Why Didn't I Think Of This??

Lovebug is an amazing sleeper, EXCEPT, if there is anyone other than myself or Husband in the house. Then, he turns into Lovebug the Frat Boy party animal. He wants to be the one to send everyone home at the end of the night, the last man standing, the host with the most.

Everyone else thinks it's funny when it's midnight and Lovebug is raging out, playing a bottle of Ranch dressing like a guitar and laughing, happy as a clam. It makes me cry, seriously, it does.

Yesterday was no different. We spent the day at Hunny and Pop-Pop's... at nap time, Lovebug was a cranky, rubbing his eyes mess. He had woken up early, and gone to bed late. He was well over due for some shut eye, but... there was someone other than me breathing in the house, and he knew it. So he refused to sleep.

To the point where he was thrashing, and acting like one of those kids you see in Wal-Mart, throwing themselves on the floor and whining. That is not my child, those children are the Devil.

I couldn't help it. I lost it. I cried. I am pregnant, and hormonal, and tired, so back the eff up and let me cry if I want to.

All I could think, when I looked at Lovebug was, "Please, for the love of God, go the eff to sleep."

And then, the clouds parted, and I found this book review online. I needed this today, to know I am normal (as normal as someone who recently caught shit between her toes can be), that I am not the only one.

This guy wrote a book called, "Go the F$%K to Sleep." He is my hero. It is NOT a book intended for children, but for adults. Something honest, to laugh at... it is only normal to get frustrated, and someone finally got real about it... I love that. With a simple rhyming picture book, AGAIN, FOR ADULTS... he quickly and easily won the hearts of parents everywhere. His book is already in the top 300 on Amazon, even though it doesn't come out for another 6 months.

I plan on giving it as a Baby Shower gift for the rest of my life.  Because it's a cute, funny, cheeky way of reminding parents... it's okay, you're not the only one... it gets better.

And at the end of the day, when the shit is cleaned out of my toenails, and Lovebug wants nothing more than to cuddle in my arms and talk about our adventures... I'm not thinking about those times when I want to cry because he wont sleep.

I am thinking I am pretty damn lucky. And I will save the tears for our next visit to Hunny & Pop Pop's; when he will without a doubt turn back into the Devil again.


Don't Call Me

Seriously, don't. If you have my number, lose it. Don't text me either.


Because Husband bought me a new fancy, schmancy cell phone for my birthday and I have no freaking idea how to use it.

I don't even know how to unlock it, let alone make a phone call.

And texting? Forget it. It took me 10 minutes to figure out how to text someone, and when I did, I was bummed because I don't know how to make an exclamation point... and ya'll know how I like to get my excitement on.

What was wrong with my old phone anyway?

It worked, and had character. As in, a different color back than front... kinda like those cars you see that have been put back together with junk yard pieces. I had a junk yard car phone, but it worked fine, and I had no problem making an exclamation point.

So if you need me in the near future... send a smoke signal, a telegram, or a pigeon. Better yet... call Husband and tell him to give me my Zack Morris phone back.


Wordless Wednesday

Big Boy put his shoes on all by himself! On the wrong feet!

One Hour Apart

I try not to talk to too many people about Crossfit... because most of the time I get so over passionate I sound like I am trying to sell them something. But it is seriously that good, I cant help it.

I wont bore you with my whole speech about how it has changed my life, my marriage, my child, my body... but it has.

I will tell you though, that I am uber obsessed with my gym, because they offer free babysitting while I workout. It is the only 60 minutes of the day that I get for myself, and damn it I make sure every last one of them is spent sweating, and laughing my ass off.

The best part?? Lovebug loves it too... like, more than the average kid loves being at a Gym. You are probably envisioning a typical Gym Day Care, with an grandmother-ly type woman, and 19 billion kids running around. Not the case.

We have two young members (who have known Lovebug for 9 months) caring for him, and maybe one or two other children at a time. They are the sweetest girls and actually love him, and enjoy him like we do. I do not even have a babysitter that I use regularly at home, because I don't trust anyone enough. But these two, if they lived closer they'd be my Nannies. If Lovebug had a say, he'd agree, he loves them as much as we do. They are like members of our family, and make working out as stress free as it should be. To have peace of mind while I work out; knowing he is in loving, caring hands... is priceless to me.

Lovebug spends the entire hour socializing, playing outside, hopping in puddles... you name it, he is all over it. He is 100% comfortable at the Gym. It is his home away from home, and he basically thinks he is the Mayor, schmoozing up everyone who comes in his path. We couldn't be happier that the hour he spends with a sitter is in a healthy environment, where fitness is numero uno. As opposed to spending it with a Nanny, who gabs on the phone and facebook, while he runs wild.

