You don't have to be a boy mom, or even a mom at all for this blog post- you don't have to have children, plan to have children or want children. If you ever use a public restroom, then you qualify. Read on.
Way back, we had an "experience" with the toilet and germs, if you will, that has haunted me since-- but recently things took a turn for the worst. And I must admit that part of it is most definitely my fault-- remember my lesson on privates, and not knowing to talk about it in advance? Well this is another that falls into this category.... let me explain:
So we started potty training Max shortly after his second birthday in August- we did a 3 day method that I really liked and he did great. Until he didn't. He started peeing on everything, just because, and I started spanking him, because the peeing was deliberate, and then I had a close call with a mental breakdown because I felt like I was abusing my child and so the diapers went back on and we were all better for it. The house was cleaner, the smell of pee left us, and I began liking my husband. my children, and my life again. WELL, at the end of January, Max was basically using the potty out of his own ambition, while still wearing diapers, so after we returned home from Indy, I dove head first into the big boy undies thing again. It's been great. I'm talking NO poop accidents and only one pee accident-- he was ready, he knew what to do, I was ready, and had very low expectations, and this second time around has been heavenly.
But there was something I didn't really know or discover the first time around, more than my singular visit to my local (CLEAN-ish) Publix but now that he's been doing this thing like a pro, I'm appalled. Herein lies the PSA....
1) If you have a child, even if he/she is 2 days old, begin telling them over and over again about the nastiness and horrid germs that inhabit the public restroom-- frighten them, give them nightmares, pound it into them-- use phrases like "NEVER TOUCH ANYTHING IN A PUBLIC POTTY EVER, UNLESS YOU WANT TO GET SO SICK THAT YOUR EYE BALLS FALL OUT AND YOUR SKIN TURNS GREEN" repeatedly, in a Darth Vader-like voice, so that this knowledge is embedded in their souls. Don't count on them "picking it up" from watching you- don't count on having a folded-up travel potty seat in your purse, and don't count on them obeying your every command during their second year of life.
Seriously. I'm not kidding. Because apparently, I've had my head in the sand for the past 2 and half years, mainly because I've never taken Max into a pubic restroom without first strapping him into a stroller-- so that of course, he can't touch anything. I've never mentioned a word to him about the festering amebas that live in those public restroom-- the bacteria that is just waiting to be deposited onto his skin. So now that he's a big boy, who loves running errands with me, we've found ourselves in many, Many, MANY public restrooms over the past week--- and EVERY time this child has to take his shoe off so that he can take one leg of his pants and one leg of his undies off, then he has to sit totally spread eagle ON the potty (oh no, Mom can't hold him up, that just won't do! And TP for protection? Well, that isn't right and this child just won't stand for it.) and he puts his hands on the potty as well-- like on the back part of the seat to prop himself up while he pees even though I screech that he should place his hands on his own thighs... then he gets back off the potty-- one socked foot on the bathroom floor AND HOLDS the potty while I help him step back into his undies and his pants, slide his shoe on and re-tie it. Then while I try to stand back up, while gagging, and gathering myself, he reaches for the flusher WITH his hands, and then touches his face in amusement as he watches his pee pee go on down to toilet.
Are you disgusted yet? Do you see the importance of scaring the heck out of your children in regards to the public restroom-- they're never too young to understand the importance of "the hover" position, the layer of TP protection method, and the foot-to-flush move, that is guaranteed to protect you from at least 1,346 different specimen of germs. Please take my word for it and make this discussion a part of your daily lives immediately. This is the 2nd most important thing you will ever teach your children. (Naturally, the first is the love that God, their Heavnely Father, has for them and the saving grace that is Jesus.)
2) This is the one for ANYONE who uses a public bathroom.... this may seem like common knowledge (it wasn't to me, until today) or you may die from disgust and shock-- be forewarned.
When little boys pee, especially when they're young and just learning the skill and are too short to stand like their Daddies, they have to be reminded constantly to "point it down" but when they're in public restrooms their mommies are having HEART ATTACKS and are trying not to throw up and dry heave, all while trying to watch every inch of their child's body in order to know exactly which parts need sanitized when the restroom visit is over, so they sometimes forget to remind them about the pointing in time and then LITTLE BOYS SPRAY THEIR PEE ALL OVER THE LITTLE TINY BATHROOM STALL. I'm talking potty, floor, walls, and door. And their mother is left with a choice-- does she use that horrid, 1-ply low grade toilet paper to clean it all up, risking getting the pee, among other things on her own hands, or does she snatch up her child as quickly as possible and re-dress him in order to escape before they are both overtaken by the repulsive and sickening parasites that inhabit said place?
Every mother for herself- and I'm not even sure what the right choice is- but be guaranteed that some mothers make the second choice, leaving the pee EVERYWHERE for the next unsuspecting visitor to encounter. I'd rethink long pants- high waters might need to be "in style" for our own good. And I'd re-think those TOMS-- this stuff can soak RIGHT through that canvas. You know, maybe we should all just skip the whole using the restroom in a public place- just find a nice bush, or even ask your doc for a catheter. I guarantee you that it's more sanitary.
You think I'm kidding, but consider yourself warned. Honestly, I'm sorry it's come to this. I'm sorry it has taken me 28 years to learn this-- but better late than never. May the (anti-bacterial sanitation) force be with you.
Showing posts with label you didn't.... Show all posts
Showing posts with label you didn't.... Show all posts
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Joys of Potty Training
So today was a big huge treat because Chad didn't have to leave super early like normal, so I popped out of bed, brushed my hair and teeth and grabbed Max to head out the door to the grocery store. "Treat?" you say? Well yes, because a) I only had to tote one child with me and b) Max loves the grocery store so it was like a mommy date. When I stopped to fill up my car with gas on the way to the store, I even took Max in to pick out a donut because I could take him inside without having to carry a carseat of baby Jack, too. It really felt like I was a free woman!
Anyway, I cruised up and down the aisles and since it was so early, the senior citizens were there playing Bingo (seriously!) and so Max flirted profusely with all of them. He even convinced me to get out of the cart and I thought, what the heck, it's 8:30am at Publix, no one is here, why not? And so he ran up and down with me, and would take detours for more flirting and then re-join me. What a ham.
In less than an hour, I had my cart full of a week and a half worth of grocery, had everything crossed off my list, and got all the deals I had come for, so we headed to check out. Right as they got my last reusable bag stuffed full and added to the cart, I lift Max back to his seat, against his wishes. At that moment he said this mother's most dreaded words while in public: "Mommy, I have to go potty."
So I pushed my cart to the side- full of groceries that I had already paid for that were warming by the second, and took my tot into the PUBLIC restroom and because I didn't have baby Jack with me, I didn't bring the diaper bag which had the hand sanitizer and the travel potty seat. FAIL! We headed for the big stall because without the travel seat, he would have to be stripped all the way down, otherwise his legs wouldn't spread far enough to keep him from falling all the way in!
Once he was on the potty, his did his business rather quickly, and I was proud. After the proper song and dance, I told him to hold my shoulders and step into his clothes-- instead, he held here:
I gagged.
Then, when it was time to put on his shoes I again pulled him close to me (while I too was squatting and clutching my purse and coupons) and told him to hold my shoulders, but he decided to SIT on the floor and put his hands ON the floor.
Again, I gagged.
Then before I could even regain composure, he said "I flush it" and did this:
With his BARE hands. And again- I had NO hand sanitizer.
The only more disgusting thing that he has done in his life was this: you know, put the cap from the bottom of the toilet in his mouth! It still makes me cringe.
Ahhhh, I am so NOT prepared for the germs and nastiness of toddlers-- especially those that happen in the PUBLIC restroom. I must've been making a face, because as we walked out of the restroom, Max said, "Ew Mom, that was gross."
Anyway, I cruised up and down the aisles and since it was so early, the senior citizens were there playing Bingo (seriously!) and so Max flirted profusely with all of them. He even convinced me to get out of the cart and I thought, what the heck, it's 8:30am at Publix, no one is here, why not? And so he ran up and down with me, and would take detours for more flirting and then re-join me. What a ham.
In less than an hour, I had my cart full of a week and a half worth of grocery, had everything crossed off my list, and got all the deals I had come for, so we headed to check out. Right as they got my last reusable bag stuffed full and added to the cart, I lift Max back to his seat, against his wishes. At that moment he said this mother's most dreaded words while in public: "Mommy, I have to go potty."
So I pushed my cart to the side- full of groceries that I had already paid for that were warming by the second, and took my tot into the PUBLIC restroom and because I didn't have baby Jack with me, I didn't bring the diaper bag which had the hand sanitizer and the travel potty seat. FAIL! We headed for the big stall because without the travel seat, he would have to be stripped all the way down, otherwise his legs wouldn't spread far enough to keep him from falling all the way in!
Once he was on the potty, his did his business rather quickly, and I was proud. After the proper song and dance, I told him to hold my shoulders and step into his clothes-- instead, he held here:
I gagged.
Then, when it was time to put on his shoes I again pulled him close to me (while I too was squatting and clutching my purse and coupons) and told him to hold my shoulders, but he decided to SIT on the floor and put his hands ON the floor.
Again, I gagged.
Then before I could even regain composure, he said "I flush it" and did this:
With his BARE hands. And again- I had NO hand sanitizer.
The only more disgusting thing that he has done in his life was this: you know, put the cap from the bottom of the toilet in his mouth! It still makes me cringe.
Ahhhh, I am so NOT prepared for the germs and nastiness of toddlers-- especially those that happen in the PUBLIC restroom. I must've been making a face, because as we walked out of the restroom, Max said, "Ew Mom, that was gross."
Monday, August 22, 2011
Police officers, Machine Guns, and Bullet-proof vests, Oh My!
Yes, we've just finished a fabulous vacation and yes my little Max-man turned 2, so there are lots of updates to be had here, but I must interrupt the regular scheduled blogging program for an emergency... and it involves guns.
First a brief description of our neighborhood-- it's big and connected to another neighborhood, it's in 2 different counties and 2 different school districts and it's old. All the houses are about 40 years old- our was build in 1973, and there are a lot of people who have lived there since their house was built. So yes, most of our neighbors are elderly, with children my age! And most of them take wonderful care of their yards- they probably hate us for the overgrown island that takes up half of our yard! The neighborhood also has some renters from all different ethnicities- this has not been a problem at all, and has actually given Gabe some great friends with different cultures than us, which is always great.
So yesterday, I was sitting on the couch feeding the baby, Max was in his high chair eating lunch in the kitchen, and Chad was also in the kitchen, fixing sandwiches for me and him. I was looking out the window, which I do often, when all of a sudden a police car drove very slowly in front of our house. Then another, and another, and another. And they stopped. I looked more closely and saw about 6 police cars and called Chad to the living room. He took a peek out the window and saw a police man with a machine gun running towards our front door. I kid you not! So naturally he slowly open the front door when the officer yelled at him to get back inside. Chad replied "but you're in my front yard" and the officer told him he'd explain later and to shut the door.
At this point, I jumped off the couch- Jack's lunch will just have to wait! And I join Chad starring out the window-- and I see 3, THREE, cops in our yard, hiding behind our trees with machine guns. 3 more in the neighbor's across the street, and 3 more behind another neighbor's car. By the time I was done counting, there was at least 14 officers-- ALL with GUNS DRAWN, and more coming down the street. Umm.... problem?!!! So I grabbed the boys and hid in the back of the house-- my mind was going nuts: "Um, what is going on, how many walls can bullets go threw before they stop? Are we safe here? Is there a safer place? Is someone going to die? Why is Chad recording all of this on his iphone instead of hiding with me? What if this is how we die! This is not a good way to end our vacation...."
Then there is pounding on our door- Chad cracks it open and I stick my head around the corner. The officer wants to know if we've ever seen a certain kind of car in the driveway across the street. (I'm leaving those details for safety reasons.) And yes, we have seen the car there often, but obviously it's not there right now. Shortly after that, the people across the street come out of their house-- maybe because there were 15+ guns pointed at them... they are told to put their hands up- they do. Then they are told to lift up their shirts and turn around, to make sure they don't have any weapons. At this point, the cops all begin moving in closer to them. I'm not sure what was said- there was a long conversation, then eventually they are allowed to put their hands down. About 10 cops go in and search their house and come back out within a few minutes.
Then before we know it, all the officer are getting back in their cars and beginning to drive away. Naturally Chad goes outside to get details at this point- apparently the guy who drive "the car" has had an altercation with his mother and they are looking for him. And we should let them know if we see him. And that is that.
Ummmmm.... so I've had an altercation with my mother before, and it did NOT involve machine guns... or any guns... or even the police for that matter.
