Vote or Die

Ok, so if you don't vote you won't die but pretty-please-with-sugar-on-top tell which dress you think I should wear to the holiday party on Saturday.

No, I didn't suddenly bust out the old Visa card and go on a shopping spree; the daughter of a coworker is away at college and not only does the daughter have a penchant for buying fancy schmancy dresses and leaving them behind when she goes away to school, her mother has a penchant for ransacking her daughter's room and letting total and complete strangers borrow her clothes.

Whatever, I'll let them duke it out in family therapy 'cause mama has two dresses to choose from.

Please excuse my face and hair, I just got done roping cattle having the kids' Christmas portraits done.

I like the way the black one fits and hello, you can never go wrong with black, but the neckline is strikingly similar to the black dress I already own and have worn to the party for the past three years (and to every other event requiring me to get out of my work clothes or yoga pants) and I'd like to wear something different:



The green one is beautiful and flowy and it has color! OMG! I'm not wearing black! It is all feminine and I felt so beautiful in it but it is a little baggy on me and yes, I need to put a bra on the A-team. But saggy ta-ta's aside, what do you think?

I really, really favor the green one but I think I'm being swayed by the fact my coworker told me it is from Anthropologie and it cost $300.00. My car isn't even worth $300.00 and here I could step out on the town in a $300.00 dress from a store that, according to the beat on the street (read: all the other mama blogs that I read), is really hip and OMG! I could wear color.



VOTE!

Funny, true, and sad

The Boobs on a Plane story made me think of these:



(click to enlarge)

More "Boobs on a Plane"

File this under flight attendants who need a serious ass whooping:


That’s when Gillette noticed the lone flight attendant holding out a blanket, telling Gillette that she needed to cover up. “I was holding my shirt closed with one hand. There was literally not a bit of my breast exposed,” she says. “I was being as discreet as possible.” When Gillette refused, Gillette says the flight attendant responded; “You are offending me. You need to cover up.” Gillette refused again. Gillette says the flight attendant huffed off, and returned with a ticket agent, who told the family that they were being thrown off the plane. The stunned Gillettes gathered their things and started moving toward the door. “Gillette started quietly crying,” says Elizabeth Beopple, Gillette’s Vermont-based lawyer. “She was so humiliated. As they left the plane, the fight attendant was standing there, and Gillette said in tears, ‘Why are you doing this?’ ” According to the Gillettes, the flight attendant pointed to the door and said, “Get off the plane.” One of the copilots followed them out and apologetically explained that he could not overrule the flight attendant’s decision. “He said, ‘I’m so sorry. I have two children, and there’s nothing I can do about this…The same way that I have control over the cockpit, she has control over the passenger area.’”

Haters no more

The ultra-fantabulous, awesome, beautiful, best-holiday-dress-evah-that-I-can-afford arrived yesterday and apparently Forever 21 is not just a clever name because I could barely squeeze my birthing hips and post partum belly in the damn thing.

Now granted, the dress was a size medium so I could probably order the large and fit into it but sorry, I am a big fan vanity sizing and if I can find a dress in a smaller size that actually fits, then color me vain because I'm going to do it. When I was in Kansas City I almost bought a dress for the party off the sale rack at Ann Taylor that was a size 6 and still had plenty of room for the massive amounts of prime rib and wine I plan on consuming at the party. Now I'm kicking myself for not buying it. Not while wearing the dress, of course. I could barely breathe in the stupid thing much less kick my own ass.

Oh well, anyone know where I can find a Forever 41?

Click to enlarge (if you dare). The picture turned out blurry so apparently even the camera was afraid of focusing on me in skin-tight red!




Looking at the spawn one half of the guilty party responsible for my birthing hips and belly, therefore making me unable to shop at Forever 21!

BUSTED!!!

Months of myspace stalking have finally caught up with me!!! Who knew there was a way to track who views your page!?!

I mean, I know about site meters that tell the location and IP address of the visitor and myspace trackers that only work if the person you're tracking is also signed up for the tracking system but I'm not signed up for any tracking systems so I thought I was flying under the radar- leaving an IP address and location at best!

I was caught dork-handed:

"Do I know you? Just wondering if I know you or vice versa since you view my page often. Thanks."

The punchline? I don't know her! I just think she is interesting and has neat friends and takes cool pictures.

I've been called out as a myspace stalker. I feel so dirty. Ugh, I need a shower.

Holy shit I need a life.

Shopping

The husband had the day off today so we could go shopping!! Woo hoo!! I know this may seem like just an ordinary outing to some of you but considering we never go shopping and/or I'm always home alone with the kids on the weekends and rarely contemplate going shopping, never mind actually go shopping, this is big deal. To me anyway.

We bought outfits for the kids to wear for their Christmas portraits. Portraits for which I still need to make an appointment. Portraits that need to be taken, developed, picked up, and mailed out all within a week before 12/25.

Note to self: call portrait studio!!

For the Goose, we bought this dress. I think it looks nice online but it looks beautiful in real life. I got this shirt to wear under it. The dress hides the print so I'm glad we didn't have to get just an ordinary black shirt that she would probably never wear again to go under it. This way, she can rock the faux jewelry look.

The Gavinator got this shirt and he'll be wearing it with the black cords he wore in last year's portrait.

I know, the giys always get the shaft when it comes to fashion but there is so much cute stuff for girls and the boy stuff is "eh" at best. Unless I wanted him to dress up like an athlete or a lumberjack, the boys' department was slim pickings.

We also got them their Christmas pajamas since they were two for twenty: Gavin and Grace.

Not to be outdone, I bought something for myself!!! I bought jewelry to go with my holiday party dress. I got this (only in black... they are all out online and I got the last black necklace in the store... booyah) with matching earrings (they don't have any available online but they are a dangling hunk of one of the pieces of the necklace). My dress should be here tomorrow so I can see how they all look together. Since my dress is strapless and I'm boobless, I wanted something kind of chunky to draw attention up and away from the place where boobs should be.

Yes, yes, I know. Tis the season to give to others but I just needed to knock this out before I can start sending Old Navy gift cards out to all those on my holiday shopping list!

I like Old Navy. More than just a little.

Good times

I am having entirely too much fun with this.

