Chocolate swirl shake isn’t even making a dent.

More to come, I’ve been missing you blog

A cuter MK.

Sorry Olsens. I’m so thrilled for a little girl to spoil. And if not only from her Aunt Ses, she definitely will be as they only girl grandchild on either side of their family. Though I may be partial to a squishy old man face of a baby boy, how could I not fall for this one:

Born after just minutes of pushing, Aunt M may have rough pregnancies but she does labor right. She also amazed me by calmly planning for a zoo trip about 5 seconds after giving birth and having a coordinating outfit to go home in. – I came in my pajamas and despite packing the kitchen sink put in no clothes to go home in – Some are just a special breed of multitaskers or seem to avoid getting the mushy mom brain.

Little H was very pleased with his new sister, casually throwing out a “that’s my baby” and going on about his business.  Love it.

And a dash of water.

I’m torn. I go back and forth between what is more disgusting and in need of replacing – the couch or the carpet. After last week’s toe incident, I was leaning again to carpet. Then while trying to get a bowl out of the cupboard B slipped and knocked over the fish tank on the bar, spilling it on the couch. Surprisingly, a scenario I’d never considered.

All the fish were accounted for and not eaten while flopping on the rug. If I hadn’t seen it happen I would’ve thought the fish staged it so we would clean their tank walls. The sucker fish we have seems to be retired and just doesn’t eat any algae anymore.

Now I’m thinking that no matter how much I clean the worn out fabric it will always be fish-couch to me. I can’t even sit on it. It does make me feel less like I’m cheating on the couch thinking about new fabric. I do love it so.

I’m reminding myself someday I will laugh really hard (”mom, you’re hurting my ears”) at these memories.

Sunshine Cleaning

I can fervently say I’ll never murder anyone no matter how much road rage I may have at times, it would be way too much work to clean up the mess. Frankly I’m amazed people do it as well as they do on Dateline stories.

Being lazy and comfortable on the couch, I asked Braiden to turn off a light I’d left on. In the process he said he’d cut his foot:

– In a crazy cat moment over the weekend, Cooper randomly lept on the bookcase in my room shattering a candleholder. Another day, another cat mess. Obviously I missed a piece. -

He said he was going to get a Bandaid and trecked across the house. I asked if he needed help or probably more like “what’s taking you forever in there?” as he kept making noise. “I can’t get a bandaid on, the bleeding won’t stop.” he calmly tells me. I get up to go in and see a bloody trail through the house. My shrieking probably woke the neighbors. The bathroom resembled the opening credits to Dexter. I’m not a squeamish person by any standards but when the smell of blood from someone you love hits the nostrils – ugh totally different and disgusting.

I immediately put him in the bathtub to pool and had him PUT SOME PRESSURE ON THAT FOR PETE’S SAKE! as I went to start our cheap, craft yarn like carpet that stains if you look at it wrong. He’s going to grow up with scars from my sending him to the bathroom to finishing puking while I immediately start scrubbing the carpet before it’s tinged. The carpet cleaner and steamer did nothing on the initial footprints. Soap and water was the only way to get it out (by the light of day I still see brown spots but I just remind myself of how horrible it was and I feel better about those. ha I should’ve taken before and after photos since it was unbelieveable)

It took us a while but we got the bleeding stopped enough to get it bandaged up tight. The kid probably should’ve had stitches, I don’t know, it wasn’t a big cut but apparently deep. Of course this happened while his grandpa who could’ve done it was out of town. And on a day I couldn’t even afford to go to the ED. It was probably a good thing I had to focus on someone else or I would’ve been sobbing into my spotty carpet. I kept asking if he was okay in there – “yes mom, I’m just fine”.

By 1 am we’d got the mess cleaned up best I could and B was propped up on the couch being forced to drink Pepsi and eat a snack from Mom’s Blood Donation Cantina.

When it was time to check his bandaid in the morning he was afraid to take it off. “Because you stayed up all night cleaning the floor and it might still be bleeding.” Aw. “I don’t want you to yell ‘LOOK AT THE CARPET!!’” I’m glad the child still retains his sense of humor in times of crisis. One of us has to.

about time.

My aunt & I tried to get the grandparents to nail down a date for their anniversary party. Like most things, they couldn’t agree! They’ve finally informed us, after another prodding from my aunt, they will just do dinner at the nearby hotel after their anniversary mass.

I know they are just trying to be nice and not ‘burden’ us with the expense. One half of me knows I should be grateful, my parents have their 25th in a few months and I need to scrounge together gift money. But I’m pretty disappointed. I’ve had their backyard party idea worked out for months waiting for them to settle on a date. Maybe I’ll do it my yard for myself, complete with the perfect lights I found and definitely the perfect cake. I might even make a toast to them.

I’m sure I’ll figure out another use for the monogram letters I picked up for the cake, maybe I can change my initials.

Rainy days and Mondays…

My stepgrandma’s funeral yesterday must’ve triggered something and I woke up crying because I missed my Grandma Lois.

Though I know my life was really nuts at the time working, going to school, and having a toddler – it still makes me sad I didn’t invite her over more or go to dinner more. All those cliché things are really true. I should’ve known the number of remissions she had was too good to last.

Jon & Kate. Plus Eight. And other stuff.

Even though it’s the thing that gets the most traffic on this blog, I think I’m over Jon & Kate. It’s not the show I once enjoyed, I don’t want to view their home, don’t think I can stomach another season.

After reading Kate’s People article last week and seeing way too many tabloid covers whereever I go this week, that was really enough. I was really surprised she even did the sitdown. You can ignore tabloid stuff and rumors. Kept thinking, the kids will have to read this someday – divorce or separate or not, you can’t take back anything that’s in print, it’s out there.

It’s a shame their marriage is in shambles but what else did they expect. It’s no wonder he’s unhappy, he doesn’t *do* anything or provide for his family. You’ve got to put the mental health of your family first, even if something makes a lot of money for your “kids”.

There have been to too many funerals and viewings this year. My stepgrandma is off to meet her Maker and her sweetheart, who also passed in January. It’s a shame that she couldn’t always be the nice version of herself, it’s at times like these I feel bad that I always distinguished her as my ‘mean stepgrandma’, though that’s how she was to me after the age of 9 when my sister’s arrived stealing the show.

When she came to my unit at the hospital a couple of times it was like a different person. Following the years of confusion and frustration of dementia, she was pretty darn cute and pleasant. The fact that she’d been admitted at all was probably the only hint of her former self with the ornery, Syrian stubborn streak peaking through.

Thanks for the banana phones, Louise.

Driving lesson.

“Mom, stop telling me how to drive or I’ll find someone else to ride with me.”

 

“I’d love to see you try, and I can tell you how to drive this thing until you have your own license.”

Extravagantly extravagant extravagance

Not sure I would say it was as extravagant as she wanted but my sister seemed thrilled with the way her grad party went off. A good time was had by all.

All I wanted to do was get a nap just about the time the party was set to start after a couple long days of cake baking and errand running. The folks were looking a bit rough when I arrived this morning, probably after totally up their receipts for all they spent to feed everyone. My dad doesn’t believe in going cheap when he invites guests…I say, random neighbors and church goers can eat a hot dog not grilled chicken.

I think it was a “Leslie’s babysitting years” reunion. Totally weird to see all these youngsters from church or our old neighborhood coming up saying “ohmygoshlikehihowareyoