Until You're A Mom

Until you're a Mom, you don't understand the word "worry."

Until you're a Mom, you put yourself first. You spend your money on clothes, on going out of town on the weekends, on pricey Coach purses.

You wish that parents would get their kids to quit crying in restaurants because really, it can't be that hard.

You really wish that the woman in the corner would quit breastfeeding her child in public because it's making you really uncomfortable.

Until you're a Mom, you don't understand why people have such a hard time leaving their kids with a babysitter. You don't understand why dropping a kid off at day care is such a traumatizing experience. I mean, you're getting away from a screaming baby for eight hours. That's good, right?

You don't get how a Hallmark commercial could make a person cry.

You don't fully understand the meaning of the word love. You don't understand the weight of having another human totally rely on you for every little thing.

But then you become a Mom. And it all makes sense.

You understand that you are responsible for bringing up a child. You are responsible for helping them frame their future.

You know that you would do anything, ANYTHING to make your child happy. And you would sacrifice anything to give them what they want.

You realize that parenting is hard. A lot harder than it looks.

That the reason those other Moms look so tired is because they are. That babies don't always sleep through the night.

That babies rarely sleep through the night.

That even though having a child is difficult at times (like when your baby is cutting teeth or when he wants fed at 2:00 a.m.) it is the most gratifying, wonderful, magical thing in the world. And even though there are those rough times, you wouldn't change it for anything.

Because your child is everything to you. A precious gift sent to you by God.

A miracle.

A blessing.

Until you're a Mom, you don't know all of those things.

And you most certainly do not feel as blessed holding your new Coach purse as you do holding your beautiful baby boy.

How awesome it is to be a Mom.















- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

A Reputation To Uphold

Today Cooper and I were watching Mob Wives (true, quality reality television that holds my attention and my very soul) and chilling out in the living room.  He was playing and chatting and having a grand ole time while I enjoyed my smut and snack.

You know.  Watching my reality television and eating an afternoon snack.  Have I mentioned how much I love summer?

Anyways, here's what happened...

A commercial for Plaque Blast came on.  This is a product that with the simple squirt of a bottle can get rid of years of plaque build-up on your dog's teeth!

And it can be yours for just $10.99! 

But wait!  Order now and you'll get not one, but TWO bottles of Plaque Blast for just $10.99!

And order in the next ten minutes and they'll include some other pet product that I'm sure you need!

Lola...was...captivated.

So after the Plaque Blast commercial came on, ole girl walked back to me and gave me this sad, sad face. 

Begging, pleading for me to buy her some Plaque Blast.  Homegirl has a reputation to uphold, and pearly whites are totally a part of a spotless reputaiton.

Look.  She even popped a tooth out to show me how much she NEEDED it.

Or maybe this is what she wanted...

Yeah.  I'd say that's probably more like it.

Petunia, Petunia, Petunia!

Has anybody else ever seen that Three Stooges episode where they go to visit the little girl at the hospital and Curly says, "Petunia! Petunia! Petunia!" while spitting all over Moe in the process?  No?  Just Dad, Nate and I?  Well...okay then.

Every year Nate and I pretty up the house with flowers.  Of course, we always get the obligatory gerbera daisies because we had them in the wedding.  But then comes the big decision as to what to put in our pots.

Every year I get petunias.  And at the end of the summer, after they have gotten big and beautiful, I say, "NEVER AGAIN." 

Why, you ask?  Because they are high maintenance, just like their owner.  Every day I go out and pick and pick and pick in them.  Only to wake up the next morning and they need a good picking again!  Bah!  It's never ending.

However, they are unbelievably beautiful, really colorful, and they thrive on my front porch.  So every year they make it into my basket at Lowe's. 

And on every 95 degree day I end up cursing that very decision.

This is what I see when I look up on the porch when picking in my flowers.  A captivated audience.

Seriously.  It scares me how much they look alike sometimes.

And this is the look you get from a bulldog if you make a really annoying, high-pitched squealing sound when trying to get it and the 9 month old to look at the camera.

And if the baby starts crying?  Well, the bulldog simply turns her back to him.

Seriously dude.  I've got a shock collar around my neck.  And if I step one toe out of line then lightening's gonna strike.  Call me when you really have something to cry about, k?

My beautiful petunias.  We have a love/hate relationship.

These are probably my favorite flowers this year.  I love that purple.

The homestead.

See how lovely the roses are doing?!  Now we have beautiful lights in between them and they look really neat-o!

By the way, does anybody know how to take care of lilies?  I've all but killed the one on my front porch.

The black thumb strikes again!

Flying Weiners!

Yesterday Cooper and I attended the first ever Dachshund Dash in Terre Haute to support breast cancer research.  Let me tell you, it was a hoot!  If you ever get a chance to see weiner dogs race then you MUST go.  Ha-larious my friends.

Papaw, Grammy, and Coop waiting for the big races to begin.

And they're off!

This is a weinie that is truly defying gravity folks.

In between races, having a good chuckle with Grammy.

I will be throwing the sunglasses away immediately.

By the way, why hasn't anybody told me how completely ridiculous these look?  I mean, really.

I thought we were friends.

Here go the weiners again!

Get it girl!

There were spectators there to cheer on their fellow weinies.  This one was especially adorable.

And then there was Scooby.  Scooby was in the last round.  As soon as the gate opened, well, Scooby came out.

And then he sat.

And they tried and tried to get poor Scooby to run.  But there was nothing to it.

He was more of a lover than a runner.

And Cooper wanted in on the love action.

This little tyke was in the races but didn't make it to the finals.  But man, was he feisty.

That little girl's lucky that she still has an ankle.

And if you are the weiner, ahem, winner, well, of course you get a wreath of flowers for your neck!

Seriously folks, this was one of the funnest times I've had in a long time.

Wait, what does that say about me?

A Bulldog's Request

Cooper refuses to crawl.  And you know what?  That's okay.  Because he'll do it in his own time when he's ready.  But today when he was on his belly on his new rug, a small request was made from Lola.

See, I know that she doesn't want him to crawl.  Because when that happens, the tiny bit of serenity that's left in this house will fly right out the window.  And she knows that.  She also knows that her ears will be pulled, her nub of a tail will be pulled, and the chances of her sleeping for 23 1/2 hours a day are going to be slim to none.

And here's how she knows.

My kid is cute.

 Dang cute.

So here he is.  Scooting around.  Lifting up the rug.  You know.  Typical baby stuff.

And this is what Lola was doing.  This is probably nap 18 or 19 for the day.

And this is her tongue.  Just in case you wanted to see it.

Cooper then discovered that Lola was behind him.  This is where it starts getting dangerous folks.

Sidenote:  Please ignore the crate in the background.  We're in the process of buying a shed and until we get it, the crate is stored in the den.  I know.  You're jealous of my decorating sense.

Naturally, if there is a bulldog behind you, you must reach for it.  I mean, what else would you do?  Ignore it?

And eventually, if you reach enough, you're bound to roll over.

But Mama will be there to help you out and distract you from Lola Bug and onto a train.

Come on baby!  Crawl to it!

This is the look you'll get from a bulldog if you repeatedly make a loud "Choo!  Choo!" noise. 

Not pleased ladies and gentlemen.  Not pleased.

But invariably, the kid will find the bulldog again and push and pull and torment.

Poor bullydog.

But the bulldog takes a break from her nap and fights back!

That's right girl!  Get 'em!

Then they catch me taking pictures.  Frightening how alike the look is that they're giving me.

Yip.  Downright frightening.

Eventually Lola Bug gets sick of it and turns her back to the whole situation.  She's got napping to do gosh darn it!

But dear Cooper.  He still persists.

Why won't he do that with crawling?

And the poor girl tries not to care.  She really does.

But enough is enough, and she must vacate the premises before she really loses her temper.

And her request?  Her plea?  Her cry?

Please don't learn to crawl.  It's not good for my napping habits.

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I know you're impressed by the title of this post.  That came courtesy of Cooper.  A round of applause please.

So back in the day, my charming husband put these really pretty floors down in my living room and den.  And yesterday, the quarter round started going down.  Let me say this, Lola wasn't a fan.  She was on the attack.  It looked something like this...

But then when the nail gun started coming her way, it looked something like this...

That's 61 pounds of pure fury ladies and gentlemen.

And don't even get me started on what she did when the storms started.  She was on full force people.  Full force.

Today Cooper started really taking to eating puffs.  If you've never heard of them, they're these little cookie/cracker like things that dissolve in your mouth.  He's never cared for them much, but today he started, if not liking them, then tolerating him.  So here are some pictures from the experience.

And my personal favorite...

I'm strong to the finish 'cause I eat me spinach...

The best thing about having Lola though, is that she's always around to, how shall we say, pick up the pieces.

Hey, you don't get to be that bulky without picking up scraps.