clean floors, dirty paws

In the wake of the unthinkable tragedy in Connecticut, I have heard countless people, from an older gentleman I'd never met at 7-11, to the President of the United States say that we will all hold our children a little bit closer.  So imagine my shock when Dr. Drew, who I'm not the biggest fan of, and Supernanny, who I'm also not the biggest fan of, were discussing whether or not it is appropriate for parents to allow their children to come into bed with them if they are scared in the next few weeks. ARE YOU SERIOUS!!??  Why is this even up for discussion!?  What is the fear in holding our children AND each other close?  Are we really scared that we will create codependent children by loving them too much?  I just don't understand!  What on earth could we possibly gain by pushing our children away when they need us most? We are becoming so disconnected form human touch it's scary!  We hardly even speak face to face with people anymore as it is, and now some &quo

I am in my own little world, I haven't even heard of the horrific tragedy.  I turn on the news and see a soft spoken 7 year old girl recounting the incident,  "A lot of the kids said they had a stomach ache afterwards."  So do I sweetheart, so do I.  And so I spent the next hour watching CNN through a teary glaze until I could watch no more. This post is likely to offend some, but my hope is to make you take a step back and alter your perspective just a little bit.  I kind of wrote this in the few moments I had here and there so bare with me, or skip this post. First, when are we going to WAKE UP!?   How many more lives need to be lost before something is done about the ROOT of the problem.  And I'm not talking about metal detectors at the doors of our elementary schools, either.  I'm talking about the stigma that still surrounds mental illness and our BROKEN system! We are failing the mentally ill and their families, FAILING!  And as a result, innocent peop

I told you there were some good, fun, and unexpected things that also happened during the shit storm that was the past few weeks, and here they are... Thanksgiving, I love Thanksgiving.  Last year I was on a very restricted diet and could have NOTHING but vegetables and hummus, a hard boiled egg and a only good because I was desperate, gluten free cranberry cake.  This year though, I had it ALL, and it was delicious.  Of course Caches smashed all my food that I don't like touching into one huge pile and put his fingers and 4 different spoons in my food, but that's okay, we enjoyed our meal.  Vegan turkey and all the trimmings mmmmmmm :) * A visit to great grandmas house.  Caches has only one great grandparent and she lives in Modesto.  We see her all to rarely so we decided to take a little family trip to visit a few weeks ago.   Caches was actually a half way decent human being in the car and was pretty darn sweet with his great grandma.  We also go to see aunts and uncl

It can NOT have been almost a month since I have written?!  Yep, it is.  Shit.  Okay. I'm trying to decide whether to dedicate this post to a champagne hangover worthy pity party or an update on the wonderful, fun and unexpected things that have happened while I've been "away." What was that?  You love self pity?  Me too? *sips champagne*  Where shall I begin... The week leading up to Thanksgiving Caches and I were both sick with a minor cold.  Not a huge deal, but it was the first time I had been sick since I was pregnant and let me just say for the record that  it is NOT fair to be sick at the same time as your baby!  It wasn't too bad though and we lived to make and enjoy yummy food for the fun family holiday.  I'll post pictures when I decide to write the good things post, this is about pity...mine. The week after Thanksgiving I am not quite sure what the hell I was doing, but obviously it wasn't writing. Okay, fast forward to last Sunday,

Baby Center, The Bump, a friend, and two strangers have recently warned me of the dreaded 18 month sleep regression.  "It's like the 4 month regression on steroids,"  I was warned.  Keep calm though, is only a phase!  "My baby was back to her normal 12 hours a night in a few weeks."  Oh thank goodness.  Whew.  I'm so happy for you, sweet nosy stranger.  Oh generic grouping of all babies in one category internet websites.  Oh parents of children who have EVER slept well.  I, for once, don't have the problem, YOU DO! HA!   Because in order for a regression to take place, first sleep in a long, delicious stretch would have to exist.  And it did for you, and that's wonderful, but for once I win.  I WIN.  Because you were all, oh I have it figured out, my kid sleeps so well, pat yourself on the back, and then BAM your kid won't sleep and you panic.  And I don't blame you.  Your glorious 12 hours of sleep is slowly slipping away and there is

