Lil Man's First Race...With Someone Special

When I was three years old, my mom took me to my first auto race. The open wheel series that took over our lake front airport for four days of roaring by the shore full of loud purring engines, the smell of burning rubber and fuel, bright colors and people from all over the world. You would think I'd have been terrified, but I loved it. And so began a love affair that still has a spark. The memories I shared with my mom are some of my favorites, the two of us walking pitlane or even just enjoying the sights and sounds.

Happily, the man I married loves it almost as much as I do. Note that I said almost.

When we found out we were going to have a little one, I secretly hoped that he would share in that love. Since the day we brought lil man home, he's watched all types of racing. Then there's the plethora of matchbox and toy cars that are floating around and underfoot.

This past Friday, we took lil man to his first race at the track where my parents and I camped at the actual track so many times. Trees, camping (in an RV, of course!), good times, and morning to evening racing. Of course, he is still a bit young to camp and stay all weekend, but for a few hours, we watched cars, walked around looking at the track, and smiled and giggled the whole time.

And I just knew there was someone special with us the whole tilme.

Ah, The Great Outdoors, And My Little Helper

There's nothing better after a gloomy, long, and chilly winter season than spring and sunshine to rev up the vitamin D. Especially when you've been cooped up for months with a one year old.

The first few times we journeyed out of the house, everything fascinated lil man, and now that the world is turning green again, he loves plants. Always the little helper, my lil dude has always assisted in watering our indoor plants (while I follow behind with a towel or two). Once he figured out he could do the same outside, the watering can became his new favorite plaything. But, getting the water into the pot wasn't as fun as watering our landscape rocks, or the outside of the pot.

One day, my lil helper found his new favorite commercial..the Home Depot build that beautiful topiary-esque flower power tower.

Inspiration!! He could totally water this all over, and even help me (well, a little!!!!) choose the flowers (though most were seedlings that grew from last year popping up unexpectedly and happily - money saver!!).

The only drawback was that the "fencing"material I used (and was suggested when I couldn't find the exact same type) wasn't as sturdy as I'd like, so I used a few tomato stakes to give it a bit more shape. I used biodegrable Eco-friendly landscape material (that I'll use for my fairy garden, as well).

Here's our silly creation...I only hope all the watering and love from both of us will make it grow in as the summer approaches!





Even if they never grow in completely, I know the memories we will make will be more than enough.

The happiness as he giggles and waters our creation...priceless.

A Whole New Way To Decorate

I never could understand how grown adults would let primary colors (and not to mention leggo mines) take over their homes. Convinced that I could somehow escape the "take-over", I vowed to only have two rooms that had lil dude's toys in them. His nursery, and our rec room.

But, I forgot that having a baby sleeping in our bedroom would inevitably leave a thing or two here and there.

Then, my husband decided the less tv, the better. (Because, of course, all I do is lounge around all day and watch soap operas.) Thus, our hearth room became home to leggos, blocks, and Lightning McQueen.

Which leaked into the kitchen.

But, at least each toy makes giggles and squeals of delight fill the air.

With the occasional burst of cursing when you find a stray leggo...

Things I Love...Spring!

Everyone experiences Spring Fever in different degrees. Whether you are at work, longingly gazing out a small window as you walk by, or at home with a little guy who isn't quite old enough to get why mommy is going stir crazy, it happens.

Cold, frigid air that makes you want to stay under the covers. The snow that just keeps coming and piling up. This makes bundling up said lil man a monumental task (patience isn't yet one of his traits), so leaving the house in the slush and mush becomes less and less appealing.

Then, suddenly.. Hockey is a sport I can get into. Tall men, a sexy accent here and there, and the games are fast paced (and a twenty minute period usually takes close to twenty minutes real time!). The lockout mad this girl a bit sad this year. As I pouted, I would see this cover here and there, but after being disappointed by other "hockey" novels I was book-shy.



A tiny purple beacon of hope appears...I had hanging baskets of pansies last year, and seeing this little present made something inside me melt.

Then,



Sigh...