According to Dictionary.com:
n] 
Show IPA
a heated or angry dispute; noisy argument or controversy.
Who here thinks there is more to the story??? Um, me! But there were no more details. Every hour or so a cop would drive down the street, and that is all. The people eventually left their house, while I stayed inside still scared that we were about to be part of a crime seen. Altercation smaltercation!
So around 10:30pm, I headed to bed and Chad stayed on the couch watching tv. I fell asleep quick, like I always do, but at 11:15 the power clicked off and woke me up. I felt for Chad and he wasn't there (at this point, I didn't know what time it was) so I began moving slowly down the hall to find him or my phone for light. There was no storm/ rain/ wind/ or lightening, so this power outage was weird. Chad came up to bed and called GA Power only to have them saw that they knew about the outage and were working on it. Chad fell asleep almost immediately, but I laid awake feeling the temperature of the house slowly rise without the AC- and it was so dark, down our entire street and nothing worked, it really freaked me out. I was just sure that "the car" was somehow responsible for this and at any moment they were going to come bust down my door or something horrific. But instead, I just laid there sweating while the rest of my family slept, until 1:30am when the power kicked back on.
So I still don't know the details behind all the cops and guns, and I still don't know what was the deal with the power, but I can confirm that I have a wild, worry-filled imagination, and if this story hits the news, just remember... you heard it here first!
First a brief description of our neighborhood-- it's big and connected to another neighborhood, it's in 2 different counties and 2 different school districts and it's old. All the houses are about 40 years old- our was build in 1973, and there are a lot of people who have lived there since their house was built. So yes, most of our neighbors are elderly, with children my age! And most of them take wonderful care of their yards- they probably hate us for the overgrown island that takes up half of our yard! The neighborhood also has some renters from all different ethnicities- this has not been a problem at all, and has actually given Gabe some great friends with different cultures than us, which is always great.
So yesterday, I was sitting on the couch feeding the baby, Max was in his high chair eating lunch in the kitchen, and Chad was also in the kitchen, fixing sandwiches for me and him. I was looking out the window, which I do often, when all of a sudden a police car drove very slowly in front of our house. Then another, and another, and another. And they stopped. I looked more closely and saw about 6 police cars and called Chad to the living room. He took a peek out the window and saw a police man with a machine gun running towards our front door. I kid you not! So naturally he slowly open the front door when the officer yelled at him to get back inside. Chad replied "but you're in my front yard" and the officer told him he'd explain later and to shut the door.
At this point, I jumped off the couch- Jack's lunch will just have to wait! And I join Chad starring out the window-- and I see 3, THREE, cops in our yard, hiding behind our trees with machine guns. 3 more in the neighbor's across the street, and 3 more behind another neighbor's car. By the time I was done counting, there was at least 14 officers-- ALL with GUNS DRAWN, and more coming down the street. Umm.... problem?!!! So I grabbed the boys and hid in the back of the house-- my mind was going nuts: "Um, what is going on, how many walls can bullets go threw before they stop? Are we safe here? Is there a safer place? Is someone going to die? Why is Chad recording all of this on his iphone instead of hiding with me? What if this is how we die! This is not a good way to end our vacation...."
Then there is pounding on our door- Chad cracks it open and I stick my head around the corner. The officer wants to know if we've ever seen a certain kind of car in the driveway across the street. (I'm leaving those details for safety reasons.) And yes, we have seen the car there often, but obviously it's not there right now. Shortly after that, the people across the street come out of their house-- maybe because there were 15+ guns pointed at them... they are told to put their hands up- they do. Then they are told to lift up their shirts and turn around, to make sure they don't have any weapons. At this point, the cops all begin moving in closer to them. I'm not sure what was said- there was a long conversation, then eventually they are allowed to put their hands down. About 10 cops go in and search their house and come back out within a few minutes.
Then before we know it, all the officer are getting back in their cars and beginning to drive away. Naturally Chad goes outside to get details at this point- apparently the guy who drive "the car" has had an altercation with his mother and they are looking for him. And we should let them know if we see him. And that is that.
Ummmmm.... so I've had an altercation with my mother before, and it did NOT involve machine guns... or any guns... or even the police for that matter.
According to Dictionary.com:
al·ter·ca·tion
[awl-ter-key-shuhn] Show IPAnoun
Who here thinks there is more to the story??? Um, me! But there were no more details. Every hour or so a cop would drive down the street, and that is all. The people eventually left their house, while I stayed inside still scared that we were about to be part of a crime seen. Altercation smaltercation!
So around 10:30pm, I headed to bed and Chad stayed on the couch watching tv. I fell asleep quick, like I always do, but at 11:15 the power clicked off and woke me up. I felt for Chad and he wasn't there (at this point, I didn't know what time it was) so I began moving slowly down the hall to find him or my phone for light. There was no storm/ rain/ wind/ or lightening, so this power outage was weird. Chad came up to bed and called GA Power only to have them saw that they knew about the outage and were working on it. Chad fell asleep almost immediately, but I laid awake feeling the temperature of the house slowly rise without the AC- and it was so dark, down our entire street and nothing worked, it really freaked me out. I was just sure that "the car" was somehow responsible for this and at any moment they were going to come bust down my door or something horrific. But instead, I just laid there sweating while the rest of my family slept, until 1:30am when the power kicked back on.
So I still don't know the details behind all the cops and guns, and I still don't know what was the deal with the power, but I can confirm that I have a wild, worry-filled imagination, and if this story hits the news, just remember... you heard it here first!
Saturday, August 6, 2011
The Special Van
Honestly, this post is a long-time coming. And I'm not sure my storying telling will do it justice- but this is a moment in the Bowman family story that I don't want to forget... it's all about the special van...
Back in January, Chad sold his truck- which was quite a feat considering it was a huge diesel and the economy stunk and gas prices soared. So we thanked Jesus and move right along, before anyone could change their minds. But this left Chad without a truck- and honestly, we didn't have our money saved up for another and we were only paying cash- no loans- no matter what! So enter Chad's friend (also named Chad) whose Dad had a work van that Chad could by for $500.... Chad saw it and decided this was the way to go for a short time and brought that puppy on home.... to our driveway.... what looked like a child molester van, with rust on the bumper and dents all over it. There wasn't a key to the doors, so he couldn't lock it from the outside BUT you could get locked on the inside. It was straight scary.
Now my husband is a manly man- he can rough it if necessary-- he went down to New Orleans to clean up after hurricane Katrina and lived in his truck and showered in an out-house like building. He can wear the same 2 outfits for a week if necessary and can find a way to fix things, at least for the time being, even without the proper tools. He'll climb on roofs, clean up bugs, wipe off spider webs, and even clean major poop explosions with no problems or complaints. But he can also be high maintenance- for instance, his food can't be too cool and his coffee has to be steaming. He stomps around like a small child if the house is too hot when he's trying to fall asleep and if you try to have a conversation that he's not ready to have, well, he might as well just lay in the floor and throw a temper tantrum, because that is better than what will actually happen. And his pillow is a big deal- we've cycled through several in our marriage that just were unacceptable until I finally took him to Bed Bath and Beyond to pick his own-- the perfect pillow was $100... and we bought two of them. But if he's in the driver's seat when I need to make a Starbucks drive thru run, there will certainly be a comment about the price that makes me and the Starbucks employee turn as red as tomatoes.
As if that's not enough- the man is so sensitive and will do ANYTHING and I do mean ANYTHING for me and our boys. A sweet moment will always bring a tear to his eyes and anytime he has to apologize, it's SO sincere that it leaves everyone involved with a tear or two. He tries hard to meet my needs and speak my language- he even left me a sweet card filled with a love note for each day that he was gone last week- now that's a fun thing to wake up to- and words are so not his thing. He's quite possibly the hardest worker you'll ever meet as well. I'm telling you, he's the guy you want supporting your family. (He's taken, so you can't have that,sorry.) Needless to say, Chad is in NO WAY a cookie cutter man- he's well rounded with a new adventure around every corner-- but there is no amount of manly or hardworking or high maintenance or rough and tough or laid-backness that would make this van a pleasure... or even bearable for that matter!
The thing smelled and different compartments and do-dads were falling off on the inside. There was only a driver seat and a passenger seat and it was a safety hazard for anyone involved. Part of the inside had even been on fire at some point. There was no heat, and Chad got stuck on a bridge in a ice storm and had to sit in the ice box until he could get off- he wore gloves and a knit hat just to drive it in the winter. Shortly after getting the van, the breaks went out completely WHILE Chad was driving, on the interstate, IN TRAFFIC in Atlanta. He found a guy to fix the breaks and a buddy to drive in front of him (in case he slammed into him!) to drop the van off. That was fixed for a month or two before the power steering went out and the break fluid started leaking. His lats were actually sore from driving the thing and he developed new muscles trying to steer. Seriously. One day, while I was worrying about his safety he explained that "well, the breaks work just as hard as you can push them- but if someone pulls out in front of me, I'm going to have to hit them." And two different times, the horn started going off in the middle of the night-- hoooooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnkkkkkkk. The first time, it took us a while to figure out what was happening and the second time it was just funny. Both times it was around 3am in the POURING rain and thunder. Chad would don a rain coat, go out to the special van, hit the steering wheel and it would stop. Then he would come back inside, crawl in bed, and we were lay there chuckling and giggling for over an hour before we could settle down enough to fall back asleep. I was pregnant and had crazy hormones and found this way more funny than Chad did.... maybe because I wasn't the one in the rain, but still, I would laugh so hard I couldn't breathe.
BUT Chad had a certain caliber of work truck that he wanted- it had to meet certain standards and he had to be able to pay cash for it- end of story. So he never complained about the van. He just drove it. It fell apart and cost him a lot of time and energy and he just drove it.
We finally reached our cash goal and we were about to go test some trucks the weekend that Jack decided to surprise us, so that got put on the back burner. (Or so we thought!) On Monday night after Jack was born, we all headed home and Chad headed back to work on Tuesday... in the special van. Then on Wednesday night, while I was home with our new baby, Max, and my mom, watching the American Idol finale, I got a call from Chad that he was on the side of the interstate and his van was dead. Like not another bit of life left in it and could I come pick him up. I had to rush to him, in order to get back to feed the new baby that was eating every 2 hours. Chad threw his tools in my car, and hoped in. (I must say, I've never picked up anyone on the side of a interstate with cars rushing by- that is nerve racking!) He had to call a tow truck immediately and have it towed to our house because apparently it would be stolen off the side of the road to be sold for parts. So with a new baby, and very little sleep, Chad had to wait up for the tow truck to deliver it to our house. And of course, I was afraid that the thing would sit there forever because how were we going to move it? It was dead!
Within 24 hours, Chad found someone that would come get it from our house and give Chad $400-- the guy was either going to salvage it or it's parts, and the scrap metal. BUT I didn't care, this was the best news I could think of- someone was going to come get it and make it disappear forever and was going to PAY us-- hahahahaaaaaa-- sucker!!!
So on the Friday after Jack was born, as I fed my new baby, I starred out our window as one happy lady-- watching as it pulled away:
Back in January, Chad sold his truck- which was quite a feat considering it was a huge diesel and the economy stunk and gas prices soared. So we thanked Jesus and move right along, before anyone could change their minds. But this left Chad without a truck- and honestly, we didn't have our money saved up for another and we were only paying cash- no loans- no matter what! So enter Chad's friend (also named Chad) whose Dad had a work van that Chad could by for $500.... Chad saw it and decided this was the way to go for a short time and brought that puppy on home.... to our driveway.... what looked like a child molester van, with rust on the bumper and dents all over it. There wasn't a key to the doors, so he couldn't lock it from the outside BUT you could get locked on the inside. It was straight scary.
Now my husband is a manly man- he can rough it if necessary-- he went down to New Orleans to clean up after hurricane Katrina and lived in his truck and showered in an out-house like building. He can wear the same 2 outfits for a week if necessary and can find a way to fix things, at least for the time being, even without the proper tools. He'll climb on roofs, clean up bugs, wipe off spider webs, and even clean major poop explosions with no problems or complaints. But he can also be high maintenance- for instance, his food can't be too cool and his coffee has to be steaming. He stomps around like a small child if the house is too hot when he's trying to fall asleep and if you try to have a conversation that he's not ready to have, well, he might as well just lay in the floor and throw a temper tantrum, because that is better than what will actually happen. And his pillow is a big deal- we've cycled through several in our marriage that just were unacceptable until I finally took him to Bed Bath and Beyond to pick his own-- the perfect pillow was $100... and we bought two of them. But if he's in the driver's seat when I need to make a Starbucks drive thru run, there will certainly be a comment about the price that makes me and the Starbucks employee turn as red as tomatoes.