Besides, you don't have to be a genius to know that:

3 Things Tagged

I've been tagged by Wendy! Thank goodness because I am so high on sausage and cheese dip that I'm afraid it may have clogged a main artery going to my brain and there was no way I was coming up with a post for today on my own!!!


1. 3 Things that scare me: something bad happening to my family, driving on ice, the movie Saw
2. 3 People who make me laugh: Paul F. Tompkins, Chris Kattan, Peggy
3. 3 Things I love: my family, dancing, WVU football
4. 3 Things I hate: the sound of gum being chewed loudly, folding laundry, driving in the slow lane
5. 3 Things I don’t understand: quantum physics, mean people, people who wear these all the time... argh, what is up with having a wireless phone attached to you ear? It is how I imagine people in the 50's must have thought we would look in the future.. only instead of those stupid thingy-ma-bobs attached to our ears just being a phone, they probably thought the only way we would wear crap like that would be if it cured cancer.
6. 3 Things on my desk: my drink, my phone, and tons of pictures
7. 3 Things I’m doing right now: blogging, drinking, eating cheese
8. 3 Things I want to do before I die: be a great-grandma, attend a taping of Saturday Night Live, see the pyramids.
9. 3 Things I can do: a time-step, calculate an ADA diet in under a minute, carry both kids while running.
10. 3 Things I can’t do: talk without stuttering, listen to music without dancing, see without contacts/glasses
11. 3 Things I think you should listen to: this, this, and this.
12. 3 Things you should never listen to: A-HAH! Trick question! If I link to it then you'll listen to it and you're not supposed to listen to it!! Well I'm not going to fall for it. Next question!
13. 3 Things I’d like to learn: Spanish, how to play the piano, how to poop potty train the Gavinator.
14. 3 Favorite foods: crab cakes, cheese fries, California rolls.
15. 3 Beverages I drink regularly: Diet Dr. Pepper, Coffee, water
16. 3 Shows I watched as a kid: Fraggle Rock, Great Space Coaster, American Bandstand.
17. 3 People I’m tagging: Dee, Kara, Amy

Give thanks

We don't travel on the holidays for several reasons. The main reason being a simple equation:

Traveling with kids + holiday traffic = hell on earth.

But I also don't travel on holidays because for 6 years in college and 3 years after I moved south, I spent the bulk of my holidays behind the wheel of a car and I've pretty much had enough. After Gavin was born, I declared that I was done with the road rage, toll booths, and inclement weather in the Virginia mountains and I was going to make my own family traditions in and around my own home and if my family wanted to be with me, they knew where I lived.

Needless to say, husband and kids aside, I haven't spent a holiday with my family since I declared my holidays travel free. I'm cool with that. I have an adoptive family here in the south: my neighbors. I have spent every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter with them for the past three years and I couldn't ask for better company. Friends, after all, are the family you get to choose.

This year, instead of Thanksgiving at my neighbor's house, we had Thanksgiving at her brother's house and it was fantastic. The food was fabulous, the wine flowed freely, and there was plenty to keep the kids occupied- namely the entire child proof-free home and a pool table. Grace also took a liking to a bowl full of nuts.

It was lovely. Simply lovely.

Child proof free home


Would it kill you to smile for a picture with your mama (by the way, note my newly colored hair... I'm thankful for it! Mostly because I did it myself and I'm glad it isn't orange and/or I'm not bald)


Nuts (gotta wait until you're two, baby girl)


Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!


She won (and dude will NOT stop bragging)


Sweet things


The pilgrims would have wanted it this way





On a much, much more serious note, someone I only briefly knew passed away this week. I still can't wrap my mind around it and the thought that someone I talked to one day being gone the next is not only far too much for me to comprehend, but also entirely too much for me- with my mediocre writing skills- to put into words.

He was only seventeen and the last words he spoke to me were "bless you".

I am blessed.

Hug your loved ones tight.

Cause Blue Eyes

See my Tabblo>

Frosted me

The kid in me says:

"Suh-weet!!!! Real World Denver premieres tonight! Bring on the Colie, Alex, and Jenn threesomes and the southern-born, Baptist-raised, not-quite-out-of-the-closet Davis!!!



The adult, working mom in my says:

"Holy crap. I don't think I can stay up until 10:30."

"Because mother nature made bottles for a reason"

HAH!!!!!

Nurse out

Yesterday, when I caught word of the the first national nurse-in" being held today, I immediately called the husband because not only does our town have Delta Connection, it is at the very same airport where he works!!!

Me- "Saddle up the troops, babe! We've got ourselves a nurse-in at Delta tomorrow!"

Him= "Oh lord."

Me- "Time to fight the powers that be!"

Him- "No. No way. Uh-uh."

Me- "But I've been practicing!!!"

Him- "Practicing?"

Me- "2, 4, 6, 8, we deserve to lactate!!!!"

Me- "And my favorite- We won't buckle, it's our child's right to suckle!!!!!"

Him- "Oh lord."


ETA: I was just joking about the whole wanting to go the nurse-in thing. Just not my bag, baby. Although the idea of nursing Grace and yelling words like "lactate" and "suckle" in the husband's place of work- and therefore embarrassing him beyond belief and setting him up for a lifetime of teasing by all his coworkers- almost makes me want to go. Almost.

Just Doing My Part

To make sure that I don't kicked off any airplanes AND to make sure that everyone who reads this blog knows I have something shoved up my behind:



Dude, what is up with my face??

But more importantly, what is what with that ultra cool green and white polka-dotted thingy I have tied around my neck? That, my friends, is a lila bean; a stylish cover-up for nursing moms. The Lactivist was so kind to share that the makers of lila bean were looking for bloggers who breastfeed to share their product with for FREE!!

Now I haven't been much for nursing covers in the past but seeing as how I know there is a positive correlation between an increase in Grace's age and an increase in disapproval of breastfeeding among the ignorant masses, I thought it was time to look into something that would allow for Grace to have continued access to the boobages anytime and anywhere without people likening my feeding a child with my breast to showing my anus or to child abuse.

Enter lila bean.

It somes in a handy dandy carrying case so hopefully it won't go the way of my hotsling- battered and wrinkled at the bottom of the diaper bag coated in cheerios sludge- and it beats out the standard blanket by having an open collar so Grace will be surrounded by fabric but not covered. The need for a child to breathe while breastfeeding has been taken into account by the design team.




