Wordy Wednesday: What The?

How is this even freaking possible??

What you are looking at right here is a piece of confetti from my Bachelorette Party almost 5 years ago.

It is less than 1/2 inch long in real life.

This confetti is a friggin' survivor, that somehow followed us through 3 moves, and ended up stuck to Lovebug's foot this morning.

In 5 years I have lost money, gift cards, clothes, shoes, socks, bills, millions of phone chargers....

But this? This I can hold on to??

I have no recollection of saving this teeny tiny piece of confetti; yet here it is...

Mocking me because it is in fact, NOT any of the things I really wish had been stuck to my child's foot.

Stupid confetti... why couldn't you be 50 bucks?

*Linking up with other Wordless Wednesday bloggers here, here, and here!


Six Months

While I've been busy trying to stop the hands of time, Ladybug has been forging ahead, ignoring my pleas, and getting bigger by the day.

She hit the half year mark last week. Gahhh... I can't take it.

The past month gave us the most notable changes to date for my little Girlfriend, who tipped the scales at just shy of 20 lbs at her half year doctor's visit.

She took all 27 shots (not really 27, more like 5) like a champ.

She started eating solids just before the 6 month mark, and has already shoved sweet potatoes, bananas, apples, broccoli, blueberries, peaches, and oatmeal down her little throat.

She is literally like a puppy; if someone enters the room with food, she will stare and whimper until she gets some too.

She loves, loves, loves water out of a sippy cup...this is worth mentioning only because Lovebug absolutely hated water when we gave it to him... like we handed him tequila or something (we didn't).

Rolling over and sitting up on her own (kind of) are the new things to do for Ladybug... who is still smiling, laughing, and observing her little life away.

She is still calm, and happy to sit back and let Lovebug be his maniac little self (as if he would let her stop him).

She will crane her neck or bend over like a question mark to get a good look at his antics (which is a little scary if you are holding her and she suddenly flips her body backwards to watch her brother).

She also finally started paying attention to her Dear Old Dad this month... took her long enough.

It's weird because most people would think this is something that happens immediately, and I am sure she has loved her Dad all along, but for an exclusively breastfed baby, well, Daddy doesn't have the goods;

So up until this month, he has been on the back burner.

Not anymore my friends... not anymore.

They do this thing- Husband and daughter...

I will be nursing her, and Husband starts to sing a Beatles song and she will stop nursing and turn at look at him.

He will stop singing, and she will begin to nurse again... until Husband opens his mouth and starts to sing again.

She unlatches, flips around, looks at Daddy, who stops singing until she latches again... and so on and so forth.

Husband adores this game; and thinks it is hysterical that she has inherited his, "Cant do two things at once," gene.

I'm sure he also loves that  A) my boob is just hanging out while they do their little sing-song game, and B) there is one thing on Earth that she will give up the boob for... and it's his singing.

She is finally, finally sleeping through the night (excuse me while I booty pop all over the house).

Here's the thing though, for all you, "raising children by the book,"-ers out there.

Since she learned how to roll over, she rolled herself over and slept the whole night through on her belly... (for you non-parents out there, that is a big no no in the Baby world these days).

I saw her on the monitor and went to flip her over.

I crept quietly towards her crib, when she suddenly popped her little head up like a duck.

That's when I threw myself on the ground.

Apparently she is fine on her belly...  and I may have a few issues (this is news to nobody)...

Normal people hit the deck to avoid being seen by a 6 month old at 3 am... right?

Post hitting the deck, as I was crawling back to bed, I ran into Dollface's other bestie, our cat Madison (named for the middle school where Husband and I met) who likes to hang out in her bakery nursery.

Madison doesn't get  much air time on the ol' blog here because let's be serious, not many people want to read about a cat, and usually there is not much to say (eat, sleep, pet me, pet me, sleep).

