Bad Potty, Good Potty

After positioning my son just so on his potty a million times, I started to wonder... could his butt be too big for his potty??

Seriously people, I am not kidding. I myself have a little extra padding, and I swear Lovebug has the same booty as me, only a million times smaller. Just writing that sentence makes me want to burst into song, "He get it from his Maaaama, he get it from his Maaama."

Ok. It sounds weird, but every time I go to put him on his potty, I am literally spreading his legs to make sure "it" is positioned correctly, while the rest of him is nowhere near where it should be.

Hopefully you are understanding what I am saying, because taking pictures of this whole spread legs, aiming, propping situation would just be sick and weird.

I know I am a first time Mom, but I am pretty sure I understand the logistics of using a potty. Every time I would ask someone what they thought about Lovebug's booty being too big for his potty, they would promptly tell me I am a dumb ass.

But wait just a minute my friends. I knew potty training couldn't mean so much propping, and positioning, and hoisting; I would have heard about all this nonsense before if everyone was doing it.

I took my problem where I take all my problems. To Target. If I cant find an answer, spending $150 on nothing usually takes my mind off things.

I found myself in the potty aisle, which was FULL of Pottys with bigger holes. No more red rings on the Lovebug's booty!! Annddd... being that I am the mother of a boy, I guess I should have known what a pee guard was. I did not. But I do now!!

It is a raised slope on the front of the seat to prevent your little man from peeing out the top of the potty and across the room. It basically eliminates the whole "point it down," step. The pee guard makes complete and total sense to me, now that I know what the heck it is. I wasn't surprised when I realized the small hole potty has like the teeniest tiniest pee guard, making me think that this potty would be much better suited for a girl.

My son needs the big sloping, swooping pee guard. Good for him, right? Now that we have the "new" potty in the house, which Lovebug received as a potty training gift from Mommy & Daddy (wooo hooo, what's next a shoe horn?) Lovebug's little booty is red ring free, and he really enjoys potty time. It makes perfect sense, if the seat is comfy, you may want to hang out there a little while longer. And hang out he does. Lovebug thinks the potty is his own personal recliner. New potty is the coolest shiz around, and Lovebug is a big time fan.

In fact, tonight was the first time that he asked to go, and actually went! Yes! Progress!!

I cant believe I am old enough to get excited about pee, really, honest to goodness excited. Husband thinks it is an act for Lovebug, but I gotta be real here, I was this close to sending a mass text to everyone in my phone when the Bug did the whole "ask and pee" thing today.

Oh, you may be wondering why I have yet to mention going good ol' # 2 in this post. Yup, he is still doing that in his diaper. EVERY TIME. We have only had one successful #2 on the potty, when my Skinny Sis was visiting for the day.

I wonder how she'd feel about living in my bathroom for a month???

And for those who are actually still reading and/or interested in potty training... below are the bad, and good potties.

The First Years 3 in 1 BAD potty... note the tiny pee guard.

Baby Bjorn big pee guard GOOD potty... better for a boy!


Even Me Out

Last night, after I was done smelling my son's head (what?), I couldn't find my retainer (what?).

Yes, I am almost 28 years old (damn, when the eff did that happen?) and I sleep with a retainer. Like, every night.

Okay, I am way down playing the situation. I am obsessed and can not sleep without my retainer, which, by chance I stepped on two years ago and is broken straight down the middle. It also says "April" on it... which is neither my name, or the month I got it. I have no idea why my orthodontist wrote "April" on it, but he did. It gives my little retainer some character, and it's a funny story to tell, so I don't mind.

Anyway, my broken retainer with someone else's name on it (what?), still fits perfectly in my mouth, and keeps my teeth oh-so-straight. So, laugh if you want, but I bet my teeth are straighter than yours. And let's not forget that I get to talk in a hotter than normal voice.

I knew when I couldn't find my retainer, that it was Husband's fault. Isn't it always the Husband's fault? Yes. The answer is yes. So, I beg him to find it, even as he is insisting that he wouldn't, "EVER touch that thing"... I knew he moved it. And I was right, he had.

The second he found it, I jumped out of bed to do an, "I told-you-sooooo," dance, and stubbed my toe.