Flowers that were a surprise present just to make me smile last year that I forgot I had planted.

And finally, one of the bulbs from my Mother's Day flower arrangement.



Suddenly, hope seems more abundant, smiles appear effortlessly, and the birds are a beautiful way to start the day.

Then, I realize I'll have to start shaving my legs more often. With an eighteen month old.

Who Wants To Be PerFecT?

Desperately trying not to growl.  And not succeeding all that well.  Good thing that the only person that could hear me is napping right now. 
Trying to cross the T's and dot the i's is making me crazy.  Thought I finally began to get it together.  Pulled out the old planner, filled it with shiny new fill in your calendar days yourself planning pages.  Filled in all the to do's on the days they needed to be done.
Only to miss mark the date.
Sigh.
Good thing I used a pencil.  And the portrait studio had an open appointment. (I wondered why she said she thought I was in tomorrow...)

The To Do List

I love to do lists.  There are days when my to do list has a to do list.  But, as a mom, I find my to do lists have become more of a wish lists or what I wish I could to do list.
So, I've resorted to adding silly things on  my to do list just to make myself feel like I've accomplished something.
Like, eat breakfast.  But, days, even this seems a monumental task to accomplish. 
Or brush my teeth.  Feed the dog.  Change the baby's diaper.
Once a check of these obvious and easily done tasks, the other items seem less daunting.  I mean, half my list is checked off, so the rest should be easy, right?
Pencils have also become important.  They allow me to be flexible.  But sometimes, I purposefully use a permanent marker so that I can see myself revising my lists.  To remind myself to be flexible, and it is okay if things have to get moved around.
Most importantly, the to do list is living list.  By this, I mean that it can go on to the following day...and the next.
Because my favorite to do item?
Enjoy my little boy every single moment.  And tickle time. 
Definitely.

This Busy Mommy's Favorites

Motherhood has taught me a few things.

My kitchen seems to amplify every noise, no matter how significant.  Especially during the nap time.  Also, I'd like to somehow turn the dingy bell thing on my microwave off.  It is way too loud, even if it tells me when the popcorn is ready.

Time may not be money, but it is precious.  Prioritizing is as important as multi-tasking.  And showering is sometimes an option, but it allows you to take a jammies day once in a while.

And when I find something I love, as a mommy, I find that I get that much more excited about it.

And so, here is my first of many...

Soda in a can and a box of cake mix is so moist and yummy and EASY!  Plus, Dr. Pepper makes a kick booty cupcake.  (Just mix and bake as directed.  Awesome. For reals.)

Mommy Rules...First Installment

As a new mom, I think I've experienced the ups and downs with a touch of humour, the realization that I can't so it all, and the happiness that comes when you figure that one little thing out each and every day.
Like, how can I possibly shower when I'm running around like a crazy person after a nine month old?  How do I feed myself when all I do is feed the baby?  And how the heck can I keep up with this whole bloggarooni thing when I can't eat or shower?!?!?!
Then I found the answer...nap time. 
And the blog?  I plan on sharing my new little discoveries that make my life easier...my hope?  Not that I'm re-inventing the wheel, but that I can shed a little light on the craziness that any new mom faces.  If one person finds one thing (even if it's me!!) that helps make life more about the giggles, then so be it.  Mission accomplished!

Rediscovery...Tickle Time!

I hate being tickled.  Serious face.  It really pisses me off.  This all comes from all the time I was tortured as a child (and beyond!) by my mom.  She relished tickling me, and I never really understood why.  Did she like turning me into an evil snarling (yet giggling) demon child?  Was it torture?  Or was she just sadistic and wanted me to feel the pain of all the dishes and clean up she had done after me for my whole life?
Nope.
Turns out if it's anything like how I feel as a mom that she just loved to see me smile and giggle.  Uncontrollably. 
I now know this because there is nothing I love more, or that will make my heart swell and produce a big ol goofy grin on my face than tickle time with my little man.  From the moment I got that first giggle (which may or may not been from gas!!) to the uncontrollable adorable giggle fits, I was hooked.  My day, no matter how annoying (laundry, dishes, business, or economic freak outs!), suddenly changes into blissful happiness.
Not only can I not resist his beautiful laughter, it makes me love my mom even more....

