Still waiting

Jorma heard from “potential job opportunity” last night. We were expecting a decision, but were told that it’s going to be Monday before they can let us know. They want to hire him… they just don’t know when/if they can make it happen. Is the suspense killing you? Are you tired of waiting? Yeah… we know.

RSS Feed Lives Again!

Yay! The RSS feed which was working, then wasn't, then was then wasn't has finally been fixed. Actually Jorma figured out due to a redirect on the site that the feed URL wasn't the one that Blogger said it should be in their, RSS for idiots help file.
So, if you'd like to link to my site with a feed here's the actual URL.
http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6054474/posts/default

And here's how:
On your Google Homepage choose Add Stuff >> over on the right hand side of the page. Next to the Search Homepage Content button choose “Add by URL” then put in, http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6054474/posts/default and tada! You’ll update whenever I do.
If you don’t have a Google homepage yet, because you are still dialing up on your Pentium 500, first you should get a new computer. Then you should get the Google homepage. It’s so sweet. Go to the Google site, click on Make Google Your Homepage and customize. You can even choose themes for the page that change with the time of day in your area. I’m so impressed by the Teahouse theme. It’s my fav.

Dear Connor - 3 Years, 2 Months

Dear Connor,
I am running a little behind schedule with your letter, but it’s been a busy holiday. This was the first Christmas when you were actually aware what Santa is and that he would be bringing you gifts. Christmas Eve we went to see PaPaw and Nana where you and your brother received a generous amount of presents. The favorite present was a chainsaw, which you carried around for most of the evening and played with a lot of the next day, despite the bundle of presents that Santa had left for you.

Speaking of Santa, I think he deserves an honorable mention here, as he was also most generous. I think PaPaw and Nana helped him out a great deal, providing a slew of presents to surprise you with. Your Dad and I were up late, untwisting plastic twist ties and assembling toys, (to help out Santa of course) and although we had hoped that you and your brother would give us a Christmas gift of sleeping in, you were both up bright and early at 7:00am.

In all honestly your Dad and I were dreading Christmas this year. We had no money for presents so we put you and your brother to work, creating painted flower pots, pine cone bird feeders and cookies for everyone’s gifts. We were ready to get the holiday over and done with, but once the holiday started, we enjoyed it so much that now we are sorry it’s over. You and your brother had a great time, with so many presents that it was overwhelming for you both.

You and your brother received a power tools bench, with a drill that actually screws and unscrews the screws in the pegboard table top. A couple of stuffed animals, pirate swords, a lion that can be ridden or pushed and roars when it’s nose is pressed, two little curvy Billbo seats for sitting or climbing, books, candy, clothes, bath toys, a Thomas the train aqua doodle, two dump trucks, and a backhoe and the list goes one and on. You and your brother must have been really good this year.

Since Christmas you’ve been asking, “Is TODAY Christmas?” in a hopeful voice. You love getting new toys and eating cookies for breakfast. And the joy of seeing PaPaw and Nana one day and then Grammie and Papa Chuck the very next day… AND getting cookies from both AND getting presents from both made your little toddler heart filled with joy.
Surprisingly you’ve not been beating your brother with the plastic hammer that came with your tool bench or trying to chop him up with your chainsaw. It seems that the Christmas spirit has affected you and you’ve been really good with sharing the toys you’ve both been given.

You didn’t sit on Santa’s lap this year, and I thought that you’d soon forget about the trauma of the last time you sat on his lap, but just out of the blue you announced that you didn’t like the Santa at the mall, you liked the Santa at the Mom’s Club Christmas Party, instead. You didn’t sit on Santa’s lap at the Christmas party although you were offered and politely declined. He gave you a gift and you were on your way. You liked the “no pressure” Santa.
I’m glad that you finally gotten some new toys. Your Dad and I seldom just randomly buy toys for you and your brother, but for the past year you’ve gotten nothing new in the way of toys, except for casual presents from doting Grandparents, your birthday and finally Christmas. It seems that Santa knew this and made up for lost time…
Merry Christmas Baby.
Love,
Mama

Connor's Santa List

Connor’s list to Santa as dictated to Mommy.

Dear Santa,
Bring me a sled and a reindeer. I want a bracelet and don’t forget I want a pogo stick. A big, big giant. Some chocolate coins and a peppermint stick. Train track Diego stuff. A bunny. A Dora book. A choo-choo train.
Please and Thank you,
Love,
Connor
PS And some spooky things and a pirate sword like Julian’s and a ghost pirate.

Gingerbread Man

Connor is sitting on the sofa eating a gingerbread man. I sit down next to him and he holds up his gingerbread man to show me and says, “Mommy, I ate both of his legs so he can’t run around in my tummy!”

Everything has a story

This came out of the China Cabinent before we moved it up to the attic and I've been meaning to try to get some information on it forever. We've checked the online databases of marks and such, but can't find any info on it.
OK, fess up... who has a friend that's an antique appraiser?

Still Holding my...

Jorma had his 9^th interview today, (that’s right. I said 9^th) with a company that he’s really hoping to work for. We were supposed to know today if he was officially hired or not, but it looks like due to whatever goes on behind the curtain in these corporate entities we aren’t going to know until after Christmas. Apparently it’s something that can’t be helped, but it’s harshing on the mellow of our holiday just the same. So, if you are tuning in to see if our life improved 100% or went into the shitter today, you’ll just have to keep tuning in.

And me… I’d just be happy to breathe again.

Dear Tristan - 15 Months

Dear Tristan,
It’s the first Christmas that you are really aware of what’s going on. You don’t know who Santa is, or that he will be bringing you presents, but you do know there is a huge Christmas tree in the banned from children, therefore glorious, office. A tree that has lights and shiny things that need to be touched. It’s the second year that our tree has only had ornaments on the top half, but that doesn’t stop your brother from pulling them down and handing them to you.

