What's going on...

Sorry I've been so boring lately.  Actually, I've had tons of stuff to blog about, but then something happens, and I feel guilty that I haven't written about previous happenings.  It's a blogjam, really. 

To recap the past couple of weeks, Sam has been busy.  I know, shocker.  We have found out that he is crazy sensitive to mosquitoes.  Need proof?

No, that's not Rocky Balboa.  That's my child.  His right eye was almost completely swollen shut.  I'm afraid to take him outside at all for fear of this happening again.  It's the 2nd time this summer that he's gotten bitten near his eye, and it's a problem, because the last time I checked, you can't spray "OFF!" around a kid's eyes.  He looked pitiful for 4 days.





He got a little bored since he had to stay inside so much, so he decided to entertain himself by getting into the "frigrator" and cooking with some raw eggs...on my floor. Exciting.  How sad is it that I went and got the camera before correcting the problem? 

That's right.  Rub those eggs into all the crevices in mommy's tile.

Notice the eye that's still funky.  I think this was day 3. 

And what have I been up to?  Glad you asked.  I was one of those insane people who went to the movie at midnight on Tuesday/Weds. to see the first possible viewing of Eclipse.  Go ahead, make fun.  I accepted my nerd status a long time ago, and I have no problem with it whatsoever.  Did I read the books?  Uh, yes.  When I was 9 months pregnant with the darling cherub above, I retreated to a town named Forks with a hot vampire named Edward.  (And if you have no idea what I'm talking about, you may want to check your pulse.  Sidenote--Eddie doesn't have a pulse.) I like to think that the Cullen gang helped me get though the last few weeks of an uncomfortable pregnancy. 

Anyway, a group of girls met up for some pre-movie Mexican and adult beverages.  We then headed to the theater...at 10 o'clock.  You know you're old when you look at your watch and think, "I should have been in bed an hour ago."  We powered through though, and I will be seeing it again.  Preferably when there's not a disgusting redneck woman talking to the screen as if Edward and Jacob are going to talk back.  Seriously.  I'm not lying.  She had a full-on one-sided conversation at one point.  This was also while she was apparently guzzling beers.  We kept hearing the tell-tell pop of a can opening, and the way she was acting, I don't think it was a contraband Coca-cola.

Have a happy 4th!

Memo to parents...

For the handful of people who read my ramblings, you know that my sweet, (once) chunky, baby boy has just turned two.  And he has embraced this whole terrible twos thing with relish.  I don't know which kid on the playground told him that his head had to start spinning just because of a number, but I really don't appreciate it.  I mean, I certainly wasn't thrilled to turn the big 3-0, but I didn't catch an attitude. Anyway, the number 2 is definitely giving us a run for our money around here. A few things of note for all you parents out there.

1.  "Mine" becomes the most integral word in their vocabulary.  As in, "Give Mommy her nail polish back.  It's not paint."  Sam's response--"No.  Mine.  Sam's polish."  The kid has gotten as territorial as a mother grizzly bear. 

2.  Going to the grocery store feels like heading to war.  Sam used to be the best "grocery store baby."  He would sit contentedly in his little seat, and I would peacefully peruse the goods.  Not anymore.  First of all, he finally noticed those wretchedly gross grocery cart "cars."  You know, the ones that should probably require a commercial license to drive?  The ones that look like they are NEVER sanitized? Yes, those.  He's also figured out how to unbuckle his little seatbelt and bolt into the oncoming cart traffic.  On top of all this, he also thinks he should help me shop, which means I get to the checkout with a random bottle of barbecue sauce, some marshmallows, and a bottle of chocolate syrup. 

I try my best to get in and out as quickly as possible.  I look like I'm on that tv show, "Super Market Sweep."

3.  The transition to the "big boy bed."  Wowsers.  Never knew how much this would affect me.  When Sam was in his crib, he might wake up early, but he went back to sleep because he couldn't get out of the crib.  Now, he just rolls right on in to our room...at 5:00.  We have now put a gate on his door.  Is that a fire hazard? 

He wears me out, but he sure is fun.

So there you have it.  3 things you should know about 2-year-olds. 

VBS...

So this past week I volunteered at our church to help with Vacation Bible School.  Sam isn't quite old enough, but they had the nursery open for him, and the fab nursery staff did all kinds of fun activities with him.  He had a great time.  I had a learning experience. 

I thought when I said "volunteer" I'd be putting out snacks or helping with arts and crafts.  Wrong.  I got my assignment last Sunday night--4 year olds.  Then I looked at my roster--they weren't quite 4 yet...almost all of them were rising 4 year olds.  Big difference, people.  Okay, no big deal.  I can deal with 4 year olds, right? Until I saw that on Monday we would be short handed and that I would be handling 8 little tots completely on my on.  That's when I got a little nervous. 

Here's what I found out this week.

