we go to the mall together and we finally, FINALLY find the right outfit.

But then there was the issue with my complexion.

Or lack thereof.

You see, it's hard being as white as white can be and being married to a man that, well, isn't.  A trip out in the sun does nothing but burns my skin unless I'm wearing SPF Turtleneck.  But Nate?  He gets a beautiful golden tan that I envy.  That I've only ever dreamed of.

In comes the brilliant spray tan idea.

I blame this on my Mother.  Is it really her fault?  No.  Did she drag me in to the "Mystic Tan Booth" herself?  No.  But by blaming her I take the blame off of myself and therefore I can't say that the following photos are my fault.

Now, I know that it looks like I'm covered in dirt.  Believe me.  However, this was after a shower AND exfoliation.  And it was almost 24 hours after having it done.  Not good folks.  Not good.

Then there was the issue with the toenail.  But I won't go into that.

Anyways, luckily everything came together and we were able to attend a very nice wedding.  Elya was a stunning bride and the wedding was beautiful.  Here's our finished looks...

And by the way, have I mentioned that my kid has teeth?

Ode to the Sick

Yesterday was an eventful day of sorts.  We woke up in the morning to a ridiculous cough and a little boy who was tugging on his ear.  A quick trip to the pediatrician later and you'll never guess what the little guy has.  If you guessed another ear infection then DING DING DING!  You are correct!

Now, here is my reason for telling you this.  Last night the booger got up in the middle of the night coughing and hacking and crying around 2:00 a.m.  Mama brought him downstairs and rocked him back to sleep in the recliner, where we both slept for approximately two hours.

The only thing that woke me up was a dream that I couldn't do a physical task because I was too stoved up.  Turns out I really was stoved up.  These old, aching bones...

Fast forward approximately 6 hours later.  Mama starts getting texts about how the little guy has basically been screaming since being dropped off.  So guess who goes to pick him up.

Mama.

We come home, I coddle him, I love on him, I stroke his little head, I whisper sweet things in his ears.  I fed him bottles, I changed his diapers, I soothed his aches and pains.

Fast forward about seven more hours.  Here's what you'd see...

So here's what I'm getting at.  It doesn't matter how much you coddle.  It doesn't matter if you are the one that picks them up from day care.  It doesn't matter if you give up time in your day to "make" food for the kid.

When I comes down to it, if you can't sing old school rap, rough house, or have conversations about what a great golfer the boy will be you get put on the back burner.

Well, not really.

Basically what I'm saying is that Cooper has the best Daddy in the world.  The kid loves his Dad.  He absolutely adores him.  They are like two peas in a pod.

From the day Cooper was born Nate has been a different guy.  I've never seen anyone fall in love as quickly as what he did.  It melts my heart to see the two of them together.  Their love for each other is so obvious that there is no doubt about the strength of it.

I'm blessed to have my little family.  I'm blessed to have a husband that is such a great father.  I don't know what I did to deserve all of this in my life, but I sure am glad I did it.

Being a Mother

Being a Mother has brought out a side of me that I didn't previously know existed.  A primal instinct that I didn't know before has suddenly reared it's ugly head.

You see, since Cooper was born I have become incredibly protective.  For example, I think my kid is the best there ever has been, is, or ever will be.  He's basically the greatest thing since sliced bread.  He's a pretty cool dude and I'm pretty proud of him.  And he's only eight months old.

And this protective-ism isn't just for my darling son.  It especially covers my niece, Kinley.  I like her a little.  She's a pretty special gal.  And she's pretty cute.  I'm just sayin'.

I also feel this way about my hubby, my family, and even my students. 

Yip.  It's like as soon as this kid made an appearance, everything changed. 

Well, everything really did change.  You know, sleepless nights, diaper bags, changing diapers, rectal thermometers, gravity began to take place, Friday night bedtime at 9:00, my idea of a good time includes sweat pants and potato chips (wait, that was my idea of a good time before he was born) etc.

Anyways, I'm devoted to my family and I will stand by them through thick and thin.

However, if somebody was to make fun of this hair-do, I'm gonna go ahead and say I'd let it happen.

Yeah, I'd definitely let it happen.

Taking Pictures of an Eight Month Old

So yeah, I'm gonna need to inspect that camera Mom...

Seriously, give me the camera.

Fine. I'll just pull on the camera strap until you: A) Give it to me, or B) I use my superhuman baby strength and pull it out of your hands.