But Ladybug is smitten with Madison, and eagerly watches her every majestic, tiger-like movement (read: lazily walk into the room, "pet me, pet me," walk out) and tries to "pet," (smack) her whenever she is within reach.

In fact, the cat is the single only thing that is safe from being shoved down Ladybug's throat... if she can touch it, she will try to eat it.

She wants nothing to do with laying down,  and prefers to be held, sitting, or jumping....

Sometimes she even pulls the hybrid, "hold me in your lap while I jump,"... which she did to my Mother's Mother last week, and nearly (definitely) almost broke her arms.

Ladybug = not light.

Her thighs are seriouslynotevenkidding the size of my upper arms... and her cheeks are like giant baseballs... sometimes I bite them.

I worry that her Pediatrician is going to say to me, "So... about those bite marks...."

I cant possibly be the first parent to nom on their kid's face, can I?

To Answer Your Questions....

Yes. I am alive.

No. I am not on vacation.

Yes. Everything is okay.

No. No one is sick, and I am not hiding from the world since I got my haircut.

I love and appreciate all of the calls, comments, and emails I have received wondering why I haven't blogged lately.

And the answer?

It's all Husband's fault. (Isn't it always??)

He has had a few random days off, and I just don't want to blog when he is home.

I'd rather spend time with my family instead... that's what it's all about right?

Don't worry, I will be back tomorrow with a long post, and again on Thursday and Friday, with my usual mindless nonsense that no one is interested in.

Except maybe you, my wonderful readers, who apparently don't give a shit what I write about... as long as I give you something to waste a few minutes of your work day on.

Thanks for checking in... I am a lucky girl.


Donating My Hairs

Last week I decided to donate my hair.

It was a quick, spur of the moment idea I had in bed, after a long day with the kids.

I didn't tell anyone just in case I pussied out.

 I did some googling and found Pantene's Beautiful Lengths program, which works with the American Cancer Society to donate wigs to women with cancer.

I chose this organization because it accepts a minimum of 8 inches of hair.

Most people donate through Locks of Love; but they accept a minimum of 10 inches of hair, and I didn't think I was brave enough to make that cut.

If it was going to be just the 10 inches, I could have done it....

But, after they put your hair in a pony tail and make the kindest cut of all; they have to actually give you a nice haircut too, you know?

So there goes another inch or two on top of your donation.. too scary for my bones.

Anyway, I decided Beautiful Lengths would get my goldilocks, and I made an appointment to do the deed.

I called yesterday at 2 pm, and was in the chair at 6:30 pm.

Nothing like just getting it done.

Husband and I are like that, we get ideas in our head, and we just do them.

Why not, right?

Anyway, they pulled my hair back into two pigtails and said... "Here we go!"

I could hear the scissors working their way through my hair... I kind of squealed and covered my eyes.

 Not like I could see the back of my head or anything, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

And then, just like that, it was done.

 I felt liberated, excited, and totally un-phased by the balliest move of my life.

My donation ended up being just over 8 inches long, and then I had another two or so lopped off on top of that.

I had to take pictures immediately post cut before I f'ed it up myself by not knowing which end of the blow dryer to use.

I am that person who gets the round brush stuck in their hair... how that happens, I have no idea.

I tried not to worry about short hair giving me a pudgy baby face, or a Mom butt (your haircut affects your butt people, it does).

My axed locks are currently on their way to Ohio, where they will meet up with lots of other hair to be made into wigs for women who really need them.

To date, Beautiful Lengths has collected almost 295,000 ponytails.

Believe it or not, it takes 6 ponytails to make one wig, so my hair is about to have seven new besties.

After all was said and done, I decided I am officially old.

Not because I look like, "such a Mom!," (although people keep freaking saying that).

And not because it seems like every thirty year old I know has short hair, (still twenty eight over here folks).

I decided I am old when I realized that aside from a brief panic attack, I was totally fine about the loss of all that hair.