Now, if only lila bean could cure the major case of cooties in our house, we would go on an outing and take the lila bean on her first test drive.

I'll keep you posted!

Getting my fall fash on

Ok, not really. I honestly have zero money to spend on clothes so the majority of my wardrobe consists of two things:

1. Items from the sale rack at the back of Old Navy (Hello, $6.97 anyone?)

2. Items from 5-6 years ago that, when paired with something new, are brought back into heavy rotation.

My current favorite fall outfit is a camel, cable knit sweater from the sale rack at [whisper] Walmart [/whisper] paired with a patchwork skirt from NY & Co. I bought so long ago that I'm pretty sure the store was store was named Lerner NY. So that was what? Five or six years ago? I haven't worn it in ages but my bargain sweater inspired me to breathe new life into it. I paired it with brown tights (they had already found their way to the hamper by the time I took this photo) and it looked rather cute and current. But even better, it felt new.

Poop on a Playground

Kid- "She stinks."

Me- "So do you."

Kid- "I think she pooped her pants."

Me- "At least she has an excuse."

Kid- "MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!"

Me- "You guys ready to go?"

Pride of West Virginia

Karrie has inspired me with her incessant embedding of YouTube clips and talk of her days with the drum corp. I'll just pretend I didn't see the gaucho bashing.

I did a little Youtube surfing and came across clips of the West Virginia University marching band (aka the Pride of West Virginia) performing their pregame show at the Nokia Sugar Bowl this past January. A bowl game in which we beat the crap out of Georgia; a game made only only that much more sweeter by the fact I live near the Georgia state line and I had to put up with Bulldogs this and Bulldogs that.

Anyhoo, I wasn't at this game and, seeing as how it was last January when Grace was still nursing all night long (side note: now I have Lionel Ritchie's All Night Long stuck in my head... and I hope you do, too), I was dozing in and out through the entire thing but it is the same pregame performance from my days at Mountaineer Field.

It reminds me of of being with friends, drinking mini bottles of Jack Daniels that I carried past security in my underwear, eating salty stadium fries and singing Country Roads at the top of my lungs. I was like the postal service when it came to attending WVU games- I was there in heat, rain, sleet, and snow and if I drank enough Jack, I could get potentially go a little postal. In my six years there, I never missed a home game. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was grounds for dismissal from the University if you missed a home game (never claimed I was in the Ivy League, folks) Game days were long days of partying. We often started at 8:00 amd and kept it going until 8:00 am the next morning. The only thing that dulled game days was knowing that tomorrow was Sunday- the day before Monday- and there was plenty of homework and studying that needed to be done in only half the time.

I get chills watching these videos and while there's no mini bottles in my underwear, hanging with a three year old and a one year old is rather similar to hanging out with drunken college friends on game days (puking, pissing everywhere, incoherent babbling, unprovoked tantrums, crying, etc...). Here's to my second favorite way to spend a Saturday:

Boogie Cadence:


Simple Gifts:


Country Roads:

Final Destination

*eerie Twilight Zone music playing in background*

Whoa.

My turkey

Today I left work at 10:00 to go to a Thanksgiving luncheon at Gavin’s preschool and since Grace is sick, the husband offered to stay home with her so I did the whole preschool event single parenting style. I was prepared to sip soda out of Dixie cups and dine on homemade macaroni and cheese, corn bread dressing, and turkey. I was especially prepared to chow down on pumpkin pie bars and rocky road fudge since just last night I had to watch- but not touch- the preparation of the two yummy desserts the husband signed up to prepare.

What I wasn’t prepared for was that I would cry. A lot.

Well, I didn’t really cry but I wanted to cry. I fought hard to hold the tears back and to swallow the giant lump that formed in my throat only minutes after stepped into the preschool’s gymnasium.

At first I wanted to cry because when I walked in, I was overwhelmed with the number of people. The number of grandparents, the number of parents, the number of aunts and uncles and siblings and friends, and second cousins twice removed. There were people with cameras and camcorders and there were tripods and flashes of lights everywhere. Many of the children were being scooped up in the arms of loved ones who pleaded for them to smile for the camera just one more time. Old people were crouched behind chairs playing peek-a-boo trying to get a smile and standing on chairs to try and get the best shot. The majority of the kids were running around with red cheeks from being pinched, kissed, or wiped free of lipstick.

I found my way to the table with Gavin’s placemat but I couldn’t sit down because all the seats were taken. The little boy placed next to Gavin had two sets of grandparents, both parents, and a sister in attendance so they were using up all their designated chairs and then some. I managed to find an empty chair and I sat there, tracing the outline of Gavin’s turkey handprint on his placemat, and looking and listening to all that was going on around me. There was a lot of love in that gymnasium.

[rant]

I started to feel bad for Gavin. I felt bad that this was such a big day for him- his first big holiday school event- and he only had me there. Now I didn’t think Gavin would feel bad. There were brownies, cookies, cupcakes and sprite all readily available and as long as he could get one carbonated, chocolatey hug as soon as he was done, I knew he would be fine but one day he may be old enough to notice. Maybe old enough to notice and feel what I was feeling as I remembered when. I just want so much for him. I want him to have more than what I had. I want him to have the old people on chairs trying to take his picture and the 4 camcorders in his face hanging on his every move and the kisses and the hugs and the spoiling and the doting and all the chairs taken up so the single mother across from US has to go looking for her own chair… I WANT him to have grandparents who see him more than once a year.

[/rant]

All was forgotten, however, and the tears needed to be choked back for a different reason once the door to Gavin’s classroom opened and out marched my little turkey and OMG!!!!! He looked like such a big boy. Well, as big as boy can look with a paper turkey on his head. He stayed with his class and followed his teacher’s direction and lo and behold he wasn’t the kid freaking out who had to be removed before the show even started. He didn’t exactly sing or do any of the hand motions but he sat there and smiled and clapped like crazy with the audience. About halfway through he spotted me (I had the great fortune of finding a chair directly in front of where he was seated) and pointed at me with both hands and yelled “MAMA!!!!!”. I was afraid he would want to come get me but he just smiled and waved and played with (read: poked) the little guy next to him. When it was all done he marched off with his class and waited until I came and got him so we could get lunch.







