Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Attached Parenting

If you google "attachment parenting", you'll get results about a fairly granola crunchy child raising philosophy, that has key points like wearing your baby in sling until they're 3, nursing until they're 6, and doing elimination communication (that would be holding them over a bowl to pee instead of sticking them in a diaper) from infancy.

(Not to mention some strong views on male genitalia......)

I find some of it interesting, some of it slightly influential to how I parent, and some of it down right crazy.

But it's the name that really sticks out to me.

For regardless of what the official definition for it is, I would like to boldly declare that I am an attached parent.

I am attached to my little girls.

And not just the normal (although really, what is normal but an average of unnormal) amount.

No, I am attached them every bit as much as they are attached to me.

Adrianna wants to be right next to me at all times.

And you know what? I want to be right next to her at all times too.

Kristina wants to talk to me about anything and everything all of the time.

And I want to hear about her little world in every vivid detail.

(It truly is remarkable what comes out of her mouth. Hearing how she thinks is just a fascinating trip.... and almost like tripping on acid, some days.......)

Now, there are certainly moments when this just isn't practical since life goes on beyond them, and there are very real times where I really do need to talk to someone on the phone instead of to Kristina.

Or like when I need to pee and don't want to spend my entire potty time attempting to keep little exploring hands out of the toilet, off of the plunger, and from throwing the contents of my makeup case all over the bathroom.

(I know, this one is incredibly selfish of me, and most of the time I don't get it regardless of whether I want it or not, but I am only human.... and can't help but dream.........)

And I know the girls need time away from me.

They need time and opportunity to form bonds and independent relationships with other caring adults.

They need to learn that it's ok for mommy to leave for a little while, and to be confident that she will always come back.

They need experiences  beyond what I can personally give them.

And I know I need time away from them too.

To keep from suffering babyburnout.

To have the occasional moment of true alone time.

To attempt to get a fraction checked off of the never ending list of things I can't (or are extremely difficult to) do with the girls along for the ride.

So we do spend time apart. And are all better for it.

But that doesn't make me any less attached to them, or want to be with them any less.

My arms feel empty without someone to hold.

My meanderings through Target feel lonely without someone to talk to.

My heart feels empty without a little soul (or two) to pour love into.

And my head feels bored without anything demanding my constant attention.

I don't want to leave my children any more than they don't want to leave me.

And I think that's ok.

Because it's working pretty well for us.

And that's all that really matters.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Playing Pricesses

While we've been visiting the relatives for the holiday, Kristina has particularly enjoyed playing with her second cousin Grace.

They got to do sleepovers together in Grace's room, which would be a first for Kristina, and then were absolutely delighted to have each other to awaken with giggles at the crack of down.

(While their mommies attempted to deny it being morning time, before staggering around much like zombies while looking for something caffeinated).

They enjoyed chasing each other around screaming and pretending various people were monsters (thanks for really encouraging that, Uncle Jamie) on Thanksgiving.

(Yeah, almost exactly like that video, but with TWO of them.....)

And I will confess, seeing them really playing together fills me with great hope for what our house will be like in another year or two, since their age difference is just a touch more than Kristina and Adrianna.

(The "great playmate" part, not necessarily the stereo screaming.)

Of course, it also means I have been quite busy playing princesses and going to see Tangled rather than doing boring things like blogging.

But who could resist playtime as fun as this?!

My apologies for the low resolution on the picture, my camera was in hiding right then so this adorableness was captured via cellphone.

Sunday, November 28, 2010


During a period of after-eating-turkey-but-before-eating-pie time on Thanksgiving, the energetic and motivated people went for the traditional after-eating-turkey-but-before-eating-pie Thanksgiving day walk.

And a select few of us, those on medical profiles and those who are lazy wanting to keep them company, hung out for some down time and relaxing conversation.

Guess which group I was in?

Yep.... lazy.

What can I say, there's only so much energy one can muster in a day, and I need all I can get for child management.

(And I needed to go sneak into the chocolate chips once the kitchen was vacated.)

((Really random side note: the first couple of times we visited Peter's Aunt Leslie and Uncle Luther (also the hosts of Thanksgiving) I was unaware that the bread box actually contained quite the worthy supply of chocolate at all times, and I was positively ecstatic the day I went looking for something of the bagel variety and happened upon it.))

And while we were hanging out in diminished numbers, Peter's cousin Ben (also the child of Aunt Leslie and Uncle Luther) made mention of resources.

Most notably, how things like time and personal stress are resources one has, and can sometimes be worth quite a bit of monetary value.

It is an excellent concept, and one I very much employ regularly.

(It is even possible that Ben was the one who originally mentioned it to me years ago, although I sadly do not recall right now when my thinking became such. Perhaps it was subconsciously infiltrated through other Ben-filled conversations.....)

Like on the day before I drove down to DC.

Peter's friend Adam came out to visit him over the holiday, and the original plan had been for Peter to go down to the airport (hour and half drive, each way) to go pick him up.

Now we all knew that this would be during a work day, but Peter felt quite confident in his ability to get off of work (apparently it was a very light work week) to go pick him up.

And then our basement flooded with shit sewage.

And Peter took off most of the day on Monday to help get everything sorted out, and was leaving early on Tuesday to be there when the cleaners were scheduled to come.

Which meant he couldn't also take the 4 hours to go get his friend Tuesday morning, since his job did expect him to show up a little bit at least.

So there was lots of deliberation and stress as to what was to be done with Adam, and how to get him from the airport to our house and all, and of course nobody has a nice chunk of extra cash for a rental car and there isn't much options for decent busing or shuttles and nobody knows what to do....

Except to have me go get him.

Now, please also note that I had originally been planning to leave for my Thanksgiving trip either Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning, and had gone through this whole cycle of originally thinking I wouldn't be able to go because of the basement flooding and then being so excited when everything actually got worked out quickly and Peter was able to handle all the remaining details so I could still leave pretty much as planned.

And I just wasn't real excited about the prospect of spending 3-4 hours driving, with the girls in the backseat, to then turn around and spend another 8 hours driving with them either that afternoon or the next day.

(And by "not real excited" I totally mean not wanting to. At all. For anything.)

Buuuut, I also didn't want to cause a big rift between Peter and I (for either flat out refusing to get his friend, or for doing so but being resentful of it). And admittedly, Adam really did need a way to get from the airport to our house.

So I called up a guy who does his own little taxi service that I found on the internet and asked if he would do it and if I could prepay with a credit card over the phone.

He was more than happy to oblige.

And it was totally worth what he charged.

To me.

Right then. 

To avoid the added stress, and time, and child chaos, and to be able to go on vacation as planned.