Rediscovering

When I first found out I was expecting, we kept it to ourselves.  We waited until that end of the first trimester to spread the word about out upcoming life changing event.
My favorite person to tell, though (other than daddy, of course!) was my Uncle...who lives overseas.  We communicate by email and had reconnected just a few years ago.  The best thing he told me, as he had his first child only a few years ago, is that having his son helped him rediscover the joy and love of his own mother (my Nana!) and appreciate things differently about her.
So, that will now be one of the features you can check out...rediscovery.  The joy and love that we sometimes forget when the arguments and sad memories overwhelm us and cloud all the good.  Especially when that person is no longer here to help us remember...

Getting Steamed

When I made the decision to become a part time, one day a week, employee at my 12+ year job, I became worried over the whole money issue.
Not only did I not want to let it come between my husband and I (who rarely, if ever have a major disagreement other than I believe in actually changing light bulbs once they burn out), but I was concerned how our lives would change.
So, being the money saver that I already was (I love my Coach bags, all on sale), but not a crazy couponer-I still can't figure out how they do it!!!!- i investigated.  Knowledge is power.
Baby food and formula is insanely expensive!  Holy moly, not only would I have a new mouth to cloth and diaper (not to mention the toys, lotions, and baby wipes!)...his carbon foot print would start early with all those jars and containers.
So, along with breastfeeding (if I hear breast is best one more time, I may just scream.  Or cry.) I decided to make my own baby food.
Happily, I have to say not only is it kind of empowering (I love to cook, and steaming his food makes me feel very good and so mommy!!!) to know what exactly he's eating, but it's so incredibly, dare i say, cheap!
And easy.
I didn't waste any money (duh!) on a book, but started with an article in a baby magazine that I receive as a free subscription.
Simple....apples, cut into chunks, steam until soft, puree (my processor now has other things to do other than pesto!), place into ice cube trays, freeze. 
This recipe works for just about anything...and of course I logged onto other websites just to make sure.
And now, my freezer has a full top drawer for only $15 for almost a month of baby food.
Not sure if he likes the green beans, though.  Peas and apples?  Oh yeah! 
The rule?  Don't be afraid to try new things.  Sweet potato fries, fresh out of the oven?  Pureed for baby boy, yummy for mommy and daddy!
Now, if only he would stop eyeing my ice cream...

Whatever Happened to Saturday Night?

We all have those friends.  You know the ones.  They told you while you were expecting that they would never see you again, like they were some psychic predicting the end of the world.
My husband and I have a small group of friends that started with a married couple with two boys, two single "boys" and us.  Saturday poker nights...every Saturday.  At the married with children home (no babysitter needed!).  This evolved into a high school friend and his wife (with son) moving back into town, which in turn revolved into the two married (other than my husband) forming a band to live out their high school fantasies.
Enter the girlfriends (now one wife and one fiance) for the "boys".
At this point, the Saturday game would still happen, but with less and less frequency.
Side note of importance...of this group, only myself and my other handsome half, as well as one "boy" (now husband) and wife were the non-smokers.
Back to the remark that started it all.  When we found out we were expecting, we were very conscious of what our shoulds and should nots were, and still are.
This included the smoking.
To say I get it would be a lie.  We know this effects your health in so many scary ways, not to mention the simple economic cost, I don't get why people smoke anymore.  Not to mention it's stinky, you don't look sexy, and you have to do laundry all the time.  And then add in that you have children?  If only for their health or the fear of not being there for them someday would scare me into at least trying my booty off to quit, let alone that it does effect their health if you smoke around them or in the same house, even if they are in a different room.
This, my friends, is why we don't get to see one another that much, if ever, and the band...and the new girlfriends, wives, etc.
My lil dude is the most important things to enter my life, and I just don't want him around it.
But how do you tell that to someone?
I don't.  More because I don't want to offend them or tell them what to do.
So, instead I've spurred the husband into finishing up the projects around the house so we can have them over...and ban the smokers to in front of the garage and away from everything that matters.
Maybe I should pick up so Nicorette?