You and your brother are starting to pal around with each other and when you are upset, sometimes he announces that he needs to go and check on you and walks over to you and starts cooing, “It’s ok Tristan, it’s ok.” It rarely calms you down, probably because his version of cooing, it speaking in a very high pitched voice about three inches from your face. You’re not so much into that kind of thing.

You are starting to add a few new words to your vocabulary, words like Cookie – (Coo-KEEEY) and my personal favorite, Mommy (Mah-meee), you draw out the second syllable in sort of an Old South Southern Drawl... won’t Daddy be proud?! We've been trying to teach you sign language, although you don't seem very interested in it. I think that's probably because when you need to eat for example, you pull out your chair away from the table and crawl up into your booster seat, assuming the position, smiling while you wait for one of your slave-people to bring you a tray of food. You eat with gusto.

You are starting to ease into the separation anxiety phase, which means you need to be everywhere Mommy or Daddy are, that you are not. Solo bathroom trips have become something to be treasured. More often than not, it means that you follow me to the gate and if I go (sneak) into the office to check my email, you come barreling down the hallway and climb up on the gate like a monkey, screaming at the top of your lungs as if you’d just been abandoned forever.

You don’t however, seem to have stranger anxiety. I am positive that you will happily sit on Santa’s lap this year and might even smile for the camera. You walk up to strangers and beam at them adoringly, puffing out your chest and waddling away after they’ve been absorbed by the cuteness for a full 10 seconds. You don’t smile, you beam.

Love,
Mah-meeeee

Enlightened One

Happy Birthday to me!

Time for Peace

I keep meaning to post and then don’t because I’m still trying to get over the aftermath of the flu in our household and adjust to a non working schedule. We’ve started implementing something new in the household, that we are hoping will be the salvation of sanity. We are putting the kids on a schedule.
Now, you can’t help but be in a routine when you have kids. Lunches have to be eaten and naps must be taken, but the time in between is just a free for all. We are on our third day of the schedule and so far it’s working better than expected. Connor is getting used to his quiet time in the afternoons and Tristan is getting back on a sleeping schedule that isn’t torturous for us. For a while, he insisted on the morning nap, skipped the afternoon nap and was miserable from 4-7 making everyone else miserable too. If one of the kids starts to get into the fussy cycle, it starts a chain reaction through the household, which causes everything to become difficult to manage. It’s stressful.
As it turns out we have enough stress in our lives right now, which is just gasoline on the fire. So the schedule thing… it’s working.
The kids like to know what’s coming next. I feel like a walking alarm clock, but by the time dinner comes, we don’t have one running through the house screaming, while the other tries to climb the leg of the person making dinner, whining at a decibel level that would send a Nazgul into a jealous rage. But the very best thing about the schedule is that in the afternoon when Tristan naps, it’s quiet time. Which I’ve also explained to Connor is also known as Alone Time, a time that everyone needs a little bit of. And just that little bit during the day, is enough to make me feel like I’m coming closer to the surface.

 

 

How to Make Me Laugh

How I know there wasn’t a mix up at the hospital...

I’m folding laundry and Connor is jumping up on the bed. It’s 8:15pm.

Me: In just a minute it’s time for bed.

Connor: NO! I want to watch dat Jungle Book! I want to watch dat Jungle Book!

Me: You have no interest in “dat Jungle Book”

Connor: Yes! Yes! I do have inra… I DO WANT TO WATCH DAT JUNGLE BOOK.

Me: Ok, What’s it about?

Connor: It’s about to be on that TV right now!

Happy Burp-Day

Tonight I witnessed something both impressive and terrifying as Connor learned a new skill. Tonight Connor taught himself, how to burp. All by himself. At the dinner table. Jorma and I had the same reaction to it, which was to ignore it, lest Connor decide that it might be something to he can add to his repertoire.

The repertoire is something that I like to think of as, “The Make Mommy Scream Collection”. This is a collection of sounds and body movements, that if done for a long enough or loud enough period of time, it’s just enough to make Mommy snap. But not enough of a snap to say, spank a bottom… rather just enough snap to put one in time out. Put one who is laughing in time out, because he just made Mommy disgruntled. BY SCREAMING THE WORD, “BLAH” OVER AND OVER WHILE DANCING AROUND ME, WITH HIS TOUNGUE HANGING OUT. It is such a blatant display and obvious attempt to annoy that I just can’t let it go. Not only is he annoying me, he is trying to annoy me… Now I’m not sure what the reason is. Maybe he’s bored, maybe he’s suddenly decided that Mommy is his new human experiment. Or maybe, after spending hours and hours with him a day, he still decides he hasn’t had enough attention and settles for whatever he can get… or maybe he’s just three.

So tonight at the table, he burped over, and over and over. Now that’s impressive for a three year old, I think. I didn’t learn to make myself burp until I was at least 10 and then I only learned it because the neighborhood boys taught me how. Connor figured it out in about 10 seconds. How in the hell am I going to get this kid to use his powers for good?

 

Dear Connor - 3 Years, 1 Month

Dear Connor,
You’ve been 3 for an entire month now and I have to say, despite all of the warnings, it’s not worse than 2 at all. No in fact, it seems so much better. I was warned by other Mommy friends that 3 is worse because it’s the age where you will start talking back. And talking back, you are…
Your favorite thing to say to us is, “I’M GOING TO PUT YOU IN THE FIRE!” You have no idea what it means, but the first time you said it you got such a reaction that you knew it had to be good. So you kept saying it, over and over. I’m not sure if your pre-school teacher has heard it or not, but I hope to God she doesn’t think that’s something that we’ve said to you. You got the idea from a movie called, Robots where in the end the evil robot she-villain gets thrown into a fire. It never occurred to me that this act of on screen violence would make such an impact on you. In fact, the first few times you said it, it sort of creeped me out. I couldn’t figure out where it had come from.

