clean floors, dirty paws

At first I thought, why I am writing this?  I don't have all the facts or any direct quotes to back up my argument.  Then I remembered that I can write whatever the hell I want and you can read it, run it through your own personal opinion filter and take away what you will. I have never been a big fan of the whole Hollywood/Celebrity scene.  I honestly think it is, as a whole, ridiculous.  As a culture we give a few select people far too much credit, far too much money and far too much control just for being famous.  Adults and children idolize completely made up ideas about who these people actually are and are quick to hand over hard earned money for so and so's new perfume or shoes just because it has their name on it.  We allow celebrities to "get away" with so much more than we would ever deem appropriate from our friends, relatives or neighbors.  In fact, we actually give them more money to be complete assholes! Now I'm not saying that all famous people

*I wrote this when I was about 6/7 weeks along and drowning in a sea of hormones. Some women get morning sickness, others hemorrhoids, and other still suffer from a variety of pregnancy related symptoms.  I for one came down with a strange but serious symptom called hatred, yes, hatred.  For the first two months of my pregnancy, and every so often still, I hated everything!  Yep, I hate that too.  I was so filled with hate that I wanted to act out like a tantruming toddler, to stomp my foot, to scream and yell, to throw ALL THE BOOKS.  I wanted to hit people with my car, seriously.  I often wanted to physically hurt Ryan for no good reason other than he wasn't infected with the hate I had pulsing through me.  I was possessed!  I had no filter! The smallest thing would set me off and suddenly all I could think about was bashing every single appliance in my house Office Space style with a giant wooden bat.  Oh my god it would have felt amazing to just beat the shit out of somethi

Dear mothers of small children, I want to tell you something.  Something important that not many other people would tell you.  Something that I myself wish another young mother told me.  It is something that a lot of us moms lie about every. single. day.  Listen up... Having small children is hard, sometimes really, really hard.  Especially if it is your first child and you don't know what you are doing.  There is a learning curve.  It is an emotional roller coaster.  You will cry.  You will want to run away.   You might even follow through .  You will be tired.  You will be frustrated.  There will be days when you won't even recognize yourself in the mirror.  That is if you even get a moment to check. You will struggle.  You will fail.  You will yell.  You will crack.  You will say things you wish you hadn't said.   Not because you are a bad mother, and not because you are doing it wrong.  Not even because there is something wrong with you, your child, your husband

With Caches we decided to wait and be surprised with a boy or girl when baby was born.  I am glad we did, but this time we thought it would be fun to find out before.  And by "fun" I mean I don't have time for shopping or organizing once the baby is born this time around!  I don't even have time now and the baby is still fairly agreeable and completely contained.  Basically, I am a control freak and I want to know, dammit! We were scheduled to have our anatomy scan last week, but due to the Thanksgiving holiday they pushed it to yesterday.  Everything looks good and baby is healthy and growing as it should.  Obviously that is far more important than gender, but I was just as anxious to find that part out.  I knew the time was coming up, the doctor said he was going to look for gender.  My heart began to race as I looked at the blurred jumble that sometimes looks like a baby and other times looks like a black and white static horror film that a zombie is going to

Remember being a kid and spending hours planning, organizing and executing the perfect Christmas wish list?  Okay, maybe I was the only kid who was this OCD about the whole thing, but I totally remember carefully thumbing through catalogs, no such thing as the internet folks, and marking items I wanted.  We would peruse the toy store and I'd take metal notes of things to write down, I'd play with something at a friends house and add it to my list.  The whole things was a big deal and in the end I'd have a list complete with item, location, cost and order or how badly I wanted it. Slowly though, years passed and it became less and less of a project and more like scrambling to come up with a few things that I actually wanted at the last minute.  Honestly, and also tacky as hell, I just wanted money so I could buy things I wanted as I came across them during the year. I am now at a point where the whole wish list seems almost wrong.  I don't "need" anything,