To Sleep, Or Not...

When my lil bundle of joy first came home, he slept through the night within three days.  The first night, I literally was so exhausted from trying to keep on the whole feed him every two hours or he will starve (at least in my mind!) schedule that I truly believed the entire thing was a fluke designed to make me believe things could be really be this easy (little did I know!).  Then, it happened again.  Was I a horrible new mommy for not waking him up?  Then, I gave in.  Happily, my pediatrician told me to let him sleep (and insert angels singing). 
Fast forward seven months, and enter the what is wrong with him schedule.
This is what happens every three hours or so.
Husband rolls over and tries to whisper over crying not quite screeching baby, "What do you think he wants?"
Me, trying not to hit him with a pillow because, truly, I don't, contrary to popular opinion, speak baby just yet, "I don't know!"  Also trying to whisper even though at this point the lil dude in question is clearly not sleeping.  "Diaper?"
And so, off I go to diaper duty. 
Nope. 
Put him back down, crying continues.  Loudly.
Again, the husband asks.  I try not to get frustrated, understanding he is just as lost as me. (Meanwhile, in my mind, I'm bashing him with the pillow.  Hey, it's soft and won't really hurt him...)
"Teething?"  I reply.  To which husband crawls out of bed to get the frozen teething ring, which when he returns, lil dude gratefully chomps on. 
But, once again, put him down, and the crying begins.
Fine, I think.  If he's anything like dad, he's hungry. 
And he finally falls asleep.
Until three hours later.
Now, this doesn't happen every night, but more often than not...well, you get the picture.
New rule?  Not only can I not read the baby's mind, it's probably good the husband can't read mine ;-)

Everything With A Purpose...Even A Shower

Wowsa...it has really been a looooong time. My little man is now seven months old and if I've learned anything over the last few months, it's the sad yet happy fact that my life is no longer my own.  Simple tasks like the dishes (which my husband used to do...hmmm, there's a conversation!) and even showering have taken on new meaning.  Like scarce.  Or nap time.  If the little buddy bear falls asleep not on mommy (my fault totally, he's just so amazing...though I am told that will wear off, at least a bit) or I have the energy to do so.
Simple joys like my morning yoga are usually pushed aside for breakfast feedings, changing diapers, or just simply rolling around together on the bed laughing and giggling in the early morning.  And bellydance?  Oy.  That is a whole separate matter. 
So what's the new rule?
Multi-tasking.  Every step and trip to somewhere has a purpose, whether it's a run to the kitchen (grab that empty glass) or to the other side of the house (put important papers on the desk in my office).  Unless I would literally get nothing done...

My Favorite Thing

I've always thought that people who say they love being pregnant are off their rocker. Who could possibly be happy about no caffeine, or a big ol' yummy Subway...or even a glass of wine? Not to mention having to buy new clothes as your waistline slowly disappears. Or expands even bigger. and how about the nauseousness that has the misnomer of "morning sickness"? (I suppose it's morning somewhere in the world at any time.)
Ew.
Don't get me wrong. I liked being pregnant. But not for the reasons that most people probably did.
My favorite thing?
People were incredibly nice to me. In a time when people communicate mostly through technology (how many texts have you've gotten today?), you've got to be worried that one day, we won't know how to speak with one another face to face. Even today, road rage seeps it's way into what I like to call line rage. Let's face it. When you need to buy something, you usually have to stand in a line. Yet, every single time we get surprised that we have to wait in line and there aren't magical cashiers that pop up when we are ready to skedaddle. Then, the line rage takes over. Trust me, I see it every time my husband goes grocery shopping or we step in to Target.
But I digress...
Strangers weren't merely nice...they were happy for me (not counting those breastfeeding questions. I'm attempting to block those out of my mind.). They asked what I was having, when I was due (which was fine, until the lil man decided he wanted to bake longer than his timer said), if I had a name picked out (a few, but we were keeping them to ourselves...mostly), and if he was our first. All with smiles, congratulations, and wishes of luck.
Hmmm....this may just mean we still can talk to each other face to face. With a smile on our faces. Now, how can we get this to work during the Holidays. Or when my husband is waiting in line...