As if that's not enough- the man is so sensitive and will do ANYTHING and I do mean ANYTHING for me and our boys. A sweet moment will always bring a tear to his eyes and anytime he has to apologize, it's SO sincere that it leaves everyone involved with a tear or two. He tries hard to meet my needs and speak my language- he even left me a sweet card filled with a love note for each day that he was gone last week- now that's a fun thing to wake up to- and words are so not his thing. He's quite possibly the hardest worker you'll ever meet as well. I'm telling you, he's the guy you want supporting your family. (He's taken, so you can't have that,sorry.) Needless to say, Chad is in NO WAY a cookie cutter man- he's well rounded with a new adventure around every corner-- but there is no amount of manly or hardworking or high maintenance or rough and tough or laid-backness that would make this van a pleasure... or even bearable for that matter!
The thing smelled and different compartments and do-dads were falling off on the inside. There was only a driver seat and a passenger seat and it was a safety hazard for anyone involved. Part of the inside had even been on fire at some point. There was no heat, and Chad got stuck on a bridge in a ice storm and had to sit in the ice box until he could get off- he wore gloves and a knit hat just to drive it in the winter. Shortly after getting the van, the breaks went out completely WHILE Chad was driving, on the interstate, IN TRAFFIC in Atlanta. He found a guy to fix the breaks and a buddy to drive in front of him (in case he slammed into him!) to drop the van off. That was fixed for a month or two before the power steering went out and the break fluid started leaking. His lats were actually sore from driving the thing and he developed new muscles trying to steer. Seriously. One day, while I was worrying about his safety he explained that "well, the breaks work just as hard as you can push them- but if someone pulls out in front of me, I'm going to have to hit them." And two different times, the horn started going off in the middle of the night-- hoooooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnkkkkkkk. The first time, it took us a while to figure out what was happening and the second time it was just funny. Both times it was around 3am in the POURING rain and thunder. Chad would don a rain coat, go out to the special van, hit the steering wheel and it would stop. Then he would come back inside, crawl in bed, and we were lay there chuckling and giggling for over an hour before we could settle down enough to fall back asleep. I was pregnant and had crazy hormones and found this way more funny than Chad did.... maybe because I wasn't the one in the rain, but still, I would laugh so hard I couldn't breathe.
BUT Chad had a certain caliber of work truck that he wanted- it had to meet certain standards and he had to be able to pay cash for it- end of story. So he never complained about the van. He just drove it. It fell apart and cost him a lot of time and energy and he just drove it.
We finally reached our cash goal and we were about to go test some trucks the weekend that Jack decided to surprise us, so that got put on the back burner. (Or so we thought!) On Monday night after Jack was born, we all headed home and Chad headed back to work on Tuesday... in the special van. Then on Wednesday night, while I was home with our new baby, Max, and my mom, watching the American Idol finale, I got a call from Chad that he was on the side of the interstate and his van was dead. Like not another bit of life left in it and could I come pick him up. I had to rush to him, in order to get back to feed the new baby that was eating every 2 hours. Chad threw his tools in my car, and hoped in. (I must say, I've never picked up anyone on the side of a interstate with cars rushing by- that is nerve racking!) He had to call a tow truck immediately and have it towed to our house because apparently it would be stolen off the side of the road to be sold for parts. So with a new baby, and very little sleep, Chad had to wait up for the tow truck to deliver it to our house. And of course, I was afraid that the thing would sit there forever because how were we going to move it? It was dead!
Within 24 hours, Chad found someone that would come get it from our house and give Chad $400-- the guy was either going to salvage it or it's parts, and the scrap metal. BUT I didn't care, this was the best news I could think of- someone was going to come get it and make it disappear forever and was going to PAY us-- hahahahaaaaaa-- sucker!!!
So on the Friday after Jack was born, as I fed my new baby, I starred out our window as one happy lady-- watching as it pulled away:
GOOD RIDDANCE SPECIAL VAN! THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES BUT MAY OUR PATHS NEVER CROSS AGAIN!
Monday, June 6, 2011
Thingy-Things
Do you have weird things you think or do that really make no sense at all? I have a few I need to confess BUT I want to hear yours too...
#1. I love how Mickey Mouse and friends dance at the end of Mickey Mouse Club House-- they seriously sing a song called "Hot Dog" and I wait the entire episode for those 30 seconds... when people aren't looking, I practice dancing with them....
#2. I think one of my feet is prettier than the other, so if I feel like people are looking at my feet or if attention is being draw to my feet, I put the "pretty" one on top of the other, nonchalantly.
#3. I recently learned from The Bert Show that I'm old and it was a hard pill to swallow :( On National Donut Day- the only day since having a baby that I was in the car during Bert Show hours- Jeff Dauler was talking about what age is appropriate for wearing words across your rear end-- you know, like the word "pink" etc... and he said that it's only appropriate between the ages of 18-28. Anyway, I don't EVER wear anything that draws attention to that area, especially NOT words so it's not like that bothered it- but it was realizing that I'm almost done being in the "cool, hot, young" age bracket. Just yesterday I was in college, right?
#4. When I was a child, my mother used to split our napkins in half-- she says we didn't use them so it was a waste to give us a whole one, but I think she was just pinching pennies. Regardless, it scarred me! As soon as I began buying my own napkins, I swore I would only buy the expensive, think, luscious Vanity Fair white napkins. For years, they are the only napkins that have been allowed in my kitchen- and they still make me happy. Seriously. Well about 6 months ago, I was at Target and we needed napkins, but I had left my good Vanity Fair coupon at home... so just one time, I bought the "off" target brand, with a bright colored pattern, thin and scratchy. I bought the small package, and yet, they lasted FOREVER- the darn things wouldn't go away- I swear they were reproducing! I began putting 2 in Gabe's lunch box, just to rid myself of them, but they still stayed around forever. I WILL NEVER give into the temptation to be cheap again! It haunted me for far too long.
#5. With both boys, I have kept the positive pregnancy test for the duration of my pregnancy. Just in case I have to prove it- because that makes sense, right? Like in a basket on my dresser that other people can see if they walk in my room. And for some reason, I can only bring myself to throw it away once I've brought the baby home. Because then it's a sure thing?! BUT since Jack came home early, I haven't thrown it away yet. I think I'm waiting until June 23rd.
What unexplainable things do you do or think? Please share!
#1. I love how Mickey Mouse and friends dance at the end of Mickey Mouse Club House-- they seriously sing a song called "Hot Dog" and I wait the entire episode for those 30 seconds... when people aren't looking, I practice dancing with them....
#2. I think one of my feet is prettier than the other, so if I feel like people are looking at my feet or if attention is being draw to my feet, I put the "pretty" one on top of the other, nonchalantly.
#3. I recently learned from The Bert Show that I'm old and it was a hard pill to swallow :( On National Donut Day- the only day since having a baby that I was in the car during Bert Show hours- Jeff Dauler was talking about what age is appropriate for wearing words across your rear end-- you know, like the word "pink" etc... and he said that it's only appropriate between the ages of 18-28. Anyway, I don't EVER wear anything that draws attention to that area, especially NOT words so it's not like that bothered it- but it was realizing that I'm almost done being in the "cool, hot, young" age bracket. Just yesterday I was in college, right?
#4. When I was a child, my mother used to split our napkins in half-- she says we didn't use them so it was a waste to give us a whole one, but I think she was just pinching pennies. Regardless, it scarred me! As soon as I began buying my own napkins, I swore I would only buy the expensive, think, luscious Vanity Fair white napkins. For years, they are the only napkins that have been allowed in my kitchen- and they still make me happy. Seriously. Well about 6 months ago, I was at Target and we needed napkins, but I had left my good Vanity Fair coupon at home... so just one time, I bought the "off" target brand, with a bright colored pattern, thin and scratchy. I bought the small package, and yet, they lasted FOREVER- the darn things wouldn't go away- I swear they were reproducing! I began putting 2 in Gabe's lunch box, just to rid myself of them, but they still stayed around forever. I WILL NEVER give into the temptation to be cheap again! It haunted me for far too long.
#5. With both boys, I have kept the positive pregnancy test for the duration of my pregnancy. Just in case I have to prove it- because that makes sense, right? Like in a basket on my dresser that other people can see if they walk in my room. And for some reason, I can only bring myself to throw it away once I've brought the baby home. Because then it's a sure thing?! BUT since Jack came home early, I haven't thrown it away yet. I think I'm waiting until June 23rd.
What unexplainable things do you do or think? Please share!
Saturday, June 4, 2011
National Donut Day
I should be embarrassed about the lengths I go to for a donut on National Donut Day. I'm not- but I should be! Last year I trekked my kids half way across Florida on foot to get to a donut shop-- they handled it well-- here are the pictures to prove it: http://wp.me/pP9j0-8R but it almost killed me! I should've learned.... but no!
This morning I woke up, as a mother of two children under two years old, knowing full well that it was National Donut Day- but also knowing that I had not slept more than 2 hours in a row in 2 weeks and that my body felt like it had been run over by a mack truck. I also thought through the logistics and knew that I'd be sweating before we even got to the donut store. But for some reason, that didn't stop me.
I fed Jack at 8, loaded him in his car seat, got me and Max ready, and got all 3 of us to the car by 9am. (yes, there was sweat, but it was minimal) With the help of the minivan AC, I was cooled off by the time we reached Krispy Kreme... as in heaven on earth. And don't you worry, the HOT NOW sign WAS most definitely on!
It has been in the high 90's all week here in the ATL, which means that even at 9:20 in the morning, it's HOT-- like jump in a pool hot. So upon arrival, I got out the stroller for Jack, loaded him in it, got the bag in just the right position, then got Max out- but since the parking lot was hopping and I fear parking lots with small children, I didn't let his chubby feet hit the ground until we were safe inside. Have you ever tried to hold open a door with your body, and use one arm to push a stroller through it, while holding a 28 pound toddler on your hip with your other arm? Let me just say that by the time I reached the counter, I had "new mom" and "donut addict" written all over my face, by beads of sweat.
So as I'm ordering, Max is happily back on the ground, screaming "BIIIGGGG Donut!" over and over with a huge grin on his face. Others are chuckling- but I'm just hoping for the moment when we are actually settled at the table, enjoying the darn things. Once we get our half dozen of hot donuts and my cup of decaf coffee, we begin to navigate to a table. But have you noticed that KK's are exactly 4ft by 4ft, and my stroller is at least 3ft by 3ft, and it was seriously and act of God that we made it to a table, without knocking everyone over. But we did. Alas!
At this point, all my hard work became worth it- my sweat dried up, the embarrassment fell from my face, and Max and I dug in! Within minutes, we were covered in glaze and dancing to Christina Aguilera's "Come on Over" and watching through the window as millions of other donuts were being made. Max ate 3, THREE donuts, which means I only got 3 too.... I guess he is helping me lose my baby weight-- thanks Max.
Luckily, my sweet friend Erin came over with lunch, to meet baby Jack once we made it home. And then Max, and Jack (and ME!) slept for 3 hours. We were worn out from our donut adventure- but it is a holiday worth celebrating for sure!
This morning I woke up, as a mother of two children under two years old, knowing full well that it was National Donut Day- but also knowing that I had not slept more than 2 hours in a row in 2 weeks and that my body felt like it had been run over by a mack truck. I also thought through the logistics and knew that I'd be sweating before we even got to the donut store. But for some reason, that didn't stop me.
I fed Jack at 8, loaded him in his car seat, got me and Max ready, and got all 3 of us to the car by 9am. (yes, there was sweat, but it was minimal) With the help of the minivan AC, I was cooled off by the time we reached Krispy Kreme... as in heaven on earth. And don't you worry, the HOT NOW sign WAS most definitely on!
It has been in the high 90's all week here in the ATL, which means that even at 9:20 in the morning, it's HOT-- like jump in a pool hot. So upon arrival, I got out the stroller for Jack, loaded him in it, got the bag in just the right position, then got Max out- but since the parking lot was hopping and I fear parking lots with small children, I didn't let his chubby feet hit the ground until we were safe inside. Have you ever tried to hold open a door with your body, and use one arm to push a stroller through it, while holding a 28 pound toddler on your hip with your other arm? Let me just say that by the time I reached the counter, I had "new mom" and "donut addict" written all over my face, by beads of sweat.
So as I'm ordering, Max is happily back on the ground, screaming "BIIIGGGG Donut!" over and over with a huge grin on his face. Others are chuckling- but I'm just hoping for the moment when we are actually settled at the table, enjoying the darn things. Once we get our half dozen of hot donuts and my cup of decaf coffee, we begin to navigate to a table. But have you noticed that KK's are exactly 4ft by 4ft, and my stroller is at least 3ft by 3ft, and it was seriously and act of God that we made it to a table, without knocking everyone over. But we did. Alas!