It’s not hard for me to listen to the talking back at all. What’s hard for me is not retorting. When you get mad and say you want to put me into the fire, I say, “You DON’T talk to Mommy that way!” in a stern voice. This is what comes out of my mouth because the filter that goes from my brain to my mouth is blocking the thing that I almost said first which is, “You’re going to feel the fire of my hand on your ass if you say that again”. You mellow me.

I’d like to save you from the sarcasm your father and I are so well equipped with if for no other reason to make your teen years more bearable for us. I catch myself, being sarcastic with you and try to reign myself in, although even though your 3 years old, sometimes the humor isn’t lost on you.

I think you are starting to reason a little bit more and I see you gaining a small amount of impulse control. The lack of impulse can be a danger to a child and it’s one of the things that’s kept me on my toes. The other day I took you to the grocery store and for the first time, did not put you into the cart. You only made a few efforts to stray, but came back to me when I called you. It made me notice something that I knew somewhere in the recess of my brain, but never thought it would affect me and that is, that anything at the grocery store that is below three feet high has either Dora the Explorer or Spiderman proudly displayed on it's package. I’m not sure how we managed to make it through without 5 boxes of Spiderman fruit snacks, but we did. And having a successful (although twice as long) trip to the store without having you fight to get out of the cart, made me feel like I had just swam the English Channel... but with less sharks.

We’ve been pumping you up with the whole “big boy” thing. Which is bittersweet for me. Being a big boy means, going bathroom on the potty and keeping your clothes on in public, which are all critical life lessons, but I think it’s hard for you, because sometimes you want to be a big boy and a baby all at the same time. I don’t think you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be the baby. You are still held and cuddled and sometimes when I’m holding and cooing your brother I see you watching with interest out of the corner of my eye. Soon after, you’ll come and curl up in my lap, asking if you’re a big boy or a baby, to which I respond that you’ll always be my baby, even when you’re all grown up. I’m sure that’s something that will make you shudder with revulsion when you’re in high school, but I can feel it deep down in my soul... you’ll always be baby to me.
Love,
Mama

Dear Tristan - 14 Months

Dear Tristan,
Aren’t you just growing right on up? Babbling away, you spend the day following your brother, trying to open drawers, climb the back of the sofa or get into the fridge. You have determined that Mommy and Daddy are the taker away of all things fun and if you manage to sneak something out of the fridge door when we have it open, more often than not, you’ll take off at a dead run, (which looks more like a lopping gait) at an attempt to escape with it.You are so full of life and happiness, that sometimes, while running, you will be so busy smiling and giggling that you don’t see the wall in your way, or the leg stretched across the floor. If you are hurt we always comfort and soothe you when you are hurt, but I have to say, the wall thing… it’s pretty damn funny. And since you learned to bounce at such a young age, seldom are you actually hurt.

You’ve discovered that if you’re fast, you can take something from your brother and when I say fast, I mean snatch it as you are running past. Your brother’s new favorite word is, “That’s MINE!” and when you are brave enough to take something from him, he tears off after you. Causing Mommy or Daddy to become involved in the fray.

You are such a wiggle worm! Rarely do you have time for cuddling, so anxious are you to always get down and run around. You are an excellent climber and have the strength of a 3 year old, always surprising me with your ability to keep up with your brother who also is a climber. If it were possible the two of you would move across the furniture like a pair of felines, crossing the entire house with your feet never touching the floor.

You’ve gotten so much better about putting things in your mouth. Sometimes you put something in your mouth and then give me a questioning look. I shake my head back and forth, not even saying the word, “No” and you remove it and turn it over again and again for inspection. I’m so glad the mouth stage is almost over. It’s the one that freaks me out the most.You’ve been babbling like crazy, repeating what you can and practicing all the time. No-No is a favorite and you even use it in the correct context, for example while you are staring into the toilet or trashcan. You’ve discovered that you can so nono to just about anything which is not pleasurable to you, including diaper changes and going off to bed. You’ve finally started saying MaMa again and with intent.

The job that I’ve been working is cutting into my Tristan time and I’m starting to hate it. I wonder if you think of me during the day when I am absent like I think of you. When I come home from work the smile that you give me is filled with such adoration that it makes me happy and sad all at once. I’m happy because I get to see you again, but sad because I’ve missed that smile all day long. I’ve got a new respect for parents that work and have children, because it’s so hard to be away, especially when you don’t want to be and even if it’s only for the day.
I love you,
Mama

Eulogy for a Cat

Last Sunday, after a grueling five and a half hours at the Emergency Vet Clinic, I was forced to put Pink to sleep. He was suffering from kidney failure and everything that can go wrong with kidney failure had. In order to keep him alive, his weekly routine would have consisted of two shots, 35 pills, dialysis, and a special diet and would only give him a year to live. It was so hard to let go.Pink came into my life one hot summer 13 years ago, when I rescued him from a family that lived in the country and refused to get their 12 cats spayed or neutered. This resulted in kittens and kittens, which the dad of the family would take to the animal shelter each Summer. Although my disappointment that the family wouldn't get their animals spayed or neutered, greater was my desire to save at least one of them from that fate if I was able. That one was Pink.When he moved into the house, he quickly adopted the dog, Cocca, whom he nursed on, slept with and tormented until her dying day. He hated traveling, evidenced by the loud yowling in the car, each trip to the vet and by ruckus he made being put into a his cat carrier. He loved can foods, catnip and sleeping anywhere that I might move my body to while sleeping. He slept either on my bed or the dogs bed every night of his life, except when he was out hunting. Back in his younger days when he did hunt, he was a formidable predator, bringing us gifts that we were sometimes amazed he was able to catch. And some that we weren’t. Moths beware. And then there was the ones that he brought to Connor. One word describes his hunting prowess and that word is, ew. Pink loved sitting on the edge of the bathtub, draping his tail into the water and getting rubbed down with wet hands. If I was taking a hot bath he was sure to come in for his bath and once complete would curl up on the bed to sleep. He had a good life and I’m glad he was part of our family. He was 12 years old. He will be dearly missed.

