My Heart Goes Pitter-Patter

I have received awards! Plural! Yesssss. You people like me. You really, really like me. Finding My Weigh has awarded me The Beautiful Blogger award and One Lovely Blog Award (blush, blush)! You must check out Finding My Weigh if you haven’t done so already. She is a fabulous writer and speaks from the heart.


As part of the Beautiful Blogger award, I must state 7 things about myself. Which I will do, even though you know many things about me possibly on a TMI-level (that is teenager/texting/modern-speak for Too Much Information in case you’re like me – a Carrie Bradshaw of modern technology).

1. I am freakishly tall. The last time I was measured by a nurse, I was 6’1”. I usually just tell people that I am 6 feet tall, but you better believe that I use that extra inch when I need to enter my weight on a BMI calculator.

2. Now that my child is getting older, I am learning to love my cat again.

3. Now that my child is getting older, I am trying to figure out the New Me. You are on this journey with me. Isn’t it fun?!

4. I think that very often people take themselves way too seriously.

5. I believe that all the people in your life exist to teach you things about yourself.

6. I think that one of the funniest words in the English language is “fart.” (Come on, admit it, you just chuckled.)

7. I do not think the world is going to hell in a hand basket. I think that everything is going to be alright.

Now I will award these awards to 15 bloggers in order to pass on bloggy love and build good on good. (That’s the way the universe works, people. Or at least, that’s a secret I’ve been told.) I will award this to people I have not yet passed awards on to, but if you have already received this award, forgive me and just bask in the love. These are all blogs that I have greatly enjoyed discovering and reading!

Live First, Write Later
Picture Imperfect
Mommy X
There Must be More to Life Than Dishes and Laundry
Lady Mama
In the Mommy Trenches
MommieDaze
Random Ramblings of a SAHM
So Now What?
The Common Thread
Fighting off Frumpy
Motherhood Uncensored
Sleepless Nights
Pink Haired Momma

Here are the rules for both awards:
-Thank and link to the person who gave it to you.
-Tell 7 things about yourself.
-Identify 15 recipients.
-Let those people know that they received an award.

Luv to you all!

Last one in Grandma's Bed is a Rotten Egg!

Pictures are so important to me. I may have spotty time for scrapbooking, but I at least always keep the picture situation organized. I feel it important to chronicle our daily lives in an OCD kind of way. Then why is it that, every once in a while, I completely forget to take any pictures during trips or important events? Drives me crazy. I return and ultimately think, “I should’ve taken more pictures!”

Here is the one and only picture taken during our trip to Arizona.



Parker can only be described as deliriously happy in this picture while laying in my lap, eating Cheet-O’s on Grandma’s couch, and hanging out with his uncle, cousin, and grandma.

It was a beautiful moment, but the moment that I really wish could have been captured in a photo forever was during our last night at Grandma’s house. My mom, my niece, my bub (Parker), and Rosie (the cat) were all crowded on my mom’s bed together. My brother stood nearby as we all talked and laughed about the night’s events (Parker had an angry, stinky poop at the restaurant and then was in a great post-poop mood during dinner. He hammed it up and giggled and made faces while sitting in his victory. But I digress. Back to the beautiful moment.) Parker and my niece were jumping around on the bed laughing. My brother and I were excitedly talking to my mom at the same time. The cat had a ready-to-attack hunched look on her face, but she did not move from her rightful place on the bed. Parker jumped into my mom’s arms and yelled, “Gran-ma-ma!”

That is a moment in my mind that I hope stays clear forever. Life is meant to be filled with the people you love and time well spent together. It makes up for 13 hour car rides from hell – complete with thrown macaroni, screaming fits, burned lips, and blood. But that is another story for another time.

God Help Us. We're going on a Trip!

“We’re going on a trip, we’re going on a trip. . . Are we there yet? Are we there yet? My excitement’s getting stronger!” I’m sure you recognized that catchy little ditty from Nick Jr.’s very own Moose (by the way, can I just make one random comment by saying that there are no need for clocks in a house when there is Nick Jr.).