(And to get out of that reeking house for a few days (and even better, to a place filled with child watchers, food I don't have to cook, and loving hugs), with the promise of it not smelling wretched upon my return.)

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Distracted Driving

So I spent 11 hours in a car with my children driving for Thanksgiving.

And then a few days chilling with family.

And eating turkey.

And working on "sharing" with the horde of little children.

(And by horde I mean a total of five.)

((But they feel like much more of a huge horde than their numbers might entail. Did you see that video of Kristina running around in a circle screaming?? Yeah....)

And NOT writing blog posts.

And since I've run out of written-before-thanksgiving-travels ones, there may be few days of more "filler" stuff while we drive another 10 or 11 hours.

Big thanks to Lydia and Kate over at Rants from Mommyland for this awesome piece of photoshopped magic! I thought of it often while driving (and driving and driving and driving and driving). They are a little crazy and have hordes of children of their own, which they write about quite a bit. And they are probably writing blog posts through Thanksgiving, although I haven't had the 10 minutes to look at my normal blog publisher to tell you for sure, thanks to double trouble baby hands making grabs for the computer if it ever comes out.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Career Plan, Take 3

Life's a changing, and it's time for new master plan.

Particularly in the career category.... Career plan, take three!

(Or like, twelve, depending on how many years you want to go back here.)

Once upon a time, after scoring some seriously awesome numbers on the LSAT (law school admissions test) I had been planning on going to the University of Iowa School of Law for a JD after I finished my BA at Cornell.

And then somehow ended up pregnant and leaving the state a year later to follow a military husband around the US.

(Hey, life happens.)

Then I decided I was going to do this online Paralegal Masters Program from George Washington University.

And then I decided that my student helper person was a bitch and that I didn't want to go to the school after doing all the admissions stuff.

Then I decided to do the program anyways, and totally set it up to start the exact same time Adrianna was done baking.

(Brilliant plan there. You know, if I was trying to kill myself from sleep deprivation and unneeded stress.)

And now........

Well, it's actually been a bit of a pickle (which is a strange phrase, but as totally appropriate here as any strange phrase can be), since I am still kinda half enrolled at GW but have an outstanding account balance (don't ask, it's a whole long ranting story feature military bureaucracy pains and me being kinda lazy) which wont let me register for the upcoming semester of classes.

And I'm not really sure if I even want to continue in the program.

The semester I took really wasn't that great (for what we were learning, I totally aced the classes grade wise), online classes aren't my cup of tea (another strange but appropriate expression, to be sure), it's overpriced, and I'm still having issues with the administrative staff and thinking really bad things about them.

But I'm also pretty dang confident at this point that I really will want/need to have a Masters degree sometime here in the future for getting the level of job I want.

(And kinda wishing Cornell had been a big state school with a Masters program attached, because I totally would have just flowed into it had my student adviser been like "gee, instead of graduating early, why don't you just get your MA that last year instead.")

So I have come up with a plan.

A good plan, much better than the one about doing school and having a baby at the same time which I did twice already.

(Just to be thoroughly convinced of how truly bad of a plan it was.)

So here are the steps to my new and improved career plan:
  • Get nice little law office job in Colorado doing administrative stuff.
  • Rent nice little place conveniently located to job.
  • Take Paralegal Certification exam.
    • I'm a little confused on this since it's a vague and complicated subject, but I think I might actually be completely qualified to take the exam right now without any additional work time or course work.
  • Advance in office responsibilities.
  • Get raises for superawesomeness.
  • Make savings.
  • Enroll baby in Kindergarten.
  • Get MBA (or equivalent) from CU.
  • Get really awesome job with really awesome (read: possibly even useful) degree.
  • Buy really nice residence with awesome job salary and stability.
  • Buy really nice new car to put in new garage.
  • Celebrate success with chocolate cake and confetti.
(At which point I will probably be crazy enough to think that having another baby sounds just awesome right then, which will cause all sorts of additional upheaval and concerns that I will sort out when I'm much older more mature and informed on how the hell to do life.) 

See, it's a pretty good plan.

Stuff to work for and goals to have, while still being plausibly attainable and a good base for the presently unknown potential future endeavors. 

And total proof that I can actually make long term plans and like, think about the future in a reasonable, rational and constructive manner.

(Just don't ask about the first dozen rough drafts of this.....)

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Turkey Day

Turkey turkey turkey turkey.

Turkey day, occasionally referred to as "Thanksgiving", is one of those really great holiday's which is entirely centered around food.

Well, I suppose there's some family pretense thing invovled too.

And some people probably have traditions with things like footballs games and parades.

But lets face it, it's all about the turkey.

Mmmmm.... turkey.......

And maybe the pie... yummy, yummy pie........


The girls and I will be eating said important turkey (and pie) with a whole bunch of Peter's extended family while Peter gets to stay home and work (but don't feel too bad for him, one of his buddies from college is coming out for a visit and I'm sure they'll have plenty of fun drinking beer, playing D&D, and watching football together), so I'm sure it'll be something like the video below, but about 10 times MORE.

And with a TURKEY on the table!

And perhaps even while wearing pants!


Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Adrianna Crawling

The promised video of Adrianna learning to crawl, only getting around to posting a few months late and after she already started to walk.

Yep, her mommy is a total slacker on sharing this uber adorableness with the world.

Good thing she'll make up for it by sharing TWO videos of (essentially) the same thing.


Official stuff: these would have been taken right at the end of August 2010 (putting Adrianna at 7 and half months old in them) while we were visiting my folks, before Adrianna had figured out how to do a normal crawl, and generally tried to avoid personal movement (besides being walked around with hands) in general since she had Mommy so well trained to pick her up at her every squeak, which is why she was being bribed to move for the videos with the baby monitor.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Learning Science: Gravity

One of the really fascinating parts of being a parent is that your child begins this spongy blob, and you get to fill it up with all it's information.

Whatever information you want, even.

(Yes, you could totally spend the first two years of your baby's life calling the fridge a coffee pot and the couch a sunflower and the little booger would forever want to say "sunflower" when looking for a place to sit in the living room.)

Sure, there's a strong biological drive to do things like move, and a baby would eventually figure out how to crawl and/or walk all on their own without any help from you at all, other than needing to occasionally put them down on the floor.

But other subjects are a little more debatable how much a child will learn whether or not you want them too or try to help them or even try to deter them.

I think potty training is one, where the when and the how (like, how much effort is exerted on the part of the parent) varies substantially between families and cultures and history and classes, and yet just about all kids manage to be at about the same toileting level by the time they get into Kindergarten.

