...the Best part...

a weighty issue.

2012-01-30T13:14:00.000-05:00

I was pregnant for most of 2008. When I wasn't pregnant, I was nursing and figuring out life with a newborn.

In 2009 I was figuring out how to work fulltime and be a mom.

In 2010 please see above reference for 2008.

In 2011 I was nursing for most of the year and also moving my family 1000 miles away.

Welcome to 2012. The year I get my body back. I am not growing a child. I am not feeding a child. I am feeding my face to provide for me and only me. And I'm going to lose 15 pounds.

I am not fat. I know that I am not fat. I don't look in the mirror in disgust. But I also know I weigh 25 pounds more than I did when we got married almost 7 years ago (what!?!?). My diet then of slimfast, lean cuisine, and alcohol isn't sustainable and no one should actually exist on fewer than 1000 calories a day and lots of exercise.

It starts today. A sustainable diet and exercise. Nothing crazy. Fewer carbs, calorie counting, and good old fashioned workouts. I will not cut out any one food group nor will I cut out alcohol. We will still eat out and I will have cake on my quickly approaching 31st birthday. Sustainability is key.

About a year ago I did this same thing and lost 15 pounds. I have just hung out there. So I will do it again. And pray to maintain.

I have issues with my weight. Not like eating disorders or anything. I don't need counseling. I have a blog instead. But I'm tall. And big boned. I never weighed 120 pounds. I'm not ever going to weigh that. My goals are realistic ones. But I still have issues.

I was a chubby prepubescent. And I have a few vivid memories from middle school when kids were mean. I remember one time in eighth grade walking up the stairs and hearing two of the popular boys guess how much I weighed. That'll mess with your psyche.

I am a sizist. Just for myself though. I watched a lot of Stacy and Clinton in my day and I know you should dress for the size you are because you actually end up looking skinnier. But I won't buy a pair of pants if I have to go up a size. Won't do it. I know that's irrational. I know that all manufacturers have different measurements. I also know that the size of clothing isn't found on the outside of the pants for the world to see. Like I said, issues.

When I get on the scale (which is too often... this new diet I will weigh myself twice a week, not twice a day praying for a miracle each time) I hold onto something and then let go like it will trick the scale. Or myself.

It was just recently that I realized it's normal for adults to discuss challenges with weight. That no one is going to judge me for admitting I need or want to lose a few pounds. It's not something I have ever discussed in depth with anyone. Until now. Because more and more I am realizing that this is normal. That most people (save a lucky few) have this challenge. I am not alone.

I am writing about it, saying it 'outloud', to hold myself accountable. There won't be weekly updates. But I will celebrate small victories.

Saw this on Kim's blog and then on Pinterest. Found it appropriate and motivating.

So there you go. It's out there. On the table. Time to be accountable.

15 pounds, I'm coming for you. Cause come vacation time (yes, people who live in FL still go to the beach for vacation) this mama is gonna look like she did before she was a mama. Or at least resemble that young svelte 26 year old.

Coralee.

2012-01-23T08:00:00.000-05:00

That's what he called me. Coralee.

"Coralee" he would say. "Coralee, what is the meaning of this?" as a giant smile spread across his face.

umpah and i circa 1988

I called him Umpah. Thereby paving the way for all the grandkids who followed to also call him that. Umpah.
Umpah passed away this weekend. I said goodbye. We all did. Doesn't make it easier. But knowing he's at peace now, that he can rest now, that makes it a little easier.

I share this not to solicit sympathy, but to share a life. Share a passing, and a lesson.

Frozen bananas. He would unpeel them and wrap them in saran wrap. Then freeze them. And eat them. All the time.

umpah at penn state in 1942, before the war.

Penn State. Jo Pa.  Umpah graduated from Penn State in 1948, a year before he married my grandmother. And the year before my Dad was born. My grandfather was a Nittany Lion to his core. He bled navy blue and white. And he loved Joe Paterno. Joe Paterno died on Saturday night too. The coincidence didn't escape any of us. And it's comforting in a way. To know Umpah and JoPa are up there, having a beer, talking about tackles.

He ate salad but never vegetables.

My grandfather loved swimming. The sport. With a passion.  He groomed my dad, uncle and aunt to be amazing swimmers and athletes. And he loved the beach.

Cold beer. Miller lite more specifically. Or gin.  Football. Ice cream. Those hats with the mesh in the back.  The weather. Crossword puzzles. Shooting the bull. Watching his stocks. Newspapers.

My grandfather shaved every single day. He retired 27 years ago and shaved every afternoon. 'You have to shave, Cor. Everyday.' he would respond when I asked what he was going to do at two in the afternoon on a Wednesday.

umpah and my younger brother circa 1988

The last few years Umpah had become less active, and less interactive. He had Alzheimer's, forcing him to take a backseat in conversations, do a lot of nodding and smiling, and talk about the weather. Alzheimer's takes away the person. The personality. Not the life, but the life. The life like the energy. The passion. The enthusiasm. And he struggled to get around. It's not how he would want me to remember him. And it's not how I will remember him.

umpah, grandma and my parents after my parents were married

Back up a couple weeks to Christmas week. We spent it at the beach with my parents and my dad brought along home movies (formerly VHS tapes converted to DVD, for posterity). We went back to the 80's. When I was 8 and my brother 3. When slouchy socks and tube socks were cool, horizontal stripes in bright colors were worn with stirrups and Keds, and when you drove a wood grain station wagon (you know the ones where the way back seat faces backwards and you stare at the people behind you) instead of a minivan if you had kids.

And when Umpah was healthy.

When he played tetherball with us, took my new rollerblades for a spin, let my brother tackle him while they played football in the backyard. When he walked miles a day and went for a daily bike ride to Publix to pick up a paper and chat with his buds. When he said things like, 'thing of it is Cor...' and 'Well I'll be darned...'. He's in those videos the way I want to remember him. The way he would want me to remember him.

My grandfather fought bravely inWorld War II. And the Battle of the Bulge. He earned a bronze star and a purple heart. He came home, married my grandmother and started a family. Three kids. Six grandkids. Two great grandkids. All because two people loved eachother.

He wrote notes. Lots of them. His wedding gift to us was a fireworks show at our wedding. Fourth of July style. A loan from him enabled us to buy our first house. He sent me one of those quarter collection things (when they first came out with the 50 states quarters). He had filled in about 60%half of it. The rest was up to me. Dan finished it. Umpah would be proud of that. When I was in college and we would talk he would ask on the regular if I was Suma Cum Laude. I, of course, was not, but he wanted me to know he wanted me to work hard. Study hard.

umpah around 1927

My grandfather met my children. Not many people can say that. Sure, my kids might not remember, but I will. And I have the pictures to show them some day. The pictures. Not an online album that will someday go the way of the dinosaur. An actual physical picture that I had printed and I dutifully filed away in an album. A real album.

We will celebrate his life soon. The way he would want it celebrated. With family and friends and cold beer. Not crying over a coffin in a church. We will toast him. And remember him. And honor him. The way he deserves to be remembered and honored. We will laugh about his quirks and habits.

We will wrap my grandmother in love and support. Her parnter of 63 years is gone. Her high school sweetheart. My heart hurts for her. His wedding ring rests on her ring finger, next to hers. They will be together again (but not anytime soon!).

Here's the lesson.

My dad sacrificed his coolness card and hauled that enormous video camera just about everywhere. Didn't care how silly he looked doing it. And sure then, it may have been a joke among us. But now? Now I am so very thankful to have those memories, those times when Umpah was healthy. So thankful.

Take videos of your kids. With your parents, with your grandparents (if you're as lucky as I am to still have grandparents), at family get togethers, or just on a random Tuesday afternoon. Doesn't matter who's watching. Your kids will want to watch someday. And they will appreciate it.
And take your camera. Everywhere. Take pictures. And have them printed. And put them in an album, or a box, or on your walls. Have them printed. Or have a photobook printed every year. Just have something you can touch. Memories you can actually hold on to.

And. Tell people you love them. Out loud. Don't assume they know. Tell them. Because it's what makes the world go round.

all because two people loved eachother

I love you Umpah. And miss you. And will hold hard to those memories. Forever. We will take care of Grandma. Rest in peace.

perfect parent. I am not.

2012-01-19T20:54:00.001-05:00

I am not a perfect parent. I lose my temper sometimes. My kids eat pancakes for dinner (ahem, tonight). I am not sure I say the right thing all of the time. The list goes on. But. I am doing my best. We all are.

Or most of us are.

I try to be understanding of people's situations, or my lack of knowledge of people's situations. Try not to jump to conclusions. Try not to judge. Because I don't know. I don't know what people go home to at the end of the day. I have no idea what goes on behind closed doors. So I try not to judge (at least not immediately).

This time. I can't help myself.

It was a gorgeous 70 degree Florida winter day and we took a jog to a nearby playground to meet some friends, play, chat, burn energy. While chatting, a little boy (he's probably 5) runs by myself and a few friends and slams his shin bone into the edge of a stone wall. I heard his bone hit the wall. There's no padding on your shin bone. That hurts. A lot. He reacts as any child would (I probably would have reacted this way as well) and falls down and starts crying. We ask him if he's ok and then see his mom come sauntering over. Not as quickly as I might have sauntered (I would have run if my kids bone had hit the wall like this, fully expecting it to be exposed and bleeding). She picks him up and walks right by us saying to her son, and I quote, "Stop crying. Boys don't cry. Don't be a sissy." End quote.

Cue jaws hitting the floor. Or the synthetic playground surface. This wasn't a playful conversation (as though those words coming from a mother could be playful). This was a direct order. Do not cry. You are a sissy.

She called her son a name. Sissy to be exact. She called him a sissy. And told him not to cry.

My dad cries. My brother cries. My husband has cried a few times. (sorry to give you up guys). Real. Men. Cry. Real men express emotion. Gone are the days where men don't have the right to be sad or to show how they are feeling. Gone is the stoicism. Real. Men. Cry. And wear pink.

I'm not an expert on bullying, but I'm pretty sure this is how they are born. Hell, his mom just bullied him. So when this kid, sees another kid hurting, get hurt, or in pain, how will he react? Will he run to his aid (as I hope my son would do some day) or will he laugh and call him a sissy?

I have a son. We are working hard to make sure he grows up into a kind, compassionate, ambitious, loving, passionate, considerate, good natured, sincere man (LBS if we achieve a quarter of those we'll be successful). I know we won't get there by calling him names.

I'm not a perfect parent. I let them watch too much tv. I bribe with suckers all too often. And I have never forced a vegetable. I'm not a perfect parent.

I'm just saying. I judged her. And she deserved it. That and a swift kick in the ass.

Absence make the heart grow fonder...?

2012-01-17T08:27:00.001-05:00

I have been noticeably not around these parts of late. No particular reason. That whole not boring you with uninteresting things just to put up a blog post is the reason.

Can dogs live without a tongue? Cause around 3 this morning when the dog was licking his nonexistent balls for the third time, I considered grabbing the scissors from the knife block and taking care of it once and for all.

Had our first friend over last week without his mommy. It went swimmingly. Sure they destroyed the place but there was someone else to entertain. Pretty awesome. Have a playdate at a friend from schools house this morning. I don't know their last name and asked via text if she wanted me to stay or drop Cannon off and pick him up. I am sure I sound like mom of the year. I'm just saying. They live close. It's a christian school so surely they are good people. And I have laundry.

We are preparing for 8 days of visitors and I can not wait. Rooms have been painted. Menus are being planned. So excited to have old friends visit our new life. Friends who are really family.

I took pictures (shot photos... captured images... whatever you prefer) of food yesterday afternoon. And I really loved it. Little more creative. Little less pleading with small children.

I wrote an open letter to Trader Joe's basically pleading them to open a store here. Publishing it on another blog I write for. I am certain they will see it, read it, and instantaneously make making dinner at the Best household easier.

I put on a sweater last week. One time. We have turned the heat on twice this winter. True stories. Both of 'em.

The Best part? The friends coming south to play.

O&R new year's edition

2012-01-02T14:01:00.003-05:00

Happy new year friends. Hope it was fun. And safe. We celebrated at home. Amongst luggage, laundry, boxes, and the Christmas turmoil we left behind when we set off for vacation.

We shared a bottle of champagne. Good champagne. And both still had a headache yesterday. I have heard that to tolerate champagne you have to drink it on the regular. Not sure I can afford that. And know I can't tolerate that slight headache it brings me for long enough to 'build a tolerance'.

Thought today was a holiday. As in no trash collection. Was wrong. Oh and not only was I wrong about trash but they rounded the corner to pick up Christmas trees too. Know what happens when you see them three houses away and undecorate your tree in five minutes? Not pretty.

So thankful to have had the last two days to recoup/regroup/clean/organize/get life back together. Also so thankful school resumes on Wednesday. Even if it is only three hours this week.

Never missed the dog so much in my life. He's been at 'camp' since Christmas eve. Never realized exactly how much food he cleans up off the floor until now. When one year olds walk around with pretzel sticks it's not pretty. At all. He will have a smorgasbord in a few short hours.

E is definitely my daughter. And not just because we look alike. The child loves to eat. Anything. Anywhere. Anytime. If you have food, she wants it. And let's you know it. This is endearing now. When she's 12, probably not. Hopefully she has her father's metabolism.

Do you know what a 'willit' is? Apparently it's a yellow and blue snail like creature that spits on three year olds in their dreams. Have a half asleep three year old tell you that at midnight and try not to laugh. Dare you.

There is a 'hard freeze' here tonight. Apparently that means you get out all your ugly old sheets and put them in your front yard. Interesting. There are sheets I should have saved for such an occassion. My apoligies ahead of time to those of you who may be visiting us in the coming weeks. Promise to wash them. Swears.

Promised Dan I'd watch more movies with him this year. I don't really love movies or even like them. But he does. Started last night with Horrible Bosses. Hilarious. Hoping he returns the favor by partaking in this season of the Bachelor.

Doing ok so far on my promise to blog more. You can thank me now. Or later. Whichever.

The Paper Mama: Photo Challenge

2011-12-31T09:26:00.000-05:00

Been a while since I did one of these but this time, I can't resist. The challenge is sparkle. What sparkles more than a sunset on the gulf? Not much. I adore this photo. If both of my kids were in it I might explode.

Adore.

Happy New Year!

well thank you, 2011.

2011-12-30T13:58:00.000-05:00

Do you remember last year's new years eve post? I didn't either. So I went back and read it.

You should too, before you continue.

I have been a blog slacker (btw, just renewed my domain therefore I resolve to be a better blogger than I have been the final quarter of 2011) and wasn't even sure I was going to write a new year's post this year. But, alas. Here we are.

So. 2011. Wow. We had no idea what you had in store for us and boy did you ever have plans. First, let's review the things I said I wanted to do (because I don't make resolutions, I think they're BS and can't keep one).

I said I wanted to do another half marathon. Fail. I did not do another half. However, I have taken a liking to jogging and plan to continue. I have no current desires to run 13.1 miles.

A long weekend with the husband was on the list. Well. We had plans to go to the Greenbrier and take a long wonderful weekend. But life got in the way and when we were supposed to go on the trip we were putting our house on the market. We did spend a night downtown without our kiddos. That kind of counts.

I requested eight solid of sleep. I think I get that on the regular now so that's checked off the list.

Write more. I did write more. A lot more this summer and fall. I had a lot to write about. We moved. To Florida. We lived in an apartment. With a dog. We bought a new house. We started a new life. Then I stopped writing when that new life got busy. Again. Will be better. Swears.

I did not figure out how to make a living blogging. However if I ever get a tax id (which is on my to do list... cause you need one when you have a small (teeny tiny business) I may get 10 bucks from adsense.

I wanted to become a better photographer. This one makes me smile. This one makes me proud. This one. I did this. And I am learning. Every day. And people are paying me. To take pictures. Get out of town. Pinching myself. Cause I kicked this one's ass.

I wanted to ring in my 30th in style. Thanks to my amazing better half. That happened. In a major way.

And we laughed. We celebrated. We loved hard.

We are wrapping up the year with a week with our toes in the sand. So lucky. So grateful. Not taking one second of it for granted.

So over crab cakes and champagne we will ring in a new year just the two of us (cause the other two will be in bed by then.) With new things in store. New adventures. New excitement. New. And from 2011 we will bring with us the knowledge that things happen for a reason. A peace of mind that what will be. Will be. And joy. We will bring the joy and laughter and never ending fun that Cannon and Emerson bring us every day.

And so to plagiarize myself from last year. Hope your plans are stellar. Hope the champagne is cold. Hope 2012 is magical.

O & R four days away...

2011-12-21T13:06:00.000-05:00

I've had some requests for some laughs. Ok. Fine, one request. From a best friend. Whatever.
The Santa/ Elf on the Shelf threat has lost all power. The breakdowns are epic and it's like the kids understand that stress comes with the holidays.

Against my better judgement I went to both the grocery store and the mall Monday with both of my children. Here's the thing. Monday afternoon at the mall the Monday before Christmas is not quiet like I thought it would be. At all. And it never fails. We finally get to the store we need to go to and he says "Mommy! I need to poop!" Every. Single. Effing. Time.
Took the 3 year old to the dentist a few weeks ago. He was a rockstar. Just laid there and watched Bubble Guppies. He had a cavity. I lost my mom of the year award. Shockingly. It's not from the crap he eats. Cause it was on a front tooth. So now he flosses. More than I do. And no more milk before bed. Lesson learned.

How do you discpline a one year old? She pinches. When you are holding her she pinches your arm. When she is standing at your feet, she grabs your knee skin (don't lie, you have it too) or tries for some other skin. And when you say no, yell no, move away, tell her it's bad, she smiles. Laughs even.

I think I am finished Christmas shopping. Think. But this is the time where I get all 'I don't care, just buy it'. So staying away from the aforementioned mall is important.

I ordered too many Christmas cards. Way too many. Want one?
I don't know what to wear when it's December and it's 80. I feel weird putting on shorts and flip flops. I mean not weird enough to not do it. Just to be clear.
Speaking of what to wear. Man am I in a damn rut. I feel like I wear the same five things all the time. Hoping Santa sends some giftcards and some time to shop. All by myself.

In our old house it was hard for babies to open doors. They were knobs. Here they are handles. And she can open them. And she does. In particular the one to the bathroom. Oh and the lid is always up. Cause I have a boy. So that's fun.

Christmas cookies with their great grandmother and cousin this afternoon. So that's pretty rad.

Also, I plan on bringing 'rad' back. Also bringing 'sexy' back.

Hope you are merry. Hope things are bright. Hope you didn't miss me too much. To all a good night.

Just a couple.

2011-12-09T08:16:00.000-05:00

I wrote earlier in the week about the magic of Santa. The magic of the season. The magic that lives in the eyes and hearts of children this time of year. Then a friend sent me this article. Read it. It's perfect. Could not have said it better myself.