Today, we are getting ready for a trip, however, the exact ratio of excitement to trepidation is unclear at this point. We will set out tomorrow at 5 am and drive from Colorado Springs to Phoenix (you know, because we’re stupid). Traveling with children is just one of those things that has to get better with practice. We have taken Parker on just a few trips in his two years, and we have held onto the hope that it will get easier as he gets older.

So, here we are. Going on a trip.

It would be an understatement to say that I worry a bit. I also like to plan things out and think about things in advance and be prepared for many types of situations. I approach new things with a healthy dose of skepticism. Needless to say, I feel a little wary at the moment.

In anticipation of the necessary organizing, packing, and preparing, we have taken Parker to day care today while we get ready. It is a formidable task. There is just a whoooole lotta stuff to get together. So, naturally I have decided to sit here on the couch with Rachel Ray in the background and write and blog and check e-mail and Facebook. I will try to keep up with some of it while staying at my mom’s house, but we will see.

Here we begin another family adventure! Part of me has a bit of the ole Clark Griswold want for family fun and vacations. But part of me knows that there will be some annoying shit that goes on.

What are some things you have found to be helpful when traveling with kids? Here are a few I have thought of all by myself!

Dum-Dums to distract a fussy car-seat trapped little person
Soft activity tray for car seat
New never-before-seen activity books
Portable DVD player OF COURSE!
Ear plugs
Anxiety medication
White noise machines (yes, plural)
And, pretty much as many contents of my house that will fit in the car (husband is an excellent packer of vehicles)

Please pray for us, or send us warm thoughts in the universe, or conduct good voo-doo, whatever it is you do, do it. I know we’ll need it at some point!

Bang Head Here

One of the many things I did not expect when I became a mom was boredom. Don’t get me wrong, the day is certainly filled. Filled to the brim. It is a very different kind of boredom that seeps in here and there.

Allow me to explain.

Cars is playing on our TV for the effing one-thousand-millionth-billionth-kill-me-now boring-ass-time. (Right now I will apologize to my parents for all the times they sat through Annie and Grease because of me. I’m sorry.).

Before Parker, I loved spending empty moments scrapbooking, knitting, or sewing. Scrapbooking time is now a disaster (stickers + glue + scissors + 2 year old = disaster). Knitting needles resemble very tantalizing sticks that must be had NOW by said 2 year old. I have to admit, I have been able to get away with sewing. That is probably because I have told him that the needles are like “shots at the doctor’s office, so watch out!” I’m just kidding. I’m not that demented. But the more I think about it, it sounds like a good idea.

Because I cannot do some of my favorite things when I would like to without steeling myself to withstand THE FIT, I am sometimes captive to another rousing look at Cars Look & Find book or, you know, the TWO-HOUR-length Cars movie.

Even just now, I stopped writing for a little while to play with Parker and his Cars race track (while watching Cars) because I could tell he needed some attention. This was a perfect time for reflecting on what I just wrote. Please, don’t get me wrong. I love spending time with my boy. There are many times a day we have lots of fun playing and playing and playing, and, yes, watching Cars and any activity having to do with Cars. But, you know what?? It’s OK to be bored with some of it. An adult mind can play in a 2 year old world for only so long before it gets a little boring. Don’t let the NY Times tell you any different. That is why I love my friends, and writing, and wine at 5 o’clock on a Friday. A little escape. OK, my time’s up. Time to PLAY!

I Love My Bub!

Over at Krista’s blog, Picture Imperfect, Krista wrote 10 Things that made her happy and recommended that others do the same. Krista’s blog is highly recommended, full of beautiful photography and musings. She is also valiantly quitting smoking and deserves some major kudos for the success she has had with it so far!

So, I have decided to do 10 Little Things I Love About My Bub so that I can prove to all of you out there that I truly love my little maniac deeply from the bottom of my heart, and I really do not think he can be an asshole (well, let’s just be honest, I guess I’ve thought that a couple of times).

Ok, feel the luuuuuv, baby!