We are forunate enough to be raising Lovebug at home, with his mother, as opposed to at a Day Care or with a Care Giver. But, everyone needs their space, and after a full day of being a clown for Lovebug, I am happy to pass him and his energy on to someone else.

It's true what they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder. The second I finish working out, I cant wait to get my hands on Lovebug. It doesn't hurt that he almost always says, "Good job Mom," when I finish, complete with a bear hug and sloppy (sometimes snotty), kiss.

Just one more reason to love Crossfit. Okay, I'll stop.


Big Boy Room... Full Speed Ahead

Something funny happens when you have kids. Making plans pretty much goes to shit.

You see, I had these huge plans to spend the next 6 weeks making Lovebug's Big Boy Room amazing. Then... he climbed out of his crib. Like a ninja. Not like most kids, who start to climb and then tumble to the floor.

Lovebug is clearly spending too much time at the gym (he is, after all, not 2 years old and already doing his own version of push ups), because he just lowers himself out of his crib, and that's that.

Maybe if he fell like a ton of bricks, or got scared in the process, he wouldn't do it again.

Nope, not our son. He has scaling the crib down pat. Which means, no one is getting any sleep around here.

It also means, Husband has given me a short and strict deadline of ONE WEEK to get Lovebug's Big Boy Room up and running.

I don't want to just throw him in the spare room with a new chair and say, "Here's your big boy room!" So, I have been googling like a maniac trying to find something affordable and boyish, with fast shipping... HELLO WE HAVE A NINJA IN THE HOUSE, THIS IS A BEDDING EMERGENCY!

I was mor-ti-fied at the prices of kid's bedding. I gave up on the guitar bedding and almost threw up when Tar-Jay wanted 96 bananas for a comforter and a sham. Seriously? Come on, that is almost 100 big ones and I don't even have sheets yet. Ridiculous. I'm pretty sure the kid is going to pee in the bed five times a week, 96 dollars for two pieces of a bed set is down right crazy.

So, I found this gem, which I love, and was uber cheap. Most times I try to steer away from anything too loud, and am more into the Pottery Barn-ish look, but, we are on a timeline, and I don't have 400 buckaroos for a PB bed set. Oh well, anyone who knows Lovebug would call him "loud and cheery", so his bedding will suit him perfectly.

I also had to buy a PAIR of bed rails, because Lovebug's Big Boy Room has closets on two walls, and windows on two walls. Meaning, we are scared if we put the bed in front of a window, he may just jump out.

So, to the center of the room his new bed will go, which I have also been pricing out. Eeek, this will be an expensive week fo' sho.

Bedtime has been super fun since the Ninja child figured out the whole crib thing. I basically have to stand at his door and wait to hear him start climbing and then bust in like I'm on Boarder Patrol to stop him. Then he cries, I lay him back down, and go back to my post outside his door.

It's really fun, especially after 15 times.


The Pizza & The Explosion

Remember my sneaky plan to get Lovebug to eat more green vegetables?? You know, food process 3/4 of a bag of broccoli, put it into spaghetti sauce and make home-made pizza??

Yup... that plan back fired, literally.

I fed the Bug, gave him a nap, got him dressed, and headed to a friend's house for a Baby Shower. Lovebug was all set to play with my friend's son for the night, while Mommy got cra-azzy at the Shower.

I had approximately ninety seven bags to carry into my friends house; food, raffle prizes, presents... yada yada. We pulled onto their street and Lovebug says, "Potty Mommy," and then... "My back hurts."

Okay, so now I know I have to bust a move into the house (easier said than done at nearly 6 months pregnant). We'll make a quick trip to the Potty,  and then have my friend (a Nurse) look at Lovebug's back. Got it.
I am reciting the plan in my head as I throw the car in park, hop out of the car, and grab Lovebug from his car seat. We fly into the house, straight to the Potty. So far so good.

Then, I am pulling down Lovebug's pants when I notice a stench, and then... poop in the front.

Poop in the front is never good. Nor, is poop all. the. way. up. the. back.

"My back hurts"... ohhhh, what he meant to say was, "My back is sticky, and covered in shit."

The long and short of it is, my friend helped me get the one piece bathing suit of poop (go ahead, picture it) off of Lovebug, and throw him in the shower. I Feberez-ed the crap out of her house, dressed Lovebug in someone else's clothes, and went to work on the carseat.