So freaking bad. In my brain, I saw my toe pulsating and throbbing, tripling in size like a cartoon. It hurt like Hell. It was one of those jump up and down, pant and wave your arms hurt. It hurt so bad that I hopped around like a maniac, and ran to our adjoining bathroom, and threw myself on the floor laughing.

I don't know why, it definitley wasn't funny. Do you ever get hurt like that? So bad that it is funny, even though it's not?? You know how dumb you look jumping up and down in your pajamas while your Husband, who was just listening to you complain about your freaking retainer, watches??

Mind you, Husband is literally just watching me, with no expression. Like he has seen this whole act before. Like he is totally not impressed, or moved by my stubbed toe.

Yeh, it was like that.

As I laid on the bathroom floor laughing hysterically, but really actually in pain, I kept waiting for Husband to come check on me. And waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Finally, I took a deep breath, stopped laughing, and sat up. Husband was watching TV and ignoring me, like I wasn't even there.

He didn't even glance in my direction when I got up, walked across the room, and got in bed. Finally, on a commercial break he turned to me.

"I cant take you seriously when you are ass in the air on the bathroom floor laughing."

Oh, okay. And that is why I married him.

He evens me out, he cools me down, he is the yin to my yang, the lace to my shoes. He is luke warm about food, when I am boiling hot excited about every meal I eat. He takes things in stride, while I get uber emotional and giddy about every good thing that comes our way. I say things off the cuff that more often than not make me look just a little bit dumb... while Husband would rather keep his mouth shut, and let me act-a-fool. He is shy with new people, while I am asking them their middle name, and favorite color, while painting their toe nails.

It works for us. We are our own little comedy show over here. Not opposites, but equals. Over the years we have learned to accept and support one another, no matter what.

Except for the whole retainer thing. I am pretty sure Husband could do without that.

Time Keeps Ticking, Ticking, Ticking Away

Damn you rotating Earth and Greek calendar... why does time have to go so fast??

Last night, Lovebug insisted HE read the books to ME. I am pretty sure I died inside. He is getting so old.

As I sat quietly (he literally said, "No, No Mommy" every time I spoke) rubbing his head, I got to thinking.

You see, less than an hour before, Husband had cut Lovebug's hair, showered and got him ready for bed. Without being asked. I know, I was all, "What the eff do you want, why are you being so nice?"

"What do I do now?" 

Without fail, every time Lovebug gets a haircut I get all weepy and sad. Last night was no different. There I am, rubbing his perfect little C-Section baby round head, and I start thinking.

He is going to be two soon. And after two comes three, and after three comes four. After four... comes Mommy asking the school bus driver for her Social Security Number, finger prints and pee test before I let Lovebug into her big yellow bully zone of  a bus. 

Okay, maybe I got myself a little worked up. The school bus driver is probably an American Citizen, with great finger prints and clean pee... and I am sure her bus will be a bully free zone. I mean, the school bus driver in my head of course, seeing as Lovebug is not going to school for another 4 years.

Thank God for that.

I sat quietly sniffing his little hair as he read me a book... is that weird?? It was freshly cut, and washed and smelled like Johnson and Johnson. I am going to give myself the go ahead to keep head sniffing, judge me if you want.

Lovebug says his name now. He wants to do everything on his own. He wants to pick up the cat, and use the remote. He wants to stop and play the fire hydrant like a drum, and climb and re-climb into his high chair 75 times a day.

Time is moving too fast, he is getting too smart, too funny.

The other night when I ignored his requests to call my dad, "Pop-Pop" on the phone... he tried a different angle. "Call Warren," which is my father's name. What the hell? The kid is not even two and he knows his Grandfather's real name?? This is not normal, he is so smart, and so cute... I want it to stop.

I am not ready. I am not ready for him to not want to squeeze me, or give me kisses for no reason. I am not ready for him to go on play dates without me. I want him by my side.

That's why I breastfed until 11 months, why we eat every meal together, and why I sit on the kitchen floor and feed him snacks while he plays the guitar. It's why I take him with me to the gym, so I can be with him until the last second before class starts, and the first second after I am done stretching. It is why I blog at night, and nap time, so I wont miss a second using my brain, when I can watch his in action. It is why he comes into our bed every morning to cuddle, and why he grabs my hair when he is happy, sad, mad, hurt, needy.

