These are a few of my favorite things: (on my tree)
At this point we're about 2 1/2 wks. from Alex's arrival. As much as we talk about the baby's arrival, I know that Sam doesn't quite get that he will no longer be the only child around here. I've been going through some of his baby pictures lately, and I cannot believe that my baby has gone from this:
A few weeks ago, we headed to Starkville for the State/Alabama game. We rented a house and took Sam with us. Our plan was to tailgate all day, and then Anthony would run us back to the house before kick-off.
All was going well. Sam was a sweet boy, he played well with others, and was in a good mood. And then it got dark. And my child disappeared.
Serious, horrible, panic ensued. One minute he was sitting in a chair playing a game, and within seconds he disappeared. We looked around the tailgate thinking that he had gotten up to play, but we could not find him in the immediate area. Our entire tailgate began to look for him. I searched the bathrooms, a friend stopped campus police, but we still couldn't find him. I truly began to freak out. All those episodes of Criminal Minds that I watch didn't help matters.
He was gone for a good 10-15 minutes, which doesn't sound like a lot, but when it's dark and there are tons of people milling around, it's an eternity. A friend of ours went back to the ladies room (for a total of 3 times) when she spotted him and brought him back to the tailgate. By that point, I was in tears.
He received a thorough talking to by his father, and we were able to breathe a sigh of relief. Later that evening, I found out what happened. Sam has a tendency to wait until the very last minute to go the bathroom. Apparently, it hit him that he had to go, and he had to go right then, so he bolted. The bathroom is a good 20 yards from where we tailgate, and I honestly can't believe he remembered where to go. He is only 3 after all.
I asked him what took him so long because I was trying to figure out why I never saw him when I went to check the bathroom myself.
Me: "Sam, where did you go to the bathroom?"
Sam: "I went where all the mommies were."
Me: "What did you do in the bathroom?"
Sam: "I tee-tee and I poo-poo."
At that point I realized why I didn't see him. He was in a stall for an extended period of time. And then I thought...
Me: "Sam, did you wipe your booty?"
Sam: "No, a lady wiped it."
Me: "What!!??
Sam: "A lady wiped it for me."
Me: "Did she say anything to you?"
Sam: "She told me to wash my hands."
In summary, he bolted from the tailgate, cruised past an enormous line of women waiting for the restroom, went to the bathroom, and got a seriously nice lady to wipe his bottom.
Lady, whoever you are, I thank you. I promise to pay it forward.
I'm averaging somewhere around a post a month, which is pitiful. This fall has been a circus, and my blogging has definitely suffered. Sigh...
A few weeks ago, I attended one of the only home games I'll be able to go to all season. (Insert frowny face.) It's really hard for someone who used to go to every home game, but that's what happens when you grow up, I guess. (I just wish the Bulldogs could've held on against the Gamecocks, but that's another story for another day.)
I've been sewing and appliqueing--is that even a word?--for almost a year now, and I had Sam's gameday clothes all ready to go. I had myself and Sam packed up, and as soon as Anthony got home, we hit the road.
We stayed with some family in Starkville, and we were having a lovely, laid-back evening when the following happened.
Me: "I need to put Sam to bed. Did you get his bag out of the car?"
Anthony: "I haven't seen his bag.'
Me: "What do you mean you 'haven't seen his bag'? You packed the car."
And panic ensued.
If you all will remember, this has already happened once, and I swore that I would never be rushed out the door without checking for Sam's things again. Wrong.
Mother. Of. The. Year.
If you could've have heard the blue streak of words rolling through my mind at 10:00 on a Friday night, I'm pretty sure you would be shocked. Or not. Depends on how well you know me.
So there we were, in Starkville, at 10:00 p.m., with no clothes or supplies for our 3-year-old. The game was at 11:00 in the morning, and I knew that traffic would be H-E-double hockey sticks the next morning. Our solution was to roll on out to Wal-Mart in our pajamas.
We may have been the best dressed people there. Friday nights at Wal-Marts across the country bring out our nation's finest.
Was I hacked? Yes. After I had made a super-cute outfit for the kid to wear to the game, my child was going to be wearing a run-of-the-mill t-shirt and shorts from Wal-Mart. And believe me, I am not above putting my kid in Wal-Mart clothes--we have plenty of things from there. But having to buy all that after I had spent time making him stuff did not make mama happy.
And you know what they say...If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
So Sam had his tonsils and adenoids out last Tuesday. The doctor was fabulous, Blair Batson was great, and the surgery went well. We were told over and over beforehand that we would have the worst end of the deal--recovery. Boy, were they right.