Halloween

I wanted to do a quick post to just show everyone how adorable our children are... especially when they are dressed in the cowboy and pony theme costumes. I always swore that I wouldn't force my kids to dress as a theme. That's I'd let them always pick they're own costumes to establish their independence at an early age. But since neither one of them has the slightest problem with being independent, this year Mommy determined the costumes. We already had the costumes which heavily played into the matter, but Connor would have been just as happy being Spiderman. But when little brother is dressing as a pony, you don't get to be Spiderman.
Cause I'm the Mom, that's why. Now stop whining and eat your free candy. (Actually Connor didn't mind too much being a cowboy, he was more miffed because he had to wear shoes than anything)

Little boys should come standard with tails.

Ahhh, the hard life. Getting pulled through the neighborhood in the wagon by Dad, stopping every so often to be given candy and be told how adorable you are.

When sharing becomes very, very difficult

A Little Leak of Faith

My contract ends on Nov 14^th with the company that I'm currently working for and Jorma still doesn't have a start date for his new position. The company that he's going to be working for sounds like it's a great place to work and we are excited about the prospect of new opportunity. Because we don't yet know when he's going to actually start though, it feels like it did when we were waiting day by day for Everdream to call us and let him know the his start date with them. Because we got burned with the Everdream deal we both can't help but be nervous about the new company, as we wait for official news.
I think we both expected to feel a sort of relief once he officially got the position at this new company, but because we were burned by the "hurry up and wait" before, there's no deep sigh of relief for us... yet. It's only been two weeks since he interviewed and they were supposed to get him the official offer letter with a day to begin working. The suspense is killing me.
Each time I get a new email in my inbox at work, I keep thinking that they've contacted him and he's got news. Each time my cell phone or the extension at my desk rings, my heart swells with hope. I'm just so tired of being disappointed.
I haven't written much about the whole unemployment thing on the blog because it's just so damn hard to write about. Each time I start to write an entry I'm so overwhelmed by the stress of the whole thing, that I just end up sounding like I'm wallowing in self pity. So I delete my entry and writing nothing at all. But it's been hard. It's been hard on Jorma especially, but also hard on the kids and hard on me.
Luckily during this time, we've had lots of support from friends and family, some of which have gone further than "out of their way" to help us with the networking or searching that's so essential to the job search. And although in the end, the opportunity that's currently on the table is one that we found ourselves, you have no idea, how deeply appreciative I am of everyone that's helped us. If even your version of "helping" consisted of a lecture of the importance of education.
I'll keep everyone posted on new events as we know. If you are into prayers what we need now isn't the perfect opportunity, it's a prayer that the HR  member that works for the perfect opportunity will return his phone calls, so we can take a big sigh of relief.

 

Sleepover

Sleepover
Originally uploaded by Dewchild

We adopted the Diego doll last Christmas and Connor's been sleeping with it ever since. He gets moved around the house from place to place, but Jorma and I prefer it to stay in the bedroom. When we see Diego out of the corner of our eye, it almost always registers as another kid and we do a double take. It's sort of creepy that way, At first it would startle me when I would go in to check on Connor at night, but now that I'm used to it, the site of Connor snuggled up next to him just makes my heart melt.

Not Quite Famous

I forgot to watch Good Morning America this morning to see if my 3 word submission made it in. Luckily I was able to go here and see this weeks picks. But sadly mine was not among them. Mine was good, I thought, but definately couldn't compete with some of the submissions they received. The one with the baby crawling on the blanket, brought tears to my eyes.
I guess I'll just have to submit another one this week and see if it airs two weeks from now. I don't know what I'll do for it, but I'll be sure to post it here.

Death of a Wolf

I usually don't hold a grudge when Connor gets in trouble. He gets time out or whatever, but then I forget about it and move on. But tonight I'm holding a grudge. In addition to missing my old life, my sweatpants, my kids. In addition to feeling like Tristan is so used to my not being around during the day that he doesn't seem to miss me when I'm gone. In addition to not being able to keep up around the house, tonight my circuits are in overload, because today while Connor was having quiet time in his room... although he had pooped before he went up stairs... he pooped while he was supposed to be either quiet or napping and repainted the mural wall with it. I of course was at work during this time, so Jorma did most of the wall washing. It was two hours after I got home before I could even face the damage.
It came off most of the mural pretty well, except for the wolf. The wolf that I spent hours painting now must be repainted because when the poop was cleaned off, much of the paint came with it. The carpet's been steam cleaned and the fecal matter has been removed from the base boards other parts of the wall and the window sill. The clothes have gone into the wash and the entire upstairs smells like poop. Because he opened up a container of cream I had so carelessly left in his room, the upstairs actually smells like poop and oranges. And steam cleaner formula.
I truly believe in the power of forgiveness and I know it's the right thing to do, but tonight, I just want to wallow in my misery, because not only is all of my work lost to poop - of all things, but because I really want to repaint it and I just don't have the time.
I'm so fucking bummed out.