I am not ready for my little Lovebug to turn into an 11 year old boy who talks on the phone, hates me and has arm pit hair.

Stop moving Sun, stop rotating Earth... stay where you are Greek calendar, and planets, and damn cuckoo clocks. 

I like where I am. Thankyouverymuch.

Looking for more blogs to waste time on?? Check here

Wordless Wednesday Visits The Nature Center

Roaring Brook Nature Center in Canton, CT costs just $5 per adult. It is small, but there is lots to look at and gorgeous paintings everywhere. When it gets warmer, we hope to head to the trails for a picnic lunch and some baby backpacking!



Before Lovebug was born, we had the ultimate battle with my Mother over what her "Grandma" name was going to be. And by "we," I mean, myself and 75% of the people we have ever known in our lives.... vs my Mom. Seriously, she is a tough cookie and she did not give a damn what any of us had to say, she wanted her Grandchildren to call her.... wait for it... "Sparkle".

Yup, as in, something sparkly. Or... well, I don't know how else to explain "Sparkle" except with the word "sparkly". To steal a quote from my Husband (excuse my language),  I thought my Mother had gone "bat shit crazy".

Everywhere we went, the Grocery Store, the Gas Station, even the Drive Thru at the Bank, she was telling everyone, "Grandchild number 1 is on it's way! I am going to be 'Sparkle', and my husband is going to be 'Sparky'!"

Yes, "Sparky"... my poor Father. He loves my Mom, so he just nodded and shook his head like his does with everything else.

It became my quest to find a name that wasn't, "Grandma, Granny (haha), Gram, Nanny, Memaw, Mimi..." you name it. Anything that says white hair-sweatshirts with puff paint- track suits-canes-and old candy... was out of the question.

My siblings were super helpful in the break down of "Sparkle". They didn't want their unborn children calling her "Sparkle," either. So we banned together and started throwing out other possibilities.

She of course, hated them all. And held for dear life onto "Sparkle".

Until one day, she had a little too much wine and whispered in my ear... "I don't HATE 'Honey'."

I took that little teeny tiny nugget of truth serum (thank you $22 bottle of wine, for bringing my mother to her senses) and ran with it.

Before long, Lovebug was calling my Mom, "Honey" and my Dad, "Pop-Pop." Not just every once in awhile... like, every other word until his face turns blue is, "HoneyHoneyHoneyHoneyHoney".... like that too, with no breathes.

And because my Mom, like myself... gets excited and animated, and over the top with just about every single thing in her life, she took her awesome new "Grandma name" (that I think is actually growing on her), one step further.

She got this:

We have the state of CT's lack of "Honey" spelling options to thank for the new spelling of Honey's name... Hunny.

According to The Dictionary, we were pretty spot on with our choice. "Honey: a person for whom one feels love or deep affection; sweetheart; darling."

Sorry Mom.

Sparkle is out, Hunny is in.

(And the crowd goes wild!!!)


All Up in My Area

For those of you who like to just look at pictures... I'll get to the point, we bought a rug.

For the rest of you...

Remember when I hung up my steal of a mirror, and said, "All we have to do is finish the wainscoting and then we're done..." yeh, well, I was leaving out one detail. The whole, Husband is obsessed with finding an area rug, detail. I try to ignore him, but for the life of me I cant get him to shut up sometimes... (my family is rolling their eyes at the irony of this statement.)

You see, when we were working on our house before we moved in, we had a minor leak situation that lead to our contractor grade wood floors warping a teeny, tiny bit. As in, not even noticeable to me. But Husband, man, he has issues with those little mountains and valleys in the floor... he loathes them.

For months now, years actually, Husband has complained about the damage to our floors. We even went so far as to have Empire Today come and give us a RIDICULOUS price on refinishing our floors, just to humor Husband. After the guy gave us a hand shake and an estimate that could buy a used Honda, I suggested we find an area rug to cover the damn floors.

We've been on the hunt ever since.

And then yesterday, we found her.

A 7.9 x 9.6 rug that fit our price range. Hey, if those thrifty kids over at Young House Love  (the Oprah of blogs, for those of you that live under a blog rock) think $250 is a good price for a large rug, then we do too.