I thought the past week was going to be spent cuddling a tired and sick toddler, feeding him popsicles, and doing whatever I needed to help him feel better. Don't get me wrong--we've done all of those things. What I didn't know was that the recovery was going to turn my sweet, fairly laid back 3-year-old into a mini Moammer Gadhafi.
It's been a little over a week since the surgery, and this mama is ready to oust my tiny tyrant from his position of dictatorship. Fingers crossed that my sweet Sam will rebound sooner rather than later.
I'm not very nice in the morning. It's not new behavior for me; my family can attest to that. I've just never been a morning person. As a matter of fact, one of the coaches that I used to work with referred to me as "Sunshine." He was being sarcastic. Very sarcastic.
Pregnancy certainly doesn't help matters. Not sleeping due to some serious round ligament pain is not good, and I still have some occasional morning sickness. It all adds up to a big barrel of fun when the alarm goes off. It doesn't help that I'm married to quite possibly the loudest person on the planet. My husband is what I like to call a "loud walker." He's also a "loud drawer slammer" and a "loud breakfast maker." The other night I was, well, nagging him about how loud he is in the morning. I tried to explain that when I'm in my post-sleep funk I need some peace before I can get going.
He responded by telling me that dealing with me in the morning is like dealing with the bear cage at the zoo.
I laughed.
He's right.
(But he's still really loud.)
As usual, I'm behind on my blogging. I'm really going to have to get on top of things...especially with a new baby on the way.
Anyway, we took our annual trip to The Grand at the beginning of August, and we had a lovely time. I didn't get to enjoy the fruity drinks that I normally do, but I'll make up for it next year.
Sam was a EVERYWHERE this year. We couldn't keep him out of the pool. I'm not going to go into a day by day schedule because it mainly consisted of eating, swimming, napping, repeat. I'm not exaggerating.
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| Feeding the ducks. |
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| Playing croquet. Fair warning: When Sam "plays" croquet, it's best to stay away. |
I get way more traffic here, so I thought it'd be a good place to let those of you who are interested know that I just added A TON of new stuff to my page at http://www.threadserious.blogspot.com/. If you need any kind of children's clothing for fall, I have a lot of new items, and I'll be adding even more over the next few weeks. If you're interested, be sure to get your order in in time for kickoff! And I have plenty of things for all you Rebel fans, too. Go check it out!
So I've been wanting pickles...
I know, I know. A pregnant lady wanting pickles? Unheard of! What you're forgetting is that I am a very particular pregnant lady. Particular is a nice way to say high-maintenance and picky.
Anyway, I've been wanting the pickles that they serve at delis. You know the ones--the really good dills that they serve with your sandwich at Beagle Bagel and McAllister's. I have tried to buy pickles at the grocery store, but they just don't cut it.
So I did what anyone else would do in my situation--I called my father-in-law. He loves a challenge, and boy did he come through this time. He called Beagle Bagel and found out that they serve Block and Barrel Kosher Dills. Mystery solved.
The problem is that Block and Barrel only sells through Sysco. Bummer. I e-mailed my FIL back, thanked him for the research, and explained that I still couldn't get them because I can't order from Sysco. I thought I had reached a dead-end.
But then the phone rang.
My father-in-law informed me that he can order from Sysco through his work, and he had already placed an order. They arrived in a HUGE industrial size container.
Yep. Now you know how old I am.
And you also know why I have been absent for so long. I just got home from what I thought would be my 10 wk. appointment. After the ultrasound today, we found out we were a little off on our previous calculations, and I'll be 12 wks. tomorrow. I'm praying this means that the all day nausea will begin to dissipate.
Side note #1: Those of you out there who never had awful nausea during pregnancy--the kind where you dry-heave EVERY morning, OR have to sprint to find any available receptacle including plastic bags while on the road, OR throw up in restaurant parking lots and have your 3-year-old pat you on the back saying "That's ok, mama,"--I ENVY YOU. And I know women have been putting up with this for centuries--this malady isn't exclusive to me by any means. However, I am going to go on record that pregnancy is not kind to me. I certainly don't glow. Unless turning a lovely shade of green counts, in which case, I guess I do.
Side note #2: To make things really fun (because we love to keep things exciting around the Sherman household) we have had a total of four family members in and out of the hospital during this time period. One of them was me. Did I mention I had a seizure? Nothing says fun like an early morning ride to the ER in an ambulance. We're all fine, and we're hoping that it was a crazy side effect of hormones and some medication I was previously on. However, I am not allowed to drive until we have an MRI and get the all clear from a neurologist. I was already classified as high risk, but I think I've been able to take it to another level. Like I said, we like to keep things interesting around here.