At this point, all my hard work became worth it- my sweat dried up, the embarrassment fell from my face, and Max and I dug in! Within minutes, we were covered in glaze and dancing to Christina Aguilera's "Come on Over" and watching through the window as millions of other donuts were being made. Max ate 3, THREE donuts, which means I only got 3 too.... I guess he is helping me lose my baby weight-- thanks Max.
Luckily, my sweet friend Erin came over with lunch, to meet baby Jack once we made it home. And then Max, and Jack (and ME!) slept for 3 hours. We were worn out from our donut adventure- but it is a holiday worth celebrating for sure!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Why God Didn't Give Max a Sister
Right before baby Jack surprised us, baby Evie came over and spent several hours with us. It was the first time and it was love-- for both me and Max! But it became pretty obvious VERY quickly why God decided that Max most definitely needed a baby brother this go round:
While Evie was sleeping, Max was being oh-so-generous and sharing his toys with her....
They were all balls!
And he was so proud and so sure that that was exactly what she needed- he kept telling me about it over and over: "Baby Evie, night night Max balls"
And it was then that I knew the reason for another brother in the Bowman house, rather than a sister-- a poor sister just couldn't survive in such a climate!
And this last picture is just cute: I came around the corner from the kitchen and I saw Max and asked what he was doing-- he told me "I talking baby Evie golf- hit it in the hole!" He was teaching the girl about golf-- doesn't she look thrilled?
Also, just for laughter, please notice how my boy does NOT use prepositions-- apparently they are a waste of time and he does quite well communicating his point without them! Ha! I just love him :)
While Evie was sleeping, Max was being oh-so-generous and sharing his toys with her....
They were all balls!
And he was so proud and so sure that that was exactly what she needed- he kept telling me about it over and over: "Baby Evie, night night Max balls"
And it was then that I knew the reason for another brother in the Bowman house, rather than a sister-- a poor sister just couldn't survive in such a climate!
And this last picture is just cute: I came around the corner from the kitchen and I saw Max and asked what he was doing-- he told me "I talking baby Evie golf- hit it in the hole!" He was teaching the girl about golf-- doesn't she look thrilled?
Also, just for laughter, please notice how my boy does NOT use prepositions-- apparently they are a waste of time and he does quite well communicating his point without them! Ha! I just love him :)
Friday, April 22, 2011
Boys Will Be Boys...
On Monday, mere moments before Gabe was heading out to soccer practice, he and Max decided to play in the mud puddles in our backyard. Unfortunately, I was on the phone with insurance handling the pre-payment for Jack's birth and could only watch as it all unfolded. Once I finally hung up, I instructed Gabe to get Max and carry him over to the door. From there, Gabe has step by step instructions on how to remove his shoes and head to the nearest bathroom. And I did the same for Max and placed him straight in the bathtub.
Unfortunately, I didn't get pictures of Gabe, because time didn't allow it before practice, but let me assure you that it took 2 rags worth of scrubbing on just his legs, 4 different rounds of soap on his arms and hands and a new pair of soccer socks before he headed to soccer. AND he did go to practice with plenty of mud all over the remainder of his clothes that didn't have time to be changed.
Max just stood in the bathtub the whole time saying "Mommy, water on, Mommy water on!"-- and repeating it louder and louder until I followed his instructions. But again, Gabe was the priority, so by the time I was able to strip Max down and turn his bath water on, the people in the next county were surely hearing his demands.
And when all was said and done and the child was finally clean, Max looked at me VERY PROUDLY and said "I make mess!"
Why yes child, that you did!
But here is the best part:
About an hour later, when Chad got home, I told Max to tell Daddy what he did. Max said, "I make mess" with a grin and walked off. So then I explained the mud fiasco to Chad and he looked at me and said, "That's bad right?" And I nodded. Then he asked if Gabe got in trouble and I said, "Yes, Gabe got 'the look' ". So then he asked if Max got in a trouble and I said, "Yes, he got the look and was carried like a sack of potatoes to the bath." And Chad nodded and walked away.
And it dawned on me, Chad saw NO problem with the boys playing in the mud- and without ruffling my feathers, was making sure I didn't scare them out of doing it again... and I'm pretty sure that Chad hopes he's here for the next round of mud pies so he can join in!
So, boys will be boys, and I'm out-numbered, so it's pretty obvious who's going to win the playing in the mud battle.... and the more I think about it, the more obvious it is that that is NOT a battle worth fighting. Bring on the mud boys.... just keep the worms outside!
Unfortunately, I didn't get pictures of Gabe, because time didn't allow it before practice, but let me assure you that it took 2 rags worth of scrubbing on just his legs, 4 different rounds of soap on his arms and hands and a new pair of soccer socks before he headed to soccer. AND he did go to practice with plenty of mud all over the remainder of his clothes that didn't have time to be changed.
Max just stood in the bathtub the whole time saying "Mommy, water on, Mommy water on!"-- and repeating it louder and louder until I followed his instructions. But again, Gabe was the priority, so by the time I was able to strip Max down and turn his bath water on, the people in the next county were surely hearing his demands.
And when all was said and done and the child was finally clean, Max looked at me VERY PROUDLY and said "I make mess!"
Why yes child, that you did!
But here is the best part:
About an hour later, when Chad got home, I told Max to tell Daddy what he did. Max said, "I make mess" with a grin and walked off. So then I explained the mud fiasco to Chad and he looked at me and said, "That's bad right?" And I nodded. Then he asked if Gabe got in trouble and I said, "Yes, Gabe got 'the look' ". So then he asked if Max got in a trouble and I said, "Yes, he got the look and was carried like a sack of potatoes to the bath." And Chad nodded and walked away.
And it dawned on me, Chad saw NO problem with the boys playing in the mud- and without ruffling my feathers, was making sure I didn't scare them out of doing it again... and I'm pretty sure that Chad hopes he's here for the next round of mud pies so he can join in!
So, boys will be boys, and I'm out-numbered, so it's pretty obvious who's going to win the playing in the mud battle.... and the more I think about it, the more obvious it is that that is NOT a battle worth fighting. Bring on the mud boys.... just keep the worms outside!
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Myth or Fact?
I have several good stories that I need to share and some funny Bowman boy moments, but I need to post this first, if I hope to remember it....
A couple months ago, I read an article that the whole "pregnancy brain" theory was a myth. But being the very official doctor and research specialist that I am (not) I have many reasons to believe that the article is seriously messed up-- way off base-- deranged even!
Pregnancy brain is defined by What to Expect as a: Pregnancy-induced brain fog, a true (and truly frustrating) hallmark of pregnancy. You may forget appointments, what you just walked into the store for, where you left your purse, whether you turned off the stove — and maybe, your phone number.
You know, absent-mindedness, irresponsible, forgetful, air heady, unreliable, scattered....
AND these are all words that those closest to me would NOT use to describe me. In fact, they are the opposite of me. I'm not tooting my own horn here, I'm stating facts-- I'm type A EXTREME, organize and remember everything including what you were wearing when I saw you 2 year and 3 months ago, slightly OCD when it comes to details, and in the words of my husband, "she remembers everything, you should try arguing with her". You want me planning your event or taking care of your home or your children....
Except when I'm pregnant.
Now all of a sudden (especially this pregnancy) I am a NUT-CASE. 100% certified preggo brain! Let me list a few of the nutty things I've done within the past month:
1) Moved wet laundry from the washer to the dryer, WITHOUT starting the dryer, multiple times-- then pace around after about an hour wondering why the dryer isn't dinging that it's ready for folding. Mainly because it was never started, hello! (Chad has also discovered mounds of wet clothes in the dryer several times as well.)
2) When I went to my glucose test and OB appointment, I looked in my calendar on the way down to make sure my appointment was at 10:10-- and it was--- THE NEXT DAY! But even though it was Wednesday and I was looking on my Thursday calendar, I showed up at the doc-- that's right-- I showed on the wrong day BUT I had the correct day written on my calendar. They laughed at me, profusely, and then squeezed me in.
3) Last week, our sitter had to drive up to my work so I could sign the check I had written her-- luckily, when she got to the bank, she looked over the check before depositing it-- so it was only minimally embarrassing. Her text to me said something like "preggo brain, you forgot to sign my check"
4) We ran out of wipes and diapers in the diaper bag for the first time since Max was born-- I always re-stock his bag when there are like 6 left, just in case- you never know when you'll get stuck in the car for days, with no stores and no visits home..... but this weekend, with ketchup all over him and his girlfriend Lizzy, I had NO wipes or diapers for changing... none in the car, no napkins, nothing-- major mom fail!
5) My friend Danielle has asked for a picture CD from my computer no less than 30 times- she has called, emailed, and texted, all moments before I walk out the door to see her and I have YET to remember it-- I have burned the CD 3 times and put it in 3 different bags that I'd be sure to remember-- and yet, the poor woman still hasn't seen the pictures- and quite frankly, she's going to be disappointed- the pictures aren't even that good!
6) Last week, Max and I pulled up to a store, and I got him out of the car and walked IN only to realize I didn't have my keys with me-- I ran out to the car panicked that I had locked them in his seat or something-- I set them down a lot when I'm trying to get him out of his seat-- only to find them IN the ignition, with the car RUNNING, in the parking lot.
7) I text our sitters the night before with what time we need them in the morning-- Chad's schedule changes all the time so they don't really have a set schedule. Anyway, our other sitter (not the one with the check) got back in the country from a mission trip and I wrote her this great text about her trip and welcome home and could she be at our house at 8, etc... only I never actually texted her- I just did IN MY HEAD and she had to wake up at 6am and text me to find out the plan for the day.
8) Chad loves Quesadillas- like ones we make at home with fajita meet and beans, etc... so I planned it for dinner, looked through out pantry, made a list of ingredients that we needed, went to the store, came home and started cooking only to have to call Chad to stop on his way home and get cheese-- but really, it's not like it's a main ingredient or anything-- certainly you understand how I forgot it.......
9) When I started writing this blog post, I had 10 amazing things I had done recently, but now I only remember 8
10) My cousin Natalie is having a baby today, yay!
A couple months ago, I read an article that the whole "pregnancy brain" theory was a myth. But being the very official doctor and research specialist that I am (not) I have many reasons to believe that the article is seriously messed up-- way off base-- deranged even!
Pregnancy brain is defined by What to Expect as a: Pregnancy-induced brain fog, a true (and truly frustrating) hallmark of pregnancy. You may forget appointments, what you just walked into the store for, where you left your purse, whether you turned off the stove — and maybe, your phone number.
You know, absent-mindedness, irresponsible, forgetful, air heady, unreliable, scattered....
AND these are all words that those closest to me would NOT use to describe me. In fact, they are the opposite of me. I'm not tooting my own horn here, I'm stating facts-- I'm type A EXTREME, organize and remember everything including what you were wearing when I saw you 2 year and 3 months ago, slightly OCD when it comes to details, and in the words of my husband, "she remembers everything, you should try arguing with her". You want me planning your event or taking care of your home or your children....
Except when I'm pregnant.
Now all of a sudden (especially this pregnancy) I am a NUT-CASE. 100% certified preggo brain! Let me list a few of the nutty things I've done within the past month:
1) Moved wet laundry from the washer to the dryer, WITHOUT starting the dryer, multiple times-- then pace around after about an hour wondering why the dryer isn't dinging that it's ready for folding. Mainly because it was never started, hello! (Chad has also discovered mounds of wet clothes in the dryer several times as well.)
2) When I went to my glucose test and OB appointment, I looked in my calendar on the way down to make sure my appointment was at 10:10-- and it was--- THE NEXT DAY! But even though it was Wednesday and I was looking on my Thursday calendar, I showed up at the doc-- that's right-- I showed on the wrong day BUT I had the correct day written on my calendar. They laughed at me, profusely, and then squeezed me in.
3) Last week, our sitter had to drive up to my work so I could sign the check I had written her-- luckily, when she got to the bank, she looked over the check before depositing it-- so it was only minimally embarrassing. Her text to me said something like "preggo brain, you forgot to sign my check"
4) We ran out of wipes and diapers in the diaper bag for the first time since Max was born-- I always re-stock his bag when there are like 6 left, just in case- you never know when you'll get stuck in the car for days, with no stores and no visits home..... but this weekend, with ketchup all over him and his girlfriend Lizzy, I had NO wipes or diapers for changing... none in the car, no napkins, nothing-- major mom fail!
