Tuesday, January 28, 2014


The past few days I have been working on a long, hearfelt blog about young children saying, "please," "thank you," "I'm sorry," and sharing and I was nearly done, but when I came back to edit it today it was gone.  I could be pissed off, I really am.  I could cry, I kind of want to.  But I'm going to just let it go into the internet graveyard with other posts of mine that were not properly saved before my computer decided to "back" itself up.  What about my words, computer!?  Forget something!?  Sigh, it's par for my day thus far that's for sure. 

Can I go back to bed now?   Damn

Anyway, if you are interested in my opinion on the matter, just ask me in person or message me and I'll be happy to tell you in words that can't be lost forever in bullshit internet land!!  I'm not mad, I'm not mad.... So as it is,  you don't have to read my ranting and raving about things like "manners" and you can just enjoy the cute little story I put at the end...

This morning while putting away dishes, Caches noticed the bee emblem on our Laguiole knives.  "Bee mama!  Bees make honey!  Buzzzzz, poke!  Ouch!!"

Indeed they do.

"Mmm, I yike honey.  I need some.  I need huge honey on a huuuuge spoon!" 

So I pause the putting away for a moment and scoop up some delicious honey on a normal size spoon that he calls huge because it has a long handle.  It's actually an ice tea spoon that I use so I don't get honey on my hand dipping into the large jar, but it is a huuuge spoon, and the ONLY one that will due for honey for a toddler.  I hand it over and his eyes light up.  He examines the honey and grins widely.  He takes a lick, his eyes beaming. 

"Thanks!  Thanks bees for making me honey!  I yove it.  I eat it in my belly!"

I nearly cried.  It is probably one of the cutest things he has said thus far.  Thank yous are so much more special when they happen organically. 

I'd like to take a moment to thank the grapes that are made into wine for helping me through this day.  Wait, never mind.  Chocolate, thanks chocolate!  

Thursday, January 23, 2014

28 Weeks

Remember when I said I was going to post pregnancy updates and pictures every few weeks like I did with Cache?  Yeah, apparently I actually meant every 10 weeks.  Oops...

Everything pregnancy related is going fine, and other than a brief hospital stay due to a kidney infection that presented itself like pre-term labor it is fairly routine around here.  I feel HUGE, MASSIVE, like I swallowed a 20lb bowling ball.  In the morning it isn't bad, but by the evening, like right now, it is a little ridiculous.  I don't remember feeling like this ever when I was pregnant with Caches.  Oh well, mark it down as one more way this pregnancy is different than the last.

Another difference is the movement.  I remember feeling Caches move every day, but nothing like this.  This kid is out of control.  At 28 weeks she still flips back and forth from breech to head down frequently and I can literally feel her squirming all over the place.  Huge, hard kicks and jabs that just didn't really happen last time.  I not so secretly hope that means she will be quiet when she is born since Cache was quiet in the womb and well, was the opposite of quiet when he came out.

In other news, we still have no clue what to name her and are this close to going with Caches' suggestion of Albert Horsey.  It does have a certain ring to it, no?  Ryan and I have a short list, about 10 names, and all of them we like at least a little bit but none feel like "the one" yet.  I know we will come up with something, and if not, we will call her baby for a while.

Here is the belly at 28 weeks....

And seriously, Anne, stop what you are doing right now and CLEAN THAT MIRROR!!!

Monday, January 20, 2014

Worth a thousand words, or simply a memory in your mind

I miss writing.  I miss having quiet opportunities each day to jot down silly happenings and little rants.  I miss the over sharing, the offending, and the venting, but I have stopped beating myself up about it.  I used to get really upset that I didn't write for a week or that I couldn't get my thoughts together when I actually had a moment to do so.  And while I have stopped the upset, I still miss it.

So many nights I sit, rocking in the still of the night with a finally sleeping boy, blog posts and interesting ideas dancing in my head almost writing themselves.  But as soon as I emerge from the darkness of his room into the light of the kitchen, my eyes squint, ideas float away and the only thing I can think about is getting an hour of sleep to myself before he awakens again.