House arrest is no fun. Maybe I should call Lindsay Lohan and ask her how to deal.
For those of you who've forgotten, I gave birth to a toddler the first time around.. Sam was a 10.3 lb. whopper. We had no idea beforehand, and his enormity caused several complications during and post-birth. We're hoping that this baby is a nice, normal, healthy size. However, I will admit that I'm not sure I even know how to handle a smaller baby. We'll see.
I'll be due sometime in late December/early January. Anthony has already been told that he has tentative permission to attend the Sugar or Cotton Bowl. Everything else will have to be watched on tv. If the Bulldogs actually end up in one of these locations, I deserve "Wife of the Year."
Yes, we have our priorities in order.
Hand raised.
So the husband and I had an opportunity to hit the beach with some friends last week. Who wouldn't pass that up? Especially since we had a virtually free place to stay...
The problem was that Sam's birthday was last Saturday--the 21st, and we weren't supposed to come back until Sunday, the 22nd. Our solution--have everything as ready as possible for a party before leaving, recruit grandparents to help with the last minute necessities, and get up super-early Sunday morning to be back in time for a 4:00 birthday party.
Are you tired yet? We were. We rolled out of Destin around 7:30 Sunday morning, drove back to Jackson with friends, and got everything else ready for the party at 4:00.
But it was worth it. Sam had a blast, and he hasn't quit talking about it.
You know that gorgeous, lush, perfectly manicured grass outside of Dudy Noble? Don't ever sit in it. Not even for 5 minutes while your husband brings the car around. I have chigger bites all over the lower half of my body, and they itch like crazy. Don't say I didn't warn you.
My husband is an MSU fan. Fan is probably an understatement for someone who almost gets physically ill when we blow a lead. I've long heard stories about his begging to be checked out of school so that he could listen to baseball games. Seriously. And his mother was nice enough to do it for him on one special occasion. He follows football and football recruiting with a (sometimes) ridiculous passion. He can answer pretty much any Bulldog Trivia question, and he loves basketball and all that it entails. One year he had to miss the football season-opener due to fever and strepp throat. I'm not sure which made him more miserable--missing the game or being sick.
It appears that our child is following along the same path. He will be 3 in May, and he knows every word to the fight song. I'm not exaggerating. He can sing it for you but will rarely do it on command. We're trying to figure out how to get around the whole "H-E-L-L" part--I guess we need to spell it "H-E-C-K" instead. I'm not sure if he would buy that, though, because he has a definite need to say things exactly as he hears them.
We took him for a brief visit to the Left Field Lounge last weekend. It was sooooo hot--the first day it's really felt like summer. We lasted to the 5th, and I had to call it a day for my own sake. The kid loved it though. He played in the dirt, threw a football with a friend, and kept asking, "Don't you want to watch baseball with me?"
Yes, Sam. Yes we do.
As I posted earlier, I've been learning to sew, embroider, and monogram, and I'm loving it. I have spent hours reading, practicing, and hovering over my sewing machine. I'm happy to say that I'm now open for business! You can check out what I've been working on at www.thread serious.blogspot.com
I'd love it if you stopped by!
Last weekend Anthony and I loaded Sam up and drove down to one of my favorite cities—New Orleans. It was our first official trip with just the 3 of us. Every other time we’ve gone on a trip, we’ve had grandparents as back up.
We got up early, packed up the car, grabbed some coffee, and got on the road. At least we thought we had packed up the car…
When we stopped for gas in McComb, I discovered that my sweet, sweet, husband had not put Sam’s bag in the car. The child had nothing but the clothes on his back. I can tell you one thing, I will never leave the house again without insisting that I see all of our bags in the trunk. Geez…
We got to the zoo around 10:30, and spent about 3 hours walking around. Sam had a blast. It’s truly a gorgeous zoo, right smack in the middle of the garden district.
I will own up to the fact that we did buy one of those backpack/leash things that I SWORE I would never use. I must admit, it was a smart purchase. He never would have stayed in a stroller, (nor would I have expected him to,) and I knew he wouldn’t want to hold our hands all day long, either. He was happy with his independence, and I was happy knowing that he couldn’t get very far. 
Make fun of us all you want, but after seeing miserable parents pleading with their children to stay close and hold hands, we felt justified with our decision.
One of Sambo’s favorite things that day? The map of the zoo. Seriously. He walked around with it as if he really understood it, and referred to it all afternoon long. Loved it.