5) My friend Danielle has asked for a picture CD from my computer no less than 30 times- she has called, emailed, and texted, all moments before I walk out the door to see her and I have YET to remember it-- I have burned the CD 3 times and put it in 3 different bags that I'd be sure to remember-- and yet, the poor woman still hasn't seen the pictures- and quite frankly, she's going to be disappointed- the pictures aren't even that good!
6) Last week, Max and I pulled up to a store, and I got him out of the car and walked IN only to realize I didn't have my keys with me-- I ran out to the car panicked that I had locked them in his seat or something-- I set them down a lot when I'm trying to get him out of his seat-- only to find them IN the ignition, with the car RUNNING, in the parking lot.
7) I text our sitters the night before with what time we need them in the morning-- Chad's schedule changes all the time so they don't really have a set schedule. Anyway, our other sitter (not the one with the check) got back in the country from a mission trip and I wrote her this great text about her trip and welcome home and could she be at our house at 8, etc... only I never actually texted her- I just did IN MY HEAD and she had to wake up at 6am and text me to find out the plan for the day.
8) Chad loves Quesadillas- like ones we make at home with fajita meet and beans, etc... so I planned it for dinner, looked through out pantry, made a list of ingredients that we needed, went to the store, came home and started cooking only to have to call Chad to stop on his way home and get cheese-- but really, it's not like it's a main ingredient or anything-- certainly you understand how I forgot it.......
9) When I started writing this blog post, I had 10 amazing things I had done recently, but now I only remember 8
10) My cousin Natalie is having a baby today, yay!
Friday, February 18, 2011
What Ke$ha Did To Our Family...
I'm not trying to pass the blame, but I'm pretty sure that Ke$ha is to blame for my meanest mom action yet. You see, it happened before Christmas. Chad and I had a date night-- we had a yummy steak dinner then headed over to Target to Christmas shop for the boys. I had made a list before we went- and we did great- we stuck to the list and managed to find almost everything we wanted to get them. In normal pregnant girl fashion, I had to stop by the restroom before we could check out. I left Chad towards the front of the store with the buggy. When I came back, he was on the craft aisle looking for an art kit for Gabe. We didn't find what we were looking for- but right at the end of the aisle we super cute dancing animals that sang while they grooved. I was just positive that Max needed one! I threw one in the cart, and we made our purchases and headed home.
Fast forward a couple weeks, and it's Christmas Day. Max unwraps his dancing monkey and him and Gabe both L-O-V-E it! They press the button repetitively and dance around our living room. And they keep pressing the button, and keep dancing around the living room. Again. And again, and again. Until my pregnant, hormonal, mean nerves are SHOT! So when they weren't looking, I carried it to the car and hid it. That worked well until Max discovered it in the car, and insisted on holding it-- all the while pressing the button repetitively. I couldn't take it. I just couldn't take it.
And here in lies the worst parenting move yet-- I took the darn thing back to Target. That's right. I gave the kid a toy and took it back, purely from selfish motives. I just couldn't take Ke$ha and that dumb song over and over and over.
Look at this happy child with his dancing monkey... and yes, I stole that happiness from him.
So I'm a bad mom-- judge me-- just don't tell Max, he still thinks I'm the best thing, ever!
Fast forward a couple weeks, and it's Christmas Day. Max unwraps his dancing monkey and him and Gabe both L-O-V-E it! They press the button repetitively and dance around our living room. And they keep pressing the button, and keep dancing around the living room. Again. And again, and again. Until my pregnant, hormonal, mean nerves are SHOT! So when they weren't looking, I carried it to the car and hid it. That worked well until Max discovered it in the car, and insisted on holding it-- all the while pressing the button repetitively. I couldn't take it. I just couldn't take it.
And here in lies the worst parenting move yet-- I took the darn thing back to Target. That's right. I gave the kid a toy and took it back, purely from selfish motives. I just couldn't take Ke$ha and that dumb song over and over and over.
Look at this happy child with his dancing monkey... and yes, I stole that happiness from him.
So I'm a bad mom-- judge me-- just don't tell Max, he still thinks I'm the best thing, ever!
Friday, January 7, 2011
My Punky Monkey
My Max is so full of himself. And he's started doing this fake, adorable, smile-- from ear to ear with squinty eyes and sound effects, including fake laughing. It says, "I'm cute and I know it, and my Boggy (me) is so wrapped around my finger!" Well for several months, I have been able to ask Max for a hug or a kiss and he will stop what he's doing and walk over and grant my request. Without fail, he is never too busy for his mother. Oh, be still my heart!
That was, until this week.
Now, I ask for a hug and he does the aforementioned smile, while RUNNING AWAY, and and shaking his head no. He thinks he is so funny-- he just cracks himself up. Even if I pretend I am sad, he will not give in-- he gets that from Pops, my Dad-- stubborn as an ole Noblitt! He'll go sit on the bottom step, lean back, and continue shaking his head no.... and just a giggling away. So now when I chase him, instead of saying "I'm gonna get you"-- I say "I'm gonna kiss you!" and I whisper it very softly and it makes him so nervous that he runs into my arms and gets his faced kissed right off!
Also, for a long while, I have asked him, "Max, where's my baby?" And he'd point to himself and grin. I also ask, "Where's my Max?" and "Where's my best bubba?" and he'll look down at himself, point, and grin. It was like he knew he was a lucky man to be mine.
Until this morning.
Every time I asked him one of my questions, he would point to me, or the tv, or a framed pictures. One time, he even looked around the room, like he was trying to find something "good". So then I said where's my punky monkey? (Punky monkey is the kid version of punk) AND instantly, Max pointed to himself and then grinned ear to ear.
He's proud to be a punky monkey! And at least for now, it's rather funny and rather cute!
That was, until this week.
Now, I ask for a hug and he does the aforementioned smile, while RUNNING AWAY, and and shaking his head no. He thinks he is so funny-- he just cracks himself up. Even if I pretend I am sad, he will not give in-- he gets that from Pops, my Dad-- stubborn as an ole Noblitt! He'll go sit on the bottom step, lean back, and continue shaking his head no.... and just a giggling away. So now when I chase him, instead of saying "I'm gonna get you"-- I say "I'm gonna kiss you!" and I whisper it very softly and it makes him so nervous that he runs into my arms and gets his faced kissed right off!
Also, for a long while, I have asked him, "Max, where's my baby?" And he'd point to himself and grin. I also ask, "Where's my Max?" and "Where's my best bubba?" and he'll look down at himself, point, and grin. It was like he knew he was a lucky man to be mine.
Until this morning.
Every time I asked him one of my questions, he would point to me, or the tv, or a framed pictures. One time, he even looked around the room, like he was trying to find something "good". So then I said where's my punky monkey? (Punky monkey is the kid version of punk) AND instantly, Max pointed to himself and then grinned ear to ear.
He's proud to be a punky monkey! And at least for now, it's rather funny and rather cute!
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
When "Nature" Calls
*NOTE: Certain pictures were removed after some disturbing online data
While we were in Texas last week, the temperatures spiked to over 77 degrees one day. When we left Georgia, there was ice on the ground, literally, and we had been experiencing temperatures in the 20's. Needless to say, we weren't exactly packed for summer weather!
On December 20th, we celebrated Christmas. After a morning full of gifts, we had Christmas dinner-- turkey, stuffing, potatoes, etc...-- and we ate it ON THE PORCH, picnic style. The day was so gorgeous and sunny that it was actually hot. After lunch, we all stayed in the yard and played.
Before I knew it, Max was dripping with sweat. So naturally, I took his pants off of him and let him run around with just his long sleeve onsie and tennis shoes. But after chasing all the nerf balls, it was obvious that he needed to lose his shirt. So Max wandered around the yard in just his diaper and shoes.... until I noticed that his diaper was really really wet. So I took it off and allowed him to "air out" for a bit before putting another diaper on him.
It was so cute, that I just couldn't stand it-- so I ran inside to get a camera. This was a kodak moment if I've ever seen one! I was snapping pictures from behind when all of a sudden he squatted down-- apparently he needed to do a little duty, a #2 if you will. He did his business, and did a little #1 to wash it off, and he stood right up and went back to chasing the nerf balls. Like nothing had even happened... like it was the most natural thing in the world... like this is where everyone goes #2!
Yep, that's right, he is such a boy, that without any teaching or prodding, he realized that pooping and peeing outside, was way better! Maybe this means he'll be easy to potty train?!
While we were in Texas last week, the temperatures spiked to over 77 degrees one day. When we left Georgia, there was ice on the ground, literally, and we had been experiencing temperatures in the 20's. Needless to say, we weren't exactly packed for summer weather!
On December 20th, we celebrated Christmas. After a morning full of gifts, we had Christmas dinner-- turkey, stuffing, potatoes, etc...-- and we ate it ON THE PORCH, picnic style. The day was so gorgeous and sunny that it was actually hot. After lunch, we all stayed in the yard and played.
Before I knew it, Max was dripping with sweat. So naturally, I took his pants off of him and let him run around with just his long sleeve onsie and tennis shoes. But after chasing all the nerf balls, it was obvious that he needed to lose his shirt. So Max wandered around the yard in just his diaper and shoes.... until I noticed that his diaper was really really wet. So I took it off and allowed him to "air out" for a bit before putting another diaper on him.
It was so cute, that I just couldn't stand it-- so I ran inside to get a camera. This was a kodak moment if I've ever seen one! I was snapping pictures from behind when all of a sudden he squatted down-- apparently he needed to do a little duty, a #2 if you will. He did his business, and did a little #1 to wash it off, and he stood right up and went back to chasing the nerf balls. Like nothing had even happened... like it was the most natural thing in the world... like this is where everyone goes #2!
Yep, that's right, he is such a boy, that without any teaching or prodding, he realized that pooping and peeing outside, was way better! Maybe this means he'll be easy to potty train?!
Monday, October 4, 2010
Wedding Weekend
This weekend, the last of the Porton Posse tied the knot. And it was so much fun that I decided to make a top 10 list:
10 reasons why weekend weekend was wonderful:
# 1. Wendy and Brian Mitchell are now WENDY AND BRIAN MITCHELL!
# 2. It was a gorgeous fall day, and the reception was at a barn and it was decorated beautifully and they served amazing chicken with goat cheese, sweet potato casserole and the yummiest cupcakes AND Little Debbies (thank you Brian!)
# 3. Carlton made this face
# 4. Uncle Eli came and spent the weekend with us, so he could keep the boys and they had so much fun that Gabe asked if we would please leave again-- He is so good with the boys, Eli is going to make a great dad! He even kept my house clean and unloaded the dishwasher and did dishes- we all love when he comes around!
# 5. My bffaa, Ruth and I got to read scripture- we were honored to be a part of the cermony
# 6. The McCords (seen below) rode with us in the swagger wagon... you've truely "arrived" when you get to drive up to a wedding, with your dear friends, in your mini-van.
# 7. This hotness was my date! (He even came home with me after the wedding!!)
# 8. This was the last PP wedding... we're all hitched now! (Not pictured: Jill and Jonathan were in Colorado visiting family and going to the UGA game- they were missed!)
# 9. We got to have a dance party- and we even danced to Baby Got Back-- this was super fun since I now have more "back" than I've had in the past (thank you Max)
AND #10 Mine and Ruth's shoes were so sassy and amazing that they hurt our feet, so we had to sit in chairs a lot towards the end of the night. But then the Journey song came on, and we had to dance (while still sitting in chairs) in honor of Finn and Rachel (GLEE!) and Chad caught it on video. (Note: I had one glass of wine all night- so no, alcohol is not to be blamed, we are just this amazing... or as Chad says "you two were acting a fool") (Note #2: Our table was the last table before the dance floor, hence all the beer bottles on the table- those are not ours):
It was a great weekend and a wonderful wedding. It's so fun to watch God bring people together- especially these two :) Wendy and I were friends for years, as single girls, and we got to walk through life with each other, as God brought our men into our lives and now we get to do marriage together, too! Hope y'all are having an amazing time in Costa Rica!!! Congrats!
10 reasons why weekend weekend was wonderful:
# 1. Wendy and Brian Mitchell are now WENDY AND BRIAN MITCHELL!
# 2. It was a gorgeous fall day, and the reception was at a barn and it was decorated beautifully and they served amazing chicken with goat cheese, sweet potato casserole and the yummiest cupcakes AND Little Debbies (thank you Brian!)
# 3. Carlton made this face
# 4. Uncle Eli came and spent the weekend with us, so he could keep the boys and they had so much fun that Gabe asked if we would please leave again-- He is so good with the boys, Eli is going to make a great dad! He even kept my house clean and unloaded the dishwasher and did dishes- we all love when he comes around!