Also. Launched my new photography website this week. I'm in love with it. Maybe you will be too. Check it.

The halls are decked. There are parades and parties to attend. There's a week at the beach coming. It's good. Hope it's good on your end too.

Happy weekend!

magic.

2011-12-05T14:07:00.000-05:00

We got a tree this weekend. It's late for us. Travel and busyness delayed the selection of the perfect frazer fir.

Fireworks stands and Christmas tree lots are everywhere in Florida. At their respective times of year of course. So there's the huge lot at our local high school which benefits the boosters. So, while fighting off ~~the plague~~ a stomach bug we ventured out.

Cannon was in love with walking among the trees, smelling the smell, helping Daddy pick the perfect one. Until. He spotted him. You know. The man of the season. He's on every corner, in every store, watching your every move.

Cue the bee line to Santa, who's back was to us because he was helping himself to some warm coffee (cause it was a frigid 78 degrees at 1pm). Cannon stopped about three feet behind Santa and said, 'Mommy, I just want to watch'. So he did. Then Santa turned around and this is what came out of his mouth, 'Hi Santa, My name is Cannon and I would like a scooter for Christmas please'. Of course it was slightly mumbled because everyone gets nervous when talking to the man with the list. But it was magic.

Pure magic.

Santa had on Air Jordans. Was slightly thinner than a 'jolly old elf' and his costume left a lot to be desired. It didn't matter. In the eyes of a three year old, he was in the presence of greatness.

I know the real reason for the season and thanks to Christmas carols and a nondenomenational preschool, Cannon does too, ish. I mean he knows it's someones birthday. That's good for now.

But there's another part of the season. A part that lives in the eyes and hearts of children. A part that is pure magic. About this generous man who blesses you with gifts once a year. If you believe. And when you've seen a three year old who's gotten an email video from Santa (portablenorthpole.tv do it, trust me) or who runs into Santa and simply must go talk to him, you know it's there. There's magic in the air. And sure, we may get to play Santa to keep the magic alive but for me, that's the best part. That's the fun. Seeing your children's eyes light up and knowing that someday, they'll know. But for now, they believe. It's magic. Pure magic.

It's why we sleep in our house on Christmas eve. So that we can wake up in our house on Christmas morning. It's why we have a date night coming up to go get dinner, drink some wine, and then go spoil our kids. It's absolutely my favorite part.

The Best part. If you will.

Merry merry friends.

O and R. It's been a while.

2011-11-29T21:59:00.000-05:00

We ate turkey. Twice. We spent eight days with two different families. We flew thousands of miles. Slept thousands of seconds. I am barely hanging on.

I put Christmas lights on palm trees today. Yep. Looks awesome. Did you know those bitches have thorns? Me either. Do now.

I used to hold a record for getting my Christmas cards out first. Streak broken.
Also. There's a typo on the Christmas card. Can't blame any other asshole. It's my fault. Plan on eliminating anyone who points out said typo from next years Christmas card spreadsheet.

One year olds on full flights suck.

Something happened last week. I have been running (read: jogging. Slowly.). And I hated it. But I was doing it daily. Usually a couple miles. Then on Wednesday I went a couple miles and finished and felt amazing. Like I could keep going. Like I wasn't going to die. Wasn't panting. And I loved it. So with my better half by my side on thanksgiving we ran a 5k. And I ran on Friday. Took the weekend off cause we were out of town. Got home tonight. Ran again. For the first time ever I don't hate it. It's pretty cool.

Do not pack candles if you move to Florida. They will not be burnable at Christmas time.
The stockings are hung on the stairs with care. Because in Florida fireplaces are rare.

The baby's hair is in that weird stage where she always looks like a ragamuffin. And she still won't wear bows. But I am not cutting it. So. Ragamuffin it is.

Happy Christmas time y'all!

O&R

2011-11-17T15:37:00.001-05:00

I do believe we will spend two of the next three days at the beach. Cause we can. And who doesn't want to go to the frozen north sporting at least a slight tan?

I despise chain letters. In the last week I have gotten two. One for books. One for stickers. I told the book lady to shove it, in nicer terms. The stickers. That one came from a bestie. Who is a loyal reader. Who is lucky she is 1,000 miles away. Just too bad she has to see me face to face in a week.

Know what's awesome? Holding your 24 pound one year old in one arm and your 30 pound (weight differential doesn't seem quite right) three year old in the other arm so he can pee in a public potty that is too tall for him to stand and reach to pee. Also you are holding your wallet, and keys.

Jogging with a double jogger loaded with aforementioned 50+ pounds of
kids in the 85 degree Florida heat the week before thanksgiving should count as double mileage. At least.

Not writing much lately because my creative brain is dedicated to capturing moments for local families. And it's awesome. And so is word of mouth marketing.

A month or so ago this indentation showed up in my upper thigh. I was pretty sure it was a tumor or a blood clot or my twin growing in my leg. Figured out this week that the indentation is exactly where my bathroom counter hits my leg. Also where the pulls on my kitchen drawers hit my leg. Right now I am leaning against the drawers typing on the iPad. Glad I didn't go for a CT scan but kind of weirded out by the cause and effect here.

In one hour this week I filled four trash bags with toys for kids who aren't as lucky as mine. And one bag for the trash. And I took it to goodwill and was done with it. And there was no one around to stop me. Felt fantastic and I may just do it a few more times before Christmas.

Running a couple miles a day. Haven't lost a pound. Not eating bread or pasta. Or crap. Never really did. Still drinking. Feel better even if I haven't lost any weight.

Red Envelope has stepped up its game.

I have two children and have not gotten one toy catalog in the mail. To quote Julia Roberts.... Big mistake. Huge.

I will leave you with one final thought. Thanksgiving is less than a week away. And Justin Bieber looks like a girl.

Observations and Revelations: the way I used to do them.

2011-11-07T10:26:00.000-05:00

Wanna hear about the time Cannon took the chain off my bike while standing on an ant hill at a park four miles from home?

For a half a second on Halloween I worried that our new neighbors would judge us trick or treating with cocktails. A half a second. Turns out if we didn't have a drink they would have judged.

It's freaking gorgeous here. Like high of 80 and low of 60. We are going to freeze in the northeast in a few weeks. Probably cause our kids don't have winter clothes.

We got 'elf on a shelf' out almost a week ago. His name is Elfie. Here's to a solid two months of behavior enrichment. Now if we can remember to hide him nightly... and remember where we hid him.

We are back on the eating healthy and working out train. The diet of peanuts and candy corn wasn't doing it for me. I still hate running but I hate it less in gorgeous weather. Dan is on the train too. This of course means he will lose 10 pounds by tomorrow eating tuna fish and cheese for every meal. I, on the other hand, will fight for every tenth of a pound.

We're back on the train mostly because we want to go into the holidays feeling fit. Cause we like to indulge if you didn't know that about us. There is a vacation coming where I want to eat key lime pie and drink cold beer on the beach. Also, Thanksgiving isn't exactly a healthy holiday. So. We will run. And lower our carb intake.

Hello Skinny Girl Margarita. I didn't say I was going to stop drinking.

So. I bought a domain this weekend. I guess that means now I own two. This one and bestpartphotography.com. I have no idea what to do with the domain but baby steps. I am having a blast taking pictures. A blast.

I swear this won't turn into a photography blog. I don't know nearly enough for that. I bow down to some of the photographers I have started stalking. I've been liking photographers facebook pages like crazy. Then I saw a picture that almost made me throw up. Picture this. Pregnant belly. Only the belly, no head or legs. Hair man arms wrapped around the belly forming the over used cliched heart with his hands. And super imposed in the heart is a 3d ultra sound picture of the baby. If that woman can get paid to take pictures, I can succeed too.

I don't think I have ever been wrong guessing the sex of a baby. Maybe once. But still. That's a good track record.

Tomorrow night I get to have dinner with one of my best friends. With no children. And real napkins and adult conversation. I am in love already.

The Best part? Fall in Florida. I am in love.

it's good. really good.

2011-11-01T14:28:00.000-04:00

You know what's awesome? When something starts falling into place. Like you hoped it would. See, I decided I liked taking pictures. Then I decided I loved taking pictures. Then I decided to practice and learn and grow and I decided I might be good at taking pictures. And it turns out, I'm not the only one who thinks that. That is awesome.

Something else that's awesome. It has opened up a whole other side of my brain that I have either never used or that I shelved in favor of writing stories about murderers and snowstorms and tax season. I am creative. It's fascinating to me the way I look at things now.

When I see scenes, I picture how it might look in a picture. How I would frame it or if the lighting would work. I liken it to when I moved to Spain and found myself thinking in Spanish. I was really learning it. Being immersed and knowing that you have so much to learn and that you are beginning what could be a really awesome adventure, it rocks.

I am totally and completely intimidated by what I don't know and that's awesome. That means that I won't ever stop learning about it. And it means that I will always be humbled by the work of others and honored that people think I am good enough to take their pictures. It's totally rad. Totally rad.

Another awesome thing is when someone decides to pay it forward. Thanks to social networking I have this friend and photography mentor who is friends with a lot of my friends but who I have never met. And she's helpful And encouraging. And funny. And excited for me. And you should hire her if you live in Indy. And she picked me to pay it forward to. That's rad too.

The Best part? It's good. Really good.

Observations and Revelations

2011-10-25T13:12:00.000-04:00

I no longer miss fall. It's freaking gorgeous here. We hang out on blankets in the yard. Play at the playground. Don't have to bundle up. Yep. I will take it.

The sound of the dog cleaning himself makes me want to vomit. Same as when I find a sippy in the corner and then discover it contains milk.

We still have Kentucky license plates.

My baby girl weighs almost 4 pounds more than Cannon did when he turned one. What's up 90th percentile.

Halloween has been approaching forever. Been in the stores since July and it's still days away. So it's taking forever. But then once it's over Christmas will be here in like 2 days.

Speaking of that. The pictures of the ghost costume. Are gonna be amazing. Not to set myself up for failure...

Texas has more than two thousand airports. Go Cardinals.

I made cake balls. They are freaking amazing. They went to work with Dan this morning.

My flash is busted. Not good.

We fought a fever from 2 until 5 this morning. So that's awesome.

And I was just thinking (didn't say it out loud or even type it for fear of jinxing it) that we have not had any sicknesses since we moved down here.

The three year old didn't want to sit in the jogger this morning. So he ran with me. Yep. Still not napping. Didn't run fast enough apparently.

The Best part? I forced myself to jog even though I slept like three hours last night. Then I came home and ate a chicken breast. And three handfulls of peanuts and candy corn. Fail.

1 year.

2011-10-21T07:00:00.010-04:00

I'm not going to tell you her stats. Cause I don't know them. Just know that her thighs are fabulous. I'm not going to tell you what she's accomplished, how smart she is, or how ahead of the curve she is. She's normal. That's all you need to know. I mean medically, she's normal.

I can not believe that a year ago today we welcomed Emerson Elizabeth (if you're just joining us, here's a link to October of 2010) into our world. I'm not going to tell you how long or miserable labor was or how many stitches I required. Cause it doesn't matter. She was worth every single second.

This has been without question the fastest year of my life. And the best. My children adore eachother (most of the time), they are healthy, and our little girl is one today.

She is funny. Sweet. Cuddly. And she is that baby who smiles at everyone. Brings joy to anyone. If you're lucky enough to have a baby like this, you know what I am talking about. She dances on command, and whenever she hears music. She smiles when you look at her. She is just absolutely wonderful.

So proud that she is ours.

So this weekend we celebrate our little Emme. Our peanut. Our chunkamonk. Our Emme Lou. We celebrate Emerson Elizabeth. The little girl who none of us can imagine our lives without.

Happy first birthday Emerson. You make our souls smile. Love you more than words.

The Best part? EEB

before and after

2011-10-20T08:25:00.000-04:00

The kitchen is almost done. It was minor as far as kitchen renovations go but it makes a world of difference. So, I promised. Here are a couple before and afters. Laminate to granite. And a new sick and faucet.

Bye bye MOTY

2011-10-19T19:49:00.000-04:00

I lost my MOTY award tonight. That's Mom of The Year if you're new. Gone. And so close to the end of the year too.

When 3 year olds who are used to napping, don't nap, there are silly fits thrown over nothing.

My kids play in the cabinets. Not the ones with the chemicals. I'm not that horrible. On this particular evening. Tonight. Emerson was playing in the side of the cabinet Cannon wanted to play in. Throw out all rational thinking because it's after five and as I mentioned, no nap. Instead of opening the other door and playing in the other side he got in with her. Smashing her to the back of the cabinet.

I wasn't angry. I didn't yank. I didn't yell. I just took his hand and pulled gently to get him out of the cabinet and give her thighs some room.

I felt it. In my hand. Pop.

Damn.

And just like that he quit using his left side. We've been here before. Wrapping up Sunday Funday with a dance party in the living room, a dance move with a friend caused the same pop. That time we didn't know what it was and figured he was just tired.

Nursemaid's Elbow. It's called that because nursemaids used to grab kids hands and pull them by the hand. It would in turn, pull their elbow out of it's socket.

Yep. Happened tonight. I know I didn't do it on purpose. I know it was an accident. But when your little boy looks at you crying and says 'mommy, I don't feel so good' and you know you made him feel that way, it still sucks.

He's fine now. And the cookie I wouldn't give him earlier cause he didn't eat dinner. He's totally getting it. And a popsicle too if he wants one. And maybe even a new car.

I can only hope that Dan took notes this time and we learn the proper repair technique. Not that I plan on doing it again. Ever.

The Best part? The award is up for grabs. So have at it ladies. Like a bouquet toss at a wedding.

Observations and Revelations Random Edition

2011-10-17T15:16:00.000-04:00

Both of my kids are napping right now. Thank you Jesus. Apparently when 3 year olds quit napping it builds and builds and builds up to the giantest meltdown you ever saw involving the throwing of chicken nuggets, pushing of your sister, and bawling for the better part of an hour before you pass out. Duly noted.

I had two photo sessions this weekend. I am totally pleased with the results and I think (hope) the 'clients' are too. I am loving it. Like really having fun being creative and working around the sun and fussy kids and BBQ and blues fests that take place where you want to shoot. If you want to see the pictures head over to this Facebook page. Perhaps click that 'like' button while you are there? Just a thought.

I need to buy editing software. Observations and revelations posts can also serve as my 'to do' list.

I've been writing a lot over at Poop lately. You should check it out.

Got a new dining room table last week. Couldn't wait for hubs to get home to help me get it out of the car. Therefore. Did it myself. I've done smarter things in my time.

My baby girl is going to be one in five short days. Fastest year of my life. She makes my soul smile.

Cannon came running down the stairs this morning and said 'mommy! let me see how pretty you look! So pretty!'. He can throw all the chicken nuggets he wants.

Kitchen redo. Manana. Before and after post soon. Not cleaning my counters today.

One of my very bestest had a major surgery last week. She came through brilliantly. So thankful. Now mailing her all my seasons of Friends on DVD because it's still funny even if it is on Nick at Nite now.

And peace and quiet over. Baby awake.

The Best part? Celebrating our favorite little girl.

Paper Heart Camera: Show and Tell... Round

2011-10-16T08:29:00.000-04:00

I haven't done this in a little while but this week's challenge at Paper Heart Camera is round.

And how could I not?

A perfect. Round. Belly.

O&R on a Monday

2011-10-10T11:17:00.001-04:00

We are in bow training. It's serious. Cause girls wear bows. And we have fabulous bows. It involves about 30 to 40 minutes a day of E ripping the bow out of her hair and me putting it back in and clapping and saying 'yay! Pretty Emme!' It's a battle of wills. I plan on prevailing.

Because I don't blog enough places. I am going to start blogging for a hyper local news website here in Tampa. It's called the Patch. Owned by AOL. Nope. I had never heard of it either. Going to do some mom blogging in hopes of atrracting more mom readers to the Patch. Pretty excited about It. Will pimp my first post. Don't worry. Someday maybe I could get paid for this. Although I have almost earned my first 10$ on those lovely ads you see to the right. $10. Only took 6 months or so. Won't spend it all in one place. Promise.

I am going to start running again. Not because I like it. But because I like how I look and feel when I am doing it. No races. Just a daily jog.

Same note. Detox this week. Drinking water. Not wine. The weekend indulging has become obscene.

I am making a tutu. You read that right.

I am also making friends. More exciting than a tutu.

The pumpkins I bought last week are rotting already. Lesson learned. End of season sale on those plastic ones you store in the attic, here I come.

We are done with formula. And could be done with bottles. Because she drinks from a sippy just fine. But mama is not ready for no bottles. She still has to be a baby.

There is a major kitchen reno coming next week. Promise before and afters.

Hope your weekend was fab.

The Best part? The tutu. It's teal and red.

So long. Farewell.

2011-10-07T14:20:00.001-04:00

Its currently pouring. You know the kind of rain where you hear the pitter patter of the drops on the roof and an occasional thunder clap. The kind of rain that makes you want to turn off all the lights and crawl under the covers for an hour or two. That kind of rain.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

I would be upstairs sleeping (or maybe showering cause that needs to be a priority in my life too) but instead I am listening to the pitter patter of rain drops interrupted regularly by the clomp of a three year old jumping out of his bed and onto the floor.

You see, it's nap time. For the last three years of my life from 1-3 it's naptime. It's time to recharge. Time for me to straighten up, blog, facebook, pee in peace, shower, watch Private Practice. It's breaktime. And it's time for him to rest. To stop the transition into terror and return to the sweet little boy who is rested and a pleasure to be around.

They say you never know how much you love something until it's gone.

Only I am all too aware of how much I love this time. At first I hoped it was a phase. It's always a phase. Right? That's the rule with kids. As soon as you figure it out, it changes. Only this isn't changing. It's potentially our new reality. We get maybe two naps a week now. The evenings where he crumbles on the floor into a ball of tears over having a blue shirt on at 6:30. Yeah. That.

So I call it quiet time. He's in his room and is not allowed to come out. Usually about an hour in I hear the door open and tell him to go back inside. About an hour and fifteen in he takes all his clothes off and picks out new clothes. An hour thirty in and he's opening and closing the door about every minute. When I finally go in to release the prisoner his goulashes are always out. There are books scattered around the room and he has removed the clothes he changed into and is naked.

We don't have fancy video monitors. It's probably better that I don't see what's going on in there.

I've tried bribing him to sleep. Fail. I do my best to wear him out (we went swimming this morning... outside... in October...weird) but alas, he's now playing the drums. And we don't have a drum set.

And so. On this rainy 'fall' afternoon I am releasing my hold on naptime. I am working on coming to terms with it. Just because I have to accept it doesn't mean I have to like it.