Reading is another example, where there's actually a (admitedly slightly out there) branch of schooling, usually seen as a part of the Unschooling parenting philosophy, that assumes a child eventually will just learn to read on their own with exceptionally minimal parental involvement. 

The late bloomers on that approach appear to pick be picking it up by the time they're 11 or so, so I guess the idea of it happening eventually does hold true.

(We won't be discussing how that could potentially cause a few academic problems shortly down the road right now, but it certainly could be examined with some depth and scrutiny.)

The Waldorf approach to schooling also delays formal teaching of reading until the 3rd grade (I believe, although any Waldorf followers feel free to correct me on that number), and instead teaches the children multiple musical instruments and heavily emphasizes art, gardening, and creative play.

However, there are some things your children WILL learn about, whether you teach them or not.

And one of the first and biggest of those is gravity.

Adrianna is quite fascinated by gravity and the social play she can initiate with it these days.

(Any else one ever play the dropsy game CONSTANTLY for two weeks running?? At the house, in the car, at the grocery store, walking through the parking lot....yeah......)

And Kristina is not beyond the occasional gravity refresher lesson.

Like last week, when she went bowling for the first time.

And picked up the heaviest ball there (instead of the itty bitty 6 pounder she'd been using the previous two rounds), and then promptly dropped it on her big toe.

Yep, what a nice, lasting lesson in gravity and it's strong pull on heavy objects.

Also, an excellent way to terrify your child of bowling for the rest of their life.

(And no worries, her toe appears to be just fine with no lasting ill effects beyond the impacted ear drums of everyone within a 10 foot radius of her when it hit.)

Monday, November 22, 2010

Pooping Cows

There was one little detail of our great pumpkin patch picking and farm visiting adventure that I forgot to mention.

Mostly because I didn't manage to get a picture of it.

And because I'm trying to keep the blog a little classy.

(Most of the time.....)

But while we were on our grand tractor hayride to feed the pigs and cows, we got to see something of great excitement to all the small people on board. 

This was a grand event, one that every child greats with excited squeals of equal delight and disgust, and one that every parent really wishes they could avoid.

That's right. 

We got to watch a cow poop.

Kristina, along with every other child there, was very excited to witness this spectacular spectacle. 

However, at the time I didn't think it made that much of a lasting impression. I mean, she was also excited about feeding the llamas and petting the ponies and holding the kitten and chasing the goats. Mommybrain can totally override those in her memory banks for the really cool parts of the farm, right?

Yeah, right........

So the other day Kristina was looking through some pictures books and excitedly exclaimed "Look Mommy! The cow is pooping!"

(I cannot begin to convey the emphasis a young child likes to place on words like "poop" merely through text. But trust me, it is, by far, the most pronounced and overly emphasized word of the entire sentence. And often shouted at top volume. Especially when in public or having guests over.)

I rush over to see what she's looking at, and after a careful check (hey, you never know what those artists might stick in) authoritatively inform her that the cow is, in fact, not pooping. 

"Yes it is! The poops are right there!"

I look at the book again, with careful consideration to where she is pointing.

"Wha.... oh! No sweetheart, those are called udders."

"The cow's pooping from it's umders?"

"No no, the udders are where the milk comes from. Like when Adrianna nurses on mommy's breast."

"Oooooh! The cow's pooping from it's breasts!"

"Um... no. See, the cow would poop, if it were pooping, which it's not, from it's bottom, just like you do. And the udders are where the cow's milk comes from for the baby cows."

"Oh.... [disappointed tone] the cow's not pooping?"

"No sweetie, the cow's not pooping."

The "pooping cow" illustration is from Click, Click, Moo: Cows That Type by Doreen Cronin and Betsy Lewin, and is a very cute picture book (about cows bartering with the farmer for electric blankets since the barn is cold) which I'd highly recommend to any who haven't seen it before. Even if it has a few udderly confusing cow illustrations.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Don't Take My Picture

Wouldn't a video of Kristina happily singing along to Raffi on her little Sesame Street CD player be the sweetest thing ever?

I sure think so.

Too bad Kristina didn't.