Somehow, in my haste to spring into get-him-to-the-potty-on-time action, I neglected to look at the car seat. I just grabbed Lovebug out of it, and ran like Hell towards the nearest bathroom.

Had I taken the time to look, I would have seen my poor Britax car seat, covered in poop, covered. It looked like someone had pureed a Butterfinger with water, and dumped it down the seat. It smelt like a barn. It was runny, and pooling in a puddle at the bottom. Oh God it was so gross.

One box of wipes, and an entire bottle of Febreze later... and Lovebug was playing happily outside with the kids; the poop emergency a distant memory.

And me? I was inside, feeling like crap for damn near ripping my son's colon out with a brocolli pizza.

So much for green veggies... it's the thought that counts, right?

Here Comes Peter Cotton Tail...

The Easter Bunny kept it simple at the Bug house this weekend. A trail of Easter eggs leading directly to Lovebug's first T-Ball set.

I noticed at the first of three Easter Egg hunts we went to this weekend, that Lovebug is still too young to care too much about collecting eggs. So, we kept it short and sweet with this $13 (on sale!) T-Ball set from Tar-jay.

Lovebug was in Heaven. Plus, you can always count on Grandparents and Godparents to spoil him rotten anyway. He definitely got his fill of Easter basket goodness (so did I), and was even semi-interested in the last egg hunt we attended. Not really, but with two parents screaming, "There's one! Get it!" He had no choice.

Husband somehow got roped into playing an Easter bunny game, complete with ears and foofy bunny tail. (He is totally cursing the day I started a blog right now.)

What a good sport.


The Pond, The Pizza & The Pocketbook

Those things have nothing in common, except they all start with "P" and are all things I have been meaning to blog about.

The Pond: Who knew that we live less than 2 miles from a really cool State Park? Um, not me, but I wish I had! Lovebug and I went for a playdate at a pond directly behind our house last week and he LOVED it.

"I'm freeeeee!"

Lovebug saw the pond and walked directly into it, shoes, socks, pants... soaked.

Doing squats.

He is pretending that stick is a weight... he may spend a little too much time at the Gym after all.

The Pizza: Lovebug is not the best green vegetable eater out there. In fact, he kinda sucks at it.
Unless I am hiding them, he wont eat 'em, simple as that.

Enter veggie pizza.


I bought some pizza crust, a bag of broccoli, some cheese and spaghetti sauce; and bada bing bada boom... I out smarted the Bug. I pureed the crap outta the broccoli so I could hide it in the sauce. I tried to leave a few teeny, tiny pieces of broccoli on top of the pizza, so the Bug might show some interest.
No such luck, he picked them off anyway.

Little did he know he was eating broccoli in every bite!! I used 3/4 of a bag to make this pizza, which took 15 minutes from start to finish, and will feed him on a whim all week long!!

The Pocketbook: So, on my birthday, I mentioned wanting some new shoes, butttttt... Husband pulled through with something even better (he out did himself)!! Something very similar (mine's a more classic, less trendy print) to this beauty... siggghhh... isn't she puurty??

Hello... I love you.

To check out what other bloggers have been up to this week... click here


Fo' Free

I often find myself marveling at all that I have learned since actually becoming a Mom. When I was pregnant with Lovebug I literally had no clue what I was in for, none, nada, zilch.

As Lovebug and I ventured out into the world and met lots of cool new Mommies, I began to realize that all those books people tell you to read don't know shit. I mean, I am sure they are fine, and their authors are all great people, but if you want to know the real deal, you gotta get in on the playground.

These women know every last tip to give in order to make your life easier. Seriously, I am not playing around. They know the best kind of high chairs to save space, the best snacks to give to avoid crumbs, the best sales to shop, the best medicines, the best potty training ideas... you name it, they know it.

I also figured out pretty quickly that parents as a whole, hate to have so much shit in their house. I look at my son's pile of toy's everyday and think about the Little Bug in my belly and think...
 Oh God, that pile is going to double soon...

We are lucky enough to have met lots of generous Mommies (and Daddies!) looking to unload stuff their own children have outgrown. It is a win-win situation. We take their old stuff, we save money, they de-clutter.

I remember when Lovebug was 10 months old thinking, "I should get him more toys." I set out to visit my BFF Tar-Jay and couldn't believe how many toys were more than 20 bananas... for one toy!
He doesn't even play with the ones he has!!

Now that I am a much smarter Mama Bug, I have learned to put some toys away when Lovebug's birthday and Christmas roll around. All of the Bug's potty training rewards have been Christmas gifts that I stashed for a rainy day. I have also learned to stop spending my  Husband's hard earned cash on retail.