I know since he is my son I am supposed to think everything he does is perfect and fabulous but honestly, he was perfect and he was fabulous. My face seriously hurt from smiling so big the entire time I watched him. Perhaps my reaction may seem a little over the top (and if it does you’re not a mother) but it wasn’t too long ago that thanks in part to Gavin’s sensory integration disorder, something even remotely close to this would not have been possible. The crowd alone would have sent him into a tizzy and the clapping would have caused him to cover his ears and take off running like a rabid dog.

I am just so proud of my boy and so absolutely in love with him. Gavin may have just had me there, but I guarantee that I contributed a lion's share of the love I felt in that gymnasium.

Love is knowing you're enough.



Happy Love Thursday.

Boobs on Planes

With all the hub-bub over the mom getting kicked off the Delta flight for breastfeeding her 22 month old child, it brings to mind the age old breastfeeding in public question:

What's the big fucking deal?

Honestly, folks, I dropped an eff-bomb so you know I'm fo real. Why do people have such a problem with a boob being used as nature intended? I know there is the whole boob=sex thing so if Beavis and Butthead want to sit over in the corner and "heh heh heh heh, dude, that baby is sucking on her boob, heh heh heh heh heh" while I nurse then fine; but adults offended by breastfeeding? I don't get it.

How is Sandra Bullock leaning over and showing off her obviously enhanced ta-tas more acceptable than a mother nursing a baby???. I bet if the woman who was asked to leave the flight for breastfeeding had been dressed like Sandra on the cover of Vanity Fair rather than breasfeeding she wouldn't have been asked to leave.

Double standard much?

What is interesting to me is that I uploaded some fabulous photos of the kiddos into Flickr over the weekend and as you all know, with Flickr, you can see how many times a photo has been viewed.

The beautiful profile of the Goose- viewed ten times

Brother and sister golden hair- viewed four times

My 16 month old nursing(and I enhanced the photo to the point that what small amount of small breast is shown is just a white blur)- viewed two hundred and eighty six times.

Women are getting kicked out of restaurants and off of airplanes for doing exactly what I was doing in that photo- supposedly because breastfeeding is gross and people shouldn't have to see it- but my photo has been viewed TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY SIX times in less than a week.

What's with all the interest, folks?

Nine Years- The Answers

(click to enlarge)

Hello World

I hate to admit it but I am so happy to be back at work today. I am so happy to not have a child hanging on me; so happy to not have to watch Noggin or play and replay the Cars DVD; so happy to not be cleaning up puke and doing load after load of laundry. I’m not happy that the husband is stuck at home with them but he has a few things in his favor that I didn’t have:

1. No kid hanging off his ta-tas

2. He gets relieved from his parental duties when I get home at 4:15 while I was the single parent until 7:00. Sure, some of you may be thinking that three hours doesn’t seem like a long time and to those obviously childless people I say strap a 27 pound sack of potatoes that pukes up curdled breast milk and barely chewed Cheerios every 5-10 minutes to you for three hours. Now tell me if three hours seems like a long time.

3. He gets to go bowling tonight. In exchange for being stuck at home with Puke E. McGee and Mr. I-”heart”-Lightning-McQueen-more-than-anything-except-throwing-fits-when-I-can’t-eat-candy-all-day for 9 hours, he gets to have a night out in a place that serves alcohol. The fact that the bowling alley serves alcohol is the only positive thing I can think to say about a bowling alley.


I think the hardest thing about being stuck at home with sick kids all weekend long was that I didn’t leave my house and/or have any contact with the outside world (except for when my neighbor stopped by to bring me chocolate truffles) for longer than 48 hours. I’m a people person. I don’t do well in isolation. I swear, I almost went all Nell and started speaking in my own language.

When the husband came home on Sunday night I just hugged him and tried to breathe in the outside world off his clothes. Unfortunately, the husband works a sweaty job in a stinky airport so rather than taking in a whiff of the world, I took in some B.O. and traveler funk. Still, it beat what I had been taking in all weekend.

The other thing that sucked about being stuck at home all weekend- or rather being stuck at home without caller i.d.- was that I was there to answer the phone when my mom called. I haven’t been purposely dodging her calls since the Great Gavin Birthday Diss of 2006 but I haven’t been going out of my way to let my fingers do the walking in her direction, either. My mom called to tell me that she wouldn’t be coming down to my house for Thanksgiving. I didn’t mention her planning to come down for Thanksgiving on here because I KNEW it would go bust and as much I as I like proving to everyone that I’m right, this is somewhat of a sensitive subject.

Short story long, my brother and sister usually go to her house for Thanksgiving but this year they have both been mad at her and not speaking to her so she figured they had bailed on Thanksgiving. I don’t go anywhere over Thanksgiving. Me no likey traveling over the holidays. Besides, we always have a blast with our neighbors. Anyhoo, without confirming aforementioned bailing, she went ahead and made plans with me to come to South Carolina. As it turns out, however, my brother and sister were still planning on going to her house so once she caught wind of the fact that they both thought T-day was still on at her house, rather than telling them to stuff it (ba-dum-dum-dum), she turned around and bailed on me.

She told me- and I quote- “it is easier to screw you over because I know you won’t get mad.”

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “W to the T to the F!!!!!!?????” but honestly, she is totally right. I’m not mad and it is easier to screw me over than the other two. I only kind of sort of care because it would be nice for my kids to kind of sort of know their grandma but whatever. After thirty one years, I can’t muster any more than an “eh”.

Eh.

Nine Years

These are all me from 1991-1999; tenth grade through second year of graduate school. Check out those bangs!!! Suh-weet!! Looking back at me through the years I'm not sure which I enjoyed more: watching my cheeks grow and shrink or watching my hair color change. One thing is for sure, I LURVED me some flannel!

Can you put them in order???

Puke E. McGee

This is so not the weekend I was working for.

Argh, day two of puke-a-palooza is off to a tremendous start. When I go back to work tomorrow I'm going to feel like I've lost 27 pounds of all Goose.

The Goose will not let me put her down. I really wouldn't mind if she would just stop puking on me and let me go to the bathroom a couple of times.


Poor sick Goose... curled up on my chest... on a beach towel... for protection.

Who asked you?