Or I'll distract you with the static electricity in my hair long enough to chew my way to that camera.

I'm not kidding. Give...me...the...camera. Or else, well, or else I'll make diaper changing very interesting for you in the next few days.

How about if I do my best Elvis for you? Uh-huh-huh Mama. You got me all shook up.

Can I pity you to it? Puh-puh-puh-please let me see that camera Mama. *Sniff, sniff.

But what I wonder is, how can a kid possibly want to play with a camera when he has all of these goodies around?

And on a totally unrelated note, socks were consumed for breakfast.

The Hazards of Pacifier Swapping

So if you'll recall, a while back I posted about a call from the day care and how it can totally freak a person out.  A call from the day care is terrible.  It makes your blood run cold.

On Thursday I was eating lunch with my fellow lunch gals.  You know, sitting around.  Shooting the breeze.  Dreaming about summer break which is only 14 work days away.  Making plans for days at the pool, Big Brother get togethers (oh reality television, how you have a hold on me), and dinner dates.

And in the midst of these dreams, my phone rings.  The caller ID shows the day care. 

Seriously.  Hasn't my kid been through enough lately?  Haven't we had enough illnesses in our house?  What possibly could be wrong with my kid?
But then, I had a small panic attack. With my little one's track record as of late all I could think of was, "Holy moly.  He's found out that he has teeth and he bit somebody."  Truthfully, I have nightmares about this.

Well, I haven't yet.  But I'm sure that I will.

Anyways, when I picked up the phone I was shocked by what I heard.  Let me give you a little background first.

See, when Cooper was a teeny tiny baby we were told that he was an "efficient eater."  He would eat an entire bottle and he didn't spit up.  Nope.  He took in all of those yummy milk calories and put them to use.

So when I was told that he threw up while he was at day care, I knew he didn't feel well.  But then, it got worse.

Not only did my little darling get sick all over himself.  Oh no.  You see, that would be too simple. And in my house, with my family, we don't do anything simple.

We will look for hours for a camera battery charger.  We'll then get angry because we can't find it because it's never put in the same place twice.

Want to do some landscaping and plant a rose?  Nah.  We'll plant five!

Want to put in hardwood floors?  Sure!  But we'll pick the absolute smallest planks possible to cause more back breaking work!

And our latest quarrel.  Want to get a shed?  Sure!  Wait, you want to build one yourself?  Wait, you don't want to just buy a ready-made shed?  Wait, what's going on here?  Results of this to come.

Anyways, back to my story.

So Cooper is sick at day care and that's not the end of the story.  You see, apparently the day before had been "pacifier swap" day.  You know, because your pacifier is just never as good as the other guys.

And keeping with the sharing theme, my little sweetie decided to share his, um, how to put this politely.  He decided to share his ejection of milk with the poor guy that he was playing with.

And that, my friends, represents the hazards of pacifier swapping.

A Mom's Denial

Look at this face.  It's one of a cherub.  An angel placed here on earth to brighten our lives.

Now that you've got such a sweet image in your head, let me tell you a little story about my...cherub.

One evening this week I walked in to pick up my little darling and the first words out of the gal's mouth that watches him is, "He was a meanie today!"

"Wait," I say.  "You can't possibly mean the sweet little boy with this adorable face!"

"Oh yes," she says.  "He pulled everyone's hair today!  He brought tears to my eyes!  And that little boy over there?  Well, he got two handfuls of his hair and started pulling!"

"What?!  Not the sweet little boy with the kind, loving face."

I was in a state of disbelief.  I mean, my sweet boy has always been just that!  Sweet!  Well, aside for the occassional pinch which leaves a good bruise.  Or that head butt last week that bloodied his Daddy's nose.

And no, the evidence of a hair in his mouth and one in each hand did not make me a believer. 

And no, that's not a joke.  He literally had hair in each hand and in his mouth.  But, he probably just got those from scooting around on the floor.

Right?

Right???

So I drop him off this morning and the gal is there again.  I go on and on about how sweet my sweet boy had been this morning.  "Oh you just won't believe what a little darling he's been!"

And then, I saw it.

Cooper reached over, and took the pacifier right out of another boy's mouth.  That pacifier was on a straight route to Coop's mouth.  Luckily I was there to intervene.  I gasped in horror.  "Cooper!  No!  That's not yours!"

And then he looked at me like, "Whatchu talkin' 'bout lady?  No?  Yeah, right."  It looked something like this.

