Finding yourself despite yourself

HEY!

2007-08-01T08:39:00.000-04:00

Hey, you! Yeah you! What are you still doing hanging around here? Didn't you get the memo? We're all over HERE

Badges, Gimmie Some Stinkin Badges

2007-07-30T15:10:00.000-04:00

You may have noticed things looking a bit bare and weird around here. Fear not, aliens have not taken over my URL and started abducting my side bar items and essential design elements, I'm just moving.

I'm excited, it's like moving out of your parents house. No more big bad blogger telling me what I can and can't do, no more blogger locking me out of the house when I miss curfew and no more mysteriously eaten by blogger posts.

Moving does have it's sucky points too. For one, I have to convince you all to update your bookmarks, links and feeds to my new site http://findingyourself.net and I need to pick up all my ~~garbage~~ stuff and make it look pretty over there.

This is where YOU come in. I need badges buttons or pictures from you. Send me an email with your badge button or pic sized 100x100 along with your blog URL and I will add you to my new links pages

send them to

fidgetblogs at gmail dot com

and go check out the new site design Once the move is complete you will be automatically forwarded.

Mom's Got Separation Anxiety

2007-07-30T00:15:00.000-04:00

I have some, let's say business, to attend to in Tampa this coming weekend. It's a four hour drive round trip and then there is the undetermined amount of time I must spend there to complete my task, meaning I may be away from home for a considerable chunk of time. The Hubster, I assumed, would just watch the girls and I would take Levi with. He, however, thought that I should pump and leave the baby with him. Yes, LEAVE the baby with HIM. You know, the baby that clings to me like monkey 15 hours a day and would like my tit permanently tethered to his mouth.

For a brief second I felt a thrilling rush and an urge to shout FREEDOM! An impulse to jump up on an ironing board, pretending to surf like those old Peppermint Pattie commercials overtook me but then my heart crawled up into my throat. I wondered how I would carry on without him settled on my hip, his little hands busily swiping at my hair or fishing around in my shirt. Would he cry for hours on end? Would he sleep? Would he miss me? What if I don't leave enough milk, will formula make him ill? How exactly does the Hubster plan on getting milk into him, considering he thus far has soundly rejected all bottles...

A friend, who'll be joining me, has threatened to pour Vodka down my throat to keep me from hyperventilating while I'm gone and as enticing as blind drunkness is, I still can't help but feel unsure. Of my three, he needs/wants me the most and also is my babiest baby. My girls were in such hurries to grow up, but sweet little Levi is content to be a baby. I am content to indulge that. I have 6 days to pump milk and make a decision. I'm sure I'll be worrying about it all week, after all babies need their mamas right?

It is Done

2007-07-29T03:02:00.000-04:00

yes I did IT

Ignore the dark under eye rings and just notice the foot of hair now missing. I feel better.

Brush Your BlogHer Blues Away

2007-07-26T00:01:00.000-04:00

I've got a case of the every-blogger-I-read-but-me-going-to-BlogHer07 blues and the only cure is more cowbell!

Ok, maybe not. I'm still feeling pretty envious. Damn my health insurance to Hades. I'd have the money to go if I wasn't shelling out hundreds every month for the privilege of having health insurance not to mention the $4000 deductible which I am now in hock with the hospital for. Levi was my priciest kid yet! He's lucky he's cute.

If he was ugly I'd auction him off to pay the bills. The other children only cost us $400 a piece, they had the luxury of general crabbiness and vomiting copiously everywhere.

But since this is a done deal, since BlogHer started today, since I am still rotting in Florida pining for all my regular reads as they whoop it up in ChiTown, I need to break this malaise. I can't think of a better way to kick this funk to the curb then a contest! (Ok, I can but it involves voodoo dolls, straight pins and meat hats)

Since all this bitterness over not going has left a bad taste in my mouth, I'm sure it has done the same to many of you. Fear not my mopey readers! Drop me a comment below, make sure to link to your blog and/or leave me your email address, and you will be entered to win a Brush Those BlogHer Blues Away gift pack featuring Preserve toothbrushes

Two lucky winners will receive multi packs of environmentally friendly Preserve toothbrushes as well as some other equally exciting natural mouth products. This is a one time entry open to US and Canada residents. The contest closes at 11:59pm eastern standard time on Sunday July 29th 2007.