It was seriously no big thing, which is weird; because ten years ago the very thought of chopping my locks would have sent me into a:

"I need to breathe into a paper bag, stick my head between my knees, AND hide under a desk," frenzy.

Now, I am officially old and wise enough to see things differently.

To me, it is only hair; but to others, it is a lifeline, an identity, and a sign of hope.

I feel good about my hair's new life...

I hope she (hair can be a, "she," right?) is in a new state...

On her way to being some super ballsy color.

 Or bangs! I was never ballsy enough for bangs.

Wherever she is, I know for certain she'll land on the head of someone who appreciates her so much more than I ever did.


The Happiest Moment of His Life

Yesterday we took a day trip to see the Bug's Grandpa.

You may have read that we allowed Lovebug to have a ride in a disgusting "Mall Cart"... in order to avoid him having a mental freaking break down in public.

Believe it or not, there was more to our day than putting our child in the equivalent of a toilet on a wheels...he also rode a carousel, for the first time ever.

And it blew his friggin' mind.


I have to be honest, this wasn't just the happiest day of Lovebug's life... it was one of the happiest of mine, too.

Seeing the sheer joy and wonder in his eyes made me feel all warm and bubbly inside;
 not in a stomach flu way... in a: what did I do to deserve such great kids way?

Sometimes it takes a spinning super fast Carousel to help you see clearly...

....and remind just how wonderful your life really is.


I Let My Kid Get In A Mall Cart...

(I am so ashamed.)

Today we took the Bugs on a day trip to spend some time with Husband's Dad.

Unfortunately, Lovebug caught sight of those disgusting push cart things that every kid under the sun has sat, snotted, and shit in... and of course, had to have one for himself.

Ugh... my skin crawls looking at these pictures.

I mean, he is happy... like over the moon excited about this cart, but God those things are freaking nasty.

Do you think they have ever been cleaned? Ever?!

Ohandplusalso... look at the warning label on the back:

I take no responsibility for the nastiness that is this cart. It was like this when we got it.

What the Hell?

To think we actually paid money to put our kid in that germ mobile.

We are so white trash.


This is what Lovebug did the second we walked through the door.


Nakey Faced

The blogosphere is a buzz with this whole, "Naked Face Challenge," thing.

Do you know what I am talking about??

Bloggers have been posting photos of themselves in all their bare nakey faced goodness; no makeup, no editing, nada, zilch.

I kind of find this whole show your nakey face thing funny because, at least for me; I don't really wear makeup anyway.

That said, I am still as guilty as the next guy of posting only my best pictures online... don't hate, you do it too.

So I, like you, hate when people post pictures of me and tag me without me giving it the:  

Do my arms/butt/thighs/hips look fat? 

Does my head look weird?? 

Do my dimples look like giant wrinkles?

I am only human.

I know I've got bags under my eyes.

I know I have freckley cheeks, and... ugh... a billion laugh lines and crow's feet.

But, I earn the bags staying up late partying with my babygirl.

And I earned my freckles when I got pregnant with Lovebug; in a weird, I never had freckles until I got pregnant turn of events.

I have wrinkles, and maybe even one or two gray hairs (sigh), all of which have Lovebug's name on them.

It's okay.

My Husband and babies love me like this, so fresh and so clean, clean (thank you Oil of Olay Detoxifying Pore Scrub).

And since Babycakes is my Partner in Crime these days, I begged her to take a picture with me.

She was all, "Okay Mom, as long as you slip me the boob when we're done."



No More Capris

I sit and watch Ladybug in her bouncer any chance I can get.

She loves that thing, and it is so fun to see her fling herself in and out of the doorway, like a baby bungee jumper.

 It never gets old.

Except there's just one problem...

I can't stop starring at those damn curtains.

You don't see the problem do you??

Well, since I am obsessed with my kid, I didn't see it the first one million times I sat watching her either.

And then, one day I noticed.

They are so freaking short!

Now, in our house I have solemnly sworn never to use Krazy Glue when DIYing by myself....