These two... LOVE

Anyone who has a young child know what I'm talking about.  You get the kid to bed, clean up the tornado of toys and settle down on the sofa to relax, when all of a sudden some demented blue eared dog cries, "Hug me."  You jump about 11 feet of the couch.   What the... "I looove you." "Tummy." Fuck you creepy dog and your weird voice that sounds like a kid but I'm pretty sure is an adult.  Who the hell voices these toys anyway!?  And out come the batteries of yet another toy. "Play with me!" "Is it under the purple shoe?" Okay, now there is an octopus giving me a guilt trip?!  I don't want to play with you octopus who only has 7 visible legs.  (The 8th is hiding around the back and took me months to locate.  And you KNOW I looked!)  You are bullshit and get balls stuck in your head all damn day.  I will not play with you, I don't even like you!   This is why I like a nice wooden pull toy.  No wooden pull toy

Last year around this time Caches was a hot mess of screaming torture.  I'm kind of a dork, okay a huge dork who looks forward to every little tradition of every single holiday.  I distinctly remember last year being so excited to carve pumpkins for the first time as a family only to have him fuss and cry the whole time.  "Look baby, pumpkin seeds!"  "Look baby, pumpkin guts!  Isn't this super cool?"  His response?  Fuck you AND your stupid pumpkin and put me back in the womb! And if I could have, I WOULD have! This year he still wasn't all that interested in the pumpkin guts like I'd hoped, but the seeds, OBSESSED!  He was "cooking" them, sniffing them, throwing them around, stirring, playing, feeding them to the dog, licking and loving them.  Only problem was that I kinda wanted to save them to roast.  Details.  So I picked them up in their sliminess, washed off the dirt and dog spit and roasted those suckers! But wow, what a diff

There's a crazy critter on the loose. Caches was a raccoon, Ryan was a critter catcher, and I was a bunny!  Originally I was going to be a trash can but I figured it would be difficult to hold my raccoon when he became clingy.  Good thing I went with the outfit change because the coon was clingy in about 10 min.  Here we are...

HAPPY HALLOWEEN  Two really neat spiders in our backyard lemon tree! They are HUGE

A while ago I read a Huffington Post article that brought me to tears.  Not that it's a difficult thing to do, but this was truly touching.  I'd post a link, only I can't remember the title or author's name.  Sigh, I miss my brain.  Anyway, it was about how this woman, a mother, who was everywhere in her children's lives, but there was little to no photographic evidence.  She was always shying away from the camera, hiding behind it rather than posing in front. It really got me thinking about my own relationship with the camera;  I don't like it.  And my mothers relationship with the camera, she really doesn't like it.  Then I started to think back on all the wonderful photographs of my childhood, neatly organized in albums that I frequently enjoy browsing.  Fantastic memories, elaborate holidays, birthday parties, crafts, vacations, milestones, a lifetime of fun all made possible by my mother.  But my mother is hardly in the album at all.  Absent from my c

I can't do it... Not fully anyway.  I've been thinking a lot about the phases and stages of  life, my baby's life in particular.  Each new phase they pass through feels like it will last forever, only it doesn't.  There is no definite end or beginning it just is and then it is no longer.  And when a phase is over you can't recall when it started, how long it lasted, or even when it stopped.  Because life is simply a series of stages and phases.  I know I've had my fair share, right mom?  Yes, I went through a will not wear pants no matter what must wear a ruffled dress with matching bow AT ALL TIMES stage and guess what...I'm over it For Caches there is the sweet, limp infant stage The sleep a lot during the day phase The must be swaddled phase The nurse every hour stage The very short take an hour long nap stage The still present take a half hour nap phase The arms flailing, startle stage The unsteady figuring out the body stage The holy shit I

Ah, nursing in public.  Sounds relatively simple, doesn't it?   Baby is hungry and starts to fuss a bit so you find a comfortable spot, sit down, adjust yourself and all is right with the world.  Hum, it actually does sound rather simple when I put it that way.  Only it isn't so simple.  There is a learning curve. And dirty looks.  We can't forget the dirty looks. When Caches was a newborn I was terrified to nurse him in public.  Just thinking about it would cause me so much anxiety that for the first few weeks I made sure to be home for all his feedings.  There was a time or two that I fed him in my car with a blanket, but not in real, people walking by, public.  No way! Now as you know, Caches has never been a patient sort.  He has always gone from sleeping quietly to screaming in 2 seconds flat.  There was no sweet mouthing of a fist, no quiet nuzzle into my chest and there was absolutely NO WAY in hell he was accepting a pacifier.  It was woman, feed me, NOW!  So in