Saturday, November 20, 2010

How To Show Your House

  1. Receive phone call from secretary at Realtor's office on cell phone during child's gymnastics class.
  2. Have them say they're "just confirming the showing today at noon."
  3. Respond oh so eloquently with a stammered "who huh wha uh?"
  4. Look at clock saying 11:13 while secretary reiterates about another agent wanting to show the house today at noon. 
  5. Think about the state of the house when you left this morning.
  6. Cringe particularly hard about the dried spaghetti on the floor from last night you hadn't gotten around to sweeping up yet.
  7. Ponder whether there is any humanly possible way you could make it home in less than the usual 35 minutes drive time.
  8. Add in time for wrangling children.
  9. Decide that it would be physically impossible for you to get back to the house before noon, much less clean it.
  10. Flat out tell them "No, they cannot show the house at noon today."
  11. Recall that you really do want to sell the house.
  12. Recall that the house will be much harder to sell if people don't come see it. 
  13. Add, as an apologetic afterthought, "can they show it later?"
  14. Secretary says they will check and call you back. 
  15. Call husband in equal parts ready to kill him if he didn't tell you about someone scheduling a showing and general panic. 
  16. Husband swears no-one had told him about showing the house today either.
  17. Adds that that's why he told them to call you. 
  18. Before you can ask whether he can leave work and drive home right then and help you clean, get call back from secretary. 
  19. Secretary says they can do it between 1 and 2pm instead. 
  20. Look at clock saying 11:14.
  21. Look at gymnastics class getting their end of class stickers. 
  22. Tell secretary ok. 
  23. Frantically start redressing child and getting coats and hats on baby, child, and self. 
  24. Deal with child's tantrum about teeny tiny cheap sticker falling off and getting lost during the dressing process. 
  25. Hustle motley crew outside and into car.
  26. Deal with child's tantrum about suddenly being unable to climb into car seat herself.
  27. Hastily load and buckle both children, grumbling to self about spoiled 3 year olds and over indulging mothers doing crappy parenting just to save a 5 minute argument in the parking lot.
  28. Drive through mid-day traffic.
  29. Confirm hypothesis that the drive simply cannot be made in much less than 35 minutes without some highly illegal and unsafe driving measures. 
  30. Only speed a little bit.
  31. Think through brilliant frantic cleaning plan of how you're going to make the house look shiny in 45 minutes.
  32. Gloss over the detail that your "brilliant frantic cleaning plan" requires your children to be sitting quietly on the couch the whole time.
  33. Arrive at house at 12:02. 
  34. Get children inside and striped of outer clothing. 
  35. Put on Sesame Street.
  36. Ignore demands for lunch and nap right then.
  37. Frantically start clearing off the general floor covering of misc. toys, small pink socks, and half eaten crackers.
  38. Attempt to pacify squawking children by grabbing first child-appealing thing you see in the pantry, package of M&M cookies, and hand to child with orders of "share with your sister".
  39. Ignore guilt of handing your children cookies instead of lunch. 
  40. Give thanks for having loaded and ran the dishwasher that morning.
  41. Decide there isn't time to empty and reload dishwasher.
  42. Shove the few misc. dirty dishes you find around the house into a plastic bag alongside two dirty bibs which you then hide inside of the trash can.
  43. Briefly consider whether that's the most pathetic thing you've ever done cleaning wise. 
  44. Or perhaps the most brilliant??
  45. Shove laundry baskets of clean clothes waiting to be put away into closet.
  46. See that it makes closet look overflowing.
  47. Mentally say "fuck it" for closets being expansive looking and spacious, they're puny and patheticly small anyways, laundry baskets don't make them look THAT much worse.
  48. Vacuum faster than you have vacuumed before in your life. 
  49. Notice a really bad smell coming from vacuum cleaner. 
  50. Pray it will keep sucking up dirt at least until you've done the girls' room and cat hair filled hallway.
  51. Hope the burned motor smell dissipates before they show up. 
  52. Hang up towels in upstairs bathroom and check to make sure toilet was flushed.
  53. Notice bottle of shampoo spilled all over rug after bathtime last night, making it have squishy squelchy sounds when walked on.
  54. Hope people looking at the house don't notice too.
  55. Stash trash and empty glasses that were on nightstand in drawers.
  56. Toss comforter on bed and call it made.
  57. Decide upstairs is good to go. 
  58. Carry vacuum downstairs.
  59. Ignore pathetically whining baby wanting nap and trying to cling to leg. 
  60. Stick baby in toy room.
  61. Feel horrible as baby cries when you walk away to go tackle the downstairs bathroom.
  62. Pick up all the bottles the baby likes to knock over and carry off, and neatly place on under sink shelf.
  63. Find dirty pajamas behind door.
  64. Sprint upstairs and shove into nearest available dresser drawer.
  65. Sprint back downstairs and return to bathroom.
  66. Find baby knocking down all the bottles you just stood up. 
  67. Exclaim "NOOOOOO" a little too loudly.
  68. Scare baby.
  69. Baby starts sobbing.
  70. Feel even more horrible for your last hour of neglectful parenting.
  71. Put pacifier in baby's mouth and put baby in living room.
  72. Order child to give baby a hug as baby starts crying again when you leave room.
  73. Wipe down bathroom at inhuman pace.
  74. Start to run down to basement to turn on lights.
  75. Nearly kill self on uneven stairs.
  76. Decide walking down uneven basement stairs is good.
  77. Discover
    1. Basement is incredibly humid and unusually smelly.
    2. Far side of basement floor has an inch of water on it for the third time since you've lived here.
    3. Sump pump which is supposed to "take care of that" hasn't kicked on.
  78. Boldly decide you have no idea how to possibly make the sump pump work again, much less have 10 minutes to spend futsing around with it or trying to mop up water.
  79. Hope they don't notice as you rush back up uneven basement stairs.
  80. Frantically vacuum up dried playdough in toyroom, ignoring increasingly bad burning smell from vacuum.
  81. Attempt to further pacify tired, cranky, and crying baby by letting her play with the forbidden holy grail (only trumped by the camera): the telephone.
  82. Shove all pictures books back onto bookcase, for once not caring AT ALL that they are not sorted by size.
  83. Ok, you still care a teensy bit, but certainly not enough to be bothered to sort them right then.
  84. Shove stuff sticking out from under the couch farther under it so it won't be seen.
  85. Wipe crumbs off of the coffee table with random pink sock that was on floor.
  86. Do the worst sweeping job of your life only attacking the big chunks of dried spaghetti and the like that you can see.
  87. Tell child to go get her shoes and coats for her and the baby.
  88. Clear off magazines on dining room table by adding them to horrifying pile of shit that has become your desk since piles are no longer allowed on kitchen counters.
  89. Pick up the toys your children got out in the 12 minutes since you last picked up all the toys. 
  90. Hear your child gleefully announce she has her rainboots on while holding up a too small pink fleece bunting for baby.
  91. Get children properly sorted into correct outerwear.
  92. Load kids into car and back into driveway at 12:53.
  93. Rush inside to return garage door opener
  94. Realize:
    1. You never turned on the rest of the lights.
    2. You never turned off Sesame Street.
    3. You never cleaned out the kitchen sink.
    4. You never took out the recycling.
  95. Move at (might I suggest) award worthy speeds.
  96. Return to surprisingly well behaved children patiently waiting in car.
  97. Back out of driveway at 12:58
  98. Drive to closest McDonalds.
  99. Realize you stopped breathing quite some time ago.
  100. Unload children at McDonalds and promptly order an hour and half late and totally not healthy lunch.
  101. Collapse.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Chomper Monster

The Chomper Monster is fairly small in size, but don't let that fool you.

Hiding inside it's chomp hole are the weapons of pain and destruction, which once unleashed bring about an irreconcilable sharp influence on the world to bend to the monster's whims.

The Chomper Monster knows no bounds or common human decency, and can strike out at any object at any time.

No finger is safe, no toe unheeded.

Crackers are quickly annihilated into nothing but a few crumbs, while cheese will be swiftly ripped into a few gruesome shreds.

Spoons, once lost into the chomp hole of the Chomper Monster, will become irretrievable, thanks to the monster's jaw grip of doom.

And just in case you're not properly horrified yet, briefly consider what the chomps could do to a much more tender and much more frequently inserted into the chomp hole than a finger part of the body.

And then imagine that poor, mauled chunk of human flesh being attached to you.

But it gets even more grisly.

The Chomper Monster will frequently start to make a horrible loud wailing noise, incessantly insisting that your flesh be offered up again and again to satisfy it's chomping appetite.

It's not a pretty picture.

You may want to remove all young children or easily upset people from the vacinty.

Brace yourselves.


There they are.

The arsenal of doom and destruction harbored inside the chomp hole of the Chomper Monster.

Do not be fooled by their size or lack of greater numbers, for they can bring about worlds of pain in a swift and well placed chomp.

And be sure to warn all others of this Chomper Monster epidemic.

It spreads much like Zombies (minus the dead part), slowly and without reason taking over one sweet adorable little baby at a time and turning them into...