It is 3:17 am.  I am sitting in a rocking chair cradling a child who is rapidly outgrowing my lap.  My knees are freezing and my arm tingles under the weight of a finally sleeping head.  I breath deeply and walk back to the warmth of our bed...again.  Maybe this time we will sleep, I think. This is the fourth time tonight that I have replayed this scene.  Something is bothering my child and I haven't the the foggiest idea what it could be.  He is not feverish or sick.  He does not need to use the bathroom or have a drink of water.  He doesn't want to play, he is simply wakeful.  I am not. I am exhausted.  The kind of exhausted that aches deep in your bones.  I want to cry, to yell, to beg, but mostly I just want to sleep.  It has been a long week and this it the third night in a row with an unsettled boy and no sleep for his mother.  My patience is wearing thin as I rock back and forth in the cold wooden chair.  I want to tell him that it's not fair.  I don't care i

I wrote this around 7 weeks pregnant when I was so tired that my brain completely shut off to store enough energy to breathe...Still waiting for it to turn back on, but that's a whole other story. You guys, I haven't vacuumed in 5 days.  There is a small dog made from my dogs fallen hair in the corner.  You could eat a meal off of my kitchen floor and NOT in a good way.  If you stepped out of the shower you would develop a little furry boot of long brown hair stuck to your damp foot.  And to make matters worse, I don't even care.  The thought of vacuuming right now seems an impossible feet.  The vacuum alone must weight fifty pounds and my body feels as if it weighs a thousand.  Even just standing up from the ground after playing with Cache is exhausting.  You like the ring of dog hair on my ass?  Yeah, me too. I have been so tired with this pregnancy that it is almost laughable.  By noon I find myself looking up and being like, really??  This isn't a joke?? I'm

When I was pregnant with Caches I decided to document with pictures starting at 18 weeks and then every two weeks until I delivered.  I hummed and hawed about doing it again but decided to go ahead and let it all hang out, kind of. I feel way bigger this time, but after comparing pictures I am actually about the same size as last time.  I think I feel bigger because my stomach is way, and I mean WAY softer and squishier this time around. Anyway, today marks 18 weeks.

I wrote this around 9/10 weeks at the height of my feeling grossness and added the last few bits just now. My pregnancy with Caches couldn't have been easier.  I suffered from none of the typical pregnancy related complaints.  No morning sickness, no nausea, no food aversions, no constipation, no aches and pains, no acid reflux, no exhaustion, no swelling, no nothing!  Other than a stuffy nose and gaining 30 pounds I pretty much didn't even notice I was pregnant.  Even nearly a week past my due date I was relatively comfortable, physically that is, mentally I was a fucking nightmare. This pregnancy on the other hand, I surrender, I give up, I'm a mess.  It all started out okay, but it went downhill fast around week 7.  I started out feeling just a little bit off, not really able to eat anything past 5pm and feeling extra tired, and morphed into a miserable, grumpy lump on the sofa whining because not even ice cream sounded good.  I wanted to vomit all day but never ac

We thought it a good idea to add one more baby to the mix. Now, if you are reading this and thinking, "What the hell, Anne?  You couldn't even call or tell me in person!?  I had to find out on the internet that you are pregnant?!"  You are not alone.  The only people who knew were my parents, Ryan's parents and our siblings.  Oh, and one friend that caught me in a lie.  See, it's true, I really can not lie so luckily nobody asked. If you are offended or sad that I didn't call you personally, I am sincerely sorry.  I am not a good phone person and chances are good that even if we are close friends I haven't spoken to you on the phone in months.  Talking to people on the phone with a toddler in the room is one of the most annoying experiences in the world for the person on the other end of the line.  "Are you talking to me now or Caches?"  Caches! I would not ask a grown woman if she needs to pee or if she is just holding her penis!  Plus if Ca