Way to slack off on posting pictures, Anne.  It has been months since a proper picture update and you guys, he is a man!  It happened overnight!  Woke up one day and BAM.  Where is my baby!?!?  I'm not fond of this growing up nonsense at all, but watching him grow and change each day is so amazing I guess I'll allow it.  Officially a toddler.  Internet, I give you Mr. Nessier I promise to post more pictures in the future, and by promise I mean I'll try to remember to not only take them but to upload and publish them.  And by more I mean I'm shooting for once a week.  Let's not get carried away here.  ;)

Last weekend we had hot dogs for lunch, which means we HAD to buy chips.  Because Ryan can't eat a hot dog without a chips, or a sandwich.  He also can't eat pasta without bread,  salad without bread or cake with any kind of frosting, and about 500 other food related stipulations, but I digress.  Well, the day following hot dogs, he left to go out of town for a few days.  Assuming the chips would go stale because I don't like chips, I threw the reaminder of the bag away. Today Ryan opens the cabinet.  "Where are the fritos?"  "I threw them away."  "Why?  I would have eaten them."  "I assumed they were stale."  "UHH...you are always throwing my food away when you assume I'm done or it is stale (and I totally do! haha).  What if I start throwing away your food, like cookies, when I assume they are stale?"  "That my friend, will not happen.  Cookies don't last long enough in my presence to go stale.&q

My mind is made up, I'm going to do it. Eventually... I myself am a creature of habit, I don't like abrupt changes.  And because I assume my son is the same way and he can't tell me otherwise, I will be doing this gradually.  Step one, talk about it, is underway.  No, I don't think Caches completely understands the concept or what I mean when I tell him that soon he can only nurse during the day and that nursing will soon go to sleep at night, but I am starting the conversation and including him in the process, and that makes me feel better.  Who are we kidding here, I'm the one who needs to feel better right now.  Can you say mommy guilt. I go through moments of tremendous courage and conviction where I am sure that it will be successful and everyone will be happier.  I can and will do this and it will go better than imagined.  And then I go through moments when it all seems so incredibly overwhelming that I want to just curl up in a ball and cry.  Rig

The chaos that is my life with these creatures, that is.  Abner is certifiable, Lilly is in the corner rocking, Georgia is on the table puking and Caches is following in their footsteps.  And who am I kidding, I paved the way for all of them.  Yesterday Caches found daddy's BBQ tools and insisted on carrying them around with him everywhere he went; with two dogs following behind trying to lick hot dog juice.  The big one lost interest but the little one's interest peaked when he realized that not only did the scraper smell like hot dog, but it reflected the sunlight.  OMG REFLECTIONS!!!  The bulldog loves a reflection.  Internet, I give you baby swinging with BBQ tools and a bulldog.  Enjoy

A few weeks ago Caches was sick.  The kind of sick where you ask yourself how a twenty pound baby can produce no less than fifty pounds of snot each day. The kind of sick that makes you realize that instead of changing your shirt three times per hour that you just need a giant shoulder pad for snot; you consider inventing one.  The kind of sick that breaks your heart as you watch their chest rise and fall, struggling to breathe out of their nose because they just don't quite understand how to switch to their mouth. Wondering why, oh WHY can't babies blow their noses!!??  The cruelty of it all!  Cue the snot bubbles, oh the snot bubbles.  Second only to the sneezes sending green snot rockets flying most likely onto your face, shirt number 5 for the day or your food.  And with that you are suddenly keenly aware that you are a mother, because if you weren't you would totally throw up when said sick baby decides to use you as a human Kleenex for the two banana slugs drippin

at least for a few hours. Weaning has been on my mind a lot lately.  Not completely, Caches is nowhere near ready for that and neither am I, but I feel like I need a few hours during the night when the neon light switches off, the doors lock, and the booby bar is closed for business. I had hopes that Caches would just kind of naturally start waking up less to nurse (he's typically up every hour, though every once and a great while he will give me two or gasp three!) through the night.  Okay, I actually had no REAL hopes, more like pipe dreams.  I know my son, and he has NO intention of giving up ANYTHING easily. Ryan Caches doesn't "do" change.  So why don't I stop talking about it and just do it?  Because I am afraid.  Like monsters under the bed to cut my achilles tendon fucking freaked out!  Each week I say, "This is the week I will partially night wean!  No nursing from 11pm to 5am! I am in charge!"  And then I have a good laugh at myse