Thursday, November 18, 2010

How Very Christian

How very Christian of you (serious or sarcastic), a Christian environment, a Christian woman seeking... 

These phrases irritate me to no end.

A facebook friend of mine had the following (ish....) as her status one Sunday a while back:

"Thank you to the two cars that blocked me in at church this morning so I had to wait 20 minutes before I could go home after the service, that was so very Christian of you."

......so very Christian of you.

Her status clearly demonstrates an example of church going Christians being self centered inconsiderate jerks.

At the same time, I would argue that I know many people who have only the loosest (if any) affiliations with Christianity who are also incredibly outstanding good moral individuals.

Not to mention other organizations and religions that teach very similar (if not the exact same) moral guidelines for living ones life, simply under a different name or with slightly different wording.

Anyone know what religion Gandhi is off the top of their head?

(A brief look at his ethnicity wouldn't hurt, either.)

How about the Boy Scouts of America?

Granted I was never a scout, but I'm pretty positive they are not a religiously affiliate organization. And they sure seem to emphasize that whole "good will towards others" thing (at least on their website and in stereotypical cartoons).

So why don't we say "how very Boy Scouting of you" when a stranger helps the little old lady cross the street?

Or how very Mick Foley it was of you to stick up against (gay) bullying?

(Ok ok, this one might not translate exactly into Christian, depending on what sect of Christianity we're talking about. But I liked it, and am going to go with the sect that emphasizes love and compassion for all, not the one that freaks out about crossing dressing 5 year olds at costume parties.)

What about how very Jewish Mommy of you to bring me dinner and clean my house while you were here with only a little guilt sprinkled on top?

Or how very Peace Corpsian for you to try to bring health aid to Turkmenistan.... or, um........ a hot meal and bar of soap the homeless guy sitting on the street corner?

But no, it's "how very Christian of you".

I really dislike how such a little phrase manages to judge all Christians and Christ affiliates as good in the same breathe as judging non-Christian as lacking of higher morals and goodness.

People are people.

Some people are good people who give a rats ass about things like helping others and there being some greater sense of right and wrong.

And some people are just kinda jerks.

Following or not following a specific religion doesn't magically change that.

Which is not to say that Christianity is in any way bad, or that it doesn't teach some good life principles, or that people aren't better people because of the Church's (I'm allowed to say that in reference to people beyond strict Catholics, right?) influence.

And many good things have been (and are being!) done under the label of Christian.

(Granted, so have many less than good or even bad things...)

((Peter's cousin LauraJean (and family) is doing missionary work in Nicaragua right now [see blog here], and in her going away sermon she mentioned how Christian ministry has sometimes been "you're hungry, here's a bible", which is both true and a little bit funny at the same time.))

But just because someone (thing, idea, etc.) is Christian does not mean they are automatically a morally better person (thing, idea, etc.), nor that someone (thing, idea, etc.) is automatically worse because they are not Christian.

Our society has that assumption wrong.

And that really bothers me.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Thankful Feather

Kristina's preschool sent home a homework assignment to write down on a construction paper turkey feather, as a family, what you are thankful for.

So, being the involved parent (with flashbacks to working in preschool environments with stickhead parents who wouldn't do classroom projects like this for me) I am, I set about asking Kristina what she was thankful for.

She gave a blank look.

I started giving specific suggestions.

"Are you thankful for Daddy being home?"

*Blank stare*

"Are you thankful for monkey blanket and bath baby?"


"Are you thankful for cookies?"

*Blinks twice*

I want cookies.

Are you thankful for them?

No. Can I have cookies now?

No. Do you know what being thankful means?

Can I have a cookie?

We don't have any right now.

Oh. I want chocolate chips instead.

Maybe later. Lets talk about being thankful first. 

Can I have chocolate chips?

No. Now to be thankful for something means-

PLEASE can I have chocolate chips now?

No. Something you're thankful for-

Can I have chocolate chips NOW?

No. We're discussing things you're thankful for.

I want chocolate chips. 

I know that. Chocolate chips would be something you're thankful for.

Noooooo, chocolate chips are for eating!




Ok. Lets go eat some chocolate chips.


So after that enlightening conversation I took great liberties and decided our family is thankful for baby sisters and chocolate.

And then Kristina decided to scribble on the feather a little, after she saw me writing on it with her crayons.

Yep, it's going to be an interesting thankful turkey display in her classroom.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

A Stick For Smiling Samurai

In addition to extensively studying Aikido at the Jade Tiger/Kojokan Dojo, I also participated in Shinkendo, the way of the sword.

Interestingly enough, I hardly ever held a sword during my time there despite many hours spent in sword class.

Instead, practice and all the preforming I ever did was done holding a stick.

A bokken, to be precise.

It is made of wood, although which kind I could not tell you now.

Mine is a little over three feet long, round, somewhere between an inch and two in diameter, and has sat in every bedroom closet I have had since leaving Iowa.

While living in Iowa and regularly practicing, it usually hung out in the living room or in my car so I wouldn't forget it.

(Or I was just to lazy to be bothered to doing anything along the lines of "putting it away" when I'd just be pulling it back out in another day or two anyways.)

When I pulled it out to take this picture, I surprised by how heavy it feels now. My muscles have turned shabby.

It has a very small little knot on one side, which always fit so perfectly into the space between my right index and middle finger (much like a pencil).

As a result of always holding it as though it had an upside and a down side, the down (would be the blade, if it were a sword) side has quite a legacy of marks on it.

Hunter used a bokken that was red, and I can still see the colored marks faintly from sparing with him standing out from the rest of the dents.

It has konji written on it, slightly faded in places now, and I never did know what it said exactly.

It still has the pink flower I drew on it in Sharpie the day I bought it all shiny and new, to mark it as mine and mine alone.

Of course, anyone who practiced much would know their bokken by feel and weight.

I remember borrowing Cassi's a time or two. Hers was too heavy, the diameter too big, the length too long, the tip too heavy. And completely on par with those used by most of the other guys there. Amanda was still using a kids bokken, a much smaller and lighter version. Hunter's was the wrong shape entirely, as it mimic a sword more than a stick.

And mine... well, other people said mine was too light for adult sparing or too small around for a good grip. And in all fairness it was one of the smallest adult bokkens available when I selected it.

But I have small hands, and think the girth of it is just perfect. I had undeveloped forearm muscles when it was chosen, and probably couldn't have wielded something much heavier with any precision or control at all.

I cannot begin to count the number of hours I spent holding this stick with my sweaty palms.

Practicing exercises and drills over and over and over again.

Sparing with the other students, cringing each time it was hit particularly hard, dreading the day it would explode into splinters.