Our rug was actually priced at $299, but Husband talked the manager (at Home Goods, Husband's favorite store) into giving us an extra 10% off because of a "crease" in the carpet. (Side note: said crease was eliminated in two seconds when we vacuumed it...wooo hooo!!) A tiny bit of elbow work, and a long car ride with a rug in Lovebug's face, were a small price to pay for our beautiful, soft, $270 purchase. Gorgeous, cheap, and it fits.... Boo-yah.

We were a little nervous about the color-size situation. We knew we liked it in the store, but we all know what happens when you get things home, and the lighting changes.. it's a crap shoot really.

Pretty damn close to this $500 (ON SALE) option  at Pottery Barn

And this time, we lucked out. The color changed in our favor, and the coral looking stuff makes our wood floors pop. Husband may have lucked out too... because the area rug removes the "nakey" feeling the room had before. Meaning he is off the hook for hanging more wainscoting... for now.

Psssttt... can anyone out there give me any tips on how to use my camera and how to work with bad lighting??


There are no words to describe the way Lovebug felt about seeing Thomas and Friends live on stage this weekend. He was a little ball of happiness; squealing and clapping, and dancing his little booty off. Seriously, it was amazing to watch.

The seats, though expensive at $50 a head, even for our 30 pound wonder (who didn't sit in his own seat for 5 seconds) were totally worth the money. Seeing the joy and excitement in Lovebug's eyes was honestly priceless.

As corny as it sounds, his happiness was worth the 150 big ones we shelled out to watch a giant train roll around on stage.
Speaking of the stage, the show was actually really good! I mean, as good as motorized trains with weird robotic British accent voices can be. The entire cast was made up of just five actors, who went above and beyond to entertain the nine billion kids in the audience.

My one complaint was that the Intermission was far too long. Twenty minutes is like a freaking life time to a child who has just enjoyed a full half hour of Thomas and Friends Heaven.

Lovebug was thrilled when the lights re-dimmed and he could get back to his "Hi Percy! Hi Top Hat! Hi Thomas!" screaming. He made a point to call out each and every time the venue was silent, and the parents surrounding us couldn't stop smiling and giggling in our direction. Husband and I were beaming idiots. We couldn't get enough of Lovebug's sheer joy, he had us laughing the entire show. It seems crazy that this is how we spend our weekends, and our money now... but in a good way. Crazy in a good way, like our over excited rugrat.


On His Drum...

Fun fact: Skinny Sis has a friend who played the bongos in a Rhianna video. True story.

Check it out here, if you don't believe me; she pops up at 1:04, 1:40, and then numerous times throughout the bonfire scene, doin' her thang with her bongos.

Anyway, back to "his" drum.

We ran into Skinny Sis' "celebrity-to-us friend," yesterday and guess what she happened to have in her car?? Yup, a loud ass drum. And the joy you see on Lovebug's face in the picture below, I somehow captured at the exact moment that he laid his eyes on said drum.

Blue lips courtesy of many lolli-pops for the toilet training process!

I cant be sure, but I am almost positive a drum has never made someone so happy as it made our son in that moment. Lovebug was in natural-born-musical-talent Heaven.

The loudness and happiness that ensued can only been seen to be believed. Enjoy, or cover your ears!

Pssstt... our not-so-celebrity friend also gave me a great tip to help push Lovebug's musical interest. Big buckets are $3 at Home Depot, and a great way to start getting his beats out. So, in order to avoid buying an entire drum set (kill me), I promised Lovebug his own big bucket to bang away on... with one condition... it live outside.


Peep This...

My son is starting to really feel the affects of his double ear infection... as in, he is turning into the devil. So, when nap time rolled around, I was more than ready to have a few minutes to myself to do something mindless.

So I made this.

I wish I had trimmed that stupid "peep-tail" at the top of the wreath before snapping these pics- it is driving me crazy!

Peep this. That's what I call my little wreath... rather, that's what I say when people look at it, and then me funny... I say, "Peep this,".. sometimes I add a "yo," at the end for good measure.

So, if you are looking for the most mindless, cheapest Easter craft of all time, peep this, yo.

All materials (except the pink hanging ribbon, which I had on hand) are from Dollar Tree. Which made this project a budget busting five buckaroos. It would have been four, but I sprung for the extra package of peeps, just in case someone (Husband) snagged one on me and left me short handed.