3 Word Submission

Ha! You thought I was just talking smack about the 3 word submission. But here it is. I wish I would have used black marker for a more dramatic effect, but I couldn't find one so I used orange. Maybe I'll be picked to be on Good Morning America this Saturday, but then maybe I won't since there are a bunch of kids in the shot and they would be worried about a model release.

Dear Connor - 3 Years

Dear Connor,
It’s been three years since you came out to meet us and what a whirlwind it’s been. It’s been so amazing watching you grow so big and strong and I’m so fascinated by your little toddler mind. You are becoming more and more rational and I love it when I see your brain ticking away, a minute later followed by some random question. “Where do snakes live?”

Sometimes I’m completely dumbfounded when I hear my own words coming out of your mouth. Your eye squint and you point and say in your sternest voice, “Mommy, you STOP IT. RIGHT NOW. OR I WILL PUT YOU IN TIME-OUT!” I can tell by the look on your face, that it’s amusing to you, to be so brave. To talk to Mommy and Daddy like they talk to you. It’s exciting for a second to think that you might have such power and how it would thrill you if Mommy and Daddy actually did what you said. Because in your world, nothing would be better than being the boss.
Because you want to be in charge and Mommy and Daddy just don’t listen to you when you command them, you spend a lot of time, bossing your brother around. You take his toys or push him down… you take his sippy cup and try to drink it down, although it’s filled with milk which you dislike unless it’s spiked with Hershey’s Syrup. You tell him no. You threaten him with time out. We give you plenty of decisions that you can make on your own, things that you are able to control so you just don’t feel like you are bossed around all of the time, but since you can’t command Mommy to serve you ice cream for breakfast, having control over what color shirt you are going to wear that day isn’t very satisfying.

We had a birthday party for you today. Originally you wanted to Spiderman Birthday Party, but once we went to the store to pick our your cake, you fell in love with the Diego cake and had to have it. So, we had a Spiderman-Diego party instead. We hung a piñata, which all of the children took a whack at, finally pulling the strings on the bottom to release the candy. All of the children dove on the pile filling their bags with candy, but you choosing something that you thought might be a Starburst candy, took your single piece of candy away from the chaos, where you could enjoy the sweetness all by yourself. I went over and taking the candy from you, you looked up at me with such pleading that it nearly broke my heart. I explained that I wasn’t taking the candy, that you could have even more candy, if you just went and picked it up off of the ground. You happily trotted over, grabbed some more candy off of the ground and hurried over to show me your bag. I think you just might have learned the piñata concept today.
You got loads of toys, the first toys that you’ve had in a while, including new Playdoh, cars and lots of Spiderman goodies.

You still love the water and I think the best part of your day today, even better than the birthday party, may have been when you climbed into the empty drink cooler on the deck, after stripping naked and played in it, pretending you were in the bathtub. We were so worn out from the weekend that we didn’t have the energy to pull you out of it, since your Dad and I were having the first child free conversation we’d had in three days, he added a little more water from the hose for your enjoyment and you played away.

When your lips turned blue we brought you in and put you into a warm bath. I saw your little mind working and you said, “Mommy, can we go outside again?” I told you that we were done with outside for the day and you said, “But can’t we go outside and dig up worms? Dig them out of the ground?” This wouldn’t have shocked me at all if it wasn’t something that we did five months ago, and not since.
Tomorrow I’ll go back to work and you’ll get to play with all of your new toys, you’ll give Daddy hell and I’ll talk to you on the phone on my lunch break. I’ll come home, we’ll eat dinner, play and then off to bed with you. And so another year will start to pass us by. But this weekend, I promise to take you digging for worms.
Happy Birthday Baby!
I Love You,
Mommy

What Cute is

It’s 5:21 on Saturday. And I’m nervous. My first born son is about to walk down the aisle. I know if we can just keep him calm and his tux clean for another 9 minutes we’ll make it. He’ll be holding the hand of a satin clothed princess as he proudly bears upon a pillow the ring that will wed Mike and Robyn. Or the symbolic ring, as Mike, a very wise man, is not foolish enough to entrust jewelry to my toddler. But they can not find the ring pillow.

Jorma has been wresting with Connor for 45 minutes, struggling to keep him clean, waiting to pounce like a cat in case he bolts for the golf green, so he can roll like a dog in the grass. I too am on guard, flinching if he makes the slightest twitch towards the muddle puddle to the right. To Connor, this is a challenge. He senses the tension in the air and knows it’s about him, he knows he’s not supposed to climb that tree or play in that mud and that’s all he wants to do. The flower girl clutches his hand and together they try to run away to escape the parents chasing after them. If Connor is picked up, she clutches at his feet trying to pull him back down, until they are broken apart by her guardian.

They still can not find the ring. They bring over a sofa cushion that’s almost as long as Connor is tall, but wisely veto the idea. Finally after the violinist has played Jesus loves me three times in a row, someone finds a small white cardboard box which will work just fine. Holding the flower girl's hand, he gives a backward look of apprehension and walks down the aisle. After Mike takes the box from him, he falls back in with the flower girl and they run over to the bridesmaid’s side. He is quickly ushered over to the side where the groomsmen stand. Ideally, he should stand with the groomsmen for the entire ceremony, but even with the m&m’s that Sam, (who cleans up quite nicely), had hidden in his tux pocket, Connor doesn’t have the patience for it. He takes off over to the right of the groomsmen, where he’s swooped up by Daddy and taken to the patio far behind the guests, so they are not disturbed by his frequent high pitched demands for m&m's. By this time he's realized that the candy is there to keep him quiet and is fed tootsie pops and m&m’s until the ceremony is over and he is once again allowed, to run around and scream with his high pitched toddler voice.
In my lifetime, I have never witnessed such cuteness. If you put a truck load of baby ducks, in a sled filled with kittens that was being pulled by Labrador puppies you could not get more cuteness, than Connor in a tux, holding the flower girl’s hand. It’s 6:00 pm and I am no longer nervous, it’s time to teach my son the Electric Slide.