I am no longer a vegetarian Go ahead and gasp, tell me I am a hypocrite, be excited, or shake your head in shame.  All done?  Good, then let's carry on.  First, a little back story.  I first tried out vegetarianism at around 14 years of age.  I don't honestly remember the exact time, so let's just say 14, shall we.  I didn't really do any research, I kind of remember just deciding that meat was gross and that I wasn't going to eat dead animals. Fast forward a few years and my world expanded causing me to do a lot and I mean A LOT of research.  I delved into the horror of factory farms, animal abuse, and all of the horrible things that eating a diet rich in mainstream animal products does to your body.  I love animals and could not imagine them suffering their entire lives just so I could eat some meat that I didn't "need" anyway!  I was so convinced that I became a strict vegan cutting out all animal products and even many things made from animals

If you are not in the mood to hear me rant and rave and perhaps go off on random tangents that don't make much sense, then stop reading.  If you stick around, open a window, I'm going to vent. It all started about a month ago when I broke a glass jar of almond butter.  Shards of glass went flying everywhere and of course, the toddler and the dogs were like awesome, let's go get bloody!!  Dogs outside and toddler quarantined, my mom and I began to clean up the mess.  As we were cleaning she casually mentioned how broken glass is so rare these days, when she was a kid someone was always breaking and/or cleaning up glass. For some reason this really struck me and my ever musing brain went on a journey through the past 100+ years and then to modern life.  I thought about how different society is today, and how much it will continue to change, I had good thoughts about advances in technology, education, and medicine, but my brain just kept coming back to how much of what is

I haven't slept in over two years, seriously.  I know you must be thinking, Anne, it is impossible that you haven't slept, you would have died or become insane by now.  Oh, you mean I forgot to mention that I have evolved into a non sleep needing human who survives solely on on caffeine, sarcasm and lack of functioning brain cells?  Well I did.  It took about 15 months for my body to complete the transformation, but I am now a real live non sleep needing human. Now, I didn't say I am a non sleep wanting human! I do want to sleep.  I want to sleep so bad that I think about it all the time.  I think about sleeping all day and then at night when I should be sleeping I think about it still.  I count the minutes I am awake, the precious moments that everyone else is asleep and I actually could be too!!!  I curse my dogs for sleeping all day long, so peaceful and care free as they rotate from the sunny porch to the shady side of the house.  Sometimes I purposefully wake them

It is October now, and if things had panned out differently I would be holding a newborn baby as I type.  Inhaling the sweet aroma of baby as my fingers clicked the keys, and pausing to kiss the impossibly soft head of my child.  I have healed and accepted the loss of that baby, but I will never forget all of the could have beens that make me sigh deeply.  Mostly I am at peace and do not question the universe, but there have been times over the past seven months when I find myself wishing things were different.  I'd see a radiant pregnant woman with a belly full of life and for a moment I'd think, "that should be me."  But it shouldn't, and it isn't.  If it were meant to be it would have been.  I truly believe that. This past month has been kind of a rough transition time for Caches.  He is growing and changing exponentially and all of the newness is taking it's toll on my sensitive blue eyed boy.  He is wakeful and restless, skipping much needed naps an

There are a few phrases that I make a conscious effort not to say to Cache.  Okay, I lied, there are actually a TON of them, but most of them are totally inappropriate anyway, so I just let those fly on the trapeze in my circus of a head.  One of the phrases though, that seems to want to roll of my tongue about 3829 times a day, is "hurry up!" Or, "come on!" Anyone who has ever hung out with a toddler knows one thing for sure, they are on their own time schedule.  No, they are in their own universe!  They don't just stop to smell the roses, they stop to admire the cigarette butts in the gutter, the bark on the trees, the flies on the grass, the bees on the lavender, the trucks driving by, the sound of a distant train, the kitty in the window, the open garbage can lid, the dirt in the sidewalk crack, the rollie pollies, the garbage, and the list goes on.  Seriously, we aren't even at the end of the block yet! Toddlers take forever to eat, examining and ex