And if you need more chances of winning to help kill the blues check out this and this (Levi's bib in the above photo came from here, you'll be hearing more about that soon enough)

And for those of you who aren't ready to admit that they are jealous of those Blogher folks, you can wear your badge of blase courtesy of Damselfly

To sum it up:

Want a chance to win one of two Brush Those BlogHer Blues Away gift packs featuring Preserve toothbrushes? Then drop your name and either your blog link or your email address in the comments of this post by 11:59pm EST Sunday July 29th. Even if you have no idea what BlogHer is or if you are a dude, you are welcome to enter. Good luck!

7th Ring Of Holy Hair Fires

2007-07-24T10:26:00.000-04:00

I need a haircut. NEED, not want, not desire, NEED. I run my hands through my locks and loose hair cascades from my head, forming a carpet at my feet. I have split ends. They are bad enough that I am fairly certain bloggers in Canada can see them without the aid of a telescope. At the moment it is hanging wild from my head, thick long and heavy. I am putting forth a Herculean effort to keep me from marching into the most convenient hair palace and paying them to butcher my head. It's been over two years since Ive had a decent haircut so I'm 99.8% sure that things would turn out badly.

For a while now, I have been making a concerted effort to grow my hair long. Shortly before I met my husband I hacked all my hair off. I went from long cascades of shiny silken waves to one inch spikes in the back and a few cheek bone length pieces in the front. I made the mistake of sharing pictures with him, ones where my hair is long, wrapping around my body like a thick glossy cape. For 7 years I have been trying to grow my hair but the urge to hack it all off always wins out. Right now the only thing holding me back is that 99.8% change of it looking horrible and the possibility of making my husband cry.

Anyone know a really good reasonably priced stylist in Central Florida? Preferably one who will not cry when I direct them to lop it all off.

Dont forget to click over and enter my Brush Your BlogHer Blues Away contest!

Finally Flickr' ing

2007-07-23T01:48:00.000-04:00

I did it. I broke down and started Flickr ing. I'm still suckling at the teat of free Flickr but if you want more Levi, Tessie, Mira and home improvement then I'm doling out here then you should friend me there. Look over in my side bar and you'll see my photo doohickey.

This picture has a lot going on in it so allow me to narrate.

1) Levi - what a serious little drooly doll face

2) Space Boy Quilt - sewn by a friend who was endlessly patient with my vision and put it all together for me. Karla rocks and will be opening an Etsy store in the near future so stay tuned.

3) The Shirt - It was brought back from Italy by my best friend in the entire universe. All three of my kids have worn it.

Today you can also click over to my review blog and find out about my little animal friends and some contests happening across the blogosphere. Also don't freak out if in the VERY near future you get diverted to another page when you come to see me. I'm moving to new digs with a new design and some contests to celebrate it all!

Who Needs A Suitcase When You Have Art Supplies?

2007-07-21T04:01:00.000-04:00

Mira is running away from home. She was busted for drawing on the wall ala Tessa. At first it was just a threat meant to scare her father into recanting his "I'm am disappointed in your behavior" statement but when he told her to go pack, she was forced to call his bluff.

With a panic stricken look on her face, she strode over to the big roll of butcher paper we have for coloring. She snatched up 2 crayons, balanced the roll over her shoulder, and announced once again that she was running away forever. The Hubster opened the back door, gesturing grandly in a Vanna White sort of way.

"Bye Sweetie!"

She stood rooted to the floor, her eyes the size of dinner plates. She started flapping her hands a bit, dropping the roll of paper,

"I just a kid, Daddy. I can't go!!"

What she lacks in follow through she seems to make up for with wisdom. I find it endlessly amusing that of all the things one might need when leaving home- food, clothing, money- she gave no thought to grabbing her piggy bank, her favorite dress or even a pack of raisins. She is truly her mother's daughter. Give me art supplies or give me death.