1. My bub says “Thank you” in a way that melts people’s hearts. Actually, he says, “Tank you!” in his cute little voice, and he says it all the time! I kiss him on the cheek, and he says, “Tank you!” I put him in his crib and put the blanket over him, and he says, “Tank you!” I wipe his nose, and he says, “Tank you!” Sometimes, he will be having so much fun with a particular toy that he will look up at me in the middle of playing and say, “Tank you!” Ohhhh, precious.

2. If I catch his eye in the rearview mirror, he bursts into this big smile and laughs like a goof.

3. When I drive on an on-ramp to the freeway, Parker loves the speed. He shouts exuberantly, “Go, Go, Go!” We get on the freeway and yell, “Woo, hoo!”

4. Almost every slightly-odd behavior can eventually be linked back to his Cars obsession. Every once in a while, Parker will (with great excitement) completely lick the side of my face or my husband’s. Then, I saw the tractors (on the movie Cars) licking Mator and realized where that came from. The daycare lady says that Parker acts like a “monster” and chases everyone growling. I had to clarify, “No, he is acting like Frank. The combine. In Cars.” Now that some speech is more understandable, we realize that he is saying, “Dinoco’s all mine!” instead of thinking he is simply grabbing his toys and saying “All mine!” Well, I could go on and on.

5. Parker is full of the dance! It is great. As soon as any kind of music comes on – whether you start singing, or the TV plays music – Parker just starts DANCING. He puts his shoulder into it and everything. If it is hip-hop type music, he gets on the floor and acts like he is break dancing. If ballet dancers are on Sesame Street, he glides around like them. He has even been known to naked flashdance! (Check out my January 2010 Naked Flashdance post).

6. Sometimes when you pick him up, he will put his head on your shoulder and pat your back like he is consoling you.

7. Out in public, Parker is very social. He likes saying hi to people and checking things out. I see this as a sign that he has a go-getter type personality, jumps into life, and doesn’t have much fear. I have been embarrassed many a time when I realize that I am STARING at a mother or father and their child - WHO IS JUST STANDING THERE WITH THEM. If Parker is not contained, he is ON THE MOVE, running, checking things out, grabbing things, talking to people.

8. Parker calls all fish his “babies” (fish in a tank, play/plastic fish, pictures of fish). I do not know where this came from. But it is damn cute. My husband and I just giggle when we hear this because it is nothing but just really adorable.

9. So far, Parker seems to respond well to discipline, behaves very well at daycare, and with some sleep training sleeps through the night and takes reliable naps. These types of things are very important to parents, and so even when I’m totally frustrated by picky eating, normal whining, and tantrums, I know I am lucky and grateful for the fact that he’s not a TOTAL freak and he sleeps well.

10. Parker seems to be pretty artistic all around. At a very early age, he loved coloring. His fine motor skills are great for a boy his age. He loves music and dancing. AND! He ACTS! Yes, he is an actor too. He is a triple threat. He lays down at the bottom of the stairs and goes, “Oh, oh!” He acts like he fell down the stairs. He acts like he has fallen off the bed too! He lays at the bottom of it and does the same thing! Oh, he is so silly.


He is a silly, silly guy. Now do you believe I don’t think he’s an asshole (all the time)? Geesh!

Poop.

(Parker at about 4 hours away from relief.)

Poop is a very important thing. Faint of heart, move on, move on. The rest of you know that when you have children, poop is a popular topic. Entire days, moods, and schedules can be affected by poop, or the absence of it.

Saturday morning started out pretty good. We went to a downtown park while Richard, aka Running Man, ran a St. Patty’s 5K race. This is not something I will ever do, but I am happy to watch. Parker had a blast. He pet ponies, jumped in a bouncy house, and took a train ride (all the while shouting, “Choo, Choo!!”). Very exciting stuff.

Little did we know at the time that the poop was backing up. Parker was constipated. The constipation monster started to rear its angry head when we decided it would be a good idea to have lunch at a downtown restaurant. We didn’t know yet that he was constipated, so we just thought Parker was being a major asshole (no pun intended). Pretty soon after we arrived at the restaurant, we realized that we had to get the hell out of there. We needed to scatter from public like cockroaches and get back to the privacy of our home in a hurry.