It has been HOT the past couple of days.  So I decided to bring out the kiddie pool... and fill it with mud for my little pig and his rubber mallet!

Our neighbors across the street have a HUGE walnut tree in their backyard.  Every year around this time crows form I assume all over the city, come to feast upon the bounty of walnuts.  Seriously, it is like The Birds on my street right now. They pluck the nuts from the tree, use their beaks to unwrap them from their leathery outer coating and then fly up on the electric wires where they proceed to drop the nuts.  The hard shell cracks open on the asphalt and bing bang boom, they have a nut.  Pretty darn smart if you ask me. Anyway, today after getting Caches down for a nap I decided to enjoy the sunshine on the front porch.  I grabbed a snack, some nuts and a nectarine, and headed out.  It wasn't long before I felt eyes watching me.  It was the birds.  I continued to snack as word spread through the murder that there was a bowl of nuts just sitting out on an unassuming woman's lap.  Shelled nuts, no less. I watched as more and more crows gathered near my front walk.  I&

Last night was rough.  Cache is teething.  On nights when he is teething I might as well drink a pot of coffee, chase it with a shot of Jack and half of a sheet cake to keep me up.  Because then at least I'd have a buzz and might find the writhing around, headbutting, kicking, screaming, nursing, rolling pin with legs entertaining.  It was 11:45 and he had been tossing and turning, while latched on I might add, for over two hours.  I was O V E R it.  This on the heels of waking up at 4:00am for a few days just for funsies.  I was taking deep breaths.  You can do this.  I know that window is tempting, but you will regret throwing the baby out of it. Finally his body relaxed and I could feel myself drifting off into a much needed slumber when out of nowhere the rabid chipmunk tried to bite my nipple off.  HOLY SHIT!  He has bitten me a few times before, but nothing major.  This was major.  I  know I'm being a bit dramatic here, but in my groggy state I honestly thought my poo

Everyone told me that the first year of marriage would be the hardest; but they were wrong.  The first year was filled with newness and fun.  We attended parties, went away on impromptu camping trips, and late movies.  We were free to do pretty much whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted.  Our first year ended with an absolutely perfect anniversary trip to Cayucos.  Gelato, Taco Temple, left over wedding cake, Champagne, the beach and the conception of our first baby to be. The second year was again filled with excitement, spontaneity, and preparation.  Our love was growing by an entire human being and we were over the moon.  We took advantage of our couples only status with loosely planned vacations and mornings spent drinking coffee in bed until noon.  We had it all figured out, and then we had a baby. A beautiful, perfect, passionate baby boy who would change everything in a way none could have imagined. Last year we spent our anniversary in our garage, it was our first post b

  ...trying to figure a way out of this joint

Today my middle little turns four years old.  One .  Two .  Three.  Four.  Notice that there is no link for three?  I could have sworn I wrote at least a small diddy for his third birthday, but I scanned the archives of last year at least three times waiting for that post to kind of appear, and nothing!  In my defense, this time last year was peak screaming all day and night for Caches so maybe I was a bit preoccupied.  But still, nothing?!  Sorry Abner. A year later and my screamer has calmed, but not my bulldog.  He is still just as bat shit crazy as he was the day I picked him up.  Unlike a normal puppy who might show sighs of sadness leaving his mother and siblings, Abner never looked back.  He sat in the rented Cadillac, looked me straight in the eye and said, "Are you read for this?"  I wasn't. The first two weeks with Abner I had so much anxiety I could hardly eat.  He was just so busy, I was convinced he was going to kill himself.  Choking on leaves, tryin