Food Fight

2007-07-20T11:58:00.000-04:00

It seems that meat hats currently are a very tiny niche market made up of folks with endless style sense and cast iron goat stomachs. For the bold few Annulla dug up the perfect coat to pair with meat hats.

In the spirit of equal air time I tried to find some vegetarian equivalents. Apparently, meat is much more appealing apparel material but I did manage to find a few fruit helmets.

My eyes are watering and I'm starting to swell up over here from all this damn cat dander.

In other news I am heading out to the movies tonight. I am damn excited to see Hairspray. The John Waters version is my all time favorite movie and so help me I might just lose it if they've butchered it.

Mosquito Goes For Gold

2007-07-18T23:41:00.000-04:00

You know how they say the toilet is always broke at the plumbers house? I get it now. The Hubster's profession involves massacring the local bug population. To some, he is considered nothing short of a god (You think I'm kidding? No really, remember we live in Florida, capital off all things buggy icky and bitey). Yet, my home has been playing base camp to several persistent house flies, a handful of SEWER flies, and several very hungry mosquitoes.

House flies make me gag. All I can think is that every time they land, they are pooping and now my house and family are covered in invisible and yet I am sure DEADLY fly poop. Add to the mix sewer flies which come from whence we poop and we have serious nightmare material. When the sun goes down and I no longer can see these poop laden flies, the mosquitoes swarm. Last night I was able to kill several before they had a chance to bite anyone. I was feeling pretty smug until one of the little bastards bit my nipple.

Let me assure you that nursing with a mosquito bite on your nipple is not the joy one might think it is. Additionally, if you are remotely like me, you tend to absentmindedly scratch your insect bites. Nipple scratching behavior does not go over well when you are standing in Whole Foods perusing the sunscreen section. In fact, a helpful worker might approach you and ask if you need any sort of itch soothing cream. Briefly flustered, you may decide what the hell and turn to this worker and claw at both of your breast simultaneously. You possibly might then ask if they have anything to help heal Scabies and or Pubic Lice. It's fun to watch their wheels turn while they try to decide if you are serious.

Through this whole ordeal I have been clinging to the good news I received today. My son has a boyfriend

And I may have sold a painting that I created for a contest. I didn't win the 24 cases of beer but I'm more then elated with the cash offer, especially since I designed and completely this project in only 5 hours time. Selling it will also keep me from repainting the sections that are driving me nuts.

But enough about beer, my son and his boyfriend are the real stars of my day. I also caught them making out:

I told Levi no boys in his Amby bed and the door to the room has to stay open. Remember the key to successful parenting is boundaries.

Every Day Meat

2007-07-17T09:53:00.000-04:00

Here at Finding Yourself, we aim to please. When several of our regulars privately expressed concern over the extravagance of the cold cut meat cake, I had to acknowledge that perhaps the cold cut meat cake isn't an everyday type of affair. This left me wondering how I can promote meat in my everyday life. Fear not gentle readers for I have discovered a solution that I'm sure will impress even the most vegan of you. I bring you Hats Of Meat

What's that you say? The Little house on the Prairie bonnet isn't modern enough for you? Too worried that it won't project an air of seriousness at your next business meeting? Well then, you might just like:

Now don't you go thinking that I have forgotten my loyal male demographic.

Here at Finding Yourself we love people of all races religions and colors. In the spirit of diversity I also bring you the brisket yarmulke

So as you can see promoting meat consumption can be a subtle activity that fits into your daily life style without the hassle and extravagance of the meat cake.

I'm hoping to one day discover that someone has fabricated a bacon burka and turkey turban. Not to toot my own horn but I think this informative and useful post deserves a hand.

Eat THAT!

2007-07-16T00:01:00.000-04:00

Over the past few months, Mira has been surprising us. She is, and has always been, extremely sensory defensive when it comes to food. The smells are too much, the textures overwhelming and god forbid whatever we are eating is the least bit messy- Mira can not abide by messy meals. Lately though, my persnickety princess has pressed for new foods. Towards the end of the school year her preschool worked on learning the food groups and talked about healthy eating. The lesson seems to have stuck with her.