He then proceeded to reach over and take the pacifier...AGAIN.  The poor boy.  He was so confused.  Why did this kid keep taking his beloved pacifier from him?

In an effort to keep my little, ahem, angel from taking this little boy's pacifier again I decided to give Cooper his own. 

Yeah!  That'll stop him!

Or not.

He reached again like that pacifier owed him a trip to his mouth.  I again stopped him, telling him, "Cooper!  No!  You've got your own!"

I then looked at the poor gal that's keeping him today.  Poor girl.  As I left, the other kid started crying.  "Well," I thought, "she's gonna have a long day."

I promptly called my husband wanting to tell him what I had just witnessed.  And to no surprise, he was so proud. 

My little sweetheart...

My angel...

My puddin' face...

has now became...

*GASP!*

A bully.

Now, personally I think it's a classic case of  "Little Man Syndrome."  You see, Cooper isn't exactly the biggest kid in his nursery room.  In fact, he's the smallest. 

Not that he has much of a chance.

And it's not that he's the smallest.  I would venture to say that he's probably the longest.  But the bulkiest?  Not a chance.

But I bet he's going to be the fastest.  And truthfully, what good is bulk when you can't catch your prey?

A Bulldog's Agility

Bulldogs aren't known for their grace.  They aren't known for their ability to herd cows or their fast learning habits.  They don't jump into watered territories after rubber ducks and they certainly don't hunt anything (except the occasional biscuit).

However, they are known to be lovable, tolerant, and sweet.  Our little one loves attention.  Lots of it.  During every waking hour (which for her, isn't often).

That being said, there are sometimes that Lola will defy the odds.  She will get an unprecedented burst of energy that will leave us in a state of confusion.  Because, really Lola, where did that come from?

I now present to you a time in which this energy came bursting from her seams.  Let me set the scene for you...

Lola loves Nate.  Idolizes him.  Wants to be at his side.  Follows him around aimlessly.  Yearns for his affection.  Wants to carry his children. 

Okay, the last thing isn't true. 

But you know what, it's hurtful, because the rub downs, belly scratches and kisses come mainly from Yours Truly.  I'm the one that lays on the floor and gets her slobbery kisses all over my face.  And arms.  And feet.  And I'm the one who talks to her and asks how her day was.  And I'm the one who gives her the attention that she not only needs but deserves.

But I digress...

Wait, where was I?

Oh yes.  So when Nate goes somewhere out of her sight, Lola will just wait.  She'll hang her large bulldog head and anxiously fret until he returns.  It usually looks something like this.

But when he returns, LOOK OUT!  I would like to show you how excited she gets with an example.

This is my laundry room.  Nothing too exciting, except for the terribly torn up laundry basket. 

You know, because I do laundry so much. 

Yeah, that's it.

This is Lola upon being called by Nate.

Come 'ere girl!

"Oh boy Daddy!  Did you say bacon?  Am I walking on air?  What's going on?"

"Shoo...those three stairs were exhausting.  Give me a second Daddy.  I'm worn out.  Wait, where's the bacon?"

"Seriously Daddy.  I love you and all.  You're the reason for my season.  The kibble to my bits.  But WHERE IS THE BACON ALREADY?"

Oh Lola.  How I marvel in your wonder.  How you fascinate me with your disproportionate head, which will never quite match up to that oversize body.

But seriously.  Do you have to snore so loud?

Another Day

First off, I have to say thank you to Nate for all of the nice things that he said about me. Either I've blinded him with love or he really does think all of that mushy stuff that he put on there. I don't live too bad of a life ladies and gentlemen. Yip, I've got it pretty good.

I should tell you that you're lucky that I'm even able to put up a blog post today. See, our house was a smidge cold last night. I flipped off the air conditioning, but forgot to flip the button all the way over to the heat. Oops. Cooper was not a fan. And that's why he ended up snuggled up to his Daddy like this...



Of course, this was after Nate said, "Put him right here next to me." He then curled his arms around him and nestled in close, no doubt smelling in all of those wonderful baby smells. But don't worry about me! I'll just stay over here on my side of the bed...fighting for covers...smelling Lola.

And as for Lola. Well, Lola wasn't really affected by it. Might have something to do with her, ahem, extra layers.

Tonight we bundled up and went to the Tri-North track meet at Edgewood.  I love going to see my students in a different environment.  And, I like showing off my family.



Of course, going to a track meet and being adored by all the people can be absolutely exhausting.  One must nap.

On that note, I bid you a happy Monday!