# 5. My bffaa, Ruth and I got to read scripture- we were honored to be a part of the cermony
# 6. The McCords (seen below) rode with us in the swagger wagon... you've truely "arrived" when you get to drive up to a wedding, with your dear friends, in your mini-van.
# 7. This hotness was my date! (He even came home with me after the wedding!!)
# 8. This was the last PP wedding... we're all hitched now! (Not pictured: Jill and Jonathan were in Colorado visiting family and going to the UGA game- they were missed!)
# 9. We got to have a dance party- and we even danced to Baby Got Back-- this was super fun since I now have more "back" than I've had in the past (thank you Max)
AND #10 Mine and Ruth's shoes were so sassy and amazing that they hurt our feet, so we had to sit in chairs a lot towards the end of the night. But then the Journey song came on, and we had to dance (while still sitting in chairs) in honor of Finn and Rachel (GLEE!) and Chad caught it on video. (Note: I had one glass of wine all night- so no, alcohol is not to be blamed, we are just this amazing... or as Chad says "you two were acting a fool") (Note #2: Our table was the last table before the dance floor, hence all the beer bottles on the table- those are not ours):
It was a great weekend and a wonderful wedding. It's so fun to watch God bring people together- especially these two :) Wendy and I were friends for years, as single girls, and we got to walk through life with each other, as God brought our men into our lives and now we get to do marriage together, too! Hope y'all are having an amazing time in Costa Rica!!! Congrats!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Changing My Theme Song
So if you haven't noticed, I've been MIA for a while... blame it on July! So I'm going to start with this weekend-- and work backwards-- until I'm caught up... this could take a couple days! But there are a few things, that just can't go unpublished!
Ok, this all started with talks of adding another Bowman to the clan. Please note that there is nothing in the oven, it's just that we're beginning to think about the ingredient list and what we need before this becomes a reality. I have mentioned my wonderful car before and how I bought it MYSELF when I graduated college and started working at North Metro Church- and I love it. But the car just won't fit 3 car seats-- this is nutty, I know- and Gabe is 7 and seems kind of weird for him to need a seat, but he has to be 4'9" or 80 lbs to NOT ride in a booster seat and he isn't close to either of those markers. So, with baby #3, comes car seat #3, all needing to buckle at the same time, meaning we need a bigger car.
This is cool because my car is worth twice as much as we owe on it, SO selling this car will give us the extra cash to buy a new (old) truck for Chad with cash, sell his truck, and get me a new car-- meaning that when it's all said and done, we'll only have one car payment. We'll be able to make double payments regularly and pay it off quickly, since we won't have a truck payment (which is currently our boat anchor) which will take us one giant leap closer to being debt free: our ultimate goal. We currently write checks for the stupid tax, monthly, and this would help us see the light at the end of that tunnel- wahoo!
So this weekend we began the process of narrowing the field for a good, safe, reliable car with a 3rd row of seats. My favorite option is the Sequoia, so we headed to the Toyota dealership. The first problem we ran into is that our 30 year old house has a garage that is only 6 ft, 5 in tall. And Chad is insistent for safety reasons, and loading and unloading, that I be able to park in the garage. So we showed up at Toyota with our tape measure, only to find out that basically every full size vehicle was knocked off our list with this one criteria.
So we move onto mid-size vehicles- The Highlander, all the crossover vehicles, and even some new 4runners come with 3rd row seating. We're looking around and admiring their features, only to open the back and discover that there is NO storage or trunk room in these types of cars. This is not an exaggeration- if we wanted to take all of our children on a trip, would we have to all hold our toothbrushes in our hands and wear the same clothes the whole time we were gone-- there is not room for a stroller- let alone a suit case, or the double stroller that we will need in the future.
Strike 2.
So we begin processing the original plan again- the full size vehicle, and realize we might be parking outside. Luckily, I don't melt (although I'm endlessly trying to convince Gabe that I do) so what's a little rain while carrying children and groceries? At this point, we are hit with strikes 3 and 4: #3- Full size vehicles don't have any trunk room either-- they have a better 3rd row, but when it's folded up for sitting, the trunk room is very minimal. Daily, I carry a stroller, 2 ballpark chairs, a tote-able picnic blanket (perfect for any ground playtime or diaper changes) and a big bag full of reusable shopping bags in the back of my car. This does not include the diaper bag, my purse, my children, or myself that ride in the front of the car... and we're talking about just the average day. #4: In order to keep Max's car seat and new baby Bowman's (that has NOT been formed yet) car seat buckled in at all times, the middle row would have to be bucket seats, so that Gabe and any other car rider could get to the 3rd row, without 15 minutes of unbuckling, wrestling, sweating, and re-buckling... only to do it all again when we arrived at our destination. Fun? No.
So what is our next option? My nemesis: the mini-van. I have sworn my ENTIRE life the regardless of how many children I had, I would never drive a minivan. I have ALWAYS said that I would drive a bus before I would be consumed by "the mini". I LOVE being a mom, LOVE it-- but I am not ready to turn in my cool card completely. After the tummy pooch body addition, the never have time to dry my hair because someone else always needs something dilemma, the same deal with make-up, buying baby stuff instead of clothes for myself, realizing that carrying at 22lb chunk of baby isn't that great when wearing trendy high heels no matter how cute they are, have crumbs and smears on every outfit, toys decorating my living room, and my realization that even on vacation I have to do laundry, I honestly only have 3 cool points left, and a mini-van would trump those, no doubt.
My mom had 3 kids in car seats without getting a van-- although the car seat rules have changed quite a bit since the 80's as have the car seat bulkiness- but there are people out there that do it... I just know it.
The worst part is the salesman we were working with had 3 kids and his wife had a dodge caravan and was so pumped when they upgraded to a Toyota Sequoia ONLY to then trade that in on a Honda, Odyssey Mini-van within a year, because of cargo space and the ease of having a van.
Really guy? The last thing I need is you and my husband ganging up against me and simultaneously trying to talk me into "considering" a van. Even as I type, the word "van" makes me shudder-- and it's not because anything is wrong with vans, I get it- they're awesome, they're sensible, they're effective.... but I'm like a teenager doing anything I can to be "cool" despite the 17 pimples on my nose.
But somehow I got talked into test driving a Toyota Sienna anyway- it was pimped out- fancy, buckets seats, all the gadgets, and rode like a charm. This was devastating and all around depressing for me. I am currently still processing... I mean eliminate debt- AWESOME, lose cool card- TERRIBLE, have enough room for another Bowman- AWESOME, driving a mini-van after promising myself I would "never"- TERRIBLE.
So this may be my new theme song and music video, and courtesy of my BFFA Ruth, let me just say: Mini-Van, MEGA fun!
Ok, this all started with talks of adding another Bowman to the clan. Please note that there is nothing in the oven, it's just that we're beginning to think about the ingredient list and what we need before this becomes a reality. I have mentioned my wonderful car before and how I bought it MYSELF when I graduated college and started working at North Metro Church- and I love it. But the car just won't fit 3 car seats-- this is nutty, I know- and Gabe is 7 and seems kind of weird for him to need a seat, but he has to be 4'9" or 80 lbs to NOT ride in a booster seat and he isn't close to either of those markers. So, with baby #3, comes car seat #3, all needing to buckle at the same time, meaning we need a bigger car.
This is cool because my car is worth twice as much as we owe on it, SO selling this car will give us the extra cash to buy a new (old) truck for Chad with cash, sell his truck, and get me a new car-- meaning that when it's all said and done, we'll only have one car payment. We'll be able to make double payments regularly and pay it off quickly, since we won't have a truck payment (which is currently our boat anchor) which will take us one giant leap closer to being debt free: our ultimate goal. We currently write checks for the stupid tax, monthly, and this would help us see the light at the end of that tunnel- wahoo!
So this weekend we began the process of narrowing the field for a good, safe, reliable car with a 3rd row of seats. My favorite option is the Sequoia, so we headed to the Toyota dealership. The first problem we ran into is that our 30 year old house has a garage that is only 6 ft, 5 in tall. And Chad is insistent for safety reasons, and loading and unloading, that I be able to park in the garage. So we showed up at Toyota with our tape measure, only to find out that basically every full size vehicle was knocked off our list with this one criteria.
So we move onto mid-size vehicles- The Highlander, all the crossover vehicles, and even some new 4runners come with 3rd row seating. We're looking around and admiring their features, only to open the back and discover that there is NO storage or trunk room in these types of cars. This is not an exaggeration- if we wanted to take all of our children on a trip, would we have to all hold our toothbrushes in our hands and wear the same clothes the whole time we were gone-- there is not room for a stroller- let alone a suit case, or the double stroller that we will need in the future.
Strike 2.
So we begin processing the original plan again- the full size vehicle, and realize we might be parking outside. Luckily, I don't melt (although I'm endlessly trying to convince Gabe that I do) so what's a little rain while carrying children and groceries? At this point, we are hit with strikes 3 and 4: #3- Full size vehicles don't have any trunk room either-- they have a better 3rd row, but when it's folded up for sitting, the trunk room is very minimal. Daily, I carry a stroller, 2 ballpark chairs, a tote-able picnic blanket (perfect for any ground playtime or diaper changes) and a big bag full of reusable shopping bags in the back of my car. This does not include the diaper bag, my purse, my children, or myself that ride in the front of the car... and we're talking about just the average day. #4: In order to keep Max's car seat and new baby Bowman's (that has NOT been formed yet) car seat buckled in at all times, the middle row would have to be bucket seats, so that Gabe and any other car rider could get to the 3rd row, without 15 minutes of unbuckling, wrestling, sweating, and re-buckling... only to do it all again when we arrived at our destination. Fun? No.
So what is our next option? My nemesis: the mini-van. I have sworn my ENTIRE life the regardless of how many children I had, I would never drive a minivan. I have ALWAYS said that I would drive a bus before I would be consumed by "the mini". I LOVE being a mom, LOVE it-- but I am not ready to turn in my cool card completely. After the tummy pooch body addition, the never have time to dry my hair because someone else always needs something dilemma, the same deal with make-up, buying baby stuff instead of clothes for myself, realizing that carrying at 22lb chunk of baby isn't that great when wearing trendy high heels no matter how cute they are, have crumbs and smears on every outfit, toys decorating my living room, and my realization that even on vacation I have to do laundry, I honestly only have 3 cool points left, and a mini-van would trump those, no doubt.
My mom had 3 kids in car seats without getting a van-- although the car seat rules have changed quite a bit since the 80's as have the car seat bulkiness- but there are people out there that do it... I just know it.
The worst part is the salesman we were working with had 3 kids and his wife had a dodge caravan and was so pumped when they upgraded to a Toyota Sequoia ONLY to then trade that in on a Honda, Odyssey Mini-van within a year, because of cargo space and the ease of having a van.
Really guy? The last thing I need is you and my husband ganging up against me and simultaneously trying to talk me into "considering" a van. Even as I type, the word "van" makes me shudder-- and it's not because anything is wrong with vans, I get it- they're awesome, they're sensible, they're effective.... but I'm like a teenager doing anything I can to be "cool" despite the 17 pimples on my nose.
But somehow I got talked into test driving a Toyota Sienna anyway- it was pimped out- fancy, buckets seats, all the gadgets, and rode like a charm. This was devastating and all around depressing for me. I am currently still processing... I mean eliminate debt- AWESOME, lose cool card- TERRIBLE, have enough room for another Bowman- AWESOME, driving a mini-van after promising myself I would "never"- TERRIBLE.
So this may be my new theme song and music video, and courtesy of my BFFA Ruth, let me just say: Mini-Van, MEGA fun!
Friday, July 2, 2010
My Achy Breaky Heart
Don't tell my heart, my achy breaky heart... I just don't think it'd understand... and if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart
It might blow up and kill this WOman :(
But apparently being 10 months old means you're not a baby anymore. (Insert a million frowns here.)
Yesterday, Max signed his first word. We've been working for months and months on the basics: more, please, all done, mom, dad, thank you, etc.... and then just this week we started with a few extras courtesy of a really awesome DVD, Baby Signing Time (thanks Anna and Elizabeth Grace). So yesterday Max decided it was time for his first word and that his first signed word would be "shoes". My heart melted. Let's skip the easy, obvious ones, and go for the gold!
Then last night at dinner, I didn't fix Max any baby food... because he ate the chicken pot pie we were having. I should be celebrating this milestone, but this means he's a little person and not my little baby. I didn't even have to mash anything.
As if that wasn't enough for my achy breaky heart, this morning, I made myself a smoothie and poured some in a bowl for him and added some baby cereal to thicken it-- but he would have none of it-- he wanted his in a cup with a straw-- no lid. And he drank his very first smoothie like a grown up.