Apparently God isn't too keen on unsolicited advice from yours truly because here I am YET AGAIN spending a weekend with a very sick and very puky Goose. To make matters worse, it is sunny and seventy degrees outside and we are all stuck inside ALL DAY!!!!

My itnerary for today looks something like this:

Nurse
Get puked on
Rinse
Repeat

Summer in November

Goose is a Gooby Baby

Some shots of a blueberry-encrusted Goose are featured over at Gooby Baby!

What is Gooby Baby you may ask? It is a blog devoted to "Cute, Funny Baby and Kids Pictures and Videos". Check it out but I must warn you! You may get a toothache from all the sweetness!

Enjoy!

Go 'head G-Unit

Here are the G's rockin' out Romanian** style:



**oh dear Lord if I have to hear this song one more freakin' time I don't know what, but something's gonna happen!!! And it won't be good. I have no idea what these people are saying but I could go on tour doing the one woman stage perfomance of this very song!!!!

Ogan-a-what?

The local news station is going to be at my house- AT. MY. HOUSE.- in 13 hours to interview me for a piece on organic baby food and extended breastfeeding!!!!!! I am fuh-reaking out.

Why am I freaking out? Four reasons:

For one, I talked to the chick at 5:00 pm today- TODAY.- to set this whole thing up

For two, all of a sudden I know nothing about nutrition and/or organic food

For three, I have NOTHING TO WEAR (help!!!! what do I wear!?!)

For four, my house smells like chihuahua pee!!!!


WAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Rearview Memories

Every Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, I take the kids to work with me. A few minutes before 8 am, in the parking lot across from the hospital, we meet the husband who is just getting off of work. We do the whole switch-a-roo thing; he parks my car, I get into the passenger seat, and then he drops me off in front of the hospital where sometimes long, tearful farewells ensue. Usually the tears aren’t because the kiddos have to say goodbye to me but because they want to come inside with me and eat and play.

It’s hard for me to be a working mom. I do it because I have to not because I want to. I do absolutely love my job (how could I not? I get to eat and play all day!) so that makes it better but in a perfect world, I would be at home with my babes instead of doing early morning changing of the guards with their daddy before spending 9 hours away from them.

Although mornings are hectic, I enjoy our drives together. It’s uninterrupted time with just the three of us and it is really such an important part of my day. It takes about 20 minutes to get to work and during that time the kids eat a snack and we listen to music (and by music, I mean The Garden State soundtrack… and by soundtrack, I mean songs 1, 2 and 4… any deviation results in the Gavinator screaming his head off and kicking the back of my seat… which then results in me being HAPPY to go to work) and we do little dances in our seats.

The kids LOVE to dance and they wiggle as much as their carseats will allow and bounce their legs in time to the music while swaying their heads back and forth. They always make each other laugh. Much to the delight of other drivers, I join in with the dancing at the red lights. Some of my favorite memories have been captured by looking in the rearview mirror on my way to work.

It’s the little things.

Happy Love Thursday.

She'll take her's to go

Tonight I was going through Grace's room looking for some of Gavin's old stuff to give to a coworker. Grace was "helping" me by going through all of the drawers in the changing table, throwing everything on the floor, and screaming when I put it all back.

Just as I was finishing up, Grace came across two Gerber pacifiers that I bought when the Gavinator was just a few weeks old. Gavin was never really into pacifiers but I was going crazy (and by crazy, I mean effing out of my mind nuts) having him attached to my boob 24/7 so the husband and I scoured Babies-R-Us for breastfeeding-safe pacifiers. We found the Gerber pacifiers that promised to mimic the mother's nipple and not interfere with breastfeeding so we bought them, boiled them, cooled and dried them, and offered them to the Gavinator who promptly spit them out. He never showed any interest at all in them even though the husband and I all but atempted to duct tape them to his mouth. Mimic a mother's nipples my ass... or so I thought.

I never even bothered introducing a pacifier to Grace but tonight, at the ripe old age of 16 months, she instanty fell head over heals in love with the two Gerber pacifiers. At first she just held them in her hands- she rolled them around and pinched and pulled at the "nipples"- and then she began sucking on one while "twiddling" the other. My first thought was that I felt REALLY sorry for the poor sap who was stuck nursing her and then, when I realized that her latch on the Gerber paci was the exact latch she used when nursing, my second thought was so sorry I ever doubted you, Gerber. Your pacis really do mimic the real deal Holyfield.

Grace ran around for a good half an hour sucking on one paci while twiddling the other. While the "girls" enjoyed the long overdue break (usually she is nursing on one and twiddling the other while attempting to run around), I think they were a little bit jealous. Just for kicks, I asked Grace if she wanted to nurse and she pushed me away and took off with her pacis.

Hmmmmmm, while I know that anecdote does not equal datum; I feel that my experience blows a big ol' hole in the breastfeeding = bonding theory. After 16 months of unlimited access to the boobages, just like that, the Goosers passed me up in favor of two dusty Gerber pacifiers.

I eventually took the pacifiers away which left her in one giant kicking and screaming puddle of Goose but at this stage in the game, I'm not going to encourage her to trade in one habit for another. Besides, I'm less portable so as she is gaining independence, she is losing interest (she has cut way back since my trip to KC) and hey, at least I provide some nutritional benefits.

Take that Gerber.

Too slutty?

Of course I'm too slutty but I'm talking about the dress- the beautiful AND inexpensive red, trendy, corsetty, strapless dress- is it too slutty for a COMPANY Christmas holiday party?



HAH! This post reminds me of Tommy Boy:

"Does this dress make me look slutty?"

"No, you make you look slutty."

Letters

Election Day

Today I’ll be voting and casting a big fat NO on South Carolina’s marriage amendment.

Those pro the amendment claim that a yes vote is a vote for marriage and a vote ”to preserve marriage as the institution history intends it to be: between one man and one woman”.

Hogwash I say. A vote for yes is discrimination plain and simple and will “constitutionally relegate gay and lesbian South Carolinians- and their children- to second-class citizenship. I will definitely be saying no to this kind of family discrimination.

One of my good friends is a lesbian and she has been in a loving, monogamous relationship with her partner for 26 years. Twenty. Six. Years. She’s not asking for much; just the right to put her partner on her health insurance. It drives me cuh-razy that just because I am straight I have been able to get married twice and both times, put my husband on my health insurance. The first time, I was only married 6 months. Six. Months. Roll that around in your head for a minute. Twenty six years versus six months. Ummm, yeah, the straights are really are doing a lot for the sanctity of marriage, aren’t we?