A Point About the Point Pointer

One of the many reasons that Quark sucks.
From the help guide - "Points: Select a point with the Point pointer"

I mean, really. The point pointer? I guess thingamahickey was already being used somewhere else.

Three for Me

This morning on the radio they were talking about this video. It's video of people that have submitted three word statements that sum up their life and it's pretty moving. It's interesting that people can wrap it all up in a three word statement, but some of them are fantastic. You can still submit and maybe view yours on Good Morning America October 27th.
I think I want to submit one, but I'm not sure what to say... it's so hard to sum it up in just three words. I think because so much revolves around the children and family at this point in my life, mine would be, "I'm Mommy Now" with the kids running wild in the background. I'll post my submission here.
I think it's a good Dewchild.com project though. I'd love to hear from all of my lurkers to see what sums up your current situation/life and if you submit to the 3 Word Project, please drop me a link, I'd love to see your world in three.

Dear Tristan - 13 Months

Dear Tristan,
You've officially been one year old for a month now and I feel our baby days slipping away. Your physical appearance is already turning from baby to toddler. Maybe it’s the shoes that have become a necessity as the weather has started to cool making excursions outside feasible. There’s just something seeing you in shoes that makes you seem older. Maybe it’s the silky blonde baby hair that’s starting to fill in, although there is no need for a haircut yet.

It could be the toning of your body as your grow upward and more active, trading baby fat for muscle in your diligent daily workout which consists of running laps around the kitchen, your brother or the living room. You are enjoying the extra millimeter of height that allows you to climb up onto the sofa, so that you and your brother can run back and forth across, like dogs in a kennel, cackling as you crash into the back and arms of the sofa. When you fall from the sofa, you cry, but not because you have fallen, but because you are OFF of the sofa. Can't we see how FUN it is on the sofa. BROTHER is on the sofa!

It’s possible that you seem less of a baby, because you are starting to express yourself, becoming enraged when your brother takes away your favorite toy or when you are denied entry into the fridge. For the first time, you are standing up to your older sibling and risking the inevitable shove or pinch as you try to rescue the toy from your brother.

Perhaps it’s the foundation of vocabulary, that’s beginning to blossom. Sounds that started as dadada and mamama, have now moved to Da-dee and Mama. The repetition of noenoe, said like a Frenchman, the sounds pushed through your nose, after we’ve pulled you out of the pantry, or your next favorite illegal play area, the bathroom. The wave of your hand as you say, “buh-buh” (byebye)because you understand that sometimes sounds go with motions.

It could be the developing preference for a sippy cup instead of a bottle. Or how you’ve noticed that whatever your brother has in his cup is much less watered down than yours and that when you are able to grab his cup, it’s better to sneak off into the play room so you are out of sight and can fully enjoy the sweetness of your victory. Often I look into the playroom when you've gone missing for 30 seconds and see you walking around in circles, your head tilted back, chugging all of the juice you can, your constant motion being the only thing that keeps you from flipping over backwards.

I’m trying to savor the little bits of baby time we have because before we know it, you’ll be begging for the car keys and it will be us that will waving “buh-buh”. No matter how far you go or how fast you grow the one thing that I know for sure is you’ll always be baby to me.
Love,
Mamama

Time keeps on slippin', slippin',slippin'...

Aside from Jorma having to clean poop off of our window sills there’s a whole bunch of not much going on in the Casa de Dewchild. I’m still keeping on, keeping on at my job in SC, which I just discovered is a 70 miles round trip commute. I also discovered that there’s a Starbucks right off the interstate along the way, in a spot where getting off and back onto the interstate is a breeze. It’s like you pull out of the Starbucks and just shoot down the ramp. It’s like they planned it that way or something. Oh wait.

I’m building all sorts of fun stuff at work and because Race Week the Conference is over and I’m actually getting to spend some time doing some quality design work without having to rush. My Mom-in-Law was in town last weekend and we got out of the house a little and just relaxed and enjoyed some conversation. We’ve been trying to save cash for so long that we can’t really invite people over for dinner and beers the way that we used to. As a result, the only entertainment at our house is come over and watch our children run wild, which probably isn’t a whole lot of fun for most people. It was nice having company and I realized how much I miss all of my peeps. It seems like since I’ve been working, I haven’t had a lot of time to make phone calls or blog, or even write the sympathy card that I’ve been meaning to write for a week now. Sometimes it feels like everything is slipping away from me. And I’m just too tired to care.
So, this week I’m going to try to play some catch up. Make phone calls, write notes, get back in touch with the people that I haven’t spoken to in forever, because I feel like if I don’t that life will happen and it will be 10 years from now and I’ll be wondering where the time went. And why I never called my friend back.

Is THAT...?!

eewww
Originally uploaded by Dewchild

Oh, no. That's EXACTLY what you thought it was...
Yet another reason to never eat off of our window sills.

Cheeses loves me

Connor announces at the dinner table, "CHEESES IS BLOSSOM!", over and over again.

I look questioningly at Jorma who replies, "He's means Jesus is Awesome. And that's why I don't worry about him getting religion shoved down his throat at school."