Now let's add some more fuel to the fire- at lunch he kept throwing food so I told him no. Then, he did it again, so I grabbed his hand and told him "no" very sternly. And he looked me straight in the eye and did it again- so I grabbed his hand and smacked it for the FIRST time ever. And in response to his first "spanking",HE hit ME back!
(Just to be straightforward, you should know that I'm a bad mom and had to turn away instead of finishing the disciplining because I started laughing... we're going to have to work on the whole spanking thing!)
So this afternoon, when it was nap time, I changed his diaper and laid him in his crib with his snuggle and his passy. An hour later, he was still in there talking and I heard this weird banging noise. Now he's all gushy, his snuggle is soft and his passy is rubber-- so there is no reason for any banging! So I grabbed my camera (I knew it was going to be good) and walked in and apparently, because he is 10 months old and grown up, he decided that nap time was a no-go today and he'd rather do puzzles:
The little nugget reached into his toy basket that is outside of his crib and pulled the puzzle through the slats and just had a grand ole time.
Someone bring me a big bandaid-- these next few months (18 years) are going to be rough. How come no one told me they don't stay babies long enough???
It might blow up and kill this WOman :(
But apparently being 10 months old means you're not a baby anymore. (Insert a million frowns here.)
Yesterday, Max signed his first word. We've been working for months and months on the basics: more, please, all done, mom, dad, thank you, etc.... and then just this week we started with a few extras courtesy of a really awesome DVD, Baby Signing Time (thanks Anna and Elizabeth Grace). So yesterday Max decided it was time for his first word and that his first signed word would be "shoes". My heart melted. Let's skip the easy, obvious ones, and go for the gold!
Then last night at dinner, I didn't fix Max any baby food... because he ate the chicken pot pie we were having. I should be celebrating this milestone, but this means he's a little person and not my little baby. I didn't even have to mash anything.
As if that wasn't enough for my achy breaky heart, this morning, I made myself a smoothie and poured some in a bowl for him and added some baby cereal to thicken it-- but he would have none of it-- he wanted his in a cup with a straw-- no lid. And he drank his very first smoothie like a grown up.
Now let's add some more fuel to the fire- at lunch he kept throwing food so I told him no. Then, he did it again, so I grabbed his hand and told him "no" very sternly. And he looked me straight in the eye and did it again- so I grabbed his hand and smacked it for the FIRST time ever. And in response to his first "spanking",HE hit ME back!
(Just to be straightforward, you should know that I'm a bad mom and had to turn away instead of finishing the disciplining because I started laughing... we're going to have to work on the whole spanking thing!)
So this afternoon, when it was nap time, I changed his diaper and laid him in his crib with his snuggle and his passy. An hour later, he was still in there talking and I heard this weird banging noise. Now he's all gushy, his snuggle is soft and his passy is rubber-- so there is no reason for any banging! So I grabbed my camera (I knew it was going to be good) and walked in and apparently, because he is 10 months old and grown up, he decided that nap time was a no-go today and he'd rather do puzzles:
The little nugget reached into his toy basket that is outside of his crib and pulled the puzzle through the slats and just had a grand ole time.
Someone bring me a big bandaid-- these next few months (18 years) are going to be rough. How come no one told me they don't stay babies long enough???
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Reading Between The Lines
If you've met my husband, then you know that "friendly" doesn't even begin to describe him. Everywhere we go, he is running for mayor-- shaking hands, meeting people, kissing babies, flirting with old women, etc... He never meets a stranger, and it is NOT uncommon for him to meet someone in the grocery store and then actually keep in touch with them. He loves people, all people, and there is never a crowd that's too big.
Me on the other hand, I try to hide from people. I wish I was exaggerating- but unfortunately, I am not. If I walk into a store, and see someone I know, but I'm not really in the mood to talk, I avoid them. And I'm talking about people I genuinely like! I may see them coming straight at me, so I'll duck behind big rack. Sometimes (a lot of the time) I'd just rather do my own thing, at my own pace, without much chatty chat.
So imagine my discomfort now that Max is a social butterfly as well. Naturally, he runs most of my errands with me- and this is great fun for both of us... until he starts talking and waving to every passerby. He sits in the cart and picks his "friend" and begins making his move. He'll click at them, wave, talk, grin, clap, etc... Like to strangers. Any and all of them. Male, female, young, old. And it's very awkward for me because I don't know whether to acknowledge the person he is talking to or just pretend like I don't know it's happening. Sometimes we'll be walking up a long aisle, and he's just a talkin with someone... and then they start talking to me!
It usually starts out with "How old is he?" And then they comment on his size- everyone says something different- "Oh, he's a big boy" or "I thought he was only about 7 months". I always get the "Wow, he's so cute/adorable/ precious" comment as well. And usually by this point, I can make my getaway. But sometimes you'll get the person who wants to give you their advice- I've heard all sorts. And they don't stop just because you start walking away- they follow you! And let me mention that Max is still winding them in-- cooing and batting his eyes- just to make sure he's proven himself to be the most wonderful baby in the world. (Which he is.)
I want to tell you about my most recent comment. And it happened TWICE in the same day, at TWO different stories by TWO different people. The conversation went like this:
Stranger: (to Max) Oh hi there (to me) How old is he?
Me: Almost 9 months old
Stranger: Oh, what a big boy. He's just beautiful- I love his eyes and his smile. Wow.
Me: Thanks (and I begin trying to make my getaway.)
Stranger: What does his Dad look like?
Now you may not know about my hidden talent, by my roommates from college can attest to the fact that I am FANTASTIC at reading between the lines. For instance, if someone sends me an email, or gives me a look, I can tell you what they really meant. So let me tell you what that comment really meant-- Stranger said "what does his Dad look like?" but what Stranger was really saying was "You are clearly not cute enough to have that gorgeous of a child- there has got to be another reason for it- and the only possibility is his father."
The first time, I answered politely- because Stranger had the same color hair as me, and was about my build, so I was thinking that she probably wanted to find a spouse like mine, so she could have a baby like Max.
The second time is another story. When Stranger asked "the question", I replied "I'm not sure- I don't know who his father is."
Needless to say, I was free to make my exit at that time, as Stranger turned red faced and walked off. I walked away chuckling...until the Holy Spirit struck and I found myself marching back over to Stranger to apologize for my rude comment and explain that I did indeed know his father, but had just let my insecurity get the best of me.
Now who walked away red faced? I'll give you one guess.
Me on the other hand, I try to hide from people. I wish I was exaggerating- but unfortunately, I am not. If I walk into a store, and see someone I know, but I'm not really in the mood to talk, I avoid them. And I'm talking about people I genuinely like! I may see them coming straight at me, so I'll duck behind big rack. Sometimes (a lot of the time) I'd just rather do my own thing, at my own pace, without much chatty chat.
So imagine my discomfort now that Max is a social butterfly as well. Naturally, he runs most of my errands with me- and this is great fun for both of us... until he starts talking and waving to every passerby. He sits in the cart and picks his "friend" and begins making his move. He'll click at them, wave, talk, grin, clap, etc... Like to strangers. Any and all of them. Male, female, young, old. And it's very awkward for me because I don't know whether to acknowledge the person he is talking to or just pretend like I don't know it's happening. Sometimes we'll be walking up a long aisle, and he's just a talkin with someone... and then they start talking to me!
It usually starts out with "How old is he?" And then they comment on his size- everyone says something different- "Oh, he's a big boy" or "I thought he was only about 7 months". I always get the "Wow, he's so cute/adorable/ precious" comment as well. And usually by this point, I can make my getaway. But sometimes you'll get the person who wants to give you their advice- I've heard all sorts. And they don't stop just because you start walking away- they follow you! And let me mention that Max is still winding them in-- cooing and batting his eyes- just to make sure he's proven himself to be the most wonderful baby in the world. (Which he is.)
I want to tell you about my most recent comment. And it happened TWICE in the same day, at TWO different stories by TWO different people. The conversation went like this:
Stranger: (to Max) Oh hi there (to me) How old is he?
Me: Almost 9 months old
Stranger: Oh, what a big boy. He's just beautiful- I love his eyes and his smile. Wow.
Me: Thanks (and I begin trying to make my getaway.)
Stranger: What does his Dad look like?
Now you may not know about my hidden talent, by my roommates from college can attest to the fact that I am FANTASTIC at reading between the lines. For instance, if someone sends me an email, or gives me a look, I can tell you what they really meant. So let me tell you what that comment really meant-- Stranger said "what does his Dad look like?" but what Stranger was really saying was "You are clearly not cute enough to have that gorgeous of a child- there has got to be another reason for it- and the only possibility is his father."
The first time, I answered politely- because Stranger had the same color hair as me, and was about my build, so I was thinking that she probably wanted to find a spouse like mine, so she could have a baby like Max.
The second time is another story. When Stranger asked "the question", I replied "I'm not sure- I don't know who his father is."
Needless to say, I was free to make my exit at that time, as Stranger turned red faced and walked off. I walked away chuckling...until the Holy Spirit struck and I found myself marching back over to Stranger to apologize for my rude comment and explain that I did indeed know his father, but had just let my insecurity get the best of me.
Now who walked away red faced? I'll give you one guess.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
My Bud Light Dilemma
My parents live in downtown Indianapolis and my Dad manages to get tickets (usually good ones) to every sporting event within a 2 hour radius of the city. This includes tickets to the Final Four, among other things. The Friday before the Final Four games, my Dad and his buddy went to the "fan experience" while on a mission to find famous people. Part of the fan experience was free gifts and hand outs, including these:
This wouldn't be a big deal except that we arrived for our Easter visit the same night that my Dad got the beads which means that Max inherited the beads. And Max immediately took to the beads and wouldn't part with them. This would also not be a big deal- in normal circumstances- because babies sleep a lot and you can just get rid of things that you don't want them playing with during this time. But Max LOVES necklaces- which leads me to my dilemma.
I am in the midst of re-claiming my body and my style, post-baby. I'm doing the best I can not to wear mom jeans (EVER), and I'm aspiring to cut down on my weekly pony tail count. Another things I'm finally doing again is accessorizing- which includes necklaces. BUT I am a mom to a slobbery, teething, busy, little boy who loves necklaces. And not just loves to look at them- if he spots me wearing one, he must be in my arms immediately, holding the necklace (choking me) and putting it in his mouth simultaneously. Did I mention that he's teething?
After a couple seconds of gnawing, there is a small puddle forming on my chest and it begins evolving into a lake at a very rapid rate. And I'm just going to be honest and tell you that sometimes I don't care at all and I have no shame in having a huge slobber print in the middle of my chest, in spite of how disgusting this might be to everyone around me, including my husband (a.k.a. the father of this child). I've left church several Sundays in a row with one. Mainly because I get to have good meaningful conversations, while holding my baby, if he's busy chewing on my necklace.
BUT certain situations do not allow for a grown woman to have drool on the front of her shirt. So I kept the Bud Light necklace. (Don't judge me.) And I let Max chew on it- and I let him take it in public if I'm wearing a necklace that he can't chew on- and people give me dirty looks. But I don't care- because I had a dilemma, I accessed the situation and decided that I could handle my 8 months on wearing blue and orange on a Bud Light necklace a lot better than I could handle him wearing another form of blue and orange and uttering some trashy statement like "Go Gators."
So enjoy the necklace big guy, it's the only blue and orange you'll ever own- and in the meantime, I'll appreciate my dry shirts.
This wouldn't be a big deal except that we arrived for our Easter visit the same night that my Dad got the beads which means that Max inherited the beads. And Max immediately took to the beads and wouldn't part with them. This would also not be a big deal- in normal circumstances- because babies sleep a lot and you can just get rid of things that you don't want them playing with during this time. But Max LOVES necklaces- which leads me to my dilemma.
I am in the midst of re-claiming my body and my style, post-baby. I'm doing the best I can not to wear mom jeans (EVER), and I'm aspiring to cut down on my weekly pony tail count. Another things I'm finally doing again is accessorizing- which includes necklaces. BUT I am a mom to a slobbery, teething, busy, little boy who loves necklaces. And not just loves to look at them- if he spots me wearing one, he must be in my arms immediately, holding the necklace (choking me) and putting it in his mouth simultaneously. Did I mention that he's teething?
After a couple seconds of gnawing, there is a small puddle forming on my chest and it begins evolving into a lake at a very rapid rate. And I'm just going to be honest and tell you that sometimes I don't care at all and I have no shame in having a huge slobber print in the middle of my chest, in spite of how disgusting this might be to everyone around me, including my husband (a.k.a. the father of this child). I've left church several Sundays in a row with one. Mainly because I get to have good meaningful conversations, while holding my baby, if he's busy chewing on my necklace.