Trips to the grocery store have turned into an adventure. Mira walks up and down the isles, wide eyed at the selection. She peruses the fish counter and is giddy in the produce section. I am happy to accommodate her newfound adventurousness and we bring home parcels of Mira's choosing. I do my best to make her picks appealing. I marinate salmon in maple syrup, turn down the fire on my arroz con pollo, and saute apple slices with our chicken sausage. Mira eats. The first forkful is cautious but she soon is shoveling it, leaving dinner guests to wonder if I starve her all day long.

Last night I set Mira's plate down with trepidation. At her request I made tacos. When she begged for tacos, she had no idea what they were but a friend had spoken so passionately of his love for tacos that she caught the fever. Even with her new found food adventurousness I was afraid that tacos were a deal breaker. For starters they are MESSY and Mira can not cope with messy. Her usually reaction involves some serious hand flapping which spatters all bystanders. She dances around on her tip toes, squealing and grimacing and her speech deteriorates into a repetitive sound that signals NO WAY NO HOW MAKE IT STOP! Combine this reaction with a separate, yet equally disruptive, freak out over the texture of red meat and tacos start looking like the Antichrist. I did it though, I made them and set them down in front of her.

I briefly considered diving behind the couch for cover should taco time take a turn for the worst. Before I had made up my mind, I heard an astounding sound:

"Oh yum mama, tacos are sooooooo good!"

With another food victory under my belt, I am now on a quest to up her meat intake. Poor vegetarian readers, avert your gaze before you lay eyes on what may possibly be the best use of meat for the purpose of enticing small children to partake:

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Also if you have a moment check out Levi's digital scrapbook, aka scrapblog, in the post below. Every view is an entry for me to win a trip to BlogHer so all of you already going can meet Mr Levi (and his much less adorable but still pretty fun Mama)in person. Bonus, those of you doing the BlogHer scavenger hunt could totally score a picture of you with a nursing momblogger nursing (that alone is worth 15 points!). Everyone Wins!

Help Me Get To BlogHer 07

2007-07-15T01:52:00.001-04:00

I have been pining to go to BlogHer this year but financially I just can't make it happen. I can't make it happen but YOU can! Check out my scrapblog below. I get an entry into their contest for every person who views my whole scrapblog. I've added two new pages since I ~~begged~~ brought this up last time.

Are you going to BlogHer? Want to meet Levi and squish on his fatty fat fat cutie thighs? Oh come on, you know you want to! Click through his scrapblog and help a fatty fat fat baby (and mama) out.

Watch This

2007-07-14T12:46:00.000-04:00

I laughing and I wondered how they keep their house so clean, but mostly I laughed

Mom Moment Ahoy

2007-07-14T01:54:00.000-04:00

I am in the store and browsing for some clothing to hide my nudity. I am in desperate need of all things shirt, shorts, underwear and bra like. One moment I am pining over a Jem! shirt that wouldn't even stretch over one breast and the next moment I've drifted into the kids clothing. Ten minutes later I am buying shirts for Mira and I am still nearly nude. But she has SCHOOL! soon and has grown 1.5 inches in the last 5 months... and yet I am still on the verge of streaking. I get the feeling that me standing naked at the bus stop on her first day might be a tad embarrassing.

Cornered

2007-07-12T00:20:00.000-04:00

The Hubster and I have been plowing through piles of probing paper work all in the spirit of having Mira reevaluated. Nearly two years ago, I placed her name on the local college's psychiatry departments waiting list for a free analysis. Her name just came up last month! When I got the call I jumped on the opportunity, hoping to walkinto Kindergarten with a clearer picture of her needs. She has grown by leaps and bounds over the last year since her official diagnosis of PDD-NOS and we had been pondering having her rechecked to see if Aspergers might be a more appropriate diagnosis.

I went in with a set of expectations based on how things were handled last time. Hmm, guess I should just chuck those out right off. Instead of me filling out 843 sheets all about her at home then over one 2 hour visit walking away with a diagnosis, we have a much different scenario.