1.  There are some super cute kids in this world.
2.  There are also some super difficult kids in this world. 
3.  The super difficult child will intentionally ignore you.  You will spend the majority of the time chasing this   child thereby making it hard to enjoy the others.
4.  Keeping 8 4 year olds together is a lot like herding cats.
5.  Primary school teachers deserve a WHOLE lot more respect.  There's a reason I taught high school.
6.  You know farmer tans?  There's such a thing as a VBS playground tan.
7.  Lisps are pretty endearing. 
8.  Remember the difficult child?  Well, he decided to pour dirt and glitter into my Tory Burch handbag when I wasn't looking. Cleaning that out was not fun.

This Bud's for you...

Our Memorial Day was spent on the back deck eating ribs and drinking a few adult beverages.  Sam thought he'd help his daddy out and play bartender.  Do you think this kid has watched his dad open a beer with his t-shirt? 

And don't worry, Mom.  As soon as I took this hilarious pic, we steered him away from brewskis. 

He's going to fit right in at the Sigma Chi house. 

Home Sweet Home...

We're in.  Finally.  The men are still working on converting an extra bedroom, but for the most part, our new home is finally livable.  I'm so happy I could sing, but I'll spare you.  The past few weeks have been incredibly chaotic and stressful, but it was definitely worth it.  It's soooo nice to have plenty of room, a lovely, old, established yard, and neighbors who continue to drop by with welcomes.  I even have some empty cabinets and drawers--seriously shocking.

I've also been asked to "Go to the river" with my worker friend, "Cockeye."  While dressed in his signature jorts and shirtless combo, he asked me my Memorial Day plans. When I made the mistake of saying that we didn't have much in the works, he insisted on my coming to the river with him.  He even told me he'd pick me up.  I'm not exactly sure what river he's talking about--the Pearl?  I didn't really pursue this conversation.    I guess the whole wedding ring thing doesn't serve as a deterrent for him.  Yet another reason why I'll be glad when they're completely through with the house. 

I would attempt to write about everything that's gone on, but it would take me forever. So, here's a summation of what has happened in the past few weeks.


Paint, paint, and lots more paint...Sam turned 2--sniff...Curious George birthday party with family...lots and lots of yard work by my brother and my dad--thanks a bunch, guys...furniture rearranging...more trips to Target than I care to remember...a book club gathering in the new place...several awesome summer evenings on the deck...restocking of the pantry and fridge resulting in astronomical grocery bills...no internet for over a week...a couple of illnesses for Sam and me...a serious lack of sleep...decorating anxiety...

Aren't you glad I refrained from posting about the above nonsense?  You would have been bored to tears--if you already aren't. 

Happy Memorial Day!

Right now....

there is an interesting snapshot of America in my future home.Yes, they are still working on the new house.  And what an interesting "they" indeed.

This morning I walked into my future home to check on the progress. I was greeted by...

2 shirtless men
1 mullet
Several piercings
A plethora of tattoos depicting scantily clad women
1 cockeye
A plumber's crack or two
Lots and lots of cigarettes

I am not making any of this up.  I didn't even have to exaggerate.  God love them, they're working hard, and I'll give them some serious credit--they're polite as can be.

The move-in date has been moved to at least Monday, which probably means more like next Wednesday.  Does anybody out there know if there is a patron saint of carpenters and painters?  I need to put in a prayer or two.   Lizbeth and Laura, I know Marilyn would know the answer to this question. 

Turn out lights, the party's over...

We have officially been out of our house for 8 days.  I spent the last few hours sweeping and mopping, and I really felt like I was holding it together...until I walked by Sam's empty room. The walls were still baby blue, but there were no toys, no books, no crib.  I had a small personal crisis, but I managed to pull myself together.  We turned off the lights, locked it up, and walked away from our sweet home.

It has been a truly chaotic couple of weeks with no end in sight.  I have been told by my husband that I better be happy in this new house because we will live there until we die.  Right now, I can't disagree.

Speaking of the new house, we're not in it right now.  Our new casa needs quite a bit of love and tenderness before we can actually live there.  We are painting every inch of it, changing out some light fixtures, and replacing a ceiling.  The paint alone is a pretty big job, but there is no way I'm living with puke peach paint.  And I mean peach.  Did I mention the country blue paisley wallpaper?  No offense if you're into that kind of thing, but it's just not me, so we're getting rid of it. 

While we are waiting on the new place to be habitable, we are bunking with my in-laws.  They have graciously taken in 2 adults, a 23-month-old, and a stinky Boston Terrier.  

The first few nights no one slept.  Sam's crib is in their guest room, and sleep doesn't really happen when a soon-to-be-2-year-old rolls over and sees his parents in the same room.  He ended up in bed with us several times, which resulted in my getting kicked all night long and Anthony ending up on the couch.  We finally retreated to the extra bedroom, which means that we are sleeping in separate twin beds a la June and Ward Cleaver.  Let's just hope I don't start turning black and white and vacuuming with pearls on.