I am not a food blogger, a Pinterest recipe maker, a meal planner, or even a very good cook for that matter, but sometimes I have a stroke of brilliance that impresses even the two year olds taste buds. Here are a few recent recipes that would be cruel not to share with fellow toddler housers.     Just like your kid, my kid would eat a granola bar for all three meals a day.  I have found a few pre-made ones that are okay ingredient wise, but nothing that I'm in love with.  I have also experimented with countless recipes for homemade, but most of them seem to fall apart, be overly sticky or not taste quite yummy enough .  We love homemade Lara style bars, but I was in search of a, "looks like a classic Quaker granola bar, bar!" I finally mastered one, even better, it is no bake! I adapted this recipe from a different blog that I read a long time ago and I can't remember her name so I can't give her credit.  Sorry lady who is far smarter in the kitchen that

Ever been trapped under a sleeping child? Maybe it was just your arm, or perhaps your entire body was being used as a human hot rock for your lizard baby.  I myself have been trapped in every way possible, including my leg at mid thigh.   In that moment it is kind of like Coyote Ugly , where you would rather chew off your own arm than wake up said sleeping child.  Even worse...you have to pee. Having been trapped numerous times, like every night for two years, I have become quite skilled at wriggling my way out of these situations.  It takes some pillow propping, some knee popping, some flexibility and some patience, but most of the time I can free myself to pee, get a glass of water or regain feeling in my limbs.  Most of the time. Of course there are the times when I wait forEVER the perfect moment.  I wait for his breathing to become heavy, for his arm to lay limp and his fingers to open and relax.  I even do the kiss test, as Caches has been known to wake up at the slightest s

Ryan and I rarely argue and when we do it is usually over stupid shit.  Like what coffee ice cream tastes like.  This gem was the topic of our heated discussion last night.  We'd had it before, and I am sure we will have it again; we can not and will not agree to disagree.  On this important topic neither one of us is willing to budge. One of us, the right one, thinks that coffee ice cream tastes like coffee with cream and sugar.  The other one of us, the wrong one, thinks that it tastes like black coffee.  Black coffee that has a sweetness and a creamy texture.  You know, because it is ice cream. I am not kidding, that is a direct quote from the man I married...willingly. He continued with a long, elaborate explanation of how the two tastes were different while I remained firm that coffee with cream and sugar is the same thing as black coffee with a sweetness and a creamy texture.  At least once it is melted in your mouth it is.  I was even willing to bend my description to

Last year in honor of World Breastfeeding Week  I wrote about breastfeeding my then one year old son.  This year I decided to write about breastfeeding my now two year old son. Some may think it strange to be nursing a walking, talking, three feet tall toddler who, "asks for it," but it didn't start out that way.  We started our breastfeeding journey just like everyone else, scared shitless, wondering if it was actually going to work, and curling my toes in agony every time he latched on.  I remember wondering how it was even humanly possible for a baby so tiny to suck so hard, it is crazy, right?! We nursed through uncertainties about supply, rivers of tears, food allergies, painful reflux, engorgement, growth spurts, and exhausted glossy eyes.  Our confidence grew.  We nursed through hurt feelings and scraped knees, painful teething and unsettled nights.  It was coming easily now.  We nursed in the hot car, the dressing room, the bathroom stall, under a blanket, a

Caches, I think this past month has been our best yet.  Your vocabulary has exploded and you are becoming a regular mocking bird.  Just this morning, as your dad was leaving for work, he looked back and said, "See ya dude."  Your eyes lit up and with a huge grin you repeated back, "See ya duuuude!"  I love hearing all your new words and your ability to string them together into sentences.  You still struggle with telling me what you want or need, but it is getting so much easier.  Baby, I can't wait to hear your thoughts! You still absolutely love music, and you are now requesting songs by name. If you want to hear a specific song in the car you have no problem telling me about it, and are equally enthusiastic if you don't want to hear a song I have chosen.  And baby, you have started to sing!  It is magical and beautiful and I can't wait to hear more.  Last week I was dusting the bedside table in the guest room when you discovered a little candle.  Yo