Hitting myself in the head with it on more than a few occasions, and then somehow surprising everyone (myself very much included) by learning how to do stuff after all.

Learning exactly how to control it's every move, to be able to stop just short of whacking somebody over the head with it or to give a gentile "you're not blocking right" reminder tap on the knuckles.

(Man did I receive a lot of those taps....)

So my bokken continues to sit in my bedroom closet, alongside the sword and bo staff (and riding helmet and chaps, and dance pants and jazz shoes.....), waiting patiently for the days when it might get used again.

Until then, dear stick, sleep tight.

Monday, November 15, 2010

How To Attend A Birthday Party

  1. Receive text message from the birthday child's mama 1 week before party apologizing for not having gotten around to sending invitations yet and informing you of time and date of birthday party.
  2. Feel horribly guilty for having completely forgotten that it was the month of birthday child's birthday, despite having gone to their party last year.
  3. Write party down on master calender.
  4. Resolve to make up for guilt by getting birthday child a super awesome gift.
  5. Receive text message changing time/date of birthday party.
  6. Scribble a lot on calender and feel sad about un-neatness.
  7. Mutter curses about the calender not being a wet erase one like you had last year.
  8. Take your invited child to Target to pick out a gift for their buddy.
  9. Deal with your child's tantrum for you not being willing to buy birthday child:
    1. Remote control Bigfoot Monster.
    2. Guitar.
    3. Ride-on pink Barbie Jeep.
  10. Deal with your child's tantrum for not being willing to buy your child any one of their eight hundred personally desired toys.
  11. Decide to order a gift online that night and leave store.
  12. Deal with your child having another tantrum for unknown reasons.
  13. Take two Tylenol and snarff some stolen Halloween candy while telling your child you're going to the bathroom when you get home.
  14. Look at toys on Amazon that evening since it's the only place that'll deliver toys fast enough with free shipping.
  15. Decide that the Target knock-offs of Melissa&Doug wooden toys are THE way to go.
  16. Resolve to go back to Target tomorrow when your child is at preschool.
  17. Feel far to lazy to drive all the way out to Target again, go to much more convenient Walmart instead.
  18. Attempt to convince self that the toys sections are nearly almost the same anyways.
  19. Feel guilty about buying Walmart toys.
  20. Resolve to only buy something really nice that would also be at Target.
  21. Pretend you don't see baby destroying Walmart toy section while carefully browsing for perfect present.
  22. Select 4 or 5 reasonable choices.
  23. Over analyze every possible aspect of each toy, the child the toy is for, the family, the known toy arsenal the already have, your own child's personal likes and dislikes, and ask the opinion of the baby who shows preference by drooling on the packaging.
  24. Make your selection of the best toy for the total circumstance, taking into careful considerations personal details like the families impending move to another country and tendency to buy lots and lots and lots of toys from Walmart and Target already.
  25. Feel guilty that the selected toy was the smallest and cheapest of all considered.
  26. Look for something else to go with it.
  27. Deal with baby getting impatient and hungry by trying to stall with a stale and slightly dirty Teddygrahm found in coat pocket since diaper bag was left in the car as this was supposed to be a quick in and out stop.
  28. Decide that selected toy will have to do.
  29. Hightail it out of Walmart with loudly squawking baby and previously selected minimal birthday present.
  30. Carefully wrap present following night while procrastinating cleaning. 
  31. Realize you didn't get a card.
  32. Briefly consider getting one.
  33. Decide to write on package with Sharpie instead.
  34. End up at Target the next day for completely unrelated reasons.
  35. Attempt to not feel annoyed at self and to stand by original present choice.
  36. Forget about getting a card until driving home.
  37. Resolve that birthday cards are overrated.
  38. Put pretty hearts on names written on package in Sharpie to compensate.
  39. Almost forget about birthday party when making weekend plans. 
  40. Remember only because opened closet with wrapped package for unrelated reasons 12 hours before party.
  41. Feel dumb.
  42. Look up party location.
  43. Realize that it's at a no joke roller rink.
  44. Ponder whether a bunch of three year olds wearing roller skates will be awesome, awful, or maybe just hilarious.
  45. Have flash back to attending a roller rink birthday party when 7 and it sucking.
  46. Recall last time you were on roller skates.
  47. Shudder.
  48. Convince husband that he must go with you so you can spend the whole time NOT roller skating.
  49. Develop great plan to pretend to be very busy holding the baby as reason, case, and point for not skating.
  50. Have husband ditch out at the last minute for "work stuff".
  51. Take your super hyped up child and baby to party.
  52. Deal with tantrum en route about why they can't open the wrapped present in the car.
  53. Convince your child to hand over present to birthday child.
  54. Spend first 45 minutes of party convincing your child to put on roller skates.
  55. Child barters that you must also wear roller skates.
  56. Watch your child fall down.
  57. Try to hide laughter.
  58. Regret not holding the camera right then.
  59. Attempt to roller skate with your child.
  60. Decide roller skating isn't as bad as previously anticipated.
  61. Take your roller skate wearing self and child to restroom.
  62. Fall down a lot together.
  63. Learn valuable lessons about bathroom floors, pants, and roller skates. 
  64. Show your child your killer roller skating dance moves.
  65. Stop self from falling as result of cool dancing by running into a wall.
  66. Decide roller dancing is overrated.
  67. Try to take your child onto actual skating floor.
  68. Deal with tantrum over not wanting to go on skating floor.
  69. Convince self that this is good bonding time, not torture.
  70. Attempt to distract child by initiating play with friends.
  71. Watch child cutely skate off holding hand of little boy.
  72. Decide with boy's mama that your children should be betrothed.
  73. Spend the rest of the party referring to them as their boyfriend/girlfriend with other mama.
  74. Ignore weird looks received for this behavior from said children.
  75. Get child excited about presents and cake time.
  76. Say a small prayer of gratitude that for once it wasn't your child loudly announcing the need to pee during the happy birthday song.
  77. Eat cake.
  78. Make mental note that your child views the pink frosting as far superior to the purple.
  79. Receive phone call from husband about Realtor showing the house right then.
  80. Have minor panic attack about having left the house kinda messy.
  81. Only half believe husband when he says he got it all picked up.
  82. Eat more cake.
  83. Deal with your child having a tantrum since the presents aren't for them.
  84. Develop deeply harbored fear of baby's upcoming first birthday. 
  85. Watch your child and birthday child share "lipstick" (aka Hello Kitty chapstick).
  86. Recall that your child is on day 8 of antibiotics for strep.
  87. Hope your child didn't just give birthday child strep.
  88. Deal with your child having a tantrum about taking roller skates off.
  89. Bid birthday child goodbye and happy birthday.
  90. Go home to immaculately clean house.
  91. Thank husband profusely.
  92. Spend rest of the afternoon watching movies with two tired children.
  93. Have early bedtime.
  94. Spend evening soaking sore leg muscles in hot bath.
  95. Decide roller skating counts as workout for the week.
  96. Eat leftover chocolate cupcakes as reward.
  97. Blog about birthday party.
  98. Sleep.
  99. Wake up the next morning feeling like your whole body was run through a meat tenderizer. 
  100. Decide it's a good thing birthdays only come once per year.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Hero Business

As usual, the hero business is up to me.