My first visit was just to talk about the situation sans kids. The second visit involved Mira meeting the doctor and developing a bit of a bond. For the last 15 minutes they did some work to see how to pace the rest of things. Our third visit was about an hour of testing and we have at least one testing session to go. Only then will they decide on a diagnosis and make recommendations.

Of course there are still the 843 questionnaires about my daughter but there are also 6 or 7 about me and my husband and our family. The Hubster also has all the same paperwork to fill out about Mira and himself. We aren't allowed to discuss our answers whiling filling out the paperwork so we retreat to different locations of the house.

The questions make sweat bead up under my eyelids. They are probing and almost accusatory. They are long, complex, and awkwardly worded leaving me to feel as though I may have answered oppositely of what I actually intended. There are questions that make my mouth drop open in horror just thinking of who would answer "Almost always." There are papers that seem connected; things like mood questions to deduce how we are coping with a different child. Then there are the other questions. They ask about our sex life, which while playing a part in Mira's entrance into the world, should not otherwise effect her. It's not like we rouse the child at 2am to hold a camcorder while we go at it like bunnies. Heck, we've been dancing around the where babies come from talk, slowly dispensing only exactly the info she asks for. Just so you know, she does not believe me when I tell her how a baby exits the mom's body. She stands firm on the notion that babies burst forth from a mother's armpit or crawls out her mouth.

When I am done with my packet, I feel guilty. I should have had better answers. I am a terrible parent. I walk cautiously through the house waiting for someone to pop out pointing at me and say "Bad Mother!"

My husband is still hunched over his papers muttering to himself. He finally looks up and says "I feel cornered, like they are trying to trick me!" I can't disagree. I'm afraid if I speak aloud someone is going to pipe in a studio audience and they will be booing me. BOOOOOOOOO HISSSSSSSSS BOOOOOOOO We know you sometimes scold your daughter BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Bad parent. The paper work is nearly enough to send me back to therapy.

In a months time we should have more answers.

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If you have a few moments and want to read something a bit more uplifting, HI-larious even, check me out over at my new gig

Have you visited my review blog lately?

Also, you can check me out on The Commonline Project

I've been a busy little beaver lately!

When Are You Too Embarrassed?

2007-07-10T00:31:00.000-04:00

My nipples are peeling. There I said it. Yes, peeling. They are also red and rashy and itchy. I have been trying to hold out till Friday when I have my well woman exam. It doesn't hurt as badly as the last time I had a nipple issue, nor does it look remotely the same. I'm stymied and embarrassed. Yes both.

Last time I had a nipple problem of an unknown nature I went with the notion of any old port in a storm. Yeah, wasn't a wise choice. I ended up at a sports medicine doctor who I doubt had seen a nipple in at least five years- professionally or pleasurably. He bumbled, he fumbled, and he stuttered like a 14 year old about to behold his first hooter. I removed my bra and my nipple stood erect under the cold blowing air conditioner vent. He tried to appraise it from the far side of the room with his back pressed to the wall but was forced to come in for a closer look.

"May I?"

How do you respond to that? After several minutes of poking and some nipple pulling, during which the female nurse who was present to vouch for The Good Doctor's professionalism, winced and sucked much air through the gap in her teeth, The Good Doctor fessed up to his total lack of nipple knowledge.

"I know people have them" were his exact words.

With fun times like that in my back pocket, I'm sure you can understand my hesitance to run out and see just any old doctor. Outside if nipple exams I also try to avoid doctors for any sort of gastrointestinal problem, butt issues, and teeth troubles. I'd rather keep it all to myself until it blows up into a big emergency, then prance into an office and be probed at the beginning stages of problems. Am I the only one? What problems do you keep under your hat until your body gives you no choice but to fess up?

Back To The Future

2007-07-08T02:21:00.000-04:00

When reading a book, I am apt to grab any old piece of paper or string to use as a bookmark. Today as I parted the pages of my book, I discovered a marker most curious. It was a coupon to save 20 cents on any 32 or 64 oz "Snow Crop Five Alive" juice product. I'm completely baffled. I've never knowingly ingested a Five Alive juice product and the coupon expired in 1982. The book is brand new and to my knowledge I did not have a coupon clipping fetish when I was three. Where the heck did it come from and more importantly do you think coca cola will offer me the 1/20 of a cent plus 7 cent processing fee if I mail it in?

