My favorite ornaments...

These are a few of my favorite things:  (on my tree)

New ornament commemorating Alex's impending arrival

Sam's 2011 ornament

What a surprise...it's a firetruck

And this lovely ornament we received from the Bulldog Club today. 

 Genius marketing if you ask me. 

Sam...

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:

to this:



Although he has been known to throw some serious tantrums, I can honestly say that we are so blessed.  And I'm about to brag, so feel free to stop reading now. (Unless you just like hearing a mom being obnoxious.)

Things I want to remember:

1.  I'm blown away by his vocabulary.  Hearing a 3-year-old tell me things like, "Actually, mama, I think I want chicken," is hilarious.  He also informed me a few days ago that something wasn't blue; it was indigo. 

2.  He's still not a great sleeper at night.  He'll roll into our room at about 4:00 some nights, but most of the time we're able to escort him right back to his bed.  He still takes an enormous nap in the afternoon, and woe be to you if he misses it.

3.  He is still obsessed with firetrucks, garbage trucks, and buses.  When the bus stops on our street to pick up a kid for school, Sam flies to the window to watch it. 

4.  The only "baby" word that he still uses is "tether."  I don't know where he got it, but when Sam says "tether," it means "pick me up/hold me."  I may cry the day he stops saying it.

5.  I also may cry when he stops telling me that he "just wants to cuddle, mama."  I realize that I won't know when it's the last time that he says it, so I appreciate every time he says it. 

6.  He thinks every football player who is #14 is Chris Relf, and every player who is #1 is C-bump.  Every once in awhile he'll tell me that #28 is Ballard.  He has known the words to the fight song since sometime last year. 

7.  He informed me that for Christmas, he wants Santa's sack.  As in the sack that holds all the toys.  I had to give him the whole speech about giving rather than receiving, celebration of Christ, etc.  I have to give the kid credit for thinking outside the box, though.  He also told me he wanted a fire truck.  I responded that he had plenty of fire trucks.  He then told me, "I want one in our garage"...as in a real fire truck.  He's going to be disappointed Christmas morning. 

8.  He's also obsessed with "worker men," otherwise known as construction workers.  He loves his tools and toolbox, and any time you get out a hammer, he has to go get his toolbox to "help."

"Worker Man Sam" with his protective eyewear on his head.

I'm trying my best to remember all these little nuances that I take for granted.  I don't want to forget them as he grows.  I'd appreciate any prayers for Sam in the next few weeks as we make the transition from 1-2 babies. 

Potpourri...

If any of you are Jeopardy! fans out there, you'll understand my blog post title.  If not, oh well...

1.  I have about 23 days until this baby gets here.  I am officially in freak out mode.  Between worrying about the delivery, Christmas, and how Sam is going to handle everything, my mind does not stop.

2.  For all two of you who still read my excuse for a blog, we have officially picked out a name for baby boy #2. (If you don't like it, keep it to yourself.)  Our 2nd son will be Alexander Porter Sherman.  We'll be calling him Alex.  My grandfather and my uncle were/are both Zans, and I like that the name contains their names.  Porter is my mother's maiden name.  So there you have it--I'm sure you've been on tenterhooks.

3.  I went to the salon for my last visit before the baby gets here.   I haven't been since September, and I was in dire need of some hair help.  I tried a new stylist, and....my hair is a little on the red side.  For now, I'm just going to roll with it. 

4.  I don't know about you, but I'm glad to see some colder weather.  Having to use your A/C in December is ridiculous--it just doesn't feel like Christmas.  In my opinion, it should be cold November-January; after that it can warm back up.  At least that's what I would do if I were in charge. 

5.  We will be watching our Dawgs play in the Music City Bowl at....the hospital.  This will be the first bowl game my husband has missed since the 1992 Peach Bowl.  Let's hope the post-partum unit has wide-screen tvs.  Ha.

6.  We have a 6-year-old Boston Terrier who is neutered and has had all of his shots.  He needs a lot of attention, and we just don't have the time to devote to him with everything else we have going on.  If you or someone you know is interested, please leave me a comment.  We just want him to have a good, loving, home. 

7.  Why can't I ever build a fire, but my dad can do it within 5 minutes?  It's cold and damp today, and that's all I wanted, but it just won't catch.  Boo.

8.  Any suggestions on Christmas presents for in-laws?  I'd appreciate it greatly.  They don't want anything, but that doesn't fly with me.  Again, leave me a comment.  I need help.

9.  I don't understand people who use twitter and constantly tweet about their driving situation.  It's obvious that you're texting and driving.  Please stop. 

10.  I just finished Mindy Kaling's new book, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?  It's a good, easy, mindless read.  It makes me want her to be my best friend.  I'm now moving on to the Jack Cristil book that I bought my husband for his birthday.  It's okay to use your husband's birthday present before he does, right?

11.  I am blown away by the number of former students of mine who do nothing but complain about how they can't wait to get out of college, go home, etc.  I think all of those kids should be immediately thrown into a 2-3 wk. trial situation in which their job is awful, they have to pay a mortgage, and a child they're in charge of is sick.  I think they'd learn to appreciate each phase of their life rather than rushing through everything.  (And don't misinterpret me here--I love my life right now.  I also really loved college.  Just ask my parents.) 

12.  I also believe that men should have to be pregnant for 4 wks.--2 wks. at the beginning of pregnancy when you throw up everything all day long, and 2 wks. at the end when you can't get up without a crane, can't sleep because of the pressure on your lungs, have horrible indigestion, and have to get up 3-4 times a night to go to the bathroom because your baby is doing an Irish jig on your bladder.  I won't make them go through labor and delivery because let's face it, they couldn't handle it. 

Writing a blog post in list form is infinitely easier than trying to make sure my paragraphs flow.  Maybe I should quit being so anal and just do it this way all the time. 

Panic...

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. 

Wal-mart fan...

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.

Tyrannical toddler...

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. 

Zookeeper...

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.)