Lets see, first up I would need a seriously kickbutt supersuit.... I'm thinking something along the lines of this Ms. Captain America, cute, classic, covers the midriff, and you simply can't go wrong with the patriotic color scheme.

(Unless of course, there was one in pink.)

((Why are there no pink girl superheros?? Serious oversight here people!))

But it could be enhanced with some practical leggings layered underneath (do you KNOW what superheros do? I do not need to be super flashing everyone and their mother while super scaling buildings and the super like.) and more sensible non-hooker-heels footwear.

And why is there an optional shield accessory and not an equally coordinating sword? A lady much be well coordinated in all accessories.... perhaps a blue light saber would be a good choice?

(Completely unrelated, but did you see they have saber practice bokkens? BOKKENS! Why did we not have these when I was dojoing all the time? Freaking AWESOME!)

Then there's mode of transportation to be considered. The batmobile is truly the classic, but a James Bond Aston Martin would be more modern and have a higher sex appeal.

Of course, why settle for a car when one could have a Millennium Falcon.
(Confession: I couldn't remember the name of the Millennium Falcon (Han Solo ship) and had to ask Peter. He threatened disownment. I suggested some dvd collection expansion. Deliberations continue....)

And we can't forget about a sidekick.

I'm thinking something a little over 6 feet and hunky. Perhaps a cross between Hugh Jackman's Wolverine and Jonathan Frake's Commander Riker....?

Oh wait, I almost I forgot. A superhero's gotta have a name. Hmmm...... any recognition for Heroic Hildegard in the crowd?

She did some pretty progressive stuff in music (you know, for the 11th century), but doesn't score overly high on the "cool name chart".

What about the Fabulous Fontanta? Or the Honorable Hemessen

Alright, so the name might need some work still (and perhaps inspiration beyond Renaissance artists) but besides that we're pretty well set here to go do some hero business.

Yep, it'll be good times being a superhero.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

The Idiocies of Paperwork

When I was filling out the spiffy online-that'll-fill-in-the-blanks-for-you-to-print form for Adrianna's passport, I cam across this menu.

Height? Yeah, see, about that... Not only will she be at least an inch taller by the time this thing gets processed, but um.. I feel really stupid putting in something of 1 foot...

And hair? Ha! We've talked about hair! Why is there not a bald category? I can think of other individuals who would also be of need of this (like old men, cancer patients, and those who find the smooth roundness aesthetically preferable). And what about the detail like I'm not entirely sure what color her (hypothetical) hair will (hypothetically) be? Oye.... fine, I'll just put brown.

And eyes?! Well, right hers are kinda a blueish greenish ever so slightly hazely color.... which has also been changing since the day she was born, and will probably continue to do so for another few months at least. Alright, we'll just go with hazel, and not worry whether they'll really be more blue than green or brown or maybe they'll just fall out of her head entirely........

I had to fill out similar information when I registered her with the military right after she was born.

(Much like registering a car.....)

And it asked for this little newborn baby's height, weight, eye and hair colors.

And I felt ridiculously stupid  putting down her weight of a generously estimated 8 pounds.

Ah well, at least she had a little bit of hair then.....

Friday, November 12, 2010

Adrianna's First Steps

Adrianna is officially walking.

And I totally plagerized her "first steps" video.

Well, that might be a bit harsh of a word.... I selectively re-shot her first steps video so it wouldn't suck would be perfect to watch for the next 30 years or so.

See, first up she started to walk much like she started to crawl.... in these little, only half way doing it sort of ways.

(SOMEONE please incessantly nag remind me to put up the video of her "crawling" which I've been meaning to do for two months....)

She's been taking a few steps between stationary objects and me for quite some time.

And she's mastered being walked around the house by Kristina, which I don't think would be successful without her being fairly stable footing wise.

However today was different.

She crawled over to the bookcase in her (and Kristina's) bedroom, pulled herself upright, and just took off toddling.

(While giggling.)

And it totally didn't even occur to me to try and video tape it (I was frantically trying to get the room cleaned up for a house showing tomorrow) until after she'd been prancing all around the room for 5 minutes.

And then, because it was just me and her, I had to go stick her on the other side of the room, run back over to the camera, pick it up and get it focused and recording....

All before she started sprinting after me.

(Yes, little babies can sprint, but only when you want them to toddle slowly.)

So needless to say, the first half dozen attempts didn't amount to much worth mentioning.

But I'll mention them anyways.

I didn't even get the camera on and recording before she got over to me the first few times. And then the camera decided it didn't want to focus, on top of Adrianna already being halfway across the room when I managed to push play. Then she fell down a couple of a times on the second step or so, and then there was one where she walked to the middle of the room, walked around in a circle, and headed back over to the bookcase.... at which point I went to stop recording to discover I hadn't ever managed to start.

BUT, through some persistence and selective re-filming, we did manage to capture a simply adorable and perfect "Adrianna's first steps" video.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Veteran's Day

The only reason Veteran's Day ever stood out to me beyond Columbus Day or President's Day (etc.) was because the marching band got out of class during the middle of the day to go march in the Veteran's Day parade.

Getting out of class was a big deal, and I was geeky enough to actually think doing a parade was a lot of fun (not to mention the 95% of my friends being in band part....), so all in all Veteran's Day seemed pretty spiffy.

But that doesn't mean I had any clue as to what it was or the meaning behind it.

The parade, and our thank-you-for-doing-the-parade lunch afterwards, was put on by the VFW.

Most of whom were vets from WWII.

Which means they were all really old men with hearing aids.

So, having only the very vaguest knowledge of the military (really now, I didn't even understand what a Marine was until after Peter signed up to be one...), I assumed that a Veteran would be an old guy, with stories of fighting back in the days covered in our American History class.

(Incidentally, our 90 year old mostly deaf neighbor would be a prime example of this sort of person.)

And then the world changed a little bit, and my knowledge of stuff in the world changed a little bit, and my understanding of that stuff changed a little bit....