Who Are The People In Your Neighborhood?

2007-07-06T02:27:00.000-04:00

If I have neglected to mention it lately, my neighbors scare me.

Everyday, twice a day, I am treated to the same man journeying to the local gas station to procure his 12 packs of Natty Ice. He goes twice daily because it is virtually impossible to ride a bicycle with two twelve packs simultaneously squeezed between your legs.

The neighbors catty corner to my back yard, the ones who had Santa standing sentinel until July one year and still have up Christmas lights that they strung nearly 3 years ago, love to scream obscenities until their voices become raspy and hoarse. They then move inside to throw things, casting their children into the backyard. The children are not phased by the yelling, but apparently all the greenness and sunshine makes them insane. To pass the time they throw rocks at my dogs.

Directly behind us is a very nice man with heathen children and terrifying dogs. He raises pit bulls. The Papa pit bull decapitated two of his own pups burying the heads and bodies in different locations in the yard. We installed an electric fence and after 2.5 years of promises, he finally installed a privacy fence. When we first moved in, his heathen children chucked a dead and badly decomposed possum over our fence. While I was not thrilled by this housewarming gift, my dogs found it utterly enthralling and rolled around all over that possum carcass before running in the house. Over the past few years they have also thrown rocks, ice, and unidentified chunks of crap at my dogs while jumping on their giant trampoline. My neighbor has since built a plywood shack / shed thing that now blocks their trampoline assaults.

In the opposing catty corner, according to my local sheriff's department website, is a child molester. They have a two story house and thus have a lovely view right into my backyard. I have never seen the person pictured on the website but I can not help but imagine him sitting in the upstairs addition with a telescope, peering over here as my children frolic. I am currently trying to grow some very tall trees in that corner of the yard.

With all of these lovely folks surrounding me, you can understand why I am a bit apprehensive to approach any of them. Normally, I'm the kind of gal who will directly tell you that we have a problem. I will knock on your door at 2am to ask you to keep it down, or perhaps discuss it with you the next day as we are dragging our recyclables to the curb. I don't feel like I can do that here.

Last night someone was setting off fireworks well into the wee hours of the morning. They had zero regard for the fine folks who have work early, small children sleeping or nervous pets who hyperventilate over such sounds. Apparently they never received the memo that July 4th was the previous day and that no one would be forgiving of such behavior.

I sat and stewed about it. Asshats! What freaking Asshats! But I stayed inside and suffered. I could see them from my window and felt the urge to emerge from my house and scream 'knock it off asshat!' but I didn't. I thought about calling the non emergency line of the police department, but I was fairly certain that they saw me peering out from my windows and fearing retaliation I simply stared at them, hoping they would silently burst into flames.

How do you handle such neighborhood issues? Sometimes I really miss living among seemingly reasonable people. Well, I think I mostly miss living across the street from the Captain of the police department.

My Baby's Other Crack

2007-07-04T00:01:00.000-04:00

As soon as your baby explodes into this world, everyone begins to scan them for familiarity. Some look because it is exciting to see themselves reflected in such a compact and cute way, others because a lack of look-a-likedness can set their tongues wagging for hours. I have to admit, I look too.

There are a few features floating around my gene pool that I pray never surface, which I search for immediately (like jug handle ears). Other things take me by surprise, little personality traits and nuances, which I never would have thought to look for.

Levi has large eyes like mine. His lips remind me of my mother's and his nose seems to come from my side of the family too. People say his looks favor me more then my husband.

Don't get me wrong there are a few things that I can not entirely take credit for. His head shape and hair line are all daddy. His chin could easily be either or, as both families have viciously pointy chins. Recently, I discovered one more thing that favors The Hubster- they poop the same. No, I haven't been inspecting my husband's toilet snakes or anything, they just sound and act the same when evacuating their bowels.