BUT certain situations do not allow for a grown woman to have drool on the front of her shirt. So I kept the Bud Light necklace. (Don't judge me.) And I let Max chew on it- and I let him take it in public if I'm wearing a necklace that he can't chew on- and people give me dirty looks. But I don't care- because I had a dilemma, I accessed the situation and decided that I could handle my 8 months on wearing blue and orange on a Bud Light necklace a lot better than I could handle him wearing another form of blue and orange and uttering some trashy statement like "Go Gators."
So enjoy the necklace big guy, it's the only blue and orange you'll ever own- and in the meantime, I'll appreciate my dry shirts.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Irrational Fear
Yesterday, I drove in the car ALL day. Chad flew home early (on Sunday) so that he could work and so it was just me and the boys... for over 9 hours in a car. It was a LONG day, but we made it! When we pulled in the driveway, Chad was out in the yard talking to our neighbors. These are the neighbors that know all the "news" on the street. They told us about burglaries, what people do, who lives where, how our yard used to look back in the days, etc... I could only imagine what great information she was sharing with him now!
Once I got the car parked, the boys were more than ready to see their Daddy, and I started unloading. Before I knew it, we were feeding kids, doing laundry, getting the boys bathed and to bed, then re-packing, because Chad and Gabe were heading out for a fishing trip first thing in the morning. Before I knew it, I was crashing into bed when I remembered about the neighbor with the news and asked Chad what she had to say.
My husband says, "Oh nothing"
Ok, like any good wife, I didn't buy it. So I pushed. And pushed. Until he told me: When our yard guy was cutting the grass, he ran over not one but two S-N-A-K-E-S. I can't even say that word. I am absolutely over the top petrified of those things. I can't begin to rationalize or even explain the extent of this fear. I once heard about one swimming up in the toilet and biting someone on the booty while they went to the restroom, and I'll never go to the bathroom, ever, without turning on the light. Even when I was pregnant and had to go a million times a night, I would turn on the light, and check the toilet before I went. I can't watch tv if "they" are on there- not even cartoons- I won't even touch a plastic toy that is one and or a even a stuffed animal for that matter. And this isn't like one of those funny fears that is good to use against a person, all jokey jokey. I am over the top, freeze, faint, cry, yell and never get over it, scared of "them".
So, back to the news, about the things in our yard-- I tried to play it cool- and act nonchalant- but the keyword there is act. I didn't sleep all night last night, because I was thinking about it. As I sit here on the couch typing this, I want to pick my feet of the ground of my living room out of fear that one might be under the couch. I will NEVER go in my back yard, I was scared to death as I carried Max down the driveway to check the mail, I'm afraid of our garage, and this is no exageration-- when I climbed in the car today (both times) I opened the door really slowly in case they had crawled up in the car. Do you want to know the best part about this story? I'm driving Chad's MONDO HUGE truck, because he took my on his fishing trip-- and like an s-word could crawl up in this:
So then, naturally, I started pondering "fear" and since having my Max, fear has taken over my life in a way that I can't comprehend. I worry about really crazy over the top things. I think through things that really shouldn't even be thought through. And it may have started with the s-word thing. Who knows. When I was little, like maybe 5 years old, we were at Frank Lisk Park in North Carolina where I grew up. It was a church pot luck picnic at the park, and the park ranger found a little green "thing" and started letting the kids hold it. Nicole Shoemaker, a girl 2 years older than me, held it. And the "thing" bit her-- and hung on her lip. It might've only been for .02 seconds, but I can still see it in my head today. And so I live in fear of those "things".
So because of something that happened over 20 years ago, I'm not sleeping. This is nutty. And I know it. But I can't do anything about it. And when it's time to begin addressing fear with Max, I'm going to be a pot calling the kettle black. It's already started with Gabe-- Chad tries to walk him through his crazy fear of bugs- like any bugs- even nice, friendly bugs- and I try to help and have a good parenting moment- but the plank in my eye blocks me from having a good conversation with Gabe about the speck in his. This is a parenting lesson I haven't quite learned. But I'm working on it. So tonight, I'm going to sleep. And tomorrow, I'll think about walking through the garage as a normal person. Maybe. Dear God, please teach me to be a brave and courageous Mommy.
The post was heavy and scary. So here are pictures of Max to brighten my mood :)
Oh those bring some happy!
Once I got the car parked, the boys were more than ready to see their Daddy, and I started unloading. Before I knew it, we were feeding kids, doing laundry, getting the boys bathed and to bed, then re-packing, because Chad and Gabe were heading out for a fishing trip first thing in the morning. Before I knew it, I was crashing into bed when I remembered about the neighbor with the news and asked Chad what she had to say.
My husband says, "Oh nothing"
Ok, like any good wife, I didn't buy it. So I pushed. And pushed. Until he told me: When our yard guy was cutting the grass, he ran over not one but two S-N-A-K-E-S. I can't even say that word. I am absolutely over the top petrified of those things. I can't begin to rationalize or even explain the extent of this fear. I once heard about one swimming up in the toilet and biting someone on the booty while they went to the restroom, and I'll never go to the bathroom, ever, without turning on the light. Even when I was pregnant and had to go a million times a night, I would turn on the light, and check the toilet before I went. I can't watch tv if "they" are on there- not even cartoons- I won't even touch a plastic toy that is one and or a even a stuffed animal for that matter. And this isn't like one of those funny fears that is good to use against a person, all jokey jokey. I am over the top, freeze, faint, cry, yell and never get over it, scared of "them".
So, back to the news, about the things in our yard-- I tried to play it cool- and act nonchalant- but the keyword there is act. I didn't sleep all night last night, because I was thinking about it. As I sit here on the couch typing this, I want to pick my feet of the ground of my living room out of fear that one might be under the couch. I will NEVER go in my back yard, I was scared to death as I carried Max down the driveway to check the mail, I'm afraid of our garage, and this is no exageration-- when I climbed in the car today (both times) I opened the door really slowly in case they had crawled up in the car. Do you want to know the best part about this story? I'm driving Chad's MONDO HUGE truck, because he took my on his fishing trip-- and like an s-word could crawl up in this:
So then, naturally, I started pondering "fear" and since having my Max, fear has taken over my life in a way that I can't comprehend. I worry about really crazy over the top things. I think through things that really shouldn't even be thought through. And it may have started with the s-word thing. Who knows. When I was little, like maybe 5 years old, we were at Frank Lisk Park in North Carolina where I grew up. It was a church pot luck picnic at the park, and the park ranger found a little green "thing" and started letting the kids hold it. Nicole Shoemaker, a girl 2 years older than me, held it. And the "thing" bit her-- and hung on her lip. It might've only been for .02 seconds, but I can still see it in my head today. And so I live in fear of those "things".
So because of something that happened over 20 years ago, I'm not sleeping. This is nutty. And I know it. But I can't do anything about it. And when it's time to begin addressing fear with Max, I'm going to be a pot calling the kettle black. It's already started with Gabe-- Chad tries to walk him through his crazy fear of bugs- like any bugs- even nice, friendly bugs- and I try to help and have a good parenting moment- but the plank in my eye blocks me from having a good conversation with Gabe about the speck in his. This is a parenting lesson I haven't quite learned. But I'm working on it. So tonight, I'm going to sleep. And tomorrow, I'll think about walking through the garage as a normal person. Maybe. Dear God, please teach me to be a brave and courageous Mommy.
The post was heavy and scary. So here are pictures of Max to brighten my mood :)
Oh those bring some happy!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
This Really Just Happened
Tonight I was making baby food and Chad looked at me and said "Aw, my little Martha Stewart." And I gave him a look. (THE look).
Chad: "What? That was a compliment."
Me: "The part where she was in jail for fraud or the part where she is kind of manly?"
Chad: "Martha Stewart is HOT!"
Me: "Ok, do you even know who Martha Stewart is?"
Chad: "Yes, and back in the day, she was really hot."
At this point I roll my eyes. A lot. And laugh at him. A lot.
So he goes to get on the computer. I thought the conversation was over.
So then he showed me this image:
Chad: "What? That was a compliment."
Me: "The part where she was in jail for fraud or the part where she is kind of manly?"
Chad: "Martha Stewart is HOT!"
Me: "Ok, do you even know who Martha Stewart is?"
Chad: "Yes, and back in the day, she was really hot."
At this point I roll my eyes. A lot. And laugh at him. A lot.
So he goes to get on the computer. I thought the conversation was over.
So then he showed me this image:
And then he showed me this one:
And holy cow she really was hot.
My husband was right. And yes Chad, I will say it one more time, because it happens so rarely: I was wrong about Martha Stewart and you were right.
But this leaves me with one question: How the heck did he know this?
Weird.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
A Born Leader (and the demise of his mom)
If you thought the Mariah Carey blog post was bad, you ain't seen NOTHING yet. Max has another cold (my pediatrician told me "Welcome to the next 2 years of your life"- but I'll save that for another post) and woke up in the middle of the night SCREAMING. This was before I realized he had a cold- so my thought was that maybe he had a bad dream. When I went into his room to calm him down, he would NOT be calmed. Not amount of mommy love, passy offering, sushing, rocking, bouncing, or singing could subdue my boy. This is not a happy thing for moms, because we are supposed to be able to make baby happy, all the time. After a long, torturous, middle of the night cry session, he did indeed calm down. But if I attempted to put him down, he warned me with a high pitched squeal that I had better not, or I would regret it. I obeyed, and held him while I tried to figure out what kind of bad dreams a baby could have-- did the world run out of milk? Did Daddy stop making funny faces?
And then it hit me. I had to go to the bathroom-- like really bad, or I was going to wet my pants. So I did it, I sunk to a new low, and let my child sit ON MY LAP while I went to the bathroom. This is NOT a joke. This really did happen. And honestly, I think Max enjoyed it.
He has also developed several strategic ways to communicate with me, although he can't actually talk. If he wants up, he lets me know, if he wants more, he tells me so (although NOT with the sign language I've been trying to teach him), if nap time is over, he rings for me. I think this speaks to his leadership skills. For instance, he has recently talked me out of his afternoon nap -- and when my mom asked if I was going to be bring a baby device to "trap" the boy in one place during our upcoming visit, I responded with: "the boy doesn't need trapped. He doesn't move unless he yells loud enough and someone obeys and moves him."
He has a face and a sound that go hand in hand-- and when Max speaks, we obey. The fact that this 7 month old blob of blue eyes can get two adults, and one big brother to do what he says WITHOUT talking, is amazing. It's a real testament to the skills of a good leader. Especially considering who he's dealing with...
If you know me, then you know this is funny. I'm kind of stubborn- ok, very stubborn. I like control and I'm just a tid bit bossy. (My Mamaw gave me a plaque when I got my first job that said "I'm not opinionated, I just tell it like it is".) Chad is also stubborn, and Gabe is too. And that's just our immediate family.
Did I mention that when Max visited with my Dad last month, that he never had to nap or go to bed at night because my Dad would go pick him up out of his bed when he yelled. Do you all know Dan Noblitt? Now that man IS stubborn.
So how does this baby get to be the boss of all our world? Look at this yell face and you tell me:
And then it hit me. I had to go to the bathroom-- like really bad, or I was going to wet my pants. So I did it, I sunk to a new low, and let my child sit ON MY LAP while I went to the bathroom. This is NOT a joke. This really did happen. And honestly, I think Max enjoyed it.
He has also developed several strategic ways to communicate with me, although he can't actually talk. If he wants up, he lets me know, if he wants more, he tells me so (although NOT with the sign language I've been trying to teach him), if nap time is over, he rings for me. I think this speaks to his leadership skills. For instance, he has recently talked me out of his afternoon nap -- and when my mom asked if I was going to be bring a baby device to "trap" the boy in one place during our upcoming visit, I responded with: "the boy doesn't need trapped. He doesn't move unless he yells loud enough and someone obeys and moves him."
He has a face and a sound that go hand in hand-- and when Max speaks, we obey. The fact that this 7 month old blob of blue eyes can get two adults, and one big brother to do what he says WITHOUT talking, is amazing. It's a real testament to the skills of a good leader. Especially considering who he's dealing with...
If you know me, then you know this is funny. I'm kind of stubborn- ok, very stubborn. I like control and I'm just a tid bit bossy. (My Mamaw gave me a plaque when I got my first job that said "I'm not opinionated, I just tell it like it is".) Chad is also stubborn, and Gabe is too. And that's just our immediate family.
Did I mention that when Max visited with my Dad last month, that he never had to nap or go to bed at night because my Dad would go pick him up out of his bed when he yelled. Do you all know Dan Noblitt? Now that man IS stubborn.
So how does this baby get to be the boss of all our world? Look at this yell face and you tell me:
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