I don’t know why people are so afraid of gay marriage. It’s as if granting homosexuals the right to get married and be as miserable as all of us heterosexuals is somehow going to lead to social anarchy. I have heard the old, tired out slippery slop argument time and time again (from those who have obviously received their university degrees in stupid) that if we allow homosexuals to marry then what’s next? Allowing people to marry animals?

My comeback?

“Well, I already married a pig.”

100 Things

1. I was born in Nashville, Tennessee
2. On October 2, 1975
3. Via emergency c-section
4. I was raised in Charleston, West Virginia
5. I got my first real kiss from a boy when I was 10
6. And my first kiss from a girl when I was 26
7. What can I say, it was Bourbon Street and the drinks were 4 for 1
8. I used to hate olives
9. I would literally vomit a little bit if an olive so much as touched my tongue
10. I got hungry after drinking 4 for 1’s and kissing girls and I ate a muffuletta and now I like olives
11. I also used to hate cantaloupe
12. Now I like it
13. Although I didn’t need to get drunk and kiss girls to like it.
14. My favorite food is crab cakes
15. The best crab cakes in the world are sold at the Inner Harbor in Baltimore
16. When I was a kid we visited my great aunt every summer in Baltimore and we went to Inner Harbor
17. In the fifth grade I wrote an essay about my summer vacation to Pearl Harbor
18. I’m not every good at history and/or geography
19. I always wanted to be a writer when I grew up
20. I took AP English my senior year of high school
21. I liked reading the books but the work that followed and my crappy teacher ruined English for me
22. I changed my major on my preadmission forms to college from English to Nutrition
23. I picked nutrition as a major because of my dance instructor- Mrs. Edwards
24. Well, because of her and because of my very unhealthy relationship with food growing up
25. My unhealthy relationship with food was further fueled by need to fit into skimpy dance costumes
26. I weighed 132 pounds the day I graduated from high school
27. I weighed 135 pounds this morning
28. In 1996 I weighed 175 pounds
29. It was difficult to be a nutrition student and be overweight
30. Fortunately, since I was in college, I was too drunk to really care
31. I no longer have an unhealthy relationship with food
32. I eat what I want when I want
33. I watch my portion size
34. I eat a large salad with tons of toppings every night for dinner
35. I have eaten a salad almost every night for dinner for over three years
36. I LOVE salad
37. I received my Bachelor's and Master's Degrees from West Virginia University
38. I moved 6 times in six years when I was in college
39. My favorite place I lived was a big brick house on Beverly Avenue I shared with 4 other friends
40. In graduate school I lived by myself
41. Because I thought it was the right thing for a grown up grad student to do
42. I was miserable living on my own but fortunately, lots of friends were constantly crashing at my apartment
43. A guy once broke up with me because I “always needed to be the center of attention”
44. To get back at him, Sarah and I toilet papered and soaped the windows of his truck
45. Sarah and I wore socks on our hands when we did it so not to leave finger prints
46. I don’t always need to be the center of attention
47. At least I don’t think I do
48. It feels really funny to write that I don’t need to be the center of attention on a list of 100 things about ME
49. I miss living in West Virginia
50. I don’t think I will ever move back
51. I hate snow
52. I love music- all kinds of music
53. My memories- my senses- are closely tied to music
54. I often say “this song reminds me of…”
55. I drive people nuts when I say “this song reminds me of…”
56. Because I say it ALL. THE. TIME. when I’m listening to music
57. I have a really, really, really good memory.
58. I’m talking Rain Man good memory
59. I used to keep diaries, journals, and calendars on which to write my thoughts, feelings and what I did every day
60. I think all my writing is why I have such a good memory
61. And why sometimes things that happened ten years ago seem like yesterday to me
62. My favorite summer job was working as a ride hostess on Ripcord at Cedar Point
63. I worked there the summer of 1996
64. My dad worked there the summer of 1966
65. I would like for Grace to keep the tradition alive and work there the summer of 2026
66. Sometimes I forget how old I am
67. I work with kids so that keeps me young
68. Almost all my friends now are my friends from when I was younger so that keeps me young, too
69. I feel- and act- much, much younger than 31
70. I think that one of the best things about having kids is that now I have a reason to play like a kid again
71. I like playing outside more than my kids like playing outside
72. Sometimes it is hard to be on the parenting side of things
73. Sometimes I feel like I still need to be parented
74. I like to laugh
75. I like people who make me laugh
76. This one time, at band camp, I laughed so hard that I peed my pants
77. And all over the floor
78. My favorite board game is Trivial Pursuit
79. Before kids, the husband and I would play strip Trivial Pursuit
80. When I met my husband, I was living with a guy
81. No drama here- sorry! The guy was just a roommate
82. Me, the husband, and the guy all lived together for a few months
83. I imagine I was quite the talk of the neighborhood
84. I suppose I should mention I was married once before
85. I rarely even think about it
86. In my nightmares I wake up and I’m married to my first husband and I’m trying to figure out what happened to Lloyd and the kids
87. Those nightmares make me cry
88. I fell in love with my husband at first sight
89. Lloyd and I were engaged when Gavin was conceived
90. I conceived Grace on my 29th birthday
91. Both my kids were wanted but neither pregnancies were planned
92. My world totally changed when I became a mother
93. I would like to have more kids
94. But I would like to see my husband more
95. So we plan to only have two children
96. Only one more year until both kids are in preschool the husband and I can stop working opposite shifts
97. If I were to have another boy I would name him “Julian” and call him “Jude” after my grandpa
98. My grandpa died in 2001
99. I think about him every day
100. This is the first time I have ever told anyone that

Attachment Parenting = Negligence? Social Abuse?

Warning: extreme examples ahead but come on, what else would they make a television story about?