The Corporate Version of Race Week

One of the things that I’ve learned reading other people’s blogs, is that it’s not a good idea to write about your job in your blog. Especially bad things about your job. I don’t really have bad things about my job to write about, so that’s not a problem, but I thought I would write a quick post on why I’ve been slackin.
Last week the company I work for held a very large conference. I did the photography for the conference, although the lighting was crap so the picture quality was an incredible disappointment for me. I shot with a borrowed Nikon D50, which was the camera I’ve been lusting over. However, after using it for ten hours a day for four days, I wasn’t really that impressed with it.
The conference hours were long and in my mind, I kept calling the week Race week. Of course, race has more people and definitely more booze and is a lot more fun, if only because at the end of the night you get to hear Pattie and Dar’s war stories from the night. There weren’t any war stories during the conference or even after, but that’s just probably because they didn’t have a Jagermeister station in the evenings.
The hours were just about the same including an hour drive home, because there’s nothing better than working 12 hours and then sitting in the car for an hour to get home. I hate walking in the door from work and then going straight to bed because it makes me feel like all I do is work, but because that’s all I was doing anyway. That’s what I did.
The first night I went into hysterical Tristan withdrawal and completely convinced myself that he was going to completely forget who I was if he didn’t see me for two days. He didn’t see me for two days, but still remembered me when I came in, rewarding me with smiles and giggles. Connor didn’t seem phased at all by it, which makes me think that kids, like dogs, don’t really have a sense of time.
All in all it was good to know that I’ve still got it. I can still spend 12 hours on my feet four days and a row and live to blog about it. I got Friday off because no one wants to pay the temp THAT much overtime, but it was welcomed because by Friday, I was completely wiped. I slept in, I napped and I went to bed early. By Saturday I felt like a human being again which was good, since the boys expressed they joy that Mommy was back home by climbing all over me… all. day. long.

Dear Connor - 35 Months

Dear Connor,
Right now you are "spitting nails mad". This is because it's 7:45 pm and you have just been put to bed for the evening. I know if I go upstairs, you'll be standing in the middle of your room, face red and nose running, demanding that it's "morning time", tears as large as raindrops cascading down your face. We've moved your bedtime a couple hours earlier for one specific reason. You've stopped napping. You've learned something irreversible in your struggle for power and that is this. No one can force you to sleep. We might be able to put you into your room and even close the door, but no one can make you sleep. The thing is, you still NEED the nap. By the end of the day you are a raving lunatic so incredibly exhausted that you need to be put down early for your own safety if nothing else. However, by that time you are so over-tired and wound up, that you are certainly not “ready” for bed… and the bedtime battles have officially begun.
Eventually you fall asleep, but not before completely trashing your room, like you’re a rock star partying at the Hilton. We’ve moved all of the toys in your room into the closet, including your books, because you kept pulling the books into your bed with you. Now, the books wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t manage to bring the stack of three cubbies on wheels where your books are kept into the bed with you. I’m not sure how you manage to fit into the bed with all of that stuff in there anyway but you do.

That’s not actually the reason that we moved everything into the closet however. The reason it’s been moved, is something we like to call, “The Poop Factor”. You see, it would be impossible to write this month’s entry to you without mentioning the fact that if you are left alone for even a few minutes, even if it’s for “quiet time” in your room, you take vengeance by pooping in your diaper, pulling it out and spreading it on everything you can get your hands on. This includes books, toys, the bed and the carpet. You haven’t hit the walls yet and for this I am most grateful. To try and save some of your books and toys we’ve moved everything into the closet to keep it from being lost to The Poor Factor and so far it’s working, although there are stains in the carpet that might never be removed. We are hoping that this is just a stage and soon your grow tired of it, or ideally just realize how absolutely disgusting it is.

You grow more articulate by the minute and listen to everything we say. Or even worse, everything anyone else says. Even if they are saying it softly to someone else when we are walking past in the grocery store. You vocabulary amazes us all and we are so proud when you announce that Dora the Explorer’s Mommy is an Archaeologist. It might not be that impressive if you didn’t also understand that means that she “digs up old things”.

You are so gentle with the cat. I was afraid that you’d never be able to restrain yourself, so tempting is it to grab the tail or squeal loudly and watch him run. But it seems that little by little you are starting to develop some impulse control. Sadly however, Pink has been Pavlov-ed into being terrified of children, so he’s not so willing to experiment with this new stage of development.
Your Dad has been staying home with you while I’m working a contract position. At first it was like a vacation for me, 11 whole hours, (with commute) of child-free time each day. Now that the novelty has worn off, I’ve nothing to do, but miss you and your brother. I’ve always worried about you having separation anxiety when I leave you but one thing that I’ve learned while working is that while sometimes you don’t like the separation I go through my day feeling like a part of me is missing. Because it is.
I love you so much.
Mommy

Dear Tristan - 1 Year

Dear Tristan,
A year ago today after a mere 6 hours of labor you came into our lives. At first we feared for you, how easily you could become hurt sharing a house with a rambunctious toddler, but as you grew you proved your resiliency and eased our fears.
You were the second child and unexpectedly easier than our first. We weren’t as filled with paranoia and were much more confident in our parenting skills. This meant applying things we had discovered when raising your brother. Things which made our lives easier, for example, I slept when you slept which means I wasn’t crazed-sleep deprived Mommy. I nursed with confidence and even enjoyed changing your diapers. When you began to get colicky, I sacrificed all dairy and like flipping a switch you were cured. We were seasoned parents.

It’s because of this confidence that I was able to relax and enjoy you, savoring each new stage and smile, reveling in being Mommy for a second time. Cuddling with you in the bed, inspecting your tiny toenails and fingernails, gazing into your eyes and just enjoying you. I’m glad I did, because now… you don’t have time for any of that crap. You are busy, all boy and ready to rock and roll.