I started by shaving the edges of the wreath for a rounder look. (It makes a small mess, as seen here.)

Then I grabbed my trusty glue gun (if you don't have one, they are 5 bucks at Wal-Mart, go get one, you'll use it eventually) and wrapped the ribbon around and around... gluing, wrapping, gluing, wrapping.

After about 10 minutes, I had this.

Then I popped open my peeps, and took the row of 4, and glued it on, in a row of 4. Originally I had planned on gluing them one by one, but I realized these suckers are pretty bendable, and they just went the way I wanted them to. In the end it saved me the energy of having to make sure everything was all lined up. I did separate their little ears.

This wreath took 3 rows of 4, and a set of 2. Before I glued on the last two, I found this spare pink ribbon I had in my craft box and wrapped it around the wreath so I could hang it.

That's it. Half an hour project for five bananas and a package of peeps left over for Husband to stuff his face with.

Now, I know what you are going to ask. And the answer is, I have no idea if this thing will be safe for storing and keeping for another year. I am petrified of bugs in my house (not that I think ants would want hard as rock peeps, but you never know), soo... there is a damn good chance I will toss it after Easter. Then again, maybe not!

And one more time... just cause she's so purrrty.

Psssttt.... You didn't think I was crafty enough to come up with this little number all by myself did you?? Nope, I stumbled onto this fantastic site all about crafts people do with stuff from the dollar store!! Let me tell you, there are some creative folks out there! Take a look!

Wanna check out what other crafty bloggers are up to these days?? Click here or here and browse through the hundreds of thumbnails full of creative inspiration!


Wordless Wednesday

**Lovebug got these new "fireman boots" for successfully going #1 on the potty five times, and going #2 once... all on potty training DAY ONE!!!! (Annd... because he outgrew his old ones, and it is super muddy here, but he doesn't need to know that!)
** PS. Yup, the tag is still on them, he wouldn't let me cut it off!


More Free "Art"

Remember this "art" from Christmas?? That I threw together with a $4 picture frame and a 2005 calendar??

Well, she's back. In an effort to clean and organize our lives, I am trashing things right and left. It is glorious. I came across this calendar again in the purge of the guest room desk. I paused and looked through the sassy bitties and their snide remarks. How could I part with so many women just like myself??

I couldn't. And so, I framed another one. This one isn't for the Holidays, or a season... it's for life. She is my new best friend.

I scrounged threw some old frames I had and found this puppy... for free, it works.

Soo... I took out the picture, threw in some scrapbook paper on the sides where the frame was too large, and Sassy was too small. It took about 22 seconds.

Here she is in all her glory. My new best friend. Sassy. Free Art.

"I dreamed my whole house was clean."

Sick Bug, Again

Damn kids... why are they germ magnets?? And why is Lovebug sick, again?!

I swear, if there is a child with a germ within 100 yards, my kid is going to go over, and steal all his germs... like the klepto that he is. He isn't happy just breaking hearts, he wants to get all up in everyone's germy business. Lovebug thinks he is the Mayor, and wants to be apart of every little thing that is happening... if someone else has germs, then damn it... Lovebug wants germs too!!

Lovebug has not one, but two ear infections, for the first time ever. He is still being his usual good natured, happy-go-lucky Bug self (as seen in the video below), except for the endless stream of clear snot falling out of his face. Ugghh... so much snot... gross.

He also has a hacking cough and has woken up the past 4 nights because he cant breathe. Seriously, we have big time Darth Vader breathing going on over here in Bugland.

He also wants only to sleep with Mommy when he wakes up. I guess the whole, "I cant breathe," thing is scaring him, so he has been wrapped around me since Friday night. Totally fine, right? Wrong!

I am already the world's worst sleeper without adding a snotty faced, pug breathing child attached to me (I love my child, I swear). The kid is like a spider monkey, he wraps his arms around my neck, and puts his cheek directly onto mine, and then gets all heavy, huffing, breathing in my ear, while he is busy wrapping his legs around my waist. If this sounds totally comfortable and adorable, I encourage you to try it for more than one night, and you will see I am not the World's Meanest Mommy, I am just freaking tired!! And I would appreciate the koala bear baby, staying in his own koala bear bed, from now on.