I was irritated, annoyed, and hungry. We had to pack up and leave the restaurant, which put a wrench in plans and just delayed the whole schedule of the day. I do not deal well with “changes in plans.” No. Changes in plans are not for me.

We got home and things did not get better. Parker would not eat his lunch and was still being an asshole. The Running Man and Grandpa both discovered that the best thing to do around the Asshole Child and Pissed-Off Mom was to be very, very quiet.

Suddenly, I realized what was wrong with my poor, baby child. He started grunting and pushing and turning red and crying. He couldn’t even sit down because his bottom hurt so bad. I thought, “Oh, he is constipated! Oh, I am so sorry, you poor, poor thing!”

Major guilt for thinking my child is an asshole.

Then, the WORRY BEGAN. I cannot help myself. I am an expert at worrying, and once it starts, it is a mad train speeding toward disaster. I practically had a panic attack.

“Oh. My. God.” I thought. My thoughts started to race and in a bullet speed kind of way. “He is constipated. He is in pain. He refuses to drink any water. He will not be able to nap. He will be a wreck. His birthday party starts in three hours. He will be fussy and in pain for his party. Will we have to cancel it? Will he take a nap only to wake too early because he finally poops? Are we going to have to wait until he poops to put him down for a nap? Is he going to poop soon? How long will this go on?”

My dear, dear husband took our poor, baby child from my arms, took him upstairs and just rocked him in the dark while he cried.

My husband is a good, good man (you see, you need to give examples of the good, dear husband soon after you write a post calling him a Fucker repeatedly).

Parker went down for a nap. He slept a good two hours. He woke up and pooped.

Ahhhhh, the POOP!

Relief for ALL.

We were happy. We celebrated. We were rested. Poop relief was ours. The party was fabulous. The party was fun. All is well. The poop came, and all is well.

Drink for Weight Maintenance?! Yesssss.

In my 20’s, before Parker, I went to a work conference with a friend/colleague. We shared a hotel room and being the capricious, consequence-be-damned kind of girls we were, we ignored the no-smoking sign in our beautiful room, opened the window, and puffed away, chatting, and sitting in robes.

My friend was complaining about trying to lose weight, and I said, “Yeah, I’ve been trying to lose 10 pounds for YEARS.” She almost spit out her coffee she laughed so hard. I looked at her, dumbfounded. Did she think I was joking? I was COMPLETELY serious.

Ahh, the weight issues that are so familiar to women everywhere.

Well, the Los Angeles Times reported on some new research that we’ve been waiting for, ladies! Here is the headline that caught my eye:

“For Women, Alcohol May Keep Weight Down”

The article actually says that women who drink moderate amounts of alcohol don’t gain as much weight in midlife as those who do not drink. Come to find out, I’m doing something right! At least I shouldn’t gain any weight over the years.

What’s that you say? Oh, yes, I know. “Moderate amounts.”

Moderation. Schmoderation. I’ve tried to only drink one glass of wine a day, but the problem is the glass is way too small.

So, I’ll pour one right now (actually it’s already poured, he he) because I would like to celebrate a bit. I have really been enjoying this blogging thing! I love hearing from each and every one of you, and I am discovering a world that feels positive and comfortable. Thank you, blogging buddies! See you around. Cheers!

Labor Story: We've Come a Long Way, Baby!

Tomorrow is my bub’s birthday (I sometimes call him my bub, you know, when I like him), so this is a post in tribute to his BIRTH! Two years ago today, labor was beginning. I knew something was up, but I wasn’t quite sure if it was really starting or not. So I kept myself occupied and did a lot of scrapbooking that day.

That night after dinner, my husband and I watched a movie. I don’t remember which one. It wasn’t that good, which is a shame, because I rarely ever get to watch movies anymore! I do remember that as soon as it ended at about 9:00 pm, I looked at my husband and said, “I think it’s really starting.” The cramping was progressing and becoming regular.