You are in so many ways like your brother and in so many more ways completely different. It seems that you are more cautious and less impulsive. You smile when you hear music and are gentle in nature. You respond to the word no and if our voices are raised just a little when we say it, sometimes your bottom lip trembles as you wrestle with the idea of disapproval being directed at you.
You are quite possibly the happiest baby I have ever seen and run neck and neck with your brother for title of cutest baby. You still wake us the in the middle of the night, demanding a bottle and sometimes a cuddle. You should be sleeping through the night by now, (or about six months ago) but you have the most pitiful little cry that we’d rather just make you a bottle than listen to you whimper.


You are already wearing 18 month clothing and have 16 teeth. You are incredibly tall for your age and are tough beyond belief… a result of being knocked over accidentally-on-purpose on a regular basis. Your words while somewhat indiscriminate are, Dada, Mama, Kitty and sometimes you try to say brother or Connor.

You struggle to keep up with your brother ensuring exhaustion at the end of the day for us as well as you. Often the two of you team up, coming together as you attempt to open child proofed doors or climb furniture to reach unattainable (and breakable) objects placed out of tiny hands reach. It’s only a matter of time before I find you sitting on his shoulders trying to reach some forbidden treasure.

A year ago today we had no idea how much love you would bring into our family or how much joy our hearts could contain. I hope the past year has been as incredible for you as it has been for us.
Happy Birthday Sugar Bear.
I love you,
Mommy

Pean-us among us

Connor and I are getting out of the shower when he asks, “Where is your penis, Mommy?”
“I don’t have a penis, because I’m a girl.”
“I have a penis!” he exclaims and then follows with, “Daddy has a penis!”
“That’s right, I reply, that’s because you and Daddy are both boys.”
He looks around the bathroom and stops his gaze on the bathtub. He points to the spout and says in an excited, (very loud) voice. “The bathtub has a penis, Mommy! THE BATHTUB HAS A PENIS!” as he jumps up and down pointing excitedly.
I guess to him, it’s quite logical. Not only does the bath spout protrude from the tub, but when the dials are spun it also pours out water. Penis indeed.

Everybody's Working for the Weekend

I keep meaning to blog in the evening when I'm home from work, but I work on the computer all day, so by the time that I come home, the last thing I want to do it get on the computer. So I decided to utilize my lunch break and computer access to write a short entry about my new job.

I've aquired a temp position doing graphic design for a company in Rock Hill, SC. It's not so bad of a drive in the mornings, because I'm happily sipping my coffee and listening to the radio, but the drive home is brutal. There is no coffee and no good radio. It's been almost a year since we bought a new CD so all of the music is old and tired... which is much the way that I feel sitting in traffic on 485 for over an hour.

I like the place that I'm working and love the variety of things they have me doing. I'm working on a new Dell system, straight out of the box, which has made me realize one thing specifically. Our computer at home, is incredibly slow. It's a pleasure designing on a system that can keep up with me. As great as everyone says a Mac is for design, on my last assignment, I used a Mac and couldn't keep the thing up and running for more than 45 minutes without a crash. Now all of you Mac Nazi's out there are going to say that it was some sort of conflict or that I should reinstall the Mac OS, but who has time for all of that crap with a deadline looming ahead. The PC, well then... it's been working just fine. And guess what else? I can even right click.

I also have to add that today, while taking a break on the outdoor patio at work which backs up to several acres and woods, I saw two baby deer, (with spots) come out of the woods. They watched me with suspision for a while and even came close enough to that I started to get a little nervous. Probably about 20 feet away. I was rummaging in my purse for my badge to get back in, because I was a little bit worried that two wild animals would be coming so close to me and I think maybe they thought I had food. I bet if I had, they would have eaten right out of my hands.

Dear Connor - 34 Months

Dear Connor,
Next month you start preschool again and you can't wait. It's been so hot outside and it seems as though the mosquitoes lay in wait for just one bit of your sweet baby blood. You haven't been outside much and it's starting to take it's toll on you, (us). I'm sure it will be a relief to escape to school and be away from Mommy and Daddy for just a little while. Plus you get to eat a pimento cheese sandwich for lunch when you go to school and that alone makes you happy. I'll not even mention the fruit snacks and Pringles.

You keep talking about Toot this month, who is your friend that we can't see and scares away the goats that come out of your ceiling at night to scare you when you are lying in bed. I think you may have gotten the word "ghost" confused with the word "goat" somewhere along the way. But it's most amusing. For two glorious weeks you were completely potty trained, but since have started regressing, just a bit. We don't push the issue because we know you have the ability and are just trying to establish some control. You are still going on the potty and are pretty proud of yourself, but are still trying to learn the rules. Yesterday, you asked if it was ok to poopoo in the shower. I said, "No, we don't poop in the shower". To which you responded, matter of factly, "Pink poopoos in the shower". In fact, Pink, our cat does poopoo in the shower which I'm surprised you've even noticed, so quickly does it get scooped up and flushed.

But you notice everything. everything. And listen to everything. We are starting to have to watch what we say. We've cut out profanity around you completely, but sometimes still say things that a toddler shouldn't be repeating. For example, when you told your brother the other day when you were holding on to his shirt and running him around the living room (which he loves) we heard you say, "STOP TRISTAN! You're going to fast! You're Killin' ME!"

You are starting to actually like your brother, I can see it in your eyes. Of course the only thing that he wants to do is whatever you are doing and the only thing he wants to eat is whatever you are eating. He hasn't had chocolate yet and we have to be on post constantly to make sure you don't sneak him an m&m in passing.

When he cries you run over and say, "It's ok Tristan. Your brother is here", in your sweet baby voice. Sometimes you bring him your sippy cup and offer it which is enough to make him stop crying as he stares at this new phenomena… sharing. You tolerate him climbing on you and I’ve seen you smile at each other, (when you think no one is watching) from across the room like long lost friends and I hope that never changes.
I love you,
Mommy