(...You know, you glue ONE towel rack to a door and people will never let it go.. it's not like I glued the towel to the door.)

But Husband never said shit about me using scissors.

(Side Note: Husband, if you are reading this... don't have a heart attack, I did this three days ago and you haven't even noticed yet.)

The difference isn't huge, but it's enough to make me happy.

 I also didn't bother ironing the crease out of the curtains, because seriously, this is real life and I just took scissors to my curtains... you think I am going to iron them too??

I have baby bungee jumpers to be watching... yeesh.


Mommy the Entertainer

You know that kid you see in the movies; that is 100 miles an hour, running in circles from sun up until sun down??

That child belongs to me.

Lovebug has energy for days, and being that the winter is taking forrrrever to end, I am running out of options as to how to entertain him.

So, I have been pulling out all the stops to keep this kid busy without depending on the TV all day long... take a look:

The swords are courtesy of the Dollar Spot at Target, bless that section.

 For two bananas I kept that kid busy for an hour; just flailing around like a maniac, throwing myself up and down and all around, while I let him beat me with a foam sword.

From weapons we went to Painter's Tape.

I made random roads, and Lovebug drove his trucks all over the floor for about a half hour.

Then he spent 10 minutes crumbling the tape into a giant ball and dragging it around the house.

The dragging of the tape ball business actually ended up being a bonus because the little bits of Play-Doh he had thrown on the floor got picked up in the process.

Are you tired yet?

Did I mention this was all before LUNCH??

I gotta admit my, 'act like a clown extravaganza,' may be tiring, but it works.

Everyday needs a project, an activity, an event... for our life to run smoothly.

Lovebug is happy, entertained, and intrigued by my antics, which is good...

Because just when I can't take anymore, 'toddler-terrorist-trash-the-house,' fun.... neither can he.

Little Man all but collapses into his bed at nap time... and then I walk down the hall, and collapse into mine.


When Things Don't Fit

Ladybug is putting on weight crazy fast... like so fast that I cant get her into her clothes fast enough before she moves up a size!!

Yesterday my sisters offered to watch the kiddos while I went to the Gym (cue angels singing over my head).

Before I ran as fast as I could out the door to freedom left, I tossed an outfit for my Girlfriend at them and said:

"Can you get her dressed?"

I should have been more specific.

I should have said:

"If these clothes fit, please put her in them. If it seems like the shirt is too small, please do not shove her into so I will need butter to get her out of it."

You know where this is going:

It was either Ladybug's head, or the shirt.

And since I love her little face; out came the Jaws of Life scissors, and off came the shirt.

Yes: I had to cut my daughter out of her clothes.

It was a sad day for the shirt, but a happy day for her head and arms... which get to stay, yay!

Let this be a lesson to all of you readers out there with no children:

If you have to bend the child in half; push, pull, or shove their fat little appendages into their clothes: they don't fit, just give up and find another outfit. It's totally fine.

I love my sisters for trying.

My only regret, besides the loss of that adorable little shirt: is that I wasn't here to see the two of them squeezing all of Ladybug's baby fat goodness into a tiny piece of cloth.

I bet they were sweating.


Valentine's Day & Sitting

My sweet friend captured these great shots of Ladybug sprawled out, nommin' on a decorative heart for her first Valentine's Day.

Girlfriend is so fresh and totally knows when the camera is on her.

She looks everywhere but at the lens!

My friend got all these beautiful pictures and then said...

"Can she sit?"

I'm all, "Let's find out..."

And then she did... And I wanted to cry...

But first I did the obligatory Mommy freak out... 

"OMG she is sitting all by herself! The first child ever to sit!"

Sigh... then I thought about ever so gently pushing her down, and discouraging this whole sitting/growing up thing while I still can.

Don't judge me... it was just a thought.

Sigh.... not much longer until she'll be trying to crawl....

And I will be close behind, pulling her legs out from under her.

I mean... what?
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