I was too afraid of being turned away at the hospital, so I settled in for some early labor in bed. My husband fell right asleep. Fucker. Eventually, I could no longer read, and I was panting and timing my own contractions. I was annoyed by the snoring noises next to me. Little did I know at the time that those same snoring sounds would really piss me off as I sat up in the middle of the night breastfeeding. (When breastfeeding, every once in a while, I’d smack my husband with a pillow. He’d wake up confused and look at me, and all I would say was, “What?” and shrug my shoulders. The pain at my nipples at 2:00 am justified any physical violence for sleeping fuckers.) Around 3:00 am, I felt that my progress in labor was starting to slow or was at least stalled. I woke my husband up so he could clean out the tub for me. I wanted to take a bath to help speed up the regularity of the contractions. By the way, that was the last bath I have ever taken.

My husband woke up, cleaned the tub, and promptly went right back to sleep. Well, the bath did it. I was suddenly VERY ready to go to the hospital. The contractions were 3-5 minutes apart, and I could barely stand or walk. I told my husband, “We gotta go. NOW,” as I was doubled over the bed.

My. Husband. Got. Up. And. Got. In. The. Shower.

ARGH. Fucker.

Now here is a moment I’ll never forget. After his shower, Richard went outside to get the car running, and I stood in the dark house alone for a moment. I looked around and knew that the next time I saw the house, EVERYTHING would be different. The gravity of that pushed down around me. I felt extremely emotional. I tried not to cry. I was very excited, but I was mostly SCARED. I looked at our cat and knew his world would also never be the same. And that was the last moment that I truly cared what the cat thought.

By the time we got to the hospital, I was having continuous contractions and could barely walk. The nurse waited for me by the door as I doubled over for a moment. I couldn’t stop crying! I wanted so badly to be brave. I wanted those nurses to think, “Atta girl! She’s a trooper!” But I wasn’t. I was scared shitless. I said to the nurse, “I don’t know why I’m crying.” She exclaimed, “Because you’re in pain!” Inside she was probably thinking, “Oh, god help us. We’ve got a cryer.”

Time seemed to fly by. It seemed like only a few minutes later they were taking me to a new room and giving me an epidural. Ahhhhh. Me like epidural. Highly recommended. It was 8:00 am. Hours had passed. The pain had been blinding and all-consuming. I didn’t even care what the fucker was doing. I had been in labor for eleven hours and I had fourteen more hours to go. But once I had that epidural, I didn’t care. It felt so good. I was finally able to SLEEP. I pretty much slept the day away.

That night, at eight centimeters dilation, my body became “stuck” there for a long time. This sucked because I stayed stuck in what is called “transition” for so long. My body shook uncontrollably and I started vomiting. I started to get scared again, but I was ready to push.

I pushed for two and a half hours. I tried to ignore my giant, swollen legs being held in the air by my husband and a nurse. Even in the throes of hard pushing, I was concerned with what my ankles looked like. They wheeled in a big mirror so that I could see my baby crowning. I guess this is supposed to inspire really, really good pushing, but it only confused me – “What the hell am I looking at?! Is that my ----?!” No, the mirror did nothing to make me feel better.

I remember the doctor saying, “He has blond hair, no, he has red hair.” I said, “Oh, my mom will be so happy” (she has red hair). I thought, “His name will be Parker. Not Dylan. We’re going with Parker.”

When Parker finally came out at 10:38 pm on March 10, 2008, I wanted a good look at him. I declared, “He’s perfect,” and then I just wanted to sleep! It was a huge relief that he looked absolutely perfect, but I remember feeling so TIRED. My arms were shaking. I could hardly hold him. I was in awe with how handsome he was, and he definitely looked all boy. Then they took him away to do what they do. I told my husband, “Be with him.” And I lay back while the doctor stitched me up.