That said, I'm no AP expert (although if I had to pick a parenting philosphy my views most fall in line with it would probably be AP... but still, I own three neglectomatics so what do I know?) but I'm not even sure if these extreme examples are, in fact, of attachment parenting. Last I checked, attachment parenting wasn't about forgoing a career or discipline in favor of demand nursing "forever" or home schooling. Besides, since when is it AP to give a 5 year old a binky? Hell, even the AP god himself- Dr. Sears- describes "balance" as one of the 7 B's of attachment parenting. I didn't see much balance in either video but then again, the media is not one to air balanced stories so perhaps that is only percption.

I have to say that the one dad cracked me up with his "I've noticed Lizz has had her tits out a lot lately, and it's not for me very often. I've tried standing in queue and pretending to be one of the girls, but she never falls for that!"

Hmmmm, do I smell a new Babycenter siggy???

Interestingly enough, this is the second story of the day I have come across that discusses 5 year olds nursing. The other was a blog post that featured- surprise surprise- an extreme (and by extreme, I mean effing crazy) example of a 5 year old nursing. One of the commenters, however, questioned if a 5 year old nursing was even legal and that, of course, pissed me off but sadly, I'm not surprised. Extended nursing is so very foreign to many and therefore, people are plain, flat out ignorant on the subject. It's no wonder that extended nursing is a foreign concept when so few 5 year olds are still nursing. Hence my surprise over stumbling across not one but two stories featuring 5 year olds and nursing.

Anyhoo, never mind the gratuitous poop shcts and displays of massive boobages and check out the clips and tell me what you think.


Part ONE


Part TWO

Under the wire

I almost inadvertantly threw in the towel on NaBloPoMo today.

It's not that I haven't had the time to blog- quite the opposite, really. I have written several posts today only to have them wind up in the land of forgotten drafts. I'd like to blame sudden inability to produce blog posts worthy of actual posting on the fact that I'm still trying to catch up on rest from my KC trip or maybe I'm beginning to come down with the sixth bout of cooties the Gavinator has brought home from preschool but really, I think NaBloPoMo has given me a major case of the willies. I'm feeling like I'm under pressure. Pressure pushing down on me. Pressing down on you no man ask for.

See. I've resorted to sampling Queen just to make a post.

Also, I should mention that today something happened. Something that has left me frazzled and searching for the words to even describe how it made me feel. I'm not trying to leave some dramatic cliffhanger post but emotionally, I'm not up to gtting into any details or recounting the event. I will tell you that the Goose- MY Goose- fell down the stairs today. She is absolutely fine but watching and hearing her fall as I stood there as not only the person who was supposed to protect her, but also as the person who was to blame for her fall and unable to do anything to make it stop, is just a little too much for me to process right now.

So I think I'll open the floor for comments and ideas. Is there anything that YOU would like to read about?

Show me the Show me State

Finally I am kind of sort of caught up enough to attempt to make a halfway decent attempt to blog about my trip to Kansas City.

First of all, I must say that if you are planning any air travel in the near future you must- YOU. MUST- take a breast pump along with you as a carry on.

Formula feeding? No children? No breasts?

No matter.

One has not lived until they have taken a breast pump through a TSA check point. There is nothing like saying goodbye to your children, fighting back a sea of tears, and standing in your socked feet as a wand is waved around your body while a TSA agent- upon viewing the innards of your Pump In Style on the x-ray machine thingy- yells out “I need a bag check… I need a bag check NOW” and “Ma’am! What is THIS!?!”

“It’s a breast pump.”

Even through the squiggly, blurry, wet vision brought about by my tearful good bye, I could see that all eyes immediately went to my chest. The TSA agent who had to perform some sort of test on my pump made small talk with me by saying “you certainly don’t look like you have any kids” Too which I told him “yeah, well, breastfeeding burns calories... and it didn’t make my boobs any bigger.” The businessman behind me snickered while the agent blushed.

Speaking of tearful goodbyes, I tried with all my might to not cry when I said goodbye to the kiddos. I’m not really comfortable with crying in public places but mostly I didn’t want to cry because since the airport is the husband’s place of work, I was worried I would embarrass him if I turned our farewell into a blubberfest.

After Gavin hugged me and gave me a wet, sloppy kiss directly on my mouth and Grace pressed her body close to mine and nuzzled my neck while pleading “nusss, nussss, nussss”, I could barely contain my tears. I turned to the husband and told him that I thought I was going to cry and that I was sorry. He told me that it wouldn’t be the first time somebody cried at the airport and it happens “more than you know.” That’s all he had to say for the tears to start flowing and I made my way through security boo hooing the whole way.

The flight to Atlanta was short and sweet and I had several hours to kill at the Atlanta airport thanks in part to a layover and later to an hour and half delay due to the heavy rain in the southeast. I passed the time sipping chai tea and reading Life Expectancy by Dean Koontz. It was one of the millions of books the husband has brought home after cleaning out the airplanes at work. I don’t believe I have read a Dean Koontz novel but I enjoyed it. Finally I had enough of my goody-two-shoes-tea-drinking-page-turning ways and I hit the bar.

One of the perks of being a female traveler (besides being viewed positively for using a business trip as a vacation) is that 99% of business travelers are males- male who are more than willing spare a couple bucks to buy one, two, even three beer for a lonely female traveler.

Sure, I had to listen as one traveler bemoaned in a British accent (an accent that I cannot say in any certain terms was actually authentic) about the cheating ways of his ex-wife and the challenges of being an older bachelor with a convertible and sole ownership of several clubs in Fort Lauderdale and then listen again as several other travelers tried to convince me they were starting players for the Seattle Seahawks and they were on their way to Kansas City for their game against the Chiefs the next night. Those guys were maybe 5’10”, 180 pounds and they topped their Seahawks jerseys with Greek letter emblazoned baseball caps and while I’m sure the odds were greater that I was sitting next to Ghandi than the Seattle Seahawks, I just nodded, smiled, and raised my glass in honor of the Hawks and sipped my free beer.

Once in Kansas City, I discovered that my hotel was in a lovely part of town known as the Country Club Plaza. Fabulous shopping and yummy dining were a short walk from my down-covered queen sized bed. The class let out daily at 5:30 and allowed for an hour and a half lunch break so I was able to take advantage of the Plaza every noon and evening.

The class itself was fabulous. Upon the completion of my final test, I will be certified in Childhood and Adolescent Weight Management. The class did serve to enhance my knowledge of the treatment of pediatric overweight but I was happy to discover that really, it did more to reinforce my current knowledge and practices. In other words, I was already da bomb and very shortly, I’ll have a piece of paper to prove it.