Best Laid Plans...and all that jazz.

When I sat down and started on this crazy roller coaster, I dealt with everyone adding in their two cents (and then some) and figured I couldn't be the only new mama to be with ideas swimming in her pregnancy brain.
And then, life overwhelmed me.
Being wight months pregnant and working full time kicked my booty to the extreme, so between work and trying to get the perfect room organized, the keyboard and I took a break.
The jellybean then decided that my belly was the most comfortable place to be and didn't want to get on with the whole coming out party. So, despite my carefully written out birth plan, I had to schedule an induction. Which terrified me even more than the needles that I would be soon facing.
You see, I wanted him to come on his schedule and on his very own birthday (not one chosen by the good doctor), and to be the way it was supposed to be. You know, naturally (no drugs), with the birth ball and squat bar. While my husband and baby daddy gently massaged me through contractions with a carefully chosen play list played from my ipod.
(I know, nuts...hindsight and all that.)
But, my little man decided, the day before his induction/chosen birthday he was having none of that. Contractions started around midnight...and things went on from there. Quickly, with the breathing techniques not quite making it to the...well, let's just say oxygen was involved.
It was a battle that I've learned from (if there's a number two, drugs. As soon as my feet hit the hospital grounds.), but I'm so happy he got the message. Or, should I say he got the message to his mom. Plans may come and go, but life happens.
New Mom Rule...Things happen for a reason, and when they do, you roll with it.
And he's adorable...but more on that later.

Speaking Of Goats

Quite possibly the most terrifying decision I've ever made started with a little buzz in my ear. Not only was this a life changer for me, it would change everything for another person. Never had the maternal mommy bug bite me in all the years I interacted with my beautiful and sassy niece. Who screamed her head off when she was only a few days old when placed into my arms. And, consequently, I never picked her up until she was a year old. And even then, I cringed inwardly hoping she wouldn't wail and permanently damage my hearing.

When I began to feel a little itch (oddly enough, a large part sprung from the fact I thought my husband would make the best and sexiest baby daddy ever), I had conversations with myself about how to broach the subject with my hottie husband.

Of course, I did what any grown woman would do. I let Jack Daniel's join the party. And when the courage was running through our veins, I asked him if he wanted to have babies with me. (I'm sure it was slurring and somewhat coherent.)

Being the sweet loving husband he is, he said of course. If that was what I wanted. (Obviously, he was afraid the next morning I would be all like, wha?)

Fast forward a few weeks later...driving around a beautiful parkway in our area, we were passing a house that had a few horses and baby goats. I have a huge weakness for animals, and baby animals make me melt. And then he said it.

"So, speaking of goats...do you really want to start trying to have a baby?"

Speaking of goats?

I have to say, I loved it. Silly romantic that I am, I thought it was a cute way to make me giggle and still let the unsaid have its say.

The rule? Communication is key. Even when it comes to goats.

What Rules?

As a soon to be mom (gee, it still looks surreal when I see that word applied to me!!!), the one thing that always seemed to get under my skin is the "you'll never be able to (insert past time, vacation destination, power nap, etc here)."

Seriously?

I get it. Truly. Things will change. And I've waited until I knew I was ready (I should say we, because after all, this whole undertaking is a partnership. And I adore the husband.). After all, I've seen friends go through this, and heaven knows, I've watched the poor moms dealing with screaming children who just don't get why they have to be out and about when they'd rather be sleeping, playing, eating, crawling.

But who wrote these rules, and why do we feel like we have to follow them?

Hence, this blog. At least for me. What better way to make my own rules and work them through them?

But, there is the fear that someone out there may feel the need to tell me what I'm doing is wrong or that I don't get it. So, please realize that all the blubbering and craziness may just be a snap shot and take it for what it is.

Rule #1...Take it for what it is. If you can change it, great. If not, eh. Take it for what it is and move on.