So no, I haven't shared the silly bulldog vomiting story, or our Christmas adventures, or developmental milestones, struggles or joys.  I haven't completed the letter I started writing for Caches' 2.5 year old un-birthday, yeah, he's two and a half!?  When did that happen?  I haven't edited the post I put a lot of heart into about adding a new baby to our family, and I haven't even shared a recent picture in months!

It is incredibly frustrating to have the ideas floating about but not be able to lasso them in and put the pen to paper as it were.  I worry that memories will fade, that I will forget.  Important things that I want to document and funny little tid-bits that make each day interesting.  I have intentions of writing down a quick memory for each day of the year; I don't do it.  I have intentions of taking more pictures; I don't do it.

Like at Caches' second birthday party where the cake I worked so hard on was half eaten by Lilly the night before.  We still decorated it and put a candle on top.  Or at the beach when the dogs and Ryan and Cache all line up as perfect silhouettes in the setting sun.  Memories of his first word, his first hair cut (hasn't happened, phew) his first time sleeping all night (also hasn't happened).  Maybe I'm not so far behind after all.  But really, I lack hundreds of beautiful photographs and notes about these days and moments.  Will I forget!?  I panic. I want to remember, I think I remember.  I do,  I really do remember them, but nothing is tangible.

I remember waking up on his birthday and asking him how old he was.  He raised one perfectly dimpled finger on each hand and grinned, TWO!  I remember the moment when he was no longer afraid to put his bare feet in the sand.  He had chipped purple toenail polish and his left big toe was bruised from dropping a can of tomatoes on it the week prior.  I do remember!

I suppose you don't have to write everything down and document each and every happening with a story or a photograph in order to remember.  I don't remember, per say, when Cache was a newborn.  I don't vividly remember what his face looked like or the clothes he wore.  I don't remember when his hair began to lighten and curl.  I don't remember what his first food was or even what he wore to bed last night.  Hell, I don't even remember what I ate for breakfast and that was only a few hours ago!  But what I do remember, and what no amount of not writing it down can ever take away from me is how I feel, how I felt in each and every moment.

Because life isn't about the pictures you take or the silly happenings you remember to write down at the end of each day.  Life is about all the living and loving you are doing in between.  Sure, I could take out my iPhone and snap a picture each time he does something cute or looks particularly stunning in the sunlight. Or, I could simply look at him, I mean really look at him.  Not through the lense of a camera or edited with words I choose to write, just him.

No photo to look pack on or story to read, only the warm feelings inside.  Because at the end of the day when darkness falls and there is no computer screen to read, no camera to snap photos, and no light in which to see by, I can still inhale inhale his warm curls and feel his tiny chest rise and fall in rhythm with my own.  In the dark of the night it is just me and the memories we've made dancing together in dreams.  And I remember...

Oh, and here is a picture!!   Damn, I'm on fire today!!

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Blend all the things!!

After months of researching and humming and hawing over a large purchase, I decided that there was no way I could rationalize buying it.  Flash forward to Christmas and guess what is under my tree...a vitamix blender.

Now, I know a lot of women who would be offended if their Christmas gift was a household appliance, but I am not one of those women.  By the way, my other Christmas present was a chicken coop but that is a WHOLE different post coming soon.  Anyway, I tore back the paper and before I could find my filter I said it.  I said the one thing you should never, ever say when someone buys you a gift.  "We can't afford this!  Why did you buy this for me?"  Ahh, romance.  But Ryan knows me well enough to let it go with a smile.  

So, where am I going with this story?  I'm sure you don't care about my fancy blender or the fucking GALLON of margaritas I'm going to make once the baby is born, or do you? 

...my story.  Upon receiving the blender to end all blenders, I retired my trusty old Cuisinart to the closet.  Why not get rid of it you ask?   Because Caches likes to play with it and there is no way I'm sharing fancy my new vitamix with a toddler.  Oh, and in case you were worried, we totally don't take the blade out when he plays with it.  Anyway, the other day he asked for a smoothie and when I pulled out the vitamix he had quite the opinion.  "I no like the new one!"  Say whaaa??  "I want the tiny old one!  This one too fast!"  Too fast you say?  Is there even such a thing!?!?!  Son, this is the viatmix!