And if you think for one second that I won't still attempt a nap every day by enfocing quiet time, you would be wrong. Cause tomorrow? Maybe soccer practice will do the trick.

The Best part? One of my kids still naps. Twice a day. And. It's Friday. Happy weekend friends.

Over at Poop today

2011-09-30T08:36:00.001-04:00

Play 'never have I ever' or a version of it over at the poop whisperer today.

Also, while you're over there you should probably vote for us... Since Poop was nominated as one of the best parenting blogs. Just saying. :)

Happy weekend!

O&R 2 in a row.

2011-09-29T13:39:00.000-04:00

So we live in a 'deed restricted community'. Lots in Florida are so don't go thinking we're all fancy. And we got our first violation letter. About our mailbox. No, its not a bass with it's mouth open. It's the same mailbox everyone else has. The same mailbox that was here when we bought the house. The letter didn't say what was wrong with it. I wonder how they will feel about my plastic light up Nativity scene come holiday time. Kidding. About the nativity scene, not the letter.

The baby stood up on her own today. We were at a playgroup and she was across the room. She also attempted to stand up in a shopping cart. I miss shopping alone.

I put giant spiders around our palm trees. And webs. Cause I can. Until the HOA makes me take them down.

It's going to get 'cold' here next week. The moms at playgroup were talking about how it may get below 70 at night. And only like 85 during the day. Guess I will get out my Uggs.

Similar note. They cook in crock pots here year round. That's a fall and winter thing for my family. Cause there is nothing I want less when I am sweating my ass off from being outside than a hot bowl of white chicken chili or some meatballs that have spent the day simmering. Cold chicken and iced tea please.

If you haven't seen Up All Night on NBC you are missing out. Remember, I was the first to declare Modern Family the best show on television. Just saying. I pick winners.

What if the dog didn't shed? Cause Florida and golden retrievers should be illegal.

I am more than halfway through the last container of formula I intend on buying. Mama's getting a raise. Even though we've only been buying it for like a month.

Wanna know what a diaper does in the washing machine? Yeah I didn't want to know either. And no, I have no idea if it was clean or dirty. I mean I know it wasn't poopy but wet, total possibility. **shudder**

Turns out the mailbox needs to be painted. Why the letter didn't just ask us to paint it is beyond me. The property manager now knows how I feel.

The Best part? It's gonna 'cool' off!

O&R worst blogger everrrr

2011-09-26T16:38:00.001-04:00

Me. I am talking about myself. My mojo is missing. Or time is missing. Anyway. Thanks for sticking around.

Speaking of sticking around, I just deleted like 40 blogs from my subscriptions. 1. Google should make that easier. 2. if you do giveaways constantly of stupid products, I'm gone. 3. If you post nothing but pictures of yourself in different outfts from various retailers you are likely too old to shop at, also gone. 4. if you are boring. Bye.

Last week was packed with playdates. Like packed. Cause we need friends. All of us do. Friends who live in the same city. So we are working on it.

The dog has a new electric fence. He protested by taking a giant shit on the stairs while I was gone one day last week. Then he chased a cat up a tree three yards away. So just for that, I turned it up. Now when he goes to the corner of the living room, he gets buzzed. Didn't want him in there anyway.

Cannon has fallen in love with our new shower. It's a walk in without a door so he thinks it's pretty rad. He's right. The other night I was trying to get the baby to drink rice cereal in her bottle which she was having none of and asked the husband to bring me a new bottle. He didn't respond. So I begrugingly got up and went to find him. I found him. With two plastic bags on his hands. Someone loves the new shower so much he decided to poop in it.

We spent the weekend at Disney's Animal Kingdom Lodge. Ate breakfast with giraffes and zebras. Didn't step foot inside any amusement park. And yet we are still exhausted. Like beyond tired. We will have to start training before we make our first official Disney trip.

I got carded at a bar.

I fell in love with a mom. See on Friday night we were stupid and took the three year old without his swim suit to 'check out' the pool. Bad idea. None of us had suits on and he was swimming. In his clothes and wouldn't come out. Until this brilliant mom saw our struggles and asked Cannon if he would like to come home with her. He very quickly responded 'no' and walked right out of the pool. Thank you MOTY. I know you thought you were scaring him but really you were just helping us out.

As I type this I am out of diapers. No a single one. And it's raining. Double damn.

I'm spent. Hope you're good. Or great.

The Best part? You stuck around! :)

a truck.

2011-09-22T07:52:00.001-04:00

Like a Mack truck. That's what ran me over. And then backed up and did it again last night.

She woke up at 4:30. Crying. An hour later she was still crying. I went in twice to comfort her. Reassure her that she was fine and that I was there. Didn't help. More screaming. 60 agonizing minutes and I made a bottle. She sucked down 6 ounces and is still asleep right now. She didn't fuss when I put her down that time. She went right to sleep.

I will not do that again. My Mom and Dad (who were more concerned that I was torturing their granddaughter and calling her names) and others (Jill I'm looking at you) were right. Here are my new revelations.

I talked a big game but it's not about self soothing. The child was hungry. And my decision to let her cry forced her to lose an hour of sleep and me to lose two hours (cause I laid in bed and felt awful for another hour).

She's still a baby. Needs me.

She needs to eat more during the day. Think I'll even start giving her some regular milk.

She fusses before naps and puts herself to sleep. She fusses before bed and puts herself to sleep. She can self soothe.

No one thing works for everyone.

So I take it back. She's not a manipulator. She's hungry. That's all.

Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go teach the dog to take care of the kids so I can go back to bed.

Manipulation Station

2011-09-21T10:08:00.001-04:00

I just brewed my second cup. I am tired. Cause I have a manipulator. She's to die for. You could eat her. Case and point.

This child. She and her brother are the light of our lives. We adore her. She's fun. Funny. Precious. And she does not sleep.

2:30 and 5 in the morning. She was awake. Crying. I let her cry. For what felt like an eternity last night. Finally I gave in. Fed her. Prayed for her to sleep until 7. Not so much. 5. Another bottle.

I know better. I do. I know that she doesn't need to eat in the middle of the night. I would call it an ear infection. Only I know better. I would call it teething. But I know better. I would call it a growth spurt. I may still call it that. But most likely, it's manipulation. She likes to eat in the middle of the night. I understand that. I would like it too. Someone brings me some peanut butter m&m's at 3am, I'll eat them.

It has to stop. She's old enough. More than old enough. Her brother slept from 7-7 at 12 weeks. 11 months. She's 11 months. In my defense it hasn't always been this way, just the last few weeks. And I am sucker for her. And I want to savor every last ounce of her baby-ness. And I don't want her to turn one. So I am a sucker.

It has to stop. We need to sleep more than four hours at a time. Need to. Tonight will not be that night. Tonight. She cries. I gave it 20 minutes last night which terrifies me for tonight.

So Mamas. I need a pep talk. I need someone to remind me it's not torture. I need someone to remind me how good sleep is. And I need someone to come take my place tonight. Cause I'm a sucker for her.

Ready, set, go.

I suck.

2011-09-18T21:02:00.000-04:00

I know. I know. MIA. Really nothing that interesting going on. And I hate wasting people's time with something that is uninteresting or won't make them laugh. Therefore, I say nothing at all.

So I made this neato collage. Of stuff from this week. That's sand you see. You can keep your apples and pumpkins. We will drown our lack of seasons changing sorrows, beachside.

Hugs.

O&R Sunday Styles

2011-09-12T20:19:00.000-04:00

I wrote about September 11th over at Poop yesterday. Can't believe it's been 10 years. Always kind of a somber day for me. Guess it really is for everyone. Hard not to have a heavy heart.

We went to the pool yesterday. Cause it was 95. It might not be fall here but it is fall on my head. Bye bye blonde.

Please add a pressed cuban sandwich made by real Cubans to the list of reasons I run and should run more. Oh and candy corn and peanuts.

I had my first photo shoot yesterday with kids other than mine! And they liked the pictures! Or they are too nice to tell me otherwise! They are up on my Facebook page and my photo blog.

Cannon had his first soccer practice on Saturday. It was hilarious. Like a swarm of bees. Or trying to herd cats. Awesome. And it rained the whole time. And he loved it. Maybe next practice he will remember that picking up the ball and carrying it is not an option. Truth. I don't want him to fall in love with soccer unless he is going to be like World Cup good because I find it painfully boring and REALLY long. And this is coming from a swimmer. But for now. At 3 years old. It's awesome.

We've taken up skyping with our friends back 'home'. And having a few drinks via the internet. Maybe we don't have to make new real friends.

Hope everyone hugged their family today. Hope everyone remembers how lucky we all are to live where we do. Hope everyone remembers. Always. To steal a quote from a friend's facebook status. And then paraphrase it for my purposes. Remember the power of love. And the cost of hate.

...just a Mom.

2011-09-08T13:26:00.002-04:00

Three years ago today I became a Mom. I capitalize Mom because it is my title. My name to two humans that I grew. I am Mom. And I have never held a more important title.

Three years ago today, when I became Mom, I was a working Mom. I took the full 12 (fine, I managed to get 14) weeks and then I went back to work. As a reporter. A television news reporter. I was the one in the snow, in the ghetto, at the fire, on the scene. And it was how I identified myself. 'I'm a reporter', I would say. I was proud of it. Cause even though I knew it was a dirty, less than glamorous, work your ass off for no money job, to the people at home, it's high profile and fancy.

I am just a Mom.

When we moved in July I left that job. And although I have a killer resume tape to pass out, I haven't. Sure. I can make excuses and talk about figuring out childcare not knowing the area, not wanting to work mornings, overnights, holidays and weekends. The truth is, it is not what I want to do right now. At all.

I am just a Mom.

When we told people we were moving they would ask if I was going to get a job down here. I would say, "I'm going to stay home and be the glue for our family for a little while" or "I am going to make sure our family gets settled and moved in before I look for a job". Or "I have no idea how I could work and get everything done that needs to be done for my family right now".

I am just a Mom.

I couldn't just say 'no'. No. I am not going to work. I am going to stay home with my kids. I am going to be a Mom. Just a Mom. I couldn't say it because it was a new way of identifying myself. A way I wasn't used to. A way that I am unfamiliar with. Most of my best friends are Moms. Just Moms. Fabulous Moms. And I just wasn't ready to say that. I don't know if it was my ego. Or letting go. Probably the ego. Because what would they think? I spend my days wiping asses. Cleaning food off the floor. Sure, I could say I am working on becoming a photographer (with a lowercase 'p') but that's not my reality yet.
.
The word just is truly a four letter one. Oprah herself has made no secret about the fact that this is by far the hardest job in the world. And we all know how I feel about Oprah.

So let's talk about just.

I am just the person who makes sure two small humans get fed, rest, are clean, and healthy on a daily basis.

I am just the person who is working to create two people who are kind. Compassionate. Caring. Passionate. Curious. Inquisitive. Interesting. Funny. And who most importantly make the world a better place.

I am just a Mom.

I am a Mom.

I am his Mom. And I have never been happier to spend a day celebrating him. With a wagon ride to the playground. And talks about alligators, lizards, cars, and running fast. With a game of red light green light all the way home. With swimming. Cake. Balloons. Presents.

Today I am soaking in every single second of being just a Mom. And I am eliminating the word just from my answer from now on. Or I am adding the words 'themostfabulouscaringlovinghardworkingsexyamazing' before just. I am a Mom. I am the head of this household. And my heart is full.

And so tonight. We will celebrate our little boy. Maybe even toast to him with some champagne we have been saving for such an occasion. Celebrate the one who made us parents. Celebrate his curiosity, his passion, his energy, and all of him.

Happy birthday Cannon Rhys. Thanks for making me just themostfabulousamazinghardworkingsexyamazing Mom around.

Today. He is the Best part.

O&R cardboard abounds

2011-09-06T14:14:00.001-04:00

Well lookie here. I am here. And. Every box is unpacked. In one week. I will let you have a moment to applaud our efforts. There is a car in the garage and there would be two if the garbage men had come on Labor day. They didn't.

There is a pile to the ceiling of broken down boxes for the moving company to come get. It works nicely in the room I have no furniture for.

We feel settled. Close to normal. It feels amazing.

The dog apparently didn't get the memo that we moved to Florida 7 weeks ago. The shedding is epic.

On Thursday I will have a three year old. I keep telling him that he needs to act like one. And as soon as I say it I remember, he is acting like one.

Know what sucks about preschool on Monday and Wednesday? Labor day.

Have I mentioned never taking your basement for granted? Cause that wok you use once a year? The wreath (or reef if you prefer) you pull out in the spring? The giant workout ball you never use? Well. If you didn't have a basement....

Normally I would have scarecrows out and a fall wreath. I am going to miss the change of seasons. Cause if we open our windows we might die. But I will burn harvest scented candles and pretend. I will not feel the same way in February. So I rest easy with the a/c on.

Bought patio cushions on sale. Had to go to six different Walmarts to find them all. Totally worth it.

On a different Walmart trip saw a woman walking around in her bathing suit. No pants. Cause it's Florida?

I have a photo shoot on Saturday! A teeny tiny baby shoot! Yay!

There are projects to be done, painting to tackle, and furniture to shop for... But life is good. We are good. Hope you are too!

Happy fall y'all!

The Best part? Settled. We are settled.

We are so here.

2011-08-31T07:00:00.000-04:00

My aching body. My full, happy heart. I am so happy. So freaking happy. We are home. Our stuff is here. Piled to the ceiling. My heart is so happy. I am in love.

The first box I opened had a picture one of our closest gave us. Happier heart.

The next box had half toys half Christmas decorations.

The guys who unloaded our stuff worked their asses off. And they have to do it every single day.

It poured almost all day. Didn't care. It was like Christmas for my kids.

None of the China is broken.

I have no idea how we crammed all this shit in our old house. No idea.

The were two boxes labeled 'reef'. What was inside had nothing to do with coral or pot, rather Christmas. Reef.

The garage. There may not ever be cars in there. Ever. Do not ever take a basement for granted.

This morning I heard my husband showering in the kids bathroom. Walked in. Yep. Just as I thought. No curtain. No hot water in the master shower. Working on that. I too showered today in there. Without a curtain. Then I found a curtain. An hour later I found the curtain rings. Cause why would you pack the rings with the curtain they came off of? Clearly it makes more sense to pack the rings with my purses.

I busted my ass unpacking today and organizing and cleaning. Yet it looks pretty much the same as it did before I started.

Our new dryer is amazing. It's not new. It was here. But either our old dryer sucked ass or this one has super powers. Drying four pool towels and 6 hand towels in 45 minutes. You rock. Rock on.

It is so quiet. Like SO quiet. Maybe it's the fact that we came from an apartment sandwiched between an elephant and a tap dancer. But the silence last night. Amazing.

I took down the curtains today. They were covered in cat hair. Ew. Not a cat person. Was going to maybe consider having them dry cleaned and putting them back up. But. There were four curtains. Each with 20 ties. Tied onto rings that didn't come off the rod. Oh and they're more than 8 feet off the ground. So I untied eight loops. Then I got out the scissors. Oops.

Any idea where movers would pack finials? If they weren't packed with the lamps they belong to?

I thought I got rid of a bunch of stuff before we moved. Should have gotten rid of more. I mean. Last years Christmas card surplus? Ours. Not other people's.

But. We are here. Neighbors have left notes. Sent emails. It's already terrific.

That's the Best part.

TPM Fave From August

2011-08-30T21:39:00.001-04:00

Post on the way on the move. Swear. In the meantime, I picked my favorite picture from August for the Paper Mama's photo challenge.

My girl with her butt buried firmly in the sand. Waves at her feet. Thighs abound. Be still my heart.

It's ours!

2011-08-28T20:59:00.001-04:00

Here is the outside of our new abode. Inside pictures to come in the form of before and afters. Cause there is work to be done. It needs love. No one has loved it in a while. We do though.

First up. The cat removal. Not live ones but the remnants of them. I am not a cat person. At all. Gross me out. So the deep cleaners came today and all things cat, dirt and grossness from old occupants is gone. Now we start fresh. With our own dirt.

New appliances are already in. Makes a huge difference.

They served us margaritas at closing. Not kidding. Awesome.

We went to the pool on Saturday. In love. Feels like we're on vacation. And a luau on Saturday night. Again. In love. Met some new neighbors. Even went to an 'after party'. There are a lot more fake boobs here in Tampa than in Kentucky. When in Rome...

And in other news. Created a photography business Facebook page. You should probably like it. Have a few things in the works and am starting a class in a couple weeks.

Tomorrow. Truck comes. I have never missed the little stuff so much. Can't wait.

That means tonight. This very night. Is the last night in the apartment. Can I get a hell to the yeah?!?!? The babysitter asked me when we got home last night if there were elephants living above us. See. Not just me.

Don't look for me for a while. I'm knee deep in unpacking, organizing, and putting my family together. Happy heart.

The Best part? We are home. Finally.

There's no place like...

2011-08-26T16:00:00.000-04:00

So. I have kept you waiting long enough. This afternoon, maybe at this very minute, we are signing the papers to close on our new house.

Twice I blogged about having a house, then I freaked out about an appraisal and a listing agent and called a house toxic. We are signing papers on that house this morning. So it has been untoxified.

I tend to get passionate. And hot headed and have tunnel vision. Sometimes it takes a day or two or a slap in the face to look at the big picture.

Let me explain. So the house appraised for less than the sale price. Not by much. Maybe 5%. But I was bent out of shape. I was angry that the sellers wouldn't budge to move the house. Angry at their ridiculous listing agent. And for the record, if I met her in a dark alley I would get at least one good shot in. Anyway. Who in the hell pays more for a house than it's worth? In this housing market? You'd have to be insane. Or suckers. Or both.

Or.

Or. You are a family. Who just moved 1000 miles away. And you found the perfect house. In the most perfectest neighborhood with an instant community and phenomenal schools and you just know it's right. And they have parities called 'flamingo mingles' and they have play groups and soccer and tennis and swimming for kids. And its safe. So safe. Play in the front yard safe.

It is home.

We met the sellers halfway. And in three short days a massive truck will pull up in front of our new house and we will begin putting our roots down.

You may shake your head and think our decision was ridiculous. And that's ok. You no longer have to hear me complain about the apartment. So just be thankful. And now, we can move on with real life. Get real life started. Use our own spoons. Sleep on our own sheets. Paint the walls. Move the furniture. Walk around naked. What?

So. Tonight we open a bottle of champagne we have been saving. For this very night. Or maybe for the first night we actually sleep there.

Anyway. There it is. The story you have been dying for. Happy weekend friends.

The Best part? Home. Sweet sweet home.

Observations and Revelations randoms.

2011-08-23T08:19:00.001-04:00

Cause usually my O/R aren't random at all.