The tiredness honestly surprised me. I was concerned. Shouldn’t I feel more than tired? Shouldn’t I be gushing tears of joy and be feeling the most intense happiness of my life? I was just plain exhausted. I was very critical of myself for this for the longest time. I worried that something was wrong with my mothering instincts. When you watch any movie or show about birth, the mother is smiling and crying and holding the baby and being held by her husband. I was too tired for emotion. “They” don’t really warn you of this, and that is why I thought something was wrong with me. Now I know that what I experienced was normal, and I shouldn’t have had such specific expectations of the experience. And it has no reflection on me as a mother or the love I have for my child. Of course I was damn tired! I had cried a million tears already, had 25 hours of labor under my belt and only spotty sleep for two days, and had been given a numbing epidural.

It was almost like – now you are a mother, now the worrying and self-doubt BEGINS! Boy, were my hormones raging. I realize that now, but at the time, I was so HARD ON MYSELF. Which is CRAP. Us mothers need to stop being so hard on ourselves.

I am sooo glad to be where I am now. I try not to be so hard on myself, and I am really enjoying this boy of mine. He is something else. As Grandma Lorenzen would say, “He’s full of the dickens!” And I love it. I’m so proud of his gregarious, bubbling personality. He makes me laugh everyday. Even when he’s a maniac. There’s always something that will bust me up or touch my heart. I may have felt a bit emotionless right after birth, but that didn’t last long!

Now my baby is going to be two years old tomorrow!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PARKER!

We’ve come a long way, baby. And there’s so much ahead. The Fucker and I love you so much. Okay, I’m sorry. I don’t need to call him the fucker any more. I love you, hunny. You are a dear father and husband. I LOVE MY BUBS!

Meet Your New Boss. He's Angry.

In the very moment that I am writing this, my son is going on his third hour of a nap. I should be joyful, triumphant, rejoicing. Some of our firm, stick-to-it-ness around recent nap and bedtime issues seems to be paying off. However, I cannot deny a creeping worry. Surely, something must be wrong. Is he coming down with something (again)? He must be getting sick. We just aren’t this lucky to have this long of a nap.

I have a friend whose children both take three hour naps reliably. They also wake in the morning about 9:00 am. These parents never conducted cry-it-out. These parents were sleeping through the night at about 9 weeks with their babies. There are names for babies like these. They are even referenced in all sorts of books about taking care of babies. They are called “Angel Babies.”

Ahhh, the angel baby. I have heard that these exist.

My niece was an “angel baby.” When my brother heard of our struggles with reflux and colic and allergy and crying (oh man, the CRYING), he was like, “Geez, I don’t hardly remember at all having to go and give my daughter a bottle in the middle of the night, maybe once.”

My first week with my son, I called my best friend who had two boys. She was like, “Gosh, Kristy, I don’t remember my son crying really very much, unless he was hungry.”

Do these people have memory problems, or do babies like this actually exist?

Of course, everyone thinks they’re going to have an angel baby as well. Soon after I gave birth, I will never forget my husband standing in our hospital room with our son, and he said (I shit you not), “We are not going to be those ‘ON-DEMAND’ parents. Our child will be on a SCHEDULE.” “Yes,” I affirmed, “A schedule.”

The crying started that night. I knew something was wrong. I had a creeping worry that perhaps we had not had an “angel baby.” From that point on, we darkly realized that not only were we on-demand parents, but a new boss had entered our house, and he was very angry.

Well, we SURVIVED with only mild residual post-traumatic stress. My son is now two-years old, and I’m here to write about it! Last night, my husband, son, and I were at a friend’s house. One of our friends had her 2 month old there. When we left, my husband said, “That baby was so QUIET.” I just chuckled because, to us, a quiet baby is quite an unnatural thing.

My husband is right now, as I type, waking our son from his now too-long nap. Guess what? My son is smiling. He is happy. He had great sleep. We are awesome parents. Nothing is wrong. (“It’s all going to be alright.”) I love my angel boy.

Welcome to the Club (What’s the Secret Password?)

He will always be my baby.

There are things that you JUST DON’T understand until you are a mother. Mothers all over the world right now exclaim, “Amen, Sista!” It is a little annoying to me when women without children don’t get this. And it is extremely satisfying when said women end up having children. Isn’t it funny how sometimes we think, “Oh, man, I can’t wait for that girl to have a baby.”