It is Spring yet?? Surely the Winter is to blame for so much sickness?? This cant be like, a life long thing with kids... can it?


Potty, Potty

Yup... it's that time!

Well, it might not be, but I am giving it a good try anyway.

I have been reading some books, and chatting up other Moms about their techniques. There is more information on potty training on Google than there is about breast pumps, or crossfit, or log cabins, or parking lot striping, or smoke alarms... separately, not combined, but still.

Interestingly enough, there is more information about throw pillows than there is about potty training... weird huh??

Potty training is like politics. Everyone has an opinion, and theirs is probably better and more right than yours will ever be. So, I am just going to give it a good shot and hope for the best. And, if it doesn't work and Lovebug keeps rockin' his Pampers for another year, that will be okay too.

Here's to giving it a try... don't be surprised to see 12 packages of lollipops and a potty in my living room if you plan on coming over anytime soon.

Wish us luck!

Many Hats....

Lovebug is a social butterfly these days, making friends and breaking hearts everywhere we go. I didn't realize it until recently, but the kid is really starting to make bank off of his insane cuteness and amazing personality (just like Mommy!).

Take these hats for example... all given to him in different places, by people he won over, with a smile. Maybe he is on to something here. I wonder if his smile could get us a free oil change, or maybe some new sneakers?? Not that I am using my child for his adorable dimples and stunning blue eyes... just thinkin' out loud here people, juussst thinkin' out loud.

From the gym...

From Harpoon Brewery...

From the Fire Department...

From the Pizza Place...


Keeping My Cool...

When I checked our thermometer and it said 67 degrees (!!!), I grabbed Lovebug and headed for the nearest park. Good thing he is currently obsessed with his to-die-for L.L. Bean snow boots... half the place was still covered in snow!

And, like any little boy, guess which side Lovebug wanted to play on?? Yup, the snow covered one.... Aggh! Look at all that non-snowy-drenched goodness over there!! And there we were, in the deepest part of the snow, on the school bus, singing away.

Cold ankles or not, I have to admit, I really didn't mind. You see, it feels like Lovebug is getting so old... so fast... that I pretty much just want to be a fly on the wall of his baby-ness, while it is still here. Does that make sense??

For example, Lovebug said, "Da-da," for the first time last Memorial Day. When did he say, "Mommy"? The first week in November!!! I about died when he said it, and begged him to say it again, and again, and again.

Fast forward 4 months and, A) I am ready to change my name from "Mommy" to something he cant pronounce, and B) I am no longer "Mommy," I'm "Mom".

Seriously, what? He already calls me "Mom," like we're on some sort of nickname, real casual, basis here. I see this only as a sign of him getting older, and needing me less. The second my child started pulling away and flexing his independence, I started clinging, hard core. He is just too young to be old!!

So, today at the park when some bratty little old-enough-to-know-better-has-no-manners-or-class-and-a-bad-haircut-to-boot, little girl ran in front of Lovebug not once, not twice, but three times when he went to get on a toy... clinging overprotective "Mom" showed her face.

Lovebug, the innocent little peach that he is... just looked at me, like, "Mom, why is this big girl taking everything I want?" I tried to be nice, but the kid was ruthless. I looked for her Mother, which was dumb, because if her mother was any good at her job she would have taught her kid not to be such a little shit. So, I grabbed Lovebug's arm and dragged him to the other side of the playground.

I know it was stupid and petty of me, but I couldn't help it, I was cursing her under my breath. She literally watched Lovebug put his little love leg up on a "motorcycle," and knocked him out of the way, hopping on it from the other side!!! She did it again with the "butterfly," and once more with the "rocket ship". The girl was like 7 years old for crying out loud! As her mom blabbed away on her cell phone, ignoring her dying-for-attention kids, I boiled over. I was seriously pissed, it was bad enough that she was knocking down a kid who is less than 2 years old, but come on... into the snow?! Three times!

I have no clue how I am ever going to make it through elementary school, middle school, high school...with all the mean kids out there, just waiting to push Lovebug off every last motorcycle he encounters? He's going to eventually tell me to shut my mouth. One day, he is going to be so independent that he wont even call me anything, let alone "Mom." He will probably eventually stand up for himself, and tell the mean kids to shove it.

And me? I'm just gonna keep lifting weights, and start going after their Mommy's.

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