Have you ever shopped at a Super Target? I was excited. Cause I love Target. And was totally excited with their 'pre-made' selections for dinner. Then disappointed with what I bought. And it's way pricier than other grocers. Fail.

There is no Trader Joe's in Tampa. There is however, a website dedicated to bringing one here. So I am not the only one devastated by the lack of their deliciousness. Yes. It's a word.

Dr. Brown's bottle lids are in my top ten things I am excited to unpack in a week. Wonder how long it will take me to find them. Little things.

And toys. I don't care about the furniture. The rest of our clothes. Televisions. I want my kids to have toys again. Anytime we go somewhere with toys they are salivating. If I had it to do over I would pack more toys. Lots more.

A few times since we have moved into the apartment I have almost run right into probably the tallest person I have ever seen in real life. He always flashes the kindest smile and says hi to the kids. He was in the pool the other afternoon when we were swimming. He can't swim. But I guess when the pool is only five feet deep and you are SEVEN feet tall, it doesn't matter. For the record he's from Nigeria and plays for the Toronto Raptors. An NBA team. Yeah, I had never heard of them either.

You need to check out this website. You will laugh out loud.

Also. I am chatting about daycare options over at Poop today. Check it. If you want. No one's forcing you. Geez.

The listing agent on our new house (Friday at 4, you will hear all about it. Promise) clearly thinks we are stupid. She felt the need to explain the option of a 'counter depth' fridge. I want to punch her.

I went to this tiny little liberal arts school (DePauw, with a W not an L). Like 2500 students. In Greencastle, Indiana. Never been there? You're missing out. Seriously. Anyway. I dropped Cannon at his new preschool yesterday and another mom was peeking through the window with me to check on our kiddos. Our convo went something like this: she tells me she's from Indiana, I tell her I went to DePauw, she tells me her husband went there, I tell her I was a pi phi (fine, AM a pi phi) and she tells me she was a pi phi at IU. Yep. That's a sign that all is right in the world.

Speaking of preschool. It was super! He loved it! And goes back tomorrow. It's in a nondenominational church. So he'll even learn a little God while he's there. Which is cool with me. Can't hurt. That's for sure. And to me, nondenominational is basically Unitarian which is fine by me.

The Best part? This video of the cutest, funniest, little girl you ever did see. Yes. She is mine.

Paper Mama Photo Challenge

2011-08-22T11:48:00.001-04:00

I kinda liked doing this last week. So I think I'll do it again.

Furry Friends is the challenge this week. Here's our furriest friend, Tucker being a really good boy while Cannon counts the pads on his feet. I mean. Sure, sometimes I want to leave him on the side of the road but it's moments like this where I remember why we love Tuck.

Love.

Date happy hour and other randomness.

2011-08-21T14:42:00.001-04:00

I would say that 75% of the meals we have eaten since we moved into the temporary housing have been eaten at a restaurant, carried out, or delivered. Really it's a miracle I haven't gained 15 pounds. Thank you stress.

Anyway. A dinner out is nothing new these days. To be honest, I am sick of it. I haven't been so excited to meal plan in a long long time.

But last night. We ate out again. Only this time I didn't have to stop conversation to blow on someone's chicken, tell someone to out their shoes on, or apologize and tip extra for the amount of food left on the floor.

Thats right. A date. Without my kids. And sure. We were home by bedtime. But we didn't eat somewhere they serve French fries (rather Hawaiian fusion which means sushi, hoo.ray.) and we talked. And laughed. And enjoyed each others company.

I so needed that two hours.

Now the randomness.

If I had a list of my favorite ways to spend a Sunday IKEA would be n the top five.

On Friday night we will be eating pizza and drinking beer on the floor of an empty house.

Preschool starts tomorrow. Not sure who is more excited. Cannon's class has seven boys. And one girl. This is completely opposite of the way things were at 'home'. He needs school. I need school. This is good.

We still call NKY home. Not sure why. Maybe it's cause we don't have a home here yet.

We went to the beach yesterday. Every time we get ready to go Cannon says 'I can't wait to put my toes in the sand!' This is clearly my child.

Although. He is little. 31st percentile for height. I am five eight. Dan is six two. Weird. Maybe if he ate things other than chicken fingers and yogurt he would grow.

Tonight I will go to bed before 10. If I keep saying it maybe it will come true.

Turned on the news this morning to see what was going on in the world. First thing they talked about was Kim Kardashian's wedding. I love reality TV as much as the next girl. But really? I really really don't care.

And now I am boring. So friends. Hope your weekends were swell.

The Best part? IKEA.

Mostly observations.

2011-08-18T15:05:00.001-04:00

I am painfully boring this week. So if you are busy, don't waste time on this post.

My (almost) three year old held his sister yesterday. For the first time. She is almost 10 months old.

I am in naptime/bedtime hell. Do we take a nap, not take a nap, go to bed at a reasonable hour, act like a shit until 9? It's all very confusing. If you haven't already, check out 'go the fuck to sleep' on YouTube read by Samuel L. Jackson. Cause it's how I feel every night.

The baby's obsession with the potty needs to stop.

I cleaned the apartment for the last time today. Ok. Not entirely true but one of the last times. Yes. There is news. But I don't want to jinx it. Waiting until the ink is dry.

The level of my delight over our new grocery store is pathetic.

My (almost) 3 year old today told me girls don't drink beer. He is mostly right.

I am currently in a battle of wills over bows. She will not win.

If you do nothing else today, go over to to poop whisperer and read how eloquently Jess tackled something we should all be more aware of and sensitive to.

I quit Google+. Lame. It was lame. Maybe if they had thought of it before Facebook. Just saying. Anyway, jumped on the Pinterest train. Have no idea what I am doing or why but I am certain it will result in money being spent.

And finally, for my handful of new followers. Am not always this boring. Swear. Pinky swear. And welcome aboard!

The Best part? The ink will be dry. Soon. Not soon enough but soon.

I am here.

2011-08-16T07:27:00.001-04:00

Really I am over here today.

Talking about boobs. You've been warned.

O/R weekend wrap

2011-08-14T19:51:00.002-04:00

There's sand in my car. And my diaper bag. And the jogger. And in the cracks. It was a good weekend.

Am I the only one who fights off laughter when my toddler throws one of those kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs fits? It's hard not to laugh. For me at least. So much energy coming from such a little body.

Also. He only wants Daddy to read to him at night, get him out of his carseat, wipe his ass these days. You won't hear me complaining.

What is wrong with strawberries in Florida? Anyone? They suck.

I got to see a real friend on Friday. For just a few hours. Doesn't matter. I needed that hug, that chatting, that happiness. From someone who knows me. Happy heart.

And. My little boy. Got to play. With a friend. His joy is evident.

We went to the beach this weekend. Twice. What?

There is a house update coming. A good one. Standby.

Saturday night after a dirty diaper I let a pretty bad diaper rash air out. Only she ate sand that day. And so. From the kitchen. A trail. Of poop. That no one noticed until she crawled all the way into the bedroom. The apartment is not that big. So. How was your Saturday night? Shitty?

I pretty regularly look at my husband and think, 'damn, I did good'. Thought you should know.

I've got nothing else. But big house update this week. Maybe even tomorrow. And I'm pretty sure you'll find me over at Poop Whisperer talking at boobs or poop or both. So you have that to look forward to.

The Best part? The poop on the carpet cause it's a rental.

TPM Photo Challenge

2011-08-13T17:18:00.000-04:00

I have never done this. I don't enter giveaways for homemade necklaces or onesies. But I quite enjoy The Paper Mama and totally dig her blog and her pictures and her style. And what with my new photography adventure bound to start sometime, here goes nothing. I thought I'd jump on her bandwagon cause I think it's a ride I will enjoy. And learn from. And some other bloggers I really like do this a lot. So.

Eyes. The challenge is eyes. Please ignore the cracker in her hair. The challenge isn't hair, it's eyes.

So. That was fun. No?

True story.

2011-08-10T13:31:00.001-04:00

Catch up on the post below before you read this one.

It just got better.

We sent our cancellation.

The listing agent on the house called our realtor and suggested that if were already bringing 20% to the table, why couldn't we just bring the difference between the appraised cost and sale price? Um. Clearly you don't understand. We are not paying more than the appraised price.

She was also upset because they felt like we were only giving them one option. Um. We are. Sell it to us for the appraised price or we walk. One option.

Then. She suggested if we didn't have the cash that we could just ask our parents for the money. I'm sorry. What? I swear I would punch this woman in her delusional face if she was in front of me.

This house has gone from good, to questionable, to bad, to toxic and we are done.

She's a bitch.

2011-08-10T09:40:00.001-04:00

*disclaimer: if you are tired of reading about the house drama surrounding our move, move on. Nothing but ridiculous drama below. Venting and drama.*

I believe in karma. I believe things happen for a reason. As my friend Tracey put it, I want to punch people when they say that but it's true. Things happen for a reason.

Here's the deal. We bought a house. A good house in a neighborhood we love. Love. I am already in playgroups and have a school picked out and we are going to a luau at the end of the month. Or I was and we were.

The house appraised lower than the purchase price. Now. Before I go on let me remind you, we now live in Florida. And if you know one iota about the housing market, Florida is bad. Really bad. A 'buyers' market. We thought.

So. Appraisal comes in lower than purchase price. Ok. Well, that's not our fault, it is what it is. We asked the sellers to lower the purchase price to the appraised value and we can move on. They said no. They keep saying no. They want to spend two weeks we don't have fighting the appraisal. Let me give you the figures on that. Our lender says in the last two months, he has had 20 appraisals appealed. ZERO appraisals have been amended aft the two to three week appeal process.

So. Its two to three weeks we don't have first of all. Second of all, please remind me why in the hell I would ask to pay more for this house? Third of all, I am sorry that you paid so much for this house and are going to lose money. It's not my problem.

A little history on these mystery cheap-o's. They are both surgeons. Like as in DOCTORS. They are getting divorced and hate each other and this is likely the last asset they have together. Who in their right mind wouldn't suck it up, write a check and move on with their life? I do not understand. At all. And to be clear, the house didn't appraise for 100k less than we were going to pay. It's not that much less, especially for a surgeon. But you won't find us opening our checkbooks and paying more than a house is worth. Find some other suckers.

So. At noon today our cancellation contract goes into effect. And we move on. I am sad about the neighborhood and the house. And about having to go back to house hunting. We are looking at renting too. We only have a matter of weeks to get out of this apartment and move on with our real life.

So. There you go. We will walk away. They will put the house back on the market for another six months and easily spend in mortgage payments the difference between the appraised value and the sale price.

Seems like a no brainer to me.

So there you have it. The drama and ridiculousness of it all.

Maybe the third time will be the charm.

The Best part? Karma is a bitch. And they are going to learn that the hard way.

Observations and Revelations in brief

2011-08-09T08:59:00.000-04:00

I have decided to work on my posture. So if you see me, remind me.

I am done nursing. Or close to done. 9 1/2 months of only breast milk for my Peanut. Impressive if I don't say so myself. There's a major post coming on the nursing stoppage. But I am pretty sure I should get a medal or a party or something for making it this long.

These two above are not related or weren't related at the onset but better posture may help undo damage done by gravity and my children. Or at least create an optical illusion. Sigh.

The apartment complex where our corporate housing is sent out a memo telling residents when they re-sign their leases they will be cheek swabbing dogs to take a DNA sample. Yep. To determine who doesn't pick up their dog shit. Pretty sure if I actually lived here I might think rent was a bit high if there's money to catch non-poop scoopers via DNA samples.

We upgraded our cellphones. Joined this decade. Got droids. That little gremlin looking thing creeps me out.

I sat down on the couch on Friday and exclaimed,'Mama is pooped!' to which Cannon responded, 'Mommy you need to go to the potty!'.

Summer tv is killing me.

Oh and the house could fall through. Again. If it does you will hear my breakdown from wherever you are. I am looking at you my reader in Russia.

All everyone talks about is how we moved to Florida at the worst time. About how it's so hot. Here's the thing. I don't think it's that hot. And it's hot everywhere right now. Anyone looked at the weather map of Texas lately???

The Best part? 9 1/2 months. I will be awaiting my medal.

Ho Ho Holy crap...

2011-08-08T07:00:00.004-04:00

To say that we are all being tested would be accurate. Our family dynamic is interupted by this state of flux we are living in. And that's ok because challenges are good for us. They keep us on our toes. Keep our brains working. Livers too.

He's almost 3. His life is upside down too. He has no toys. No where to play. No space to call his own. No friends to speak of. No school to go to. No regularity to anything. In our world that equals chaos. It means tantrums, listening to Mommy and Daddy a lot less, and generally just more time outs and frustrations. What doesn't kill us... Anyway.

This weekend we were leaving the mall. All four of us. I had the double jogger with the baby in it. And carry out from California Pizza Kitchen (oh and we don't eat here on the weekends, or weekdays really for that matter). Daddy had the almost 3 year old and a bag. Cannon didn't want to leave the mall and in his declartory new voice he was letting us know it. We got outside into a very busy parking lot and he took off.  In a parking lot.

I am screaming his name. All three names (and not just cause his middle name is super cool). We are chasing him.  It is not pretty. Finally got a hold of him and spanked him (for putting himself in danger, first time I've done that... post over here on the spanking issue).

This is where it got interesting.

Out of nowhere comes this guy. He looks homeless. Or maybe just drunk. Dirty, long fingernails. Yellow teeth. An odd buttondown one piece outfit. And a white beard down to his belly button. Yep.

He says, 'does he know who I am?' scaring the shit out of me.   Um. Yes. He knows who you are and I will kick your ass if you try anything scary old, homeless, Santa looking creepo. But as creepy as he was, his lecture about watching him, making sure he's being nice and not naughty, and a reminder that Christmas is coming, was a welcome gesture. And perhaps, Santa got the message across better than I did in my scared, angry state.

So thanks summertime mall Santa. For helping calm us all down. And for using your gross long beard for good. The A-Team of Santas will thank you come holiday time.

The Best part? Santa's summertime suit.

Ssssss.

2011-08-04T13:01:00.000-04:00

Eat out. Go for a walk. Grocery shop. Shop for clothes. Shop for appliances. Get my oil changed. Have a conversation. Watch mindless television. Talk on the phone. Send an email. Go to the bathroom.

These are all things I would like to do without my children. But since we are living in 43 square feet (not to be dramatic about it) we all do everything together all the time. Especially the bathroom thing.

When I go to pee it's like a damn parade. First comes the dog who has taken to following me everywhere. I am not sure why, I am pretty sure he knows I don't really like him a lot right now (cause he's a pain in my ass) so why he needs to be at my feet every waking second of every day is beyond me. Oh and PS he's not a lapdog. He weighs 70 pounds. Then comes the toddler. He comes in and says, 'Mom, what you doing?'. I respond. He asks me where my penis is and I am usually saved from answering by the baby who comes ferociously crawling in the door and heads straight for the trashcan full of dirty diapers, q-tips, and whatever else. And bathroom break over.

Well. What's cool is that the same thing goes for Daddy when he is home. Only the toddler wants to pee with him. At the same time. Obviously not something we can do with Mommy, what with my lack of penis and all. So. Daddy comes home, walks to the bathroom and is followed by aforementioned parade of characters. Only this parade has a half naked toddler.

Even though it was Daddy's birthday last night, the scene was the same. Enter Daddy. "Happy birthday Daddy! Me go pee with you?" "Thanks buddy! Sure, come on! Let's go pee!"

Last night was a bit different though. While the boys were peeing. The toddler grabbed Daddy's unit/ penis/ business/ whatever you want to call it and said 'snake!'. Of course he did.

I am sure there is a lesson in here somewhere. About your private parts being private. Or keeping your hands and feet and other objects to yourself. I was too busy laughing. Plus, it wasn't my penis he grabbed. Just saying.

So. For your 33 birthday my love, you got an ego boost. And a penis grab. Here's to you. We love you. Don't say you never got anything nice.

The Best part? Daddy's face when he came out of the potty.

Surface of the sun

2011-08-04T11:20:00.001-04:00

You can find me over here today cause now that I live on the surface of the sun, I am a sunscreen expert.

Check it.

Back later.

oh hey. we have a house. again.

2011-08-01T13:26:00.000-04:00

Hope you don't think I'm not excited. I am beaming with excitement. I promise. But. We've been through this before. Like two weeks ago. Remember? So. Forgive me if I'm not writing in all caps. Once burned.

But. We are in the inspection phase of our new house and so far so good. I mean, no termites. That's a plus, right? So. Here she is.

No pictures of the inside to share. I mean I have them but it's staged horribly and do I know you? Anyway. We are scheduled to close on the 30th at the latest. Which is good because I think the people upstairs are actually trying to kill me. I am pretty sure they have nightly 'dance dance revolution' tournaments and I know the rearrange furniture hourly. Serious. Hourly. Doesn't bother the kids. It's me they are trying to kill.

So. We wait on the plumber, and the roofer, and the floor guy, to make sure we aren't buying a money pit and in the meantime I emailed the mom out of the neighorhood magazine (yep, neighborhood magazine) about play groups. Know what she told me? That our section of the neighborhood does monthly 'flamingo mingles' (I can totally get into that) and that there's a luau at the end of August that she is bringing us to so we can meet everyone. Oh and that there are kids at every house. I mean. I cried. Just a little bit. But I am dying for a sense of community. For friends and wine on a back porch. For my wine glasses. And my furniture. And some toys. Blah blah.

I will make you a deal. From now until we close I will only complain about the apartment once a week. Promise.

Happy Monday friends. Off to walk the dog down three flights of stairs so he can pee. Please don't poop... please don't poop...

The Best part? It's more wonderful than the first house.

Remember when....

2011-07-29T07:36:00.001-04:00

...I told you I was going to be a regular contributor over here?

No lie. First official contributor post is up. About flying solo with kids. Which I will be doing more of in the coming weeks because we bought a house. Buried the lead. I know. More on that later.

For now. Hop on over to Poop. and check it out!

Happy weekend Friends.

Observations and Revelations. Two weeks in.

2011-07-27T14:04:00.000-04:00

Today we have lived in Tampa as a family for two weeks. But 'lived' is a term I use loosely. See, you don't 'live' in a furnished apartment with almost none of your own stuff (save the Keurig, God love my husband for packing it in the van). You exist. By the end of the day you are literally crawling on top of each other and bedtime never comes soon enough.

A few numbers. I suck at math, FYI.
14 days here
17 houses seen
4 offers made
1 contract signed. Almost.
2 offers rejected.
3 head colds.
4 bottles of sunscreen.
0 sunburns.
1 trip the the beach.
28 times I almost killed the dog.
14 the number of days it took the dog to get smart and realize if he hangs out on the bed, the baby can't get to him to pull on his various appendages.
Lost count on the bottles of wine.