The best toys we have we got FO' FREE!!! This just a few of the things that have gotten passed on to us in our playroom... I didn't even attempt the rest of the house, (fyi... this stuff altogether paying retail would cost well over 600 bananas!)

Little Tykes House, immaculate condition.

Easily 100 plastic animals.

The storage bins (still empty, yay, room to grow!) and the Thomas table and all accessories

If worse comes to worst, and someone I know isn't trying to unload whatever it is I am searching for, Craigslist is FILLED with parent's looking to sell their hardly used toys too! Most toys are only played with a half a dozen times and then tossed aside anyway.

That sound you hear? No worries, it's just the wallets of  parent's everywhere sobbing, because they are lonely and empty, yet somehow, the toy box is full... of toys with dead batteries.

Go figure.


I'm Loving...

I'm loving that it's my birthday! Whoot, whoot! My all time favorite day of the year!!

Call me selfish, but I just think birthdays, are the best days! Even as I get older and Husband has to work, and my family and friends are in nineteen different states (not really nineteen, more like three), my favorite part of my birthday is all the love I get from all corners of my life... not the presents.

It's the love, people! The love!

My sweet sister, Skinny Sis, even came to keep me company since Husband is traveling AGAIN, and filled our house with balloons and party hats... just like Hunny used to do! She's good right??

The decorations were a double whammy because Lovebug, of course loved them too. He also loves to sing "Happy Day Day," all the time... it is something special the first time your child sings to you on your birthday.

I am loving that Skinny Sis lent me her car to go to the gym all by myself (cue Celine Dion) on my Happy Day Day! Because something I am not loving is that Husband left for a business trip MONDAY with BOTH sets of my car keys. As Snookie would say, "Waaahhhh."
(Yup, stuck in doors for 72 hours with an almost 2 year old in the rain... parrr-ty!)

Husband, the good Italian boy that he is, feels so guilty (Italian mothers teach that young, I hear), that I am expecting some amazing birthday gift goodness thrown my way. Not that I am about the presents (it's the love people, the love!), but some new shoes would sure help heal me of my cabin fever!

Annd... who doesn't love facebook on their birthday?? That Mark Zuckerberg is good. If you ask me, that little Birthday corner on facebook has brightened many a person's day, making it one of the best parts of facebook. Reading all those sweet messages is seriously the icing on the cake (womp, womp), so to speak. It is my hope that people will one day be that nice all the time.

That's what I am all about. Birthday Niceness everyday, minus the balloons and new shoes, just giving the love should be enough. Let's start a trend, get Zuckerberg on the case. And why not??
Everyone loves a Happy Day Day!

Playdates in the Park

The gorgeous weather has us out and about with friends as much as possible. I am a firm believer that lots of fresh air means longer naps, so out we go when the sun is a'shining!

I cant believe he is old enough to go down the slide by himself! It is so bittersweet!

Up the ladder he goes.. all alone! Such a big boy!

Always with the yummy pop! Potty training means candy people, don't judge me!

Whose happier than this guy?

Free Hugs!!!


Picture Hijacking...

Does anyone out there in Blog-land have any idea how to prevent people from stealing pictures from my blog??

Please don't give me the ever popular, totally useless... "don't post them online"... that helps just about no one.

I started my blog because I missed writing, and our families missed us. We don't get to see them enough and so, my blog was born. It's not much, but it is mine, and I would like to keep it that way

I was discouraged today when I saw someone had "stolen" a picture from my blog. I foolishly thought that preventing "Right Click," was the way to go. Buuuttt... apparently it is not.

So, can anyone help?? I'd love to keep what's mine, mine... or at the very least, know that crazies aren't out there copying and pasting pictures of our child and our life.


Big Boy Room & The End Of The Internet

Did you know the world wide web has a world wide ending?? Me neither.

Not until I began searching for a guitar bedroom set for Lovebug's Big Boy Room in progress. I searched, and I searched, and I could find nothing that wasn't black (not for a two year old), pink (not for a boy two year old), or camouflage (we are going for music, not military). I couldn't believe it, the Internet failed me.

There was a big sign, "Go back, you've gone too far, there are no more guitar bedding sets, go with trucks instead."

The single ONLY half way acceptable option out there is from The Company Store. It is 70 freaking bananas for a twin sized, 200 thread count comforter cover. Comforter cover, as in, I still have to buy a comforter. What the eff? Oh PS, it's all white.