Unnatural. Disgusting. Harmful. Child abuse. Sexual abuse!   I must be talking about something horrible here, right?  Something that nobody would ever want their child to be subjected to, let alone actually DO to their own child! But I'm not talking about something horrible at all, I'm talking about breastfeeding.  We had so much fun talking about boobs last time, I figured I'd give it another go.  Only this time I'm not talking about the warm and fuzzy milk drunk baby smiles, I'm talking about the sad state of our culture regarding the topic, and I'm kinda pissed.  Like so many other things, it all boils down to education, or lack there of.  I myself haven't been an advocate for long, in fact before I had my own baby I never really gave breastfeeding much thought at all.  I never payed any attention to our cultures response to a woman nursing in public until I was one.  Never thought about what others might think or say, and I certainly never imagine

Maybe I was naive.  Maybe I still am.  But until I had my own child, I had NO idea that mothers could be so cruel to one another.  I'd never even heard the term "mommy wars," until I started Googling my own baby related questions which redirected me to message boards, or should I call them battle grounds. So judgmental, so hurtful, so mean.  I guess it shouldn't surprise me though.  Nobody can break a woman down quite like another woman.  We know what hurts, we are keenly aware of the soft spots, the kill zone.  And like thoughtless bullies, women go straight for the heart.  Remember witnessing a boy fight in high school?  There was punching and pushing, blood and testosterone, but then there was peace.  The fight was over.  The pent up energy was gone and the boys moved on.  Not the girls.  Girls are silent fighters, the damage is internal.  Their wounds can not be seen by the naked eye.  They spread and consume.  You have to delve deep to see the scars of yester

My arm, it is numb.  I can no longer feel my fingers.  My body is tingling, begging me to move But I cannot.  For any movement may disturb the babe And there's nothing quite like the weight of a sleeping babe on your arm

 I haven't posted in three weeks.  One, two, THREE!  That is plain pathetic, even by my standard of late!  But to be honest, until I looked at the last thing I DID post, I had no idea it had been that long!  It's like groundhog day around here!  The baby was sick, the husband was sick, my body tried to be sick but I would NOT allow it.  Rinse, later, repeat.  I got out of the habit of writing and bam, just like that, three weeks later. Nothing It's funny how that happens, isn't it.  Not ha ha funny, but funny still.  They say it takes anywhere from 7-21 days to create a new habit and make it stick.  "They," are full of shit.  If this were the case I'd be taking my vitamins every day, eating a completely plant based diet, well, one that contained fewer cookies anyway.  I'd be running 5x a week, cooking dinner from scratch 5x a week, and a whole lot of other great things that USED to be habits of mine.  That is until they weren't. For me is has a

We have had this slide sitting in the hallway for like six months!  It was mine as a child and I was so excited to set it up for Caches that I may have had Ryan assemble it a tad bit premature.  And so it sat, a perfect obstacle to stub a toe on for the past five months or so. Then, about a month ago when I couldn't find the baby (What?  Oh, I'm soooo sure you never misplace your baby!) I peeked down the hall and there he was, standing on the platform grinning.  Oops. Now he is quite comfortable going up and down though I still cringe every time he is climbing the stairs.  I mean toddlers aren't exactly steady or coordinated.  Nor do they pay ANY attention to what they are doing.  Caches, don't trip on Abner.  Caches the dog is right in front of you.  Caches LOOK DOWN FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!  I swear he might as well have his eyes closed! Anyway, here is a video of him sliding.  He would slide his pants down first, then slide down himself, collect the pants and re

I don't particularly like mommy labels, "crunchy," "hippy dippy," "green," "attachment parenting," "crazy!"  Okay, maybe one of those is an obvious fit, but what about all the other ones?  Is there a score card that I need to fill out to see if I qualify as a true "attachment parent?"  What if I don't meet ALL the criteria?  Does that mean all my efforts will be in vain?  What do you mean I don't get extra "points" for rinsing poop out of diapers every day?  And what the heck does it mean to be "crunchy," anyway? I'm going to be honest here, because I have a feeling that there are a lot of peaceful parenting, co-sleeping, baby wearing, cloth diapering, breastfeeding, vinegar to clean everything, homemade granola bar making moms out there that are not.  I know, I said I don't like labels, but if I don't label myself for the sake of this post then how will I tell you how much I suck

Because he kinda is...