I had this strange sense of being welcomed into a cult-like group when I had my baby. If I can be VERY honest, I will even admit that after I gave birth, I thought, “Why was everyone so excited when I got pregnant?! They have kids. They should have WARNED me!” Well, I will tell you why they were so excited – because it wasn’t them that time, and they were probably thinking, “Oh, man, I can’t wait for that girl to have a baby. Then she’ll KNOW.”

And what are the things that you KNOW when you become a mom? Here are a few:

-You have given up your rights to daily, basic hygiene care.
-You have given up your rights to privacy.
-You have given up your rights to choose what you do and when.
-You have given up the right to sleep when you want.
-You have given up the right to a carefree sex life.
-You have earned the right to say “Because I said so” whenever you want.
-You have earned the right to demand respect from your child for only one reason: your body MADE this human.
-You are much more grateful for your own mother.
-You discover what it is like to FALL completely IN LOVE with your child.
-You discover what it is like to feel saturated and consumed by one little being.
-You discover the limitless capacity to love.
-You feel a constant “pull” and bond to your child.
-You wonder how you are going to emotionally handle it when your child no longer wants as many hugs, kisses, or cuddles.
-You discover that no matter how much you yearn for a moment to yourself, once you have it, you think about or talk about your child a whole lot.

Did you notice that the above list started out a little…unenthusiastic…and then grew to include some of the most powerful feelings you can have in a lifetime? Yeah, kids are kind of like that. They do that to you. One moment, you’re staring at your child in fear thinking “Oh my god, he is a maniac, something is wrong with him!” The next moment, you are melting and aching and wanting your child, who will ALWAYS be your baby.

Honest Scrap Award!

I got a blog award! (Big, cheesy grin) I didn’t even know these existed, but now that I know about them, I want them! This award was given to me by dear Mommy X
Here it is in all its glory!


I am deeply grateful. If I was going to get an award, I would like to have the “Honest Scrap” award. I know that people exist who shy away from recognition, but I am shameless in my desire for positive attention.

To fulfill the instructions of my blog award, I must report 10 random, interesting facts about myself, so here goes!

1. I love wine and I drink a lot of it.
2. I enjoy laughing at myself. The ability to laugh at yourself is very important.
3. When I am mad at people, I like to call them Fuckers. In fact, I am strangely proud of hearing my mom say, “Kristy just calls them fuckers.”
4. I absolutely love to read, and even as a mom, I never quit.
5. I used to smoke like a chimney and swear like a sailor, but now I just swear like a sailor.
6. I am flattered to hear my friends say that I am a very expressive talker, and I can’t help but growl sometimes when driving home a point.
7. I’d like to think I’m not neurotic, but I think I am.
8. I am a reality TV junky. I love junky, trashy stuff, and I love Tivo.
9. I struggle with anxiety. I think the first few months of my child’s life was one long panic attack.
10. I am not having another child.

Well, there you go. Honest scrap.

Here are people that I would like to recognize in the blog world for having Honest Scrap. If you have already gotten this award, you are a more fabulous blogger than me, and you may disregard.
Oddyoddyo, Dani's letters for inspiring poetry in me again
Brenda at Mummy Time for always being a fabulous and entertaining mommy blogger
Mommy Wants Vodka because who can resist a title like that?!
Kathryn at From the Inside Out because I am still laughing about the Olympic activities in her front yard
Smart A$$ Mom because she is interesting
Parenting By Dummies because she feeds my reality TV obsession
Finding My Weigh because she is totally relatable
Mountain Momma - her little girl gives her fits but of course we all think she is just too cute!
So Now What? For making me laugh as soon as the page loaded
Wanderlust for being awesome, interesting, and funny
Sage bloggers, please tell me if I am not “following the rules” correctly or if you have constructive tips for me. I am soooo trying to find my way in all this! Please tell me how to investigate making Mommy X's name a link so that people can easily check her out (I really am that blogger stupid, no heckling please). Love you all. I’d like to thank my son and my husband and my family and the universe and all the children of the world. Thank you.