Maybe The Company Store hasn't heard of "N, $75"... but Lovebug is still hangin' out with his wang(in) out, which means, I am still catching the occasional shit in my hand. Which, I have learned, is better than stepping on it with bare feet... in case you were wondering.

So, a white comforter is pretty much completely impractical, and, I was kinda sorta hoping to spend 70 big ones on the whole she-bang... sheets, comforter, pillow case, maybe even a valance or two.

And 200 thread count?? I am pretty sure that is equivalent to sleeping with Communion on top of you. Or, for the Jews out there who don't know anything about Communion, cardboard. Yup, 200 thread count equals cardboard. I am sure a cardboard comforter is exactly the type of upgrade Lovebug has been hoping for in his Big Boy Room. Makes the whole cozy, warm, all he's ever known crib seem like the slums, I'm sure.

At this point, I'm pretty certain The Company Store isn't going to give me any perks for writing about them on my blog. Nor are they going to mass produce a guitar room priced right with decent quality non-white fabrics just for me.

Maybe I'll just say screw it to the whole Big Boy Room and keep him in his crib until he goes to college, when we can get bunk beds together and  live in the dorms. Then he'll be old enough for the black guitar bedding anyway.


The Anniversary & The Fridge

This weekend my family threw my grandparent's a 60th Anniversary party. Seriously, 60 years. That is nearly 20 times longer than Husband and I have been married.

As far as I am concerned, that makes them freaking saints... or effing nuts, one or the other.

When you consider the fact that they had NINE kids, in TEN years... I'd say it's the latter; they are effing nuts. Who the hell wants NINE kids?? I am pretty sure that is uterus abuse.

One of the oldest children, my Aunt Sally, passed away before her 1st birthday, so my mom was actually raised as one of eight. Which doesn't excuse the uterus abuse, or sound any easier to me. That is still EIGHT booties to wipe, EIGHT college tuitions, EIGHT cars, EIGHT weddings... I am getting light headed just thinking about it.

The party began with a family picture, of 39 people... we were missing two. I know. We are like rabbits I think, breeders I tell ya. My grandparents kinda sat comatose on the couch while the chaos that they created went on around them.

People came out of the woodwork to help celebrate. There were old neighbors, colleagues, cousins, even a foreign exchange student from the early 70's. It was really a great testament to the life my grandparents have lived together.

Nineteen grandchildren, plus their spouses, and friends got completely hammered while the "adults," (uhh, the oldest grandchild is 30, by all means, an "adult") mingled and chatted up the "olden days".

The lone great grandchild (Lovebug himself), ran amuck while his pregnant waddling mother (me), chased him around the house holding an assortment of yummy pops, balloons, and trucks.

We dodged the caterer and countless old people... I even once plowed into my other grandmother while juggling one too many things and not paying attention, lucky for me she has good balance.

All around us people were watching slideshows of the legacy my grandparents had created. It was a good place to be, surrounded by family and love. I was content to just sit back, look at ancient photos, and watch the drinking games begin at 3 pm.

Not Lovebug; he was not content to sit back. He was bored, and headed for his all time favorite place to play when he is in need of a pick-me-up. The fridge. What can I say, he is his mother's son.

It wasn't long before Lovebug had drawn an audience. He holed himself up in there taking condiments off the door and putting them everywhere they don't belong. My cousins were pushing and shoving, craning their necks to see the little guy put on his show. He just babbled to himself and shook his booty to Bob Marley on the stereo, strumming the Hershey's syrup like a guitar.

I watched quietly from the other side of the room, this whole fridge game is not new to me. What was new, was the crowd of bystanders, laughing and cheering Lovebug on.

It was in that moment that I realized why my grandparents had nine kids. Why there were nineteen grandchildren, and 1.5 great-grandchildren. We are a family of baby lovers, chaos embracers, and "the more the merrier's" (it's my blog, if I say it's a word, it's a word).

Look at Lovebug, catching on already. Moving over and making room for my mom, Hunny, to help him re-arrange the Soy Sauce and the Mustard.

Not even two years old, and already embracing the family motto, "There is always room for one more."

Except in my uterus, I will take single babies only please... and definitely not nine of them, thank you.


A Boy & His Bike

Husband recently committed to do the bike leg of a triathalon. He is super excited and went right out and bought himself a new bike to start practicing.

Of course, when Husband set out around the block, Lovebug had to have his own bike out too. 

Good thing the similarities stop there, can you just see Husband pedaling around the block in motorcycle PJ's and rain boots??

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