Well, when you are a toddler who enjoys the process far more than the product you say NO to the vitamix.  It used to take us a full five minutes with multiple stops to stir and bang the side of the blender to make a smoothie.  With the vitamix it takes about a minute and nobody has to shake the shit out of it either, you just push the smoothie button and watch.  The more I think about it, the more I see where he is coming from.  He's absolutely right, it is way more "fun" to use the tiny old one.  And so if he requests it, we bust out the tired old blender from the closet and we take our time making a mediocre smoothie while having extraordinary "fun."

Thursday, January 2, 2014

I need one of dose, mama!

If you walk into a restaurant and pass a brightly colored gumball machine without a second glance, you do not have a toddler.

I do.

Once you have a toddler all sorts of seemingly innocent things become, well, a huge pain in the ass.  Walking down the street I'm distracting him from brightly colored spit out gum that is begging to be poked with a stick.  Driving home and suddenly I'm taking a sharp left to avoid having to sit for 20 minutes while he watches a tractor dig a hole.  Entering a restaurant and I'm really selling the picture of the fish on the wall in hopes he won't turn around and see the damn gumball machine.

I am fairly good at dodging prospective time drainers, germ fests and candy tantrums as we tend to frequent the same haunts, but sometimes I am caught off guard; this week I was cornered.  While waiting for a table at brunch we happened to sit right next to a two level, bright toxic shit storm of a candy machine beckoning my son.

"Marbles!" he exclaimed!

"I see that buddy, look at all the pretty marbles."

"I want one!"

Yes, we call gumballs marbles and he buys it.  Well, he bought it until recently when he smelled it and was like, what!?  Why does this smell so sugary and delicious?  Don't worry about it kid, all you need to know is if it goes in your mouth it goes in the trash,  Cue the licking, because she didn't say anything about licking it!

Anyway, we talked about how we were about to sit down and eat and wasn't he so excited to eat pancakes and eggs and bacon a jelly packet and two pats of butter!  He wasn't, but with flawless timing, the hostess swooped in and escorted us to our table far away from the candy machine.  Caches has a thing for older women so it was a brilliant distraction.  We sit down and get settled, deep breath.  "YOOK! MORE MARBLES!"  Seriously restaurant!?  Do you want us to eat food or gumballs!?

"I see that, more marbles." And then I said it, the dumbest thing you can say to a toddler, but the words were already out of my mouth before my brain could catch up and tell me to stop, just STOP!!

"Maybe we can get a marble after we are all done with brunch."


It was out and I couldn't take it back.  It was only a matter of time before he'd be licking a brightly colored gumball, his hands and lips collecting sticky layers of food dye and dirt  as I reminded him that licking does in fact count as eating!

The waiter takes our order and between spoon fulls of coffee cream and apricot preserves, he is careful to remind me that I agreed to a marble.  "You have a quarter for me mommy?  I hold it for you?"

Food arrives and for a moment I actually kid myself into thinking he is going to eat.  He piles egg and potatoes onto a spoon and eats it in one big bite.  "I'm all done. Can I have my quarter?"


"Keep eating buddy, you can get the marble once we are all done eating.  Mommy and daddy still have a long way to go."

For the next twenty minutes or so he alternates squishing food between his fingers and asking me if I am all done eating yet.  Finally I am and I get him the damn quarter for the marble.  We walk over to the gumball machine, but oh, but he is a sly one.  He doesn't want this gumball machine, no.  He wants to revisit the double stacked, quadruple choice one from where we were first waiting.  I knew he had a bigger plan. We walk over and I show him which container has the marbles so he can put the money in.  Does he want one, nope, he wants, "dis other candy instead."

I'm not in the mood for lessons learned, so I tell him fine, pick which one you want.  He chooses jelly bellies and in a moment of mom brilliance it occurs to me.  He has no idea how many jelly beans should come out!  He is used to a gumball machine where only one is dispensed at a time.  Feeling rather smug, I have him insert the quarter and turn the dial.  Plink!  One tiny jelly bean falls.

"Open the door, buddy!"  He opens the shiny metal door and you'd have thought it was Christmas all over.  "I got it, I got that candy!"  And so, with one expensive buttered popcorn flavored jelly bean, gag, all was well with the toddler.

Seriously though, could we as a collective whole just not put gumball machines in restaurants!?