Of course what you are all waiting to hear about are my fantabulous meetings with the very lovely Dee and the beautiful Abby. I have read their recounts of our meetings on their blogs and I was quite surprised to see that they were both nervous about meeting me! I was really, really excited about meeting them but being nervous never crossed my mind. Of course, perhaps after three days straight of sitting for 8 hours and being starved into submission (dietetic conferences tend to be light on available food… and by light I mean none) turned off the part of my brain that registers nervousness but it never dawned on me to be nervous. Mostly because I’ve “known” Abby for about three years thanks in part to Babycenter and while I’ve only recently discovered Dee’s blog (thanks NSPIT), I immediately felt like I could relate to her. Besides, even if we met and had nothing in common, we have both been pregnant, had babies (now toddlers), and work outside the home so if all else had failed, a friendly game of “which mommy had it worse” could have served as chit chat.

Come on, you all know every time you are around other moms, it always turns to a game of WMHIW:

“My daughter didn’t start sleeping through the night until 7 months!”

“You think that’s bad? Little Timmy didn’t start sleeping through the night until one year!!!”

“Yeah well, this one time, Susie pooped and it leaked through her diaper and got all over her bouncy seat. It took forever to clean up!”

This is where I pull my trump card… wait for it… wait for it….

“Oh really, try living through THIS!”

(note to readers: don’t even try to go there with me on the WMHIW- poop edition)

Anyhoo, it never came to WMHIW with Dee because the conversation just flowed. She is very cool and her hair is fabulous. I have total hair envy for women with short hair who wear it well. I tried going short once and I looked like a mushroom (actually, I believe my words were “OMG!! I LOOK LIKE A PENIS!!!” but since this is a family blog, I thought I would stick to my other favorite me with short hair analogy- the mushroom).

Now what can I say about Abby? First of all, she is just as funny in person- actually she is MORE funny in person- as she is on the board and she is far more beautiful than any of the pictures of herself she has shared online. We talked and talked and talked and 5 hours went by in the blink of an eye. Girlfriend won my heart by not only making me laugh all night long but also by slamming her body weight in beer in less than 5 hours and nary a wobble in her step to show for it. I nursed a massive hangover the whole way back to South Carolina but apparently what Abby lacks in stature, she more than makes up for in liver function because she was hangover free.

I am truly amazed by the community of mothers not only on boards like Babycenter but also out in the blogosphere. I am thankful that amidst one of the biggest steps of my journey through motherhood- leaving my babes to further my career- I was able to meet two fabulous women. Unfortunately, I will now have to miss both of them but fortunately, I can always read their blogs.

Frickin' Frackin'

Son of a motherless goat.

Rewrite

I met Sarah, Peggy, and Cathy in 1987. By 1988 we were best friends of the BFF variety- we even wore gold charms that were made from four hearts engraved with “we’re best friends” split four ways. I was the “we’re”.

While I have a zillion and one incredible memories of the four of us together, my favorite memory is one of the first.

In the eighth grade, a favorite lunch spot was Husson’s Pizza on the west side of Charleston, West Virginia. I’m not even sure if the Husson’s is still there but I can see the teeny building and smell the greasy pizza as if it were yesterday. One of the perks of Husson’s- besides $1.00 slice pizza- was that it had a jukebox filled with all the latest eighties hits. We used to play as many songs as our 45 minute lunch break allowed and we would laugh, talk, and dance and occasionally squeeze in a bite or two of pizza.

We now have a running joke that the reason we were all so skinny back then even though we dined daily on greasy fare like Husson’s was because we were too busy laughing and dancing to eat. It’s a wonder none of us choked to death.

We also used to make up our own song lyrics to the songs on Husson’s jukebox. While there are many that come to mind (Eat Some Fries instead of Leta Ford and Ozzy Osbourne’s Close Your Eyes and Where Is My Cow instead of Where Are You Now by Sheriff), my all time favorite lyric rewrite was Roni by Bobby Brown.

I’m sure we were inspired by our very own lunch when we wrote Pepperoni:

The truth about a pepperoni, she's a sweet little meat
You can eat her right, feel full, and burp her up
Only pepperonies can give a special taste
A special kind of taste that makes ya feel good inside

If you believe in pizza and all that it can do for you
Give it a chance, girl, you'll find seasoning
And if you find a pepperoni that is right for you
Make it official, give her your mouth

My stomach belongs to my pepperoni (she's my only meat)
She's my only meat
My stomach belongs to my pepperoni (she's my only meat)
She's my only meat

The truth about a pepperoni, she's always on the pizza
Sitting on her pizza, wishin' they were home alone
She sends ya lovely tastes, with the smell of sweet meat
This is what a real pepperoni likes to do for you

The truth about a pepperoni, she's a sweet ol' meat
About the sweetest little meat in the whole wide world
She'd make the toughest old pizza fall deep in love
And once you've had a pepperoni, you never give her up
She's a special kind of meat that makes her sausage feel proud
You know, the kind of meat that stands out in crowds
If you found a pepperonies and a pepperoni is so right
I think I'm gonna eat her for the rest of my life

What makes this memory all the more special is that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that even now- 18 years later- if Bobby Brown was to release Roni and the four of us were together, we would probably sit- laughing until we cried while our pizza got cold- and come up with the very same lyrics. So much has changed over the years but much to the chagrin of anyone in listening range of the four of us together, so much has stayed the same.

Love is finding your sisters… and rewriting the lyrics.


Our 80’s themed thirtieth birthday party:


The next generation….



Happy Love Thursday.

Far from the tree

This week at Gavin's preschool, the focus is on food and nutrition. I was totally stoked thinking that my boy- the son of a dietitian- would regale his teacher and classmates with tales of the power of broccoli and the beauty that is the cantaloupe.

Right.

This is the project he brought home today:



This is the dietetic equivalent of the child of an oncologist bringing home artwork created of packs of Marlboros or the child of a firefighter bringing home artwork created with lighters and books of matches.

Never mind the fact I just spent four days in Kansas City attending a class on certificate of training in childhood and adolescent weight management (a trip that I just spent an hour composing a blog post about only for the computer to chew it up and spit it back out leaving me unable to salvage the remnants).