I really believe though, that with red wine and peanut butter m&m's I can do just about anything. Working hard not to run out of either. But at any given moment I could lose it. Literally teetering on the edge of a colossal meltdown of epic proportions.

The people above us now have a pony and a chainsaw. Although, as a Facebook friend pointed out, they could be bagpiping cloggers.

I have taken to using the Bob to haul in groceries. It's quite the workhorse. Even used it at the beach. There's a baby in there somewhere.

I am getting my hair done on Saturday. It is long overdue. It's also the first time I will pay for a cut and color since 2002. The only thing about television I miss, free hair dos.

I joined Google+. No idea why.

I am going to do it. I am soaking in information, chatting people up, offering to take pictures of anyone and anything for free. I am gonna do it. The Best part photography is coming. Mark my words. Stay tuned.

Also in exciting news. I am now a regular contributor at over here at The Poop Whisperer!. Super excited to write with these ladies! First post coming soon on flying with your kids without any help.

The Best part? I haven't teetered on the edge every day. Just some days.

Saturday Morning Scene -- Sunday Styles

2011-07-24T09:08:00.000-04:00

So yesterday afternoon I decided to link up with Katie over at Loves of Life cause I hadn't in a while. And, well, I had a Saturday Scene to share. So I did it. But then I didn't do it or it didn't work and I got distracted by alone time pool side. So. Without further adieu.

Our Saturday morning scene. On Sunday. 15 miles from the front door, or parking garage. Perfection. When we went to bed last night we each said, 'it kind of feels like we're on vacation!'.

Clearly, this, is the Best part.

Oh hey weekend.

2011-07-22T14:16:00.001-04:00

Three offers made on three different houses and three different people don't want our money. One didn't even counter offer. Um. A-hole. That's how this works. Yes. We didn't offer your asking price. Because it's too high and your house needs new countertops and new appliances. So we made an offer. You are supposed to make a counter offer. The reason your house has been on the market for six months is that it's priced too high and you apparently are unaware of how to play the game.

On another one. They countered by dropping their price 5k. We were like 40k apart. They were being annoying about terms and not telling our agent if they could close when we want to close (cause that's a HUGE factor for us... Remember, the apartment?) so we walked away. Today. They dropped their price 10k. And sent our agent an email telling her they are motivated. Um. What changed in 24 hours?

Anyway. We are taking a step back. A breath.

We are going to the beach tomorrow. And we might not come back. And by 'going to' I mean we are driving 25 minutes. Pinch me.

The right house is out there. Patience is a virtue. One I don't have.

Did I mention the people upstairs bought a pony? I mean why else would the stomping be out of control? And who drops weights on hardwood floors?

Good news of the day is the pink eye appears to finally be gone. Thank you stronger eye drops called in by my kids former pediatrician. I put makeup on five minutes ago. I feel pretty. Oh so pretty.

Dinner tonight with my oldest friend (not like she's old, like known her the longest) and her family. Can not wait.

And. We are three swim lessons in and he is rocking it. Kicking, blowing bubbles. He swam 15 feet across the pool today to his teacher. Without floaties or help. Major.

The Best part? The weekend is here. And I will be putting my toes in the sand. Boo. Yah.

Well. That sucks.

2011-07-20T19:11:00.001-04:00

Last night I had pink eye and a house. Tonight I still have pink eye. No house.

In a shitty nutshell between the husband and wife signing the contract they got a better offer. Sucks. But. If the shoe were on the other foot, we would have done it too. But from the buyers perspective this blows.

So tonight we drink red wine and eat peanut butter m&m's and let our kids destroy the place while we sulk. And we make an offer on another house.

Cause I know this one, wasn't right. Wasn't meant to be. And thats ok. Its for the better actually.

And PS if they come back, cause the 'better buyers' fall through we aren't interested. At all. This is a sign. Duly noted.

The Best part? It's not the only house on the market.

O&R Five days in.

2011-07-18T12:06:00.000-04:00

We looked at 13 houses in two days. With two small children. This is not for the faint of heart. Or the sober.

We saw the water. Twice.

Apartment living with two children and a dog is also not for the sober. The 3am upstairs stomping warranted a nasty email to management. We'll probably get one back for the baby screaming at 7am. Oh well.

I miss my friends. Sundays are not the same.

There are large brown bugs here. The husband calls them 'palmetto bugs'. Fancy. I call them roaches.

Made an offer on a house we like in an area we love. Offered about 50k less than asking price (has anyone read the papers? This is a buyers market) and they came down 2k. That's almost like bargaining. Something makes me think this one might not work out. On to the next one.

We did see two houses I love. But I am just not sure about the neighborhood. Kinda far. Off the beaten path. And I know no one.

I talked a big game about taking pictures and shaming home sellers. But then I went house hunting with two children. In Florida. I took pictures at the first house. Foggy lensed blurry pictures. Then I quit and just tried to remember which house was which. And which direction was up.

So. It's not that hot here. Like high of 90. In the Midwest it's like 105. Y'all should move to Florida. It's humid. And when you are in the sun it feels like you are sitting on the surface of it but it's not that hot.

Oh and we swim. A lot. Cause we can. And cause it's fun. And cause it wears the kids out. We are perfecting our circus act.

The Best part? I have thus far, managed to stave off any colossal breakdowns with some deep breaths, a run, and some wine. Sometimes in that order sometimes not.

O/R: we live in Florida now.

2011-07-14T07:51:00.001-04:00

So. Here we are. With two days worth of clothes. In an apartment.

It's a lovely apartment. But this morning I heard the guy upstairs pee. And I am pretty sure they rearranged their furniture last night. I will get used to it. I will get used to it. I have to get used to it on the temporary.

The movers pull out with all our earthly belongings today. Tens of thousands of pounds of stuff they say. Who knew Christmas decorations were so heavy.

I plan on house hunting with the camera this weekend. A post to follow to prove what I said before about people not knowing how to show their houses. Watch out Tampa homeowners trying to sell who just happen to read my blog. I am coming for you.

Speaking of camera. I don't have it right now. Will tomorrow. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. I miss it.

The baby has a double case of pink eye. I dare you to have a kid with pink eye and not constantly think about, touch, itch your eyes. I thought for sure we would all wake up with it today. Thank God for a pediatrician who gave us his cell number and called in a prescription before we left.

The husband who lost even more weight once he moved down here, has a pantry full of crap. I fell victim last night. I will not tonight. Cause my runners they're not here either.

That's all I've got. Off to put the baby down for her nap. She's sleeping in a bathroom. Judge away.

The Best part? We made it.

Boxes abound...

2011-07-12T10:11:00.001-04:00

When I came home from dropping the kids at school this morning this is what I saw as I pulled onto our street.

I cried. For a lot of reasons. Today is going to be an emotional one.

But. If I hadn't loved. If I hadn't celebrated. If I hadn't shared myself with others. If I hadn't given all that I am and shared who I want to be. Then I wouldn't be sad. But I wouldn't be me either. So I will take the tears and the emotions. Because it's who I am. And I leave knowing that this place, these people will be part of who we are always. It's not 'bye' it's 'later'. Cause where we are going, there is beach, and Disney, and sun when there is no sun anywhere else. So if we aren't enticing enough, that stuff should be.

Also. My rational mind is slapping my emotional self. Because we are moving to Florida, not China. No one is going to war. No one is fighting a disease. This is a life passage. An exciting one. That we are doing for the right reasons.

Also. I bought a sheet cake, cupcakes, one package of baby food, and two six-packs of beer at 8:15 this morning. My coping skills a marginal at best.

The Best part? Knowing that we are taking the friendships, the love, and the memories with us. Now, off to make sure the diaper genie doesn't get packed with dirty diapers in it. To sit in storage for weeks.

O/R the movers are coming...

2011-07-11T10:23:00.001-04:00

... tomorrow. They come tomorrow. Like less than 24 hours. I am mildly freaking out.

Have you ever packed for an indefinite amount of time knowing whatever you don't take you won't see until you close on and move into a new house. A new house that right now doesn't exist. It's not pretty.

I was gonna stop nursing. Then I wasn't. Then I was. Now I'm not. Stay tuned.

I have a vision of a dozen sweaty ex-cons taking over our house tomorrow. Haphazardly throwing things into boxes with no order, organization, or care. This would keep me up tonight if I didn't drink a few beers in a pool in 100 degree heat tonight.

Unrelated. My 8 1/2 month old weighs as much now as my toddler did when he turned one. 19 pounds 7 ounces of love.

My head is spinning. Think I may be in denial.

More when I sort it all out.

Probably when we live in another state. Near the beach.

The Best part? Like it or not, they are coming. Tomorrow.

Groove Thang

2011-07-06T14:24:00.001-04:00

A post on a best's blog got me thinking. About things. About my thing. She gave me the most wonderful compliment calling me an 'amazing mom'. Not sure there is a better compliment. But it got me thinking about my thing.

I don't think I have a thing. I mean yeah, I am a Mom. An amazing one, her words, not mine. I am a wife. A daughter. A friend. A sister. A blogger.

My thing used to be television. I worked in television. That was my thing. And I did my thing. And I did it well. And it may still be my thing. But I am closeting it for a while to see if I can find another thing. To explore new things. To see what things may present themselves.

See this Tampa thing, is an opportunity for me too. To find another thing, maybe. To learn something else about myself.

Whenever a professional photographer (or just one better than I am) takes pictures of my kids and I see them, I get tears in my eyes. Maybe it's cause I am obsessed with my kids. Or maybe it's seeing your kids through a different eye. I want to capture those moments for other people. I think. That could be my thing. I know it's not using my current skill set. Or really even my degree. But I think I could be good at it. And what better time to learn, grow, improve and maybe even embark on a new adventure, than my 30th year in a new city, with a new beginning.

If you are a real photographer you may be laughing at me. And that's ok. I may find myself in way over my head. Or I may find my groove. My moxy. My thing. You know what? I will never know unless I give it a shot. Or at least consider giving it a shot.

The good news is that I will never forget how to talk. Or how to look pretty. Or how to write. So I can always go back to that TV thing.

And before I find a new thing, I need to find a new house.

The Best part? That best who got me thinking about my thing? I think she's phenomenal at everyTHING she does.

What's your thing? Ever thought about it?

Ink is dry.

2011-07-05T18:32:00.000-04:00

Big gulps huh? Welp. See ya later. We are currently living in a house we no longer own. Hoo. Ray. Guess that means I can stop cleaning and mowing and maintaining, right? Kidding. No one wants that kind of karma hanging around.

If you like to snoop around other people's houses, this is the post for you. You have hit the jackpot.

I should be a professional stager. Or someone realtors pay to come in and give honest opinions. Say things like,'wallpaper is the devil, especially if it has bears on it' or 'while your children's school pictures from 30 years ago are precious, they would look better in a box, in the garage.'

I composed this post before closing. And am posting it after. I am a tad superstitious.

We sold our house in five days. Using pictures I took. In a horrible housing market. For more than we bought it for. We got lucky. But I will share what we did and hope it helps.

First. We weren't greedy. We wanted to get out. And fast. So, we priced the house at close to $8,000 more than we bought it for 5 years ago. We have put close to $20k in the house. But. We put that money in the house because we were living in it, not to make money on the house. And we knew that it just wasn't realistic in this economy. And the comps in our neighborhood suck.

Second. We took the first offer. Didn't counter. Took it. It's more than we bought it for. All we wanted to do was break even (ignoring all the improvements we made) and walk about with the 20% that we put down.

Now. The house. Go ahead, look around. Catch you after the pics.

We pretended like we didn't have children. We put all the toys away. And with the exceptions of their bedrooms, our house was kidless. No gates. No toy bins. No bouncers or highchairs or race cars. No diapers. Nothing.

Also. The dog disappeared too. No bowls. No hair. No toys.

We had the house professionally cleaned. Floor to ceiling. Blinds. Floorboards. Fans. Everything. Scrubbed.

My phenomenal better half worked his ass off on little projects. Painting. Aesthetic stuff. Upstairs in the hallway I put up about 20 different frames with family pictures. We took them all down. He filled the holes and repainted the whole hallway. The mailbox got a facelift. The deck got stained. Anything that a buyer could look at and say 'well if that is worn out, what else is worn?' we fixed.

The house was on the market for a week-ish. We had showings daily, sometimes more than one. Every night I cleaned. I made sure that if i got up in the morning and had a showing at 9 we would be ready.

I have spent the last 6 weeks selling a house and virtual house hunting. I am not an expert. But. Here's what I do know. Even if you think your suff is awesome, your kids are cute, your paint selection is phenomenal, and your decorating style rivals that of Martha's. If people can't picture their stuff in your house, they will not buy it. My kids are cute. Like really cute. I take tons of pictures and display them. But if you came over right now, you'd never know. My decorating style is pretty Pottery Barn esque. But my paint, is neutral. There is no wallpaper. No strange window treatments. No themes. Have sticker charts on your fridge? Take them down. A potty seat resides in your bathroom? Hide it.

The reason stagers make money and are successful is because they make a house look like the perfect people, with the perfect amount of furniture, the cleanest closets, and the shiniest countertops live in a house. It's a farce. Because no real person lives like that. But we did. On the temporary. And it worked.

The Best part? It worked.

Observations and Revelations: a catch up

2011-07-05T09:06:00.000-04:00

Oh hey. I am here. Back from a fabulous fourth weekend. The fridge looked like this when we arrived at my parents lake house. I did not take an after pic. Trust me. We took care of it.

We flew both ways without incident. Even had a bunch of people tell me yesterday how good my kids are and how they didn't know they were on the plane. Bragging. Yep.

And speaking of bragging. For 90 solid minutes last night neighbors on all sides held their own private fireworks shows. Neither of my kids made a peep. Neither. But it turns out people do shop at those tents that pop up for a month every year. Our neighborhood kept them in business this year.

We talked for weeks about Cannon going with Daddy and Doobie to see Cars 2. And despite hearing from other moms that it was violent and nothing like the first movie, we promised. Well. They got to the theater and a storm caused the roof to collapse. No movie. Probably a sign.

I got some cute wedges. I actually went back to the store for them after thinking about them for a few weeks. Found the last pair in my size (they're 11's, be jealous) on the sale rack. Meant to be. Told my Mom and she said, ' are they comfortable?'. Irrelevant. They are five inch wedges. They are cute. I am not running marathons in them.

One of my favorite times during the holiday weekend was a a very hot five mile run (fine, walked up the hills) with my husband. You know, the one I have seen for two days in the last six weeks? So fun. He is fun. And funny. And I love him.

We visited a flea market near my parents lake house (rural Missouri... Like a whole hour outside a major US city) and I have never seen anything like it. And I have spent a lot of time in Walmarts across the midwest. Like a lot of time. I heard a guy saying to his wife/girlfriend/sister/mom (maybe all of the above) 'if they have those brass knuckles this time, I can buy them cause I got money now'. Cause if I was broke and then had money brass knuckles seems like the right thing to buy. If I had only had my camera. Oh my. It could have been amazing.

Speaking of camera. Got some good ones this weekend and one of my faves I posted yesterday from the iPad looks crappy from the app. Remedied below.

The only thing in my fridge is breast milk and beer. And string cheese. We are moving in a week. I am not good at shopping for only a few days.

Speaking of moving. Major milestone should be complete by COB today. We will celebrate once it's done, mkay?

Oh the unpacking and the packing and the madness. Bring it. Getting so close.

The Best part? A wonderful relaxing weekend before the madness.

Happy 4th of July!

2011-07-04T21:27:00.001-04:00

An update.

2011-06-30T16:12:00.001-04:00

Didn't close on the house today like we were supposed to. Rescheduled for Tuesday if I don't kill our realtor first. I would fire her if I could right now. Anyway.

Less than two weeks until we are wheels up to Tampa. Kind of surreal. Cause we have known for a while and it has always felt like a ways away (that's a Midwestern phrase, isn't it?). Now it's knocking on our soon to be sold front door. I am ready. Sad but ready. Hardest part will be leaving friends. But not the friendships. We will keep those. And leaving the kids school. They love our kids hard. So grateful for that and for them.

Flying with the kids solo again tomorrow. Can't be as bad as last time. Surely it can't. You hear that Delta? I will not miss Delta when we move.

I am so looking forward to family time and cold drinks and swimming and relaxing and golf cart rides and good food and even better company.

Hope your holiday weekend plans include watermelon and beer and family and food and maybe even a body of water!

The Best part? We see Daddy tomorrow!

Fried Green Tomatoes

2011-06-29T13:53:00.001-04:00

I probably should have stopped at two of these bad boys. But I didn't. Wasn't driving. Worth the slight headache.

Spent three hours last night with three of the ones I will miss the most. Pajama friends. All dressed up.

And even a guest appearance by this one. The college friend who you never see but always know exactly what is going on, how things are and where you can find her if you need her. Gonna miss that too.

No one wanted to hear about my worries about packing for the beach. I am not sure why.

Maybe one day when I grow up I can drink one that looks like this.

Probably not.

It was wonderful. You're not rid of me yet. But if we could do that every night until I leave, I would. I would even drive one night. Maybe two.

Oh, and I am currently working out a plan for our babysitter and her husband to relocate with us. I am not sure I can leave her.

The Best part? All of it.

Hallelujah.

2011-06-27T06:48:00.001-04:00

After over analyzing my ass off last night both kids, slept all night. Both. Ya hear that? Both.

Thanks for listening. Tip your waitress.

The Best part of this one goes without saying.

Here I sit.

2011-06-26T19:30:00.001-04:00

Debating. Wondering if I am losing it. If my instinct is telling me to do it because I hope they have ear infections.

That came out wrong.

I don't want my kids to be sick. I want them to be themselves.

Let's start with the one with more of a history of ear infections. The older one. We all know he's not a sleeper. But usually I can get him to 7. Not the last week. I am lucky if I get him to 6:30. I know it's only half an hour but if you were just up at 5 to feed the baby (and you were up with her at 3) and finally fell back asleep around 5:30 you get my point (on a side note did you know if you miss the 'i' point autocorrect changes it to Pontiac? You get my Pontiac). He did sleep until 7 this morning but he woke up sweating and telling me he was freezing. Same thing after his nap. And the whining today has been unreal. Constant. And tears. I don't have a whiney, mopey, crying child. If I ask I'm if his ears hurt he says yes. Of course he says yes. If I ask him if something hurts he says no. So in summary. He's not quite himself, whiney and fevery when he wakes up.

The younger one now. She hates sleep. Ok fine, she took two good naps today. But she should have because she was up from 2:30-3:30 in the morning. Oh yeah, and so was I. She constantly plays with her ears. Constantly. But she is getting her second bottom tooth. No fevers from her but the misery in the middle of the night is a telltale sign. It was a telltale sign two weeks ago too. Remember? When she didn't have an ear infection.