Currently the computer is stationed just across the hall from the high traffic bathroom. It is impossible to sit here and not be privy to the grunt symphony put on daily by The Hubster. Most of the time I can't help but laugh a bit at his lack of bathroom bashfulness. Even when he goes running full tilt into the bathroom suffering from a code brown turtle head, the man still grunts like he's giving birth to a full sized porcupine. I, personally, am on the other end of the spectrum and try to hide all bathroom noises. I hate using public restrooms because people can hear you pottying and I'm always terrified that as I exit the stall someone will point and in a sing songy tone say "I could hear you peeeeeeeeing!"

Levi, like his Dad, has no shame. His eyebrows turn bright red and he starts grunting like an agitated pig. It is embarrassingly loud and usually followed by a juicy squeezing ketchup from a nearly empty bottle pwwwwbbbbbttttt sound that I am positive can be heard in Montana. Recently, a complete stranger felt the need to comment on this and as I stood there holding my red faced crap factory I simply replied "He gets that from his daddy."

My Baby's Crack

2007-07-02T00:50:00.000-04:00

It's official, he's addicted. My son has become a bink man. At first I was completely befuddled. My son wanted little to do with a pacifier, actually it about drove me nuts. All he wanted was my nipple all day, every day. We had, no joke, EIGHT different brands of binkies in my house- E.I.G.H.T - and he wanted NONE.

After a few weeks of me repeatedly poking him in the lips with a bink. he grudgingly took a Nuk. A regular old Nuk was not good enough for my son though. No way. No how. He decided to become attached to the hardest to find Nuk out there, the elusive Nuk Button with the latex nipple. None of that ultra smooth easy to find silicon. It must be the hard to find, never in stock Nuk Button latex ~~crack~~ pacifier.

You see him there? He's pointing to it and saying "This, this is it. Don't even try to give me some inferior product" This picture was taken moments after he and Nuk were reunited. You see, for a time we only had one crack-ifier and then WE LOST IT. Oh how I paid for that. I searched high and low. I drove all over town seeking out this mystical crack-ifier. When I would come across it's label on a shelf there was always an empty slot where theoretically the product once hung. Several days into binkie withdrawals I found one lone package of Nuk buttons. They are size 2 meant for 7 months plus and upon first suck, he was suspicious but now just damn grateful to have his bink back. I am damn grateful too and still combing the stores for more crack-ifiers lest we lose the two currently in our possession.

It's Coming

2007-07-01T02:52:00.000-04:00

Can you feel it? It's coming soon, I promise, it'll be good. It'll be REALLY good. It has no choice but to be good. Melanie of Plaid Toaster is working hard to make sure that it's good. In fact, she's working hard despite me jerking her around with my wishy washy attitude and endless demands. It's coming soon, oh yes it is coming soon. Have you packed your bags yet?

Levi 4.5 months

2007-07-01T01:45:00.000-04:00

Just a little razz

Dude, seriously?

Get in my belly!

IMPORTANT RECALL!

2007-06-29T11:29:00.001-04:00

All ye pirates and those with lil pirates please pay attention. Veggie Booty is being voluntarily recalled after 51 cases of salmonella poisoning in 17 different states have been associated with the product.

Nearly all who have fallen prey are children under ten. The bulk of victims falling into the toddler category, developed bloody diarrhea.

Robert's American Gourmet, based in Sea Cliff, New York, is voluntarily recalling all lots and sizes of Veggie Booty.

It is sold in supermarkets, health food stores, vending machines and online.

People who purchased Veggie Booty and still have it should discard the contents and contact the company at 1-800-626-7557 to get information on reimbursement. None of the other Booty snacks - Pirate's Booty, Cocoa Booty and Fruity Booty - are included in the recall.

Love Notes

2007-06-29T00:59:00.000-04:00

Dear Hubster,

Did you know that there are seven steps between our dryer and our garbage can? Really, it's only seven. I counted them today when I walked the gigantic ball of lint I found on top of the dryer to the trash, where I then disposed of said lint ball. Also, I'm a bit tired of you strutting around because you washed a load of laundry. I might award you strutting privileges if you folded / hung it and put it away. Heck, I might reward you with a BJ if you started doing that.