And somehow I ended up marrying a Veteran, who was the ripe old age of 23.

So, what is a Veteran?

Well, it's someone who has contributed to extraordinary things while being a very ordinary person.

It's someone who may disagree with what you say but is willing to die defending your right to say it.

It's someone who committed themselves to serving their country, and stood behind that commitment with pride and a sense of duty.

It's someone who has made (and is making) this country the land of America which we know.

And it's someone who fully deserves an annual free meal from Applebees and a few random stranger thank-yous.

So, dear husband, please enjoy your free meal, and thank you for serving our country.

It wouldn't be America without you.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Adventures in Cupcaking

When we were at the grocery store a few weeks back, Kristina asked to get a box of (cup)cake mix after spying them while I was selecting our weekly haul of chocolate chips.

(It's an involved process, taking several minutes of serious pondering to properly select appropriate quantities of adequate quality at minimal cost with current availability.)

And me being the cupcake loving indulging mother I am, I of course helped her pick out a delicious looking box and coordinating thing of chocolate frosting.

And then we finally got around to making them last weekend.


Peter asked what we had made them for.

Pssh, you don't need a reason to make cupcakes in this house!

However, Kristina also seemed to think that there should be a birthday (aka candled) occasion for cupcakes.

So we got out the ever coveted pink decorating sprinkles and the leftover box of candles from her birthday.

But there was one condition.

She had to sing happy birthday for me to video tape before she could blow it out.

(And eat it.)

And she chose to sing to her favortist cousin of all time: Quinn.

Luckily Quinn's birthday is next week anyways, so we're just sending her many happy birthday wishes a little early!

(And I'm thinking this may be the most adorable way to send happy birthday wishes long distance ever!)

And then of course, she greatly enjoyed the eating part.

When we make cupcakes, we make one sheet of mini ones and one sheet of regular sized ones, for the very scientific reason of us having one baking sheet for mini ones and one baking sheet for regular ones and a box of cake mix making two baking sheets worth of cupcakes.

And one of the little ones accidentally got beheaded when I was pulling it out of the pan.

Now, being the cupcake loving unwasteful person I am, I of course still saved it, since the chocolate goodness tastes just as good even if in smaller pieces.

Which lead to the most wonderful discovery of the best way to frost/eat cupcakes!

So good, in fact, that I had to go and recreate it just to photograph it for this blog.

(And then of course, eat it.)

((So in a week, when I'm whining about having gained 5 pounds and a pant size, you, dear readers, are to remind me of this post and kindly suggest that it just might be my own damn cupcake loving fault.))

Frosted cupcake sandwich with frosting on top.

Double the frosting, in a full cupcake surround sort of way.

Granted this wonderful creation would be easier to see if the frosting and cupcake were not both of the same chocolate flavor.

But really now, do you think we even make cupcakes of a different kind in this house?

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Disclaimer Auctions

Remember my whining about eBay buyers being a pain in the patootie?

Well, it sure explains the really weird disclaimers I have seen on some auctions, stating things like the family owns a dog, but that the dog does not wear the child's clothing, but they cannot guarantee beyond a sliver of a doubt that there will be no dog hair on the garment.

(Thank goodness I didn't get any buyers with a thing against cats!)

And I have decided that for all future child clothing auction listings I am going to include the following disclaimer:

This item was worn by a child.

Specifically, one or both of my children.

My children like to play with mud, run through puddles, roll in grass, and climb all over playgrounds and go down slides. My children regularly eat spaghetti and drink chocolate milk in very large quantities. My children enjoy coloring with crayons and markers and finger painting beautiful little masterpieces.

And most of the time they are wearing clothes for these activities.

I own and use a washing machine and a dryer for their clothes, along with the accompanying detergent and dryer sheets. These are pieces of clothing, they are not sacred museum artifacts or priceless collectibles.

So please, expect this item to have had grass stains on the knees and mud on the tush. Expect it to have had chocolate milk spilled down the front, and marker on the sleeves. Expect it to be a narrative of my children's lives, filled with all the things that make childhood wonderful, if a little messy.

Expect this item to be crap, and you will not be disappointed.

Why then am I trying to sell it on eBay? Well, because I don't actually think it's crap.

I do not list the shirts that were so horribly stained I couldn't bear to put her in them to go to preschool. I do not list the pants that have huge brown smears all over the behind from her sitting in a cowpie. I do not list the dresses that met an unfortunate fate with a pair of little pink scissors.

This was a high quality item when I bought it, and I think it is in good, clean, usable, sellable condition now.

I think another child could get 6 months of wear out of the item, and that another family could save a little money while still being able to get nice clothes for their princess (who, lets face it, will probably add her own stains soon enough anyways).

And I personally feel better about selling it, even if it's just for a few bucks, than simply giving away something that I both loved and over indulged in big time when purchasing in the first place.

So please, understand that you are bidding on used children's clothing, and try to keep realistic expectations of what you will be getting.

It will be good. But it will have been worn by a child.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Balding Alternatives

I've been keeping the blog going pretty good for a little while now, and am starting to notice some writing themes.

Like my whining about my baby not having particularly large quantities of hair.

Sorry about that, apparently I'm really rather obsessed with my little fuzzyhead and her fuzzyheadedness.

But never fear, for we are a family full of creativity and solutions for such (bald) states of (baby) being!

(Beyond bowbands with fake hair pigtails attached to them!)

((Or Rogaine for babies.))

We have talked extensively about bowbands in prior posts, but... well, they're just so cute!

Bowbands are AWESOME!
Old men could totally rock the bowband look.
And we cannot ignore the obvious solution of hats. Hats for warm weather, hats for cold weather, fashion forward hats. Yep, never can go wrong with a hat.

Good for beach.
And for sun.
And really good for keeping warm in snowstorms.
Pumpkins are fashionable, right?
The sombrero might be a little much...

Whose idea was this?
Never fear though, HOODS are always a good alternative!  

Stripes are nothing if not fashionable.
Yep, hoods are CUTE!
Especially if they come with ears! 

Babies do make adorable teddy bears.
Kristina, the good big sister she is, is always ready and willing to help.
Alphabet block hats, it'll be big.
Ok, some help is more appreciated than others.
 And lets not overlook a handy blanket.
Cozy AND fabulous.
Hmmm... what about borrowing mommy's hair?
Well, maybe not....
Umm... well........

Mama, you're just getting desperate now!

Alright alright, maybe we should embrace the bald head a little more, since any day now (.....I hope.....) it'll just be covered in hair for the rest of you life.


With a hat like this, who needs shoes?