Here's the thing. This is the week that has the potential to send me over the edge. Final inspection only 48 hours before closing and the pressure to get everything on that inspection taken care of before closing coupled with a day trip two hours away tomorrow and flying with the kids by myself on Friday may just drive me to drink.

So the question. Do I call first thing in the morning and make appointments for when we get back in town? Or wait. And then in the middle of the night tomorrow night ask the same questions. If I make the appointment they are going to ask things like 'have they been congested?' and I am going to answer 'nope'. And they are going to say 'why do you think they have ear infections?' and I am going to say, 'cause I am their mom and whatever I am doing isn't working so clearly something must be wrong so just send in our doctor and have him look in their damn ears so I can either fill a prescription and do a dance of joy or I can be reminded that they are kids and kids go through phases.' Some longer than others.

During a break in writing this I put the kids to bed and Cannon told me a noise hurt his ear. The same ear he pointed to earlier when I asked him if they hurt.

What if I bought one of those ear looker in things and googled what an ear infection looks like. The only problem is I couldn't do the 'check for ear infection hold' (you know, arm across their body holding down the arms and the other one pressing their head to your chest) and look in the ears. Good concept.

So. What would you do? Cause half of me thinks they are sick. The other half of me says I need to suck it up and deal with the ebbs and flows as they come and go. Chalk it up to stress.

The Best part? I have that hold down to a science. And isn't this what health insurance is for?

Observations and Revelations

2011-06-24T21:13:00.001-04:00

I am not a germaphobe. Far from it. I have put the baby down on the floor of an airport bathroom so I could put the toddler on the toilet. I probably don't push hand washing as much as I should. Germaphobe or not please tell me why you would buy an automatic hand soap dispenser a la Lysol. Marketed as a way to avoid touching the 'dirty hand soap pump'. You are getting soap to wash your hands. Just saying.

I think I have decided to take some photography classes once we are settled in FL. Really just decided. See, I need something. Just not quite sure what yet. So maybe, this is it. And if I could eventually make money doing it, that would be swell. I am not a salesperson so you won't find me pimping tupperware. And I love taking pictures. Mostly of my kids. I will get past that though. And I think my pictures are pretty good. But pretty sure others don't. At least not enough to pay me to take them. But maybe if I can capture moments of joy like this one with my own crew, I can do it with others. Or maybe I'll be selling Tupperware.

The longer I am away from TV the more I realize how it affected who I was. More on that later.

I have acquiesced to the baby. Dream feed is back. She's sleeping until about 5 now. The reasons are several but we are traveling a lot in the next couple weeks and then moving into an apartment. Where crying in the middle of the night isn't an option. But while teeth (yep, there's another one) are coming in and life transitions being made, the least I can do for her is try to stay on what she knows as a schedule. I know. Against everything most moms stand for and what I believed until I was here. In this position. Judge away. Judging myself.

Everyone keeps asking me if I have packed. I have not. The movers are packing. Should I be packing? Maybe just thinking about it. I am purging still. I have nightmares about opening boxes and saying 'what in the hell did I keep this crap for?'.

I am over autocorrect changing 'hell' to 'he'll'. When I mean HELL I mean HELL. Not HE WILL. I will add the apostrophe if I need it. Thanks.

Took Cannon to the grocery store today. The one with the little carts which he loves. Came home with CARS macaroni and cheese, CAR fruit snacks, and CARS cereal. Thank you Pixar and Disney.

I don't like beer. I can only drink beer at a hot baseball game. And it has to be what beer drinkers consider water. Ultra light super light. But tonight. I tried Shock Top Raspberry Wheat. Thank you. I think I'll have another.

Right now.

The Best part? Thinking about a new chapter. Even planning for it.

Suhs-ee

2011-06-23T11:44:00.001-04:00

A sweater.

Your favorite chewing gum.

Red shoes.

Fancy earrings.

Flowers.

For no reason. That's a sussy.

It's a term my mom taught me years and years ago. I have been given many a sussies in my day. And now I give them too. I think she learned it from a college roommates mom. If I am not mistaken that roommate was named Doodle Puckett. Can't make this stuff up.

Anyway.

Have you ever gotten a gift when you weren't expecting one? Like not for Christmas or for your birthday or mothers day. Just because. Best feeling. You know you are loved. That someone is thinking about you.

Enter one of my bests Meggie. And her friend Pete the Planner.. Don't know Pete but if he's good in her book, he's good in mine. Their new project. The Sussy Project.

Is there a better way to spread kindness? Pay it forward? Spread smiles? Love it. Rock on.

Check them out. Nominate someone. Or the next time you are out and about pick up a sussy for someone. Just because.

What's not to like?

The Best part? Spreading sussy love.

It's a tooth. A freaking tooth.

2011-06-21T21:04:00.001-04:00

So this doesn't mean she is sleeping through the night. And who knows what's in store for tonight.

Last night I skipped my normal 10pm dream feed. It's time to stop that anyway and I wanted to go to bed. So she went to bed at 7 and got up at 3. That's 8 hours. And she wasn't screaming or fussing. She was hungry. She was up again at 5:45 and honestly? I could have given her a passy and let her fuss and put herself to sleep but I wanted to go back to sleep too. So I fed her again.

The tooth is almost through. It's the cause of the miserable night. She was just so uncomfortable. So. Once we get through this bad boy we will tackle the whole 'your thighs are the size of Texas, you probably don't need to eat in the middle of the night' issue.

Thought you'd like an update.

The Best part? I took a nap today. During a thunderstorm. Nothing better.

Judge away.

2011-06-20T08:28:00.001-04:00

Fine. I admit it. I got judgy. When I had one baby. One baby who at 12 weeks started sleeping from 7-7 and never stopped. One baby who rarely got up in the middle of the night save a few teething episodes.

I got judgy when someone had an eight month old who still got up at night. An eight month old who wouldn't cry it out. I judged. What baby doesn't eventually fall asleep?

I got judgy when someone still got up to feed their old enough to sleep through the night baby at say eight months old.

Guess who is eight months old tomorrow?

Apparently it wasn't our stellar parenting skills that had Cannon sleeping through the night at 12 weeks. Damn.

Two hours of scream and sooth and cry it out and not falling asleep and Tylenol and orajel and mylicon and inconsolable baby. Two hours. Usually it's not that bad. Usually it's a passy at one and feeding at 4.

I took her to the doctor a week ago. For sure, she had an ear infection. She did not. Damn.

Because what goes around, comes around, judge away. I can not get this child to sleep through the night. Breast milk. Formula. Solids.

Praying that one of the biggest honking white teeth pops through those precious gums today.

The Best part? You would never know that she barely slept. This child, is always happy. Except in the middle of the night.

And before you start sending self soothing advice. She puts herself down for naps. And before you suggest I send the husband in instead, read the post before this one. And before you tell me I am doing something wrong, remember you'll get yours. Just like I am right now.

2 weeks this time.

2011-06-19T20:36:00.001-04:00

This guy.

Was home. For 48 hours. It was magnificent. We miss him. Terribly. We went to the airport way early to welcome him home. And left him there today. There were tears. From a little boy who misses his Daddy.

Did you know a two year old can blow a secret? I didn't. First thing he told Daddy on Friday was, 'we got you new running shoes daddy!'. Super. Not that the wrapped rectangular box on top of the fridge wasn't a dead giveaway for something he had asked for.

They played. Endlessly. Chased. Threw balls. And raced cars. Boy things. Things Daddy is better at than Mommy. They went to the potty three times during a 90 minute meal out. They went on adventures. Read books. Soaked up the time.

And so did I. We drank one too many bottles of wine. Sat out on the deck a few hours too late and laughed and planned and got excited about our new adventure. I had a headache Saturday morning. It was worth it.

I knew I married the man of my dreams. Have always known that. It's a bonus that he is an amazing father to our kids. If Cannon is half the man his Daddy is he will be a success. I love him hard.

And here we go again. Staying busy. With an end in sight. It's good. It's all good.

The Best part? Just two weeks this time.

AND He took out the trash and picked up dog poop. Boo. Yah.

Doobie

2011-06-19T07:15:00.001-04:00

We call him Doobie. It's a long story. One that has nothing to do with pot and everything to do with Romper Room. A show I have never seen. Anyway.

He wears Crocs. Orange ones. He is kind. And funny. And thinks before he speaks. He would take a concert and draft beer any day over a black tie affair.

He is the best Dad a girl could ask for. Always has been. And who knew he would be such an amazing grandfather? He is. We love him hard. And are hugging him from here today.

Love you Doobie. Happy Fathers day!

The Best part? A day to celebrate the two most amazing men in my life. More to come on the other one after we put him on a plane. Time to make pancakes. :). Happy Father's Day!

Observations and Revelations

2011-06-16T20:31:00.000-04:00

I can't take Cannon shopping with me until after June 24. Every end cap, every aisle, every cereal box is covered with CARS. Mater is all over the damn place and I am going to go broke.

Had lunch with a friend this week. Upon being seated, the hostess asked us if we would like a menu. Really. Oh and it was at Cheesecake Factory. Seen their menu? Fine, I got the same thing I always get but still.

Day after the inspection the dishwasher started making a noise. I do not hear anything.

Do you know what radon is? Moreover, do you know how expensive it is to fix it? And then the guy offers a more aesthetically pleasing (read: expensive) fix. I couldn't care less if they install an industrial sized fan and duct tape it to the back of the house.

We aren't going to close on time. Not our fault. Have to be a few speed bumps right? To remind you that nothing is perfect.

Did you know that in less than a month I can dig my toes in the sand whenever I want? Do you know how therapeutic I find that? I am sure it will lose its novelty but I hope it takes a really long time to wear off.

Almonds do not taste like wheat thins. No matter how hard I try.

I could barely swallow Greek yogurt 4 months ago. I could tolerate the kind with fruit on the bottom (which defeats the point... Has tons of sugar, negates the protein). Now. Give me some zero Greek yogurt, some fresh berries and a smidge of splenda and I am good. Like really good. You can say 'I told you so' Mom.

Summer tv sucks.

The baby barely naps at daycare. 45 minutes today. Total. And she still doesn't sleep all night. Yet, this child, looks like this, all the time.

Forgive the crappy iPad picture. She smiles. All the time. With her entire body. Cannon was smiley but not like this. She is sheer joy. All the time.

Don't know if you heard but I am going to have adult conversation this weekend. Not on the phone. And not with my girlfriends. And not with my second or third husband (yep. I have backups). With my actual husband.

I will leave you with this. We are paying a 16 year old who grew into his muscles way before he grew into his personality to mow the yard. So when Cannon is saying goodnight to Daddy tonight, he says 'Daddy, me please use your mower when I get bigger, please???'. Yep. Sure can. And you can use my dishwasher too buddy!!

The Best part? Don't even have to say it. Consider me checked out for the weekend.

Find Lauren

2011-06-16T13:18:00.001-04:00

I am not good at tracking my analytics or my stats. But I do know I have readers in lots of states. States where this story might not be getting the coverage it's getting in the Midwest.

So. Spread the word. Tell your friends. Blog about it. I have covered so many of these stories that end tragically. Let's help this one have a happy ending.

Lauren Spierer is a 20 year old student at Indiana University who has been missing nearly two weeks. She is 4' 11" and 95 pounds.

Go to the website.

Become a fan of the facebook page.

Tell your friends. Tell your mom (moms talk). Tell your grocery store clerk. Blog about it. Tweet about it.

Do what you can. Cause it's the right thing to do.

Almost there...

2011-06-15T21:27:00.001-04:00

Have you ever been away from your husband for three weeks? I mean short of them being in the military (Thank you!) I can't imagine that many people are away from their spouse for longer than a work week or so. Hell, I hadn't been. Until now.

So. What have I learned? Here goes.

You can go an entire day without showering and not realize it. Sure I have gone a day without showering but usually it's a conscious decision. The last three weeks it's been 10 at night when I realize and at that point, what's the point? To be clear this isn't a daily occurrence. I do shower.

There is no point, absolutely no point in cooking a meal. If you have children like mine who only eat kid food. Buy some lettuce, some chicken, some feta and some balsamic vinaigrette and call it dinner. For a week.

Bed is lonely.

There is little to no reason for makeup unless you are escaping for a lunch or dinner out.

Same goes for shaving your legs.

Every time you swear you will nap at nap time, one of your children will mess up that plan.

Every night when you go to bed praying to sleep a solid six without being awakened you will be.

You will take on major challenges like potty training just to stay busy, on your toes, and accomplish things.

Sometimes you will ok pretzels for breakfast. Against your better judgement.

If your time away is during summer television, find a hobby. Virtual house hunting is mine.

If you buy Trader Joe's little delish cookies, you will eat them. At night. When you shouldn't.

You can stop buying in bulk. Don't stop buying wine.

You have more patience than you knew.

Honestly, the worst part hasn't been the toddler or the getting up in the middle of the night or the potty training or the constant kiddo entertaining. I have surprised myself actually. I haven't lost my temper, have found a rhythm. Everyone is fed, entertained and clean (except for me...) and happy.

The worst part is missing who makes us whole. Trying to explain to a toddler how long a week is. The worst part is that my best friend is a thousand miles away. And I am better because of him. So being away from him is hard.

But this is temporary. He isn't in Afghanistan. He's in Florida. And soon we will be too.

Those of you who do this on your own, every day, here's to you. You are stronger than anyone knows. You deserve a drink. And a break.

The Best part? I could have been showing the house once a day for the last three weeks. Now if I can get through closing without making our realtor cry we will be sitting pretty.

Potty Training: week one

2011-06-13T07:37:00.001-04:00

To be clear, this is not advice. This is merely what is working (read: we are still in the process) for us. I didn't read any books. I asked for advice and opinions. I took what I liked and left the rest (probably why I have an almost eight month old who NEEDS to eat at 5am despite thighs that clearly indicate otherwise cause I don't listen to all the advice).

For the last six months or so there have been occassional pees on the potty. But he would never stop what he was doing to go potty (except to hide in the corner squatting with a red face). Last Sunday we were at a festival and one of his friends (a girl cause all of his friends are girls cause no one I know has any 'y' chromosomes) had to go potty so he went with her and her mom, my friend Julie. I gave Julie a fresh diaper and told her he probably wouldn't go but just to throw a new diaper on him. Well. He went. In hindsight, I should have provided Julie with some 'boy potty guidance' (also a post to come about my amazing friends who step in a s mom or dad or husband to help us out these days). Anyway. He went when we came home too.

Since I am delusional and don't have enough going on, I decided that Monday morning we would ditch diapers and see how it went. I mean the house is basically sold so what's a few new stains? Everyone told me to just stay home the first few days. Well, that's not an option for us right now because there is no one else to go buy Buzz Lightyear underwear.

Day one there were a few accidents. Only pee though. Poops took place on the potty for the first two days. The third and fourth days they did not. Day 5, it was back on. The potty. On day five there was a stressful few minutes on the highway when he said he had to go. Finally got off and practically threw him on the portable potty I out in the back of the mini and he didn't go. One small accident yesterday but to be fair he was outside, in the little pool and had water poured on him. Hell, I peed watching it. And today? We were accident free. That's one week.

Now. To be honest and clear.

We are wearing diapers at night and during nap. Baby steps.

I have asked every five minutes for the last week, 'buddy, do you have to go potty?'.

And every time he goes in the bathroom I say, 'don't forget to put your penis down'. Not something I said before. But this is crucial if you have a boy. He can be sitting on the potty and pee all over the bathroom, or you if you are in front of him. Yes. We are sitting down to pee right now. Daddy is not home. We are peeing sitting down.

I was worried. I was nervous. I was afraid it would e super stressful. It hasn't been. It has been good. Dare I say relatively easy? Now. We have big transitions coming so I know there will be a few steps back.

My fold up padded potty seat came today. And now has a nice spot in my diaper bag.

I skipped the pull ups. I didn't see how letting him pee in a pull up was any different. I mean, yes, he can take them off but why not just go right to underwear? I go no problem throwing peed in clothes in the washing machine. Especially since it stays with the house.

Also. I have broken my 'no characters on clothing' philosophy. But it's underwear. You can't see it. But someday they will be striped boxer briefs. For now, it's Buzz, Woody, Mater, and Racer Queen.

So. There you go. Diaper free. Basically. Just like that.

The Best part? It's kind of like when I got a raise when he switched from formula to milk. Oh and I am no longer changing man poops.

Observations and Revelations

2011-06-09T07:35:00.001-04:00

I stopped following like a dozen blogs this week because I got tired of the constant giveaways. Give me entertaining, compelling, thought provoking. Don't give me a necklace. I don't want to follow you on twitter, Facebook or the sidewalk. Nor do I want to leave a comment about how awesome you are. I get it. It's a way to get followers. I am just not interested. And I get tired of pulling up my reader to those damn random number generators. So. Bye. If you get interesting again let me know.

And I am close to leaving those that constantly do product reviews. I get it. You got it for free. So you write about it. I have yet to read a negative product review on a blog where the product was free. Just saying.

Last night while I was eating dinner I cleaned poop out of underwear. So that was pretty awesome. But I will say in four days of wearing big boy pants we have had four accidents. I think that qualifies him for rockstar status. I am taking detailed notes for a post to follow about how we did it. It's too early for that though because its not 'done' yet.

I said bye to my OB without crying. Baby steps. I spent some quality time with her.

I cried. Like a baby for Meredith's final show. I cried when Katie left too. I will say I don't think she is the most talented anchor or reporter for the job but I have met Ann Curry and she is genuine and kind.

I am also mentally preparing for our house selling advice. But since we haven't done inspections or closing yet I am not going to jinx anything by blogging about it. But standby. Because we sold it in five days.

Halfway through the longest stretch without Daddy at home. I picked up dog poop last night. For the first time. Ever. The dog is five.

I know he's not in Afghanistan but I am pretty excited to take the kids to the airport and wait for Daddy. Maybe we will go tomorrow and set up camp. A week early. Got nothing else going on.

First of two inspections tomorrow. Cross your fingers, pray to whoever you pray to, please. Little things are fine. Big things? Not so much.

The Best part? One week from tomorrow.

By the numbers

2011-06-06T21:50:00.001-04:00

5,482: the number of times I said today, 'buddy, do you have to go potty?'
2: the number of 'number 2's' that took place on the potty
0: the number of 'number 2's' that ended up in the big boy pants
6: the number of pees on the potty
3: number of pees on the floor
5: pairs of big boy underpants gone through in one day
$18: spent on new big boy pants because Buzz Lightyear gives you the power to go on the potty
3: glasses of wine for yours truly tonight

This is a great start.

The Best part? This is how he spent the day. Or most of it. Eat your heart out ladies.

Here we go again on our own...