Something is bothering me.  Assumptions have been made that my child is manipulating me.  I disagree.  Let me explain. It's no mystery that babies, toddlers, older children, and even adults cry and throw fits.  It is also no mystery that some of these toddlers, older children and adults are crying to manipulate their parents, boy/girlfriend, boss, police officer, etc.  But only the ones who have learned that crying changes the outcome of a situation will do this.  Others are just crying because, well, life sucks sometimes and humans cry. Many parents think their children are crying to manipulate them, and in reality, some are.  But to think that infants are manipulative is outrageous in my opinion.  I cringe every time I hear someone telling a mother that their tiny baby is trying to manipulate them!  Manipulate them to do what!?  Feed them?  Comfort them in a time of stress?  They know nothing of the world other than their need for food, comfort, and a secure attachment/trust

Recently, Caches' language has exploded.  He is speaking new words and phrases every single day, and loves to mock us!  It is really fun to see it click for him, and to hear his precious thoughts and ideas. This evening on our family walk I shared with Ryan how earlier in the day Caches was copying everything I said like a little parrot.  We passed a car with two people sitting inside rolling a joint.  Yep, just sitting there, windows down for the world to see.  Ryan turned to me and said, "Just smoking some weed, huh?"  "Smokin weed." Repeated my parrot. Ryan and I started to laugh as Polly repeated the phrase a few more times.  "We really need to watch our mouths now, Ryan." I said.  Still a bit skeptical, he whined about all the things we can no longer say.  "I guess we are officially in grandma mode, huh?"  "Grama mode!!"  Squawked the little bird. Yeah, we are in that! So I'm sure you will be as surprised as I was,

We all have our little secrets.  The things we do when nobody is watching, things that don't otherwise fit with our personality.  You know, things that I probably shouldn't share on a public blog. But I'm going to. I am a tidy individual; a place for everything and everything in its, place.  But that doesn't apply to the junk drawer in the kitchen, my underwear drawer or Caches' kitchen supplies drawer.  Each one of these drawers is a complete and total disaster! Caches' drawer doesn't really need any explanation.  It is full of his utensils, dishes and cups, he has access to it, and he is two.  I tried.  It is fucked. The end My underwear drawer is pretty much exactly that, only I don't fold, or color coordinate, or use cute dividers, or even give a flying fig about that drawer.  I tried for years to fold my underwear, to separate the thongs from the grannies; to give that drawer some respect.  Now I crumple up all my underwear from the wash and

I recently wrote about the ugly red monster, anger, and how it was affecting me on my parenting journey.  Inspired by how powerful, yet secondary an emotion anger is, I decided to dig deeper.  I encountered some articles justifying my anger, not helpful, and a few articles about other mothers and their feelings of anger, insightful, but still not quite what I was looking for.  About to give up,  I stumbled upon an article that has literally changed my life.  It was an article about children's anger, mainly toddlers, and how they learn to cope with the powerful emotion.  It also touched on how we as parents can facilitate a healthy response to anger in our children.  It was interesting, but nothing that I hadn't heard before; and then I read it.  It was so simple, SO simple that I had to read it three times to make sure I was actually understanding.  Each time the little light bulb in my head got brighter and brighter until it burst with enlightenment.  "You are not resp

Caches Michael, Today you are two years old.  I can't help but feel as though I blinked and an entire year has past.  How did this happen?  How are you already two?  Whomever coined the phrase, "The days are long, but the years are short." must have lived with a toddler, and you are one hell of a toddler, son. I suppose I have to accept that my baby isn't so much of a baby anymore, sniff, and so to celebrate we got you some new balls, your current obsession.  No, not those, though you do find stretching them to the point of making your father wince entertaining.  The bouncy kind that are super fun to throw at dogs, roll into the street and leave around for mama to trip over in the dark of night while she paces the hall with you cradled in her arms.  Yeah, still doing that, but we will talk about that later. As I sit to type this, I am saddened that I did not continue with monthly updates.  Far too much has changed in a year to consolidate i