2011-06-05T21:50:00.001-04:00

We collapse into bed (to be clear, DIFFERENT beds. I can barely stand the dog in the room much less a child or two) at night. Everyone is exhausted.

This is my plan. And so far, so good.

I have a close friend whose husband is a pilot. She is constantly scheduled. A morning activity and an afternoon activity. I didn't get it. Don't you just want to hang out and watch TV? I get it now.

Parades. Pool. Zoo. Festivals. Barbecues. Play dates. Soaking up and savoring time with those we hold closest. This is what we are doing.

It's the best way I can figure to pass the time while Daddy is starting a new job and I am a single parent to two kids. It is exhausting. But we are handling it. We miss him. Badly. And not just cause I took the trash out today for the first time in years. And cause I will have to pick up dog poop this week.

We miss him. He makes us complete. And he misses us. So we are staying busy. Him at work, us at play.

And also? I may have gone mental. There are big boy underpants being worn in the house today. Like diving in head first. Someone talk me out of it. Cause when I get busy, I get really busy. And I want it. I invite it. Bring it. So I will test my parenting skills even further.

By the end of the day we will either be back in diapers or mildly excited for baby steps (he does go to school the next 3 days so they can deal with it for a few days). Either way the wine tonight? Will be cold.

The Best part? Little boy butt in big boy underpants.

Just like that.

2011-06-02T20:34:00.002-04:00

To quote Oprah's prodigy... Mister Nate Berkus. 'Your home should tell the story of who you are and more importantly who you want to become. It should rise up to greet you each and every day.'

The house was listed Friday night. It took five days. We are under contract. Did you hear that? WE ARE UNDER CONTRACT!!!

Wow.

My head is spinning. I don't really know where to start.

It was meant to be.

I am so grateful. So thankful. Feel so blessed. In this economy, in this housing market, to sell a house that fast, not lose our asses, and to get to move on. It's priceless. I am thanking all of those powers that be. You know, God, Buddha, John Smith, the Dali Lama....

It was meant to be.

We are supposed to be there. We are supposed to be in Tampa. If that wasn't clear before, it is now.

The people who are buying the house were the first ones to see it. They have three kids who they are foster and adoptive parents to. They love our house. I love that they love our house.

Cause this was our first house. Cause we put a lot of blood, sweat and tears in it. Cause we love it. Cause we brought our babies home from the hospital to this house. Cause it's home. Cause it's memories.

I want it to be filled with the love we fill it with. And it will be.

And more than that? We can be a family again, soon. Sooner rather than later.

The Best part? Blessed. Lucky. Pinching ourselves.

OR week 3

2011-06-01T14:33:00.000-04:00

Four days in. Five showings. I am amazed and so thankful that we are getting this kind of activity on our house. Fingers crossed. Rumor has it there is an offer in the works.

I am existing in a cleaner more sterile environment than I ever thought possible. It's amazing and refreshing and impossible to keep up beyond a house sale. I mean who vacuums everyday? Dirty laundry? Hidden in the washer. And today, I had a dishwasher of clean dishes and two dirty cups on the sink. Put them in the cabinet. At least they weren't in the sink. I also sent our realtor (who I love) a text to tell her not to call the fire department after a sippy lid fell on the heating element in the dishwasher. Smelled lovely for our nosey neighbor showing this morning.

I fell in love with my minivan the other day. Sure, I have always liked it. However, remained too cool for it. We loaded four kids into it with ease and headed to a parade. Then I nursed the baby in the way back in Target's parking lot while Curious George entertained the toddler. I sat in awe at it's cavernousness. It is awesome. I am too cool for the outside but the inside? Fits me just fine. Oh and during a showing I plugged the pump in and hung in the way back at the mall. Hello Mr. security Officer.

I shopped at a different grocery store today. Cause I could. Not that before I was required to shop at the largest retailer but since the hubs worked for them and they paid our bills, we shopped there. Plus they do save you money so you can live better. Plus we got a discount. Well. He no longer works there. Went to a different (read: nicer) grocer. Ordered my Boars Head in the deli order machine and picked it up on my way out. Got it home. The label says turkey but it is clearly ham. I hate ham. Lesson learned. Check the order before you leave.

I have promised park or pool or something outdoors after nap. Do you know how hot it is? I sat outside for 20 minutes yesterday before adding 'pool' into the top five priorities for our new abode. Not complaining about the heat. Just longing for a cooling off source.

I have to say I have an overwhelming sense of calm ever since leaving work. It was hard for five minutes and now? I feel good. At peace. At ease. Yes, things are a bit stressful but it's manageable. Zen. Very zen.

I am selling huge oriental rug in Craigslist that my parents dumped in our basement on one of their moves. It's huge. A house with no basement (a house in Florida) will have no room for it. A guy named Hassan is coming tomorrow. To ensure he is rug dealer and not a serial killer I will have backup on hand. I have gotten more requests for my birth date, address, phone number and SS# with this Craigslist sale than any others. The must be some real morons out there who fall for that stuff.

I got a new wallet. Its orange. Like a caution barrel. This way the next time it is left on the hood of my car and flies into traffic it won't get hit.

I haven't been running as much as I was. Just a few times a week. Sometimes outside, sometimes in. You know how people who run say that once you run outside you will never go back to the treadmill? Turns out, I hate them both equally. Have no qualms about the treadmill. It is just as miserable as outside. Oh and I am five pounds from my goal weight. That would be 20 lost since the beginning of February. Must admit my dinner of cheese and almonds are probably helping that along. You too should be a single parent trying to sell a house. I will be selling my diet secrets soon.

That's all I've got lovies.

The Best part? 20 pounds. Duh. Oh and flabbergasted. it's not used enough. I resolve to use it more often. As in, I was flabbergasted when I opened the turkey to find it was not turkey rather ham. Flabbergasted I tell you!

Well that was neat...

2011-05-31T09:02:00.000-04:00

Once, when we were in the throws of wedding planning I left hard boiled eggs on the stove for the better part of an hour.

During a stressed out time period before children, I left an iron on and went to lunch an hour away.

When I was pregnant I left eggs on the stove again.

We are beginning this new adventure. Moving a thousand miles away. Trying to sell a house. And working to keep some sense of normalcy around for our kids. We hit up a parade. Went swimming. Are doing summer things. But we are busy. The hubs is starting a new job. In a new city. We are preparing to start a new life and leave some of those who are closest to us. There is stress.

To keep a sense of normalcy (and my sense of sanity) the kids are still going to school two full days a week. Today is one of those days. Got them dressed and into the car like any other morning. And we're off.

My wallet is mobile. That is, I don't always keep it in my purse. I put it in the diaper bag if we are going somewhere I need the diaper bag and I leave my purse because who wants to carry two bags and two kids? So this morning, I grabbed my kids, their bags, my wallet and my coffee and loaded up the car.

On the way to school I hit some papers. I thought, what did I just hit? Looked in the rearview and saw some papers. Thought nothing of it. Back to singing Zipadeedoodah.

Until I pulled into school and realized those were not papers. That was my effing wallet. On a three lane busy road. During 'rush hour'. That was my wallet. My wallet that holds my drivers liscense. My credit cards. Some cash. The kids birth certificates (for when we fly). Holds my life.

Fast forward through an abrupt drop off where I am sure I was nothing short of neurotic. Put the hazards on in the center turn lane and start looking. I was joined by a guy and his dog, and a cop. With his lights on of course.

Found the cash. The drivers liscense (Thank GOD, I was sure I was going to spend the rest of the day driving between home and the DMV for various forms of ID, birth certificates, and blood samples to get a new one). All but one credit card. Even some reciepts. That? Is nothing short of a miracle.

So I cancelled the one card. And need a new wallet. Not bad for how bad it could have been.

Moral of the story? My conscious handles stress just fine. My subconscious? Not so much.

The Best part? Only one card. Seriously.

Picture this

2011-05-30T22:11:00.001-04:00

Big fun for Our week of temporary dual unemployment. We were more than zen. It was perfect. I don't usually do picture posts so don't get used to it. Mkay?

The Best part? It's good. Life is good.

It's real. O&R styles

2011-05-28T09:28:00.001-04:00

Sign is up.

Doesn't get more real. Until my better half leaves in two days of course. Then it's really real.

On the market for 12 hours. Hasn't sold yet. My hopes remain high.

LOL. I hate LOL. Primarily because when someone types it, what they have typed is not LOL funny. I am fine with a simple 'ha!' or a ':)' but LOL? Really? Is it that funny? From my experience it's not. And if it is that funny don't you owe it to the comedian to type it out? You won't ever see LOL from me. Same goes for ROFLMAO. Bothered that I actually know what that stands for.

While we're at it. I don't check in. Not at 'Casa de Best part' nor at Walmart. Primarily because I don't think anyone gives a shit where I am. But, don't get me wrong. I love knowing where others are. So don't stop. I just won't start.

I will not miss people parking at the end of our driveway when we move. I am not talking about blocking the driveway. I am talking directly at the end on the other side of the street. It makes backing out a challenge to miss the mailbox and our other cars and not hit theirs. Yes, I know I have a backup camera, however. Do you have one? Ever notice how much closer things actually are than they appear? Just saying.

So. Ever had to have your house immaculate all the time? With a 2 year old? And a 7 month old (who dare I say it, is considering crawling?)? And a dog? At least summer tv is starting so I will have literally nothing else to do but clean after the kids go to bed.

I know i have been MIA. And it's a good thing. We have been at the zoo and baseball games and playing. We are the picture of temporary unemployment. We are zen. Life is good. Cause it's about to get a tad rocky. So this break? We needed it.

The Best part? Once I finish cleaning every night, I will have endless time to blog. About nothing. Get excited.

Holy crap.

2011-05-23T10:20:00.001-04:00

I am behind. Way behind. Have a lot to catch you up on. But it will have to wait. I am working my last two days this week and the husband leaves in a week so we are busy.

Being a family.

Burying saints to sell the house.

Preparing.

Deets soon. Promise.

The Best part? 6 years married to this guy. Could never ask for more.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

OR Week 2

2011-05-16T09:00:00.001-04:00

A post disappeared. It was called 'follow her husband'. Named that after a headline referred to me in the following way: 'veteran reporter quits to follow her husband'. So empowering. Next week I will be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen where I belong.

If I was a betting woman I would say today I will get a phone all from school about a fever.

Why are two children never up at the same time? Do they plan that? Are they already teaming up against us?

She is finally sleeping all night. Or she was. Now she is getting teeth. She is no longer sleeping.

Hoping to meet with blood suckers this week. I mean realtors. I know, I should be nicer. And as long as one walks in the door, says 'I can sell this place, for a good price, fast, I will be nicer.

The purge continues. I have to say it has been an eye opener. Why do we hold onto crap? Shove it into a closet and worry about it later? It feels so much freer and less cluttered when you just ditch it all.

We had a major trip planned this weekend. We were going to the Greenbrier for four days. We cancelled it. Worried we would spend a lot of money to think about all the stuff we needed to be doing at home. So we are spending a night downtown this week. Eating at our favorite steakhouse. Sleeping. All night. It's not a four day getaway but we will take a raincheck.

I realize how boring the above points are. It's Monday. I will be better. I promise.

On Saturday night we had some friends over. A kid came by to sell some magazines to go to Cancun or something stupid like that. I was barely paying attention. I let him in for a half a second. Then I realized how dumb that was thanks to some ribbing from friends and my husband. So far our stuff is still in our house. I didn't buy anything. I am not that stupid.

The Best part? Thursday night. I won't hear anyone cry.

Observations and Revelations: the move, week 1

2011-05-11T19:46:00.000-04:00

Aren't even close to being in the thick of it. Haven't even talked to a realtor. But what we have done, is purged.

There are only four drawers in our kitchen (not counting a junk drawer, this is on the 'need' list for new house) and one of them was utensils. Not eating utensils, cooking utensils. I went through that drawer today. Someone tell me why I had four slotted spoons, five sets of tongs, three meat thermometers, and 800 whisks stored in that drawer. It now has two spoons, a spatula and a whisk in it. Why do I need more than that?

I am taking bets on how many boxes we will open and say 'oh hell, why in the world did we keep this crap?'. This is my current purge motivation.

It was hot today. And humid. To be clear, I am not complaining. I am stating fact. I complained way too much about snow to even consider complaining about heat.

I ran 2 miles pushing the kids in the jogger. I was drenched. It was 10 in the morning. Drenched. This does not bode well for outdoor workouts in Florida.

I have a sweaty kid too. He sweats. Doesn't help that he has a ton of hair and I had him in a polo and undershirt today. Hopefully all of our bodies will adjust. We are going to be a hot mess for a while.

As I said it was warm today. But it wasn't 'let your kid take their shirt off at the zoo' warm. Nor was it 'carry your infant around the zoo in only a diaper' warm. But they did. A lot of them. It was 85 not 120. Just saying.

And while I am at it it was also apparently 'show your ugly ink' day at the zoo. Why anyone would tattoo shoe laces up their spine is beyond me.

Was calling cleaning companies for estimates the other day. I want the house scrubbed floor to ceiling before we list it and I don't want to do it myself. Not even a little bit. One company (MaidPro) told me they don't clean windows or blinds. Um. Hello. Crucial parts of cleaning a house, no? So... You dust and vacuum? You're fired.

The Best part? Minimizing our crap feels pretty good.

Happy Mother's day!

2011-05-08T10:47:00.001-04:00

I have a fabulous one.

And because of this guy...

Am lucky enough to be one to these two.

Can't ask for more than that. Oh, and the fact that I am changing no diapers today, shopping by myself for myself later, and am doing this, in silence right now.

The Best part? The two year old hugged me and told me I am his hero today.

Oh and this line from the book pictured above: 'My whole life people who ask me about my scar within one week of knowing me have turned out to be egomaniacs of average intelligence or less. And egomaniacs of average intelligence or less often end up in the field of TV journalism.'. Wanna know what I do for a living??? I know a lot of egomaniacs of average intelligence or less. Cause it takes one to know one. Although I like to think I am of at least average intelligence.

Obv and Rev

2011-05-06T20:57:00.001-04:00

Our vet is in a pet store. Our dog is high maintenance. We always go checkout the chinchillas once I muscle in two kids and an 80 pound golden retriever. Today Cannon loved something other than the chinchillas. The 'fancy rats'. No joke. Thats what they are called. On sale for 7.99. Just cause you call them 'fancy' doesn't mean they are. Just saying.

He earned a sticker last night. And everyone slept. No screaming. Nothing. He got up at 6:45 with a super wet diaper. I can do 6:45. We will potty train someday. Soon. I hope.

Today I am finishing my depersonalization of our house. It's kind of sad. But I know as well as anyone who watches HGTV that you can't sell your house with all your own crap everywhere. Also, mirrors make rooms look bigger.

Know what's awesome about your husband being in the final two weeks of his current job? He comes home at like 3.

Derby day! Someday I will get a big fancy hat and watch those ponies in person and drink mint juleps. Even though I hate whiskey. But this year I would rather watch (or not, I don't actually care) with a house full of friends and kids and chaos.

Tomorrow in honor of Mother's day I will change no diapers. None. Zero. Zilch.

Happy weekend Friends :)

The Best part? We all slept. All night. Ok fine, the baby still got up at three but we are working on it.

Observations and Revelations: last night

2011-05-06T07:32:00.001-04:00

I made the decision that we should go out for Mexican on Cinco de Mayo. Colossal mistake. Not cause of the obvious 'kids behaving' issue, they were fine. It is not a good idea to have Mexican for dinner when you really haven't eaten carbs in any quantity especially after 3 in the afternoon in a solid four months. We were miserable. Epic failure and a good lesson about how well our current diet supports energy. Energy we need because of nights like last night.

The sticker system is a fail. He is two for five. Bedtime last night was miserable once again. It was a process that started at 7 and ended at 8:30 with a toddler sleeping in his tennis shoes. Why? Cause he wanted them on to sleep and sometimes you chose your battles.

The baby has an ear infection. Well, she had one, last Friday and has been on antibiotics since then. I am not convinced they are working. It also took 90 minutes to get her down.

So in my carb induced coma I decided I wasn't going to dream feed her at 10 like I usually do because she had just fallen asleep. I got in bed at 10 for the first time in months and was asleep within 15 minutes.

Here's how the rest of the night went.

Midnight: Cannon screamed. No idea why. Just screamed. Then went back to sleep.
12:45: baby woke up for a passy
1: woke up to the dog puking. Little worse than dog vom in the middle of the night.
2:30: he screamed again. No idea why. Again.
3:25: baby woke up to eat
5:45: baby woke up for a passy.
6:10: Cannon is awake, screaming, out of his bed and making an attempt at waking the neighborhood.
6:30: baby wants to eat again

Seven to seven. He used to sleep seven to seven. We used to sleep too.

Maybe he's getting teeth. Maybe he wakes up soaking wet (side note, we should have forced the potty training when he was interested but I was too deep in my holy crap I have two kids and no energy funk because now he's not even remotely interested in going on the potty). Or hungry. Or maybe he has an ear infection. Or maybe he doesn't need that two hour nap he takes every day.

Whatever it is I am totally over it.

I would never put a TV in my child's bedroom. I never had one, they won't either. But this morning at 6 I would have gone to Best Buy, bought one, and had it installed if it meant some sleep.

Coffee. Now.

The Best part? The weekend is here and I know what I want for mothers day. A soundproof toddler bedroom.

I should be doing somthing else...

2011-05-05T11:27:00.000-04:00

The toddler is at school and the baby is sleeping. I should be doing something else. A million other things.

Have you ever been super excited to read something that justifies the way you feel/act/think? Color me super excited. Right, wrong or indifferent.

I was reading What to Expect the Toddler Years yesterday. Cause I hadn't picked it up in a while and there have been occasions in the last few days/weeks that I mistook my sweet little boy for the spawn of Satan. Turns out, he's normal.

Anyway.

I came across the following as an answer to a question about a mother-in-law who insisted that her grandchild eat what everyone else is eating:

When your mother-in-law did her mothering tour of duty, toddlers were no less picky, yet catering to their quirks was considered inexcusably indulgent. The dinner table was a tight ship run by the adults of the house; balking at rations of baked chicken and green beans and demanding peanut butter sandwiches instead was considered mutiny. You ate what was put in front of you, or you were denied your just dessert.

But things have changed. It's now accepted by dietary experts (though not necessarily by grandmothers) that you can't make her eat what's put in front of her, at least not without precipitating an ugly battle. And ugly battles fought over food in childhood, studies show, too often leave scars--in the form of eat disorders, abnormal eating habits, and/or weight struggles-- that can last a lifetime.

Eating should be a pleasant, unpressured experience for a child, guided not just by an adult's good sense, to a large extent by her own hunger, tastes and appetite.

Letting a young child go for months on nothing but cereal, milk, and pasta, or bread and cheese (assuming a few well chose fruits and/or veggies are thrown in for good balance) isn't indulgent or irresponsible, but perfectly acceptable. In fact, there's something inherently unfair about insisting that children eat what's put in front of them, when grown-ups enjoy a great deal of freedom of choice at the table.

So let her eat cake (fruit-sweetened, whole grain, carrot cake, for example) and milk for breakfast instead of the oatmeal everyone else is having. Or a bowl of cold cereal with bananas and milk for lunch instead of the tuna sandwiches on the menu. Or cottage cheese and cantaloupe for dinner instead of the salad and fish you're eating. Make the foods you're serving an option should your toddler impulsively decide to break from her traditiopnals favorites, but don't pressure her and don't let anyone else pressure her, either.

Hallelujah.

Amen.

I stress a lot about what Cannon eats. When he eats. A repertoire of corndogs, chicken, fruit, and orange crackers at the present time. 'Some kids are just picky' I tell myself all the time. 'When he's 3 I will make him eat what we are eating' is my current mantra. Was my current mantra. Until I read this little gem. It makes sense doesn't it? I swear I didn't write it. But I will live by it.

That's my time for today folks. Lots of love from me coming though... I have blog posts on the brain!

The Best part? Anyone notice I hit 50 followers? No? Just me?

I am not pregnant.

2011-05-04T12:43:00.000-04:00

Disclaimer: if you feel like this is something you should have learned with a phone call or email or text message, I am sorry. It wasn't an intentional move. I am up to my eyeballs in overwhelmed (not a noun, I know). Forgive me.

I have been promising some big news for a little while now. This is it.

I am not pregnant.

I have been writing this post in my head for about a week or so. Debating what to write, how to do justice to how difficult this decision has been, how to make sure the people who we love know how much we love and value them and their friendship.

If you don't live near us, know us, and are just one of my loyals who I love, then you probably couldn't care less. So consider this a precursor to some really fabulous stressed out posts. Those are my best ones. They involve extreme sarcasm, often cursing, and will almost always make someone laugh. Or roll their eyes, at the least.

Ok. Enough stalling.

I grew up in St. Louis. By 'grew up' I mean I went to most of elementary school, middle and high school there. When I refer to where I am from, that's what I mean. That's home. I mean not our actual home. But it's where my parents live. You get the point.

Sometimes opportunity knocks.

I was born in Tampa. Lived there until I was 9. I have one friend, a lifelong friend, who I keep in touch with from there. But she lives in Chicago (remind me to tell you how I gave her a manmade dimple sometime... Don't mess with me). My grandparents live in Tampa. So do an uncle, aunt, and cousin. My parents lived there for a quarter century or so. There are countless family friends who haven't seen since I was in 3rd grade wearing stir ups and double layering my socks.

Sometimes it knocks loud.

Maybe it's naive, I never thought we would leave the Midwest. It's comfortable here. People are nice. We are within driving distance of a lot of family and friends (who we should have made an effort to see more). What's not to like?

Knock, knock.

We just put up a swing set. We have fabulous neighbors. A house we love. Life is good. It's easy. It's happy.

Knock, KNOCK.

We have good jobs, a great daycare, a baseball team we have fallen for, big city life without subways and trash in the street.

KNOCK, KNOCK.

Most importantly, we have family here. Sure. We are not blood relatives. It doesn't matter. We are family. Our kids call each other 'aunt' and 'uncle' and we love each others kids like our own. We have 'pajama' friends. You know, the kind of friends you don't vacuum for? The ones who don't care if you don't shower. The ones who know you better without makeup and five inch heels. We spend our weekends together. We drink mimosas at play dates. We laugh at each other and ourselves alike. They are our family. Our best friends. We cherish them. Cherish.

ANSWER THE EFFING DOOR!

About six weeks ago a random phone call from a headhunter got a ball rolling that we couldn't stop. From the beginning we said 'if it's meant to be, it will be'. We said they would make the decision for us.

It was meant to be.

They made the decision for us.

We are moving. To Tampa. Holy shit.

The emotions really run the gamete. I am mostly excited, ready to tackle the move, and thrilled while the sun is up. When the sun sets, I am hesitant, sad, and stressed. But this is right. It is supposed to be. So I will cope with the emotions by making a binder, making lists my bitch, and owning this thing.

So. Wanna help? Send house selling thoughts. Pray we don't lose our asses on our house and that the right buyer appears in the first 30 days. Mkay? Can you do that for me? Thanks.

So there you have it. Our big news. Here's to a new adventure!

The Best part? Gee, let me think. Disney? The beach? Closer to family? Terrific new challenge for my better half? The list goes on (in no particular order of course).

14 Kisses: a follow up

2011-05-04T07:40:00.001-04:00

Night one of the sticker chart. Worked. He went to sleep. And the first thing he said this morning was 'me get my first sticker for my chart mommy?'. Victory.

Before bed we talked about how after five stickers he will get a prize (thanks to my friend Michelle for the suggestion) and this is how it went.

'I want one (holding up one finger) car!'
'OK buddy! When you get five stickers we will get you a car!'
'I want two (holding up two fingers now...) cars.'
'We'll see but we may be able to arrange that.'
'I want a talking Racer Queen (LighteningMcQueen)!!!'

I think I am being manipulated. Can't say for sure but something is fishy.

But you know what? If there aren't anymore miserable bedtime routines then a talking Racer Queen it is.

The Best part? It may just work. Thanks for all the suggestions!

One more kiss...

2011-05-02T21:04:00.001-04:00

Got nothing to do with the mister. Let me tell you a little about bedtime. Mostly because I hope that by blogging about it, it stops.

It's a phase. It's always a phase. Right?

Bedtime is the same every night (except that we don't bathe our kids EVERY night, judge away). We get pj's on, brush teeth, read books, sing songs, drink milk, and say goodnight after 14 different trips in for kisses.

Or we used to.

Now, it's more like this. Read books, talk about the day, drink milk, sing songs (usually originals made up by the aforementioned Mister), do a million kisses, cover up, and he gets up and he gets out of bed screaming.

The problems are several. First, when he gets up screaming, he wakes up his sister. Cause she freaks out when she hears him crying. No. They are not in the same room. They are across the hall. Still. Any sign of distress from the big brother and she is wide awake and crying. Also, he is not in bed. And it drives me NUTS. Like trying to control my temper nuts.

I would leave him in there. I would. I know he would eventually get back in bed and go to sleep. But. The baby waking up is not good.

Tonight while I was working to get her back to sleep I decided we needed a sticker chart. We usually bribe with suckers but fear of a future dentist's bill has me turning to stickers. So every night that he goes to bed like he is supposed to, he will get a sticker. They will be taken away when he does not go to bed well.

It's a plan at least. I have to have a plan. I am a planner. Will let you know. Also think I should be reading my 'What to Expect the Toddler Years' more often. Yes, I know it should be underlined but typing on the iPad makes that a pain. Open to suggestions that don't involve screaming toddlers.

Also, I know I have been absent. There are big things coming from ...the Best part... Just hang with me. It's coming.

Also, I was living in New York on September 11th. I watched the second tower fall. Not on television. In person. I will not be screaming in the streets over bin Laden's death. I don't scream in the streets over much (save a bid night or two) but I will just say that I am glad that son of a bitch is dead. And I am fascinated by Navy SEALS. And the whole covert op.

The Best part? He's deader than a doornail. I hope the guy who shot in was at point blank range and offered some choice words that let him know how we all feel about him.

See that?

2011-04-27T13:47:00.001-04:00

Right there... To the right. Next to this post. I am basically a blogging genius now. Will soon be looking for a job as a computer programmer. You can now subscribe to the blog via email! Or add it to your reader with the click of a button.

Amazing. I know.

So. Don't want to get caught reading ...the Best part... At work? Subscribe. Feel like you don't get enough emails? Subscribe. Just want to make sure you never miss a single riveting moment? Subscribe.

You. Are. Welcome.

O&R nothingness

2011-04-25T19:03:00.001-04:00

I have implemented a daily laundry ritual. Ok fine, I missed Monday and Tuesday but I am trying to do a small load a day. See the days where I do 7 loads overwhelm me. And make me want to throw everything away instead of washing it.

I discovered that one of the two nursing bras I have been wearing for six months now has a genius feature. While I was struggling to out a strap perfect on without pulling a muscle (as seen in TV Strap Perfect, works but a pain in the ass to get on) I realized that the back the straps on the aforementioned nursing bra have a hook! To hook the straps together!!! So that you can wear 'racer back' stuff!!! That's what we called it in swimming, I don't know what the shirts are actually called. Anyway. Every bra should have it. Hear that bra makers?

Did you see above I have been nursing BGB for 6 months? I deserve as award. What? Oh. That's what a lot of moms do? Still going to throw a party for myself. Deal.

I will not complain about the rain. I will not complain about the rain. I will not complain about the rain.

Upon finding the first Easter egg my smart little boy said, 'Mommy, you hatch this for me?' Brilliance.

Our month of crazy is finally drink to a close. I can't believe May is almost here. Looking forward to the flowers.

Anyone know how to set up a subscription thingamajig on blogger? Had a few requests and don't have the foggiest.

The Best part? The crazy is almost over. Welcome back unpacked calendar.

Location:OR Nothingness

Hopping lightly.

2011-04-21T07:36:00.000-04:00

**I have zero intentions of offending anyone. My more devout readers will likely roll their eyes in disgust and then pray for me. I take prayers. From anyone. Anywhere. Any faith. Anytime. Bring 'em. **

I was doing some Googling. See the husband wanted to know why there is a bunny who hides eggs associated with Easter. Truth. I had no idea. Google. Here I come. Turns out. There is no connection, at least not a religious one (the Catholics merged religious rituals with pagan rituals like a bazillion years ago). Stick with me here.

If you've been along for the ride for a while, you know my stance on religion. If you've just joined us, please, catch up here. I'll wait.

So. Easter is this weekend. We have no plans to go to church. The bunny is coming though. Not cause the kids are good, not cause the Catholics did it a million moons ago, he's just coming. Just because. And he's bringing a bunch of crap. And he'll deliver it on monogrammed Pottery Barn Kids Easter baskets. Judge away.

There are several reasons we won't hit up an Easter service. First, I'm not going to subject a bunch of regular church goers to my two children who have rarely been in church, and risk ruining an Easter Sunday service for the congregation. Second, isn't it kind of a farce if you only go on major holidays? Just sayin'. And third, the story of Jesus is one I barely understand. There is no way my 2 1/2 year old can conceptualize that he died on the cross for our sins and then was resurrected. He doesn't understand the concept of death let alone coming back from it.

Sure, maybe if instead of Moo, Ba, La La La or Hey, Wakeup!we read a children's Bible he might understand more. To be clear I am not calling my child dumb, he is anything but, but I am saying that I think there are things that are just too much for a toddler brain to grasp. The Resurrection of Christ I think is one of them.

So, what's my point? First that you won't find us enjoying an Easter ham in our Sunday best following a church service. Not that you would be looking for us anyway. But also vis a vi, the following.

Maybe it's a generational thing. Maybe it's just us. I want our children to grow up knowing that there is a greater power. I want them to know they are here because of it. But I want them to know that not everyone believes the same thing, and that's ok. And it's ok if they find that Buddha makes the most sense to them or that Brigham Young was a bright guy (please don't let it be fundamentalist though... I've seen Sister Wives). I think the Jehovah's Witnesses do it right by not baptizing children until they are old enough to understand what they are joining, the beliefs they are subscribing to, until Resurrection makes sense. Although I couldn't handle the door knocking and we all know I love birthdays.

So for now. Until Jesus and his disciples and Noah's ark and water and wine and immaculate conception are things Sandra Boyton writes about we'll stick to our regular bedtime reads.

The Best part? Pretty sure not everyone will agree with me on this one. In fact, most will disagree. I'm ok with that. Bring the comments. I can take it. And the aforementioned prayers. I'll take those too!

Observations and Revelations: a 40 hour getaway

2011-04-20T08:14:00.000-04:00

So if you didn't read about the dirty, knitty gritty of our trip, you should do that first. Come back. I'll wait.

Two trips to the airport in one day with two kids means the second trip there requires ice cream. And 14 suckers. And gummies. And goldfish. And basically anything he wanted to keep him from throwing himself on the gross floor of the airport.

We change diapers before we get on airplanes. Since I was flying solo I clearly need the 'family restroom'. We waited a good ten minutes for the door to unlock (while th 2 year old sat on the aforementioned disgusting airport floor) and I was certain the Duggars were going to come out of that bathroom. Nope. Just a guy who works at the Taco Bell in the food court. For real. I am pretty sure the words "Are you serious?" came out of my mouth upon his exit.

On the return trip, after the TSA violated me and left my husband juggling two children and six shoes and a diaper bag, the TSA agent says to me "another burnt northerner". What's your point?

Our kids love water. They come by it honestly. It was a blast.

You don't think she looks anything like my Dad do you???

My brother has big muscles. Just ask him. On a side note, if you happen to live in St. Louis and are in need of a trainer he's starting a new job today. Let me know if you want deets.

I got more vouchers from Delta in my email today. Maybe they'll start sending them a few times a week. It was a pretty good letter...

After reading my Facebook feed this morning it's pretty apparent that we slept through some sirens. The roof appears to still be in tact. Who really wants to take their kids to the basement in the middle of the night? I figure if the dog isn't up shitting himself then we're good.

I read an exceprt from Tina Fey's new book yesterday. You can read it here and a million other blogs across the web. It is funny and smart and true. I will be buying it in its entirity. Just can't decide if I want to read it on the iPad or in the real, paper form.

Someone please tell me how it's possible that the baby is 6 months old tomorrow. Please. I have major plans for a 6 month photo shoot with yours truly as the photog. However, the Atlantic is currently running through our backyard. I refuse to take the pictures inside, the grass is too green. Stay tuned.

I will leave with a final thought on our reunion weekend. There are few words to describe how it feels to see your children with their great grandparents. That is three generations of love. And for me, those memories, that image, I will cherish. Forever.

The Best part? Considering a new closing line. That's what she said.

I didn't worry enough.

2011-04-19T09:07:00.002-04:00

That's not entirely true. I worried plenty about my kids and how they would do. Aside from a poop as soon as we got on the plane (from the baby) they were rockstars. Especially considering the circumstances.

I'll give you the Cliff's notes version (does anyone still use those things?). That guy was brilliant.

We got to the airport on Friday morning only to learn our flight had been cancelled (Delta claimed mechanical, I call bullshit, flight wasn't full so they didn't fly). Everyone else on the flight had gotten a phone call hours earlier. I got no phone call. So. There I was. Two children in tow, a husband already at our destination, and apathetic, awful customer service representatives. I was offered standby seats, lunch vouchers, and a few eye rolls as I cried and screamed and pounded on the desk. 45 minutes later miraculously they found two seats on a sold out flight. Below is a scathing email I wrote to Delta about my experience. Enjoy.

I am sure you get these all the time. I am sure you don't even read them. I am sure I can expect a form response telling me that you are very sorry for the inconvenience. All I can do is hope a human being reads this email in it's entirety.

Friday morning I was scheduled to fly to Tampa with my children in tow to meet my parents and husband. It's a trip that has been booked for months (January in fact). My grandparents have not met my children. This was a much anticipated, much hyped trip. We arrived at CVG at 9:30 on Friday morning for our 11:15 flight. Upon standing in line to check in, other passengers shared with me that the flight to Tampa has been cancelled.
Everyone in line got a phone call around 8am to tell them the news. I got no phone call. No email. No correspondence from your company. Nothing.
The ticketing agent blamed a mechanical problem. I am a college educated media professional (in Cincinnati). I am not stupid. The flight had no mechanical problems, you made a business decision. It was not full so you cancelled it. I get it. I do. It was a business decision. That's fine. But do you ever consider the people whose lives you are affecting when you do that? Do you consider that a mother is flying alone with her two children to see her grandparents? Do you consider that maybe you should ensure that everyone on that plane has an alternate way to get where they are going before you just cancel it? Obviously not.
By the time I got up to the ticketing agent (a 30 minute wait) there were no flights to get myself and my children to Tampa. None. She offered me a meal voucher (a 6$ meal voucher) and said she would book me standby for a later flight or standby for the following day. So Delta wanted me to come back to the airport (after being dropped off by a neighbor) to maybe get on a later flight. I am sure you can understand why that is a ridiculous option. Since I had seats on the flight you cancelled. You made the decision to cancel the flight. I did not. I was there on time, ready to fly. Had I gotten a phone call or an email at 8am like the other passengers I would have had the opportunity to rebook on a flight (that at that point wasn't full yet) and while it would have been a pain, it would be nothing compared to what I experienced at your ticket counter.
I requested a manager three times before one came to speak to me. She was curt, rude, apathetic, and stared right through me while I cried to her about my grandparents and a cancelled flight. She could not have cared less if she had tried.
It was 25 minutes of screaming and crying at your ticket counter before miraculously they found me two seats on the 4p flight. Why does it take an irate customer (who paid FULL price for tickets) screaming and crying at your ticket counter with her children for your company to try to do the right thing?
I left the airport with two $50 Delta vouchers and not even ONE apology from anyone who works for your company. Not ONE. No one told me they were sorry for the inconvenience. People who voluntarily give up their seats get a lot more than a voucher to cover the cost of checking luggage on your airline. It will take a lot more than that to right this wrong.
Your customer service is horrific, you should be ashamed of the way you treat people. I certainly would be.
I will look forward to hearing what part of this is my fault. In the meantime, I am sharing my story with anyone who will listen in hopes that no one else has to experience the truly awful things I did while doing business with your airline.

I am kind of known for my emails. I don't want to say I am famous per say but generally I get a response. This time was no different. This morning, less than 24 hours after I wrote the email I got a lengthy response from a real person (Henry) who was very apologetic and issued us some more vouchers. While it doesn't make up for the misery they caused it softens the blow a bit.

So if you ever need help chewing someone a new asshole. I'm your girl.

The Best part? Despite the airline... it was a wonderful trip.

I am here.

2011-04-18T08:24:00.001-04:00

Don't put out an APB. I am here. And I have good stuff in store for this week. I promise. A tease? I did not worry enough about traveling with the kids solo.

Until then I will leave you with this conversation with my 2 year old this morning.
Me: Look buddy! A blow up Easter bunny! (yes, lawn ornaments for Easter. Awesome.)
C: I see it Mommy! It's a decoration! Like a Christmas tree! It's beautiful! Just like you!
Me: Oh thank you so much buddy!
C: My pleasure Mommy!

I am happy to be compared to a blow up lawn ornament if that means I am beautiful.

The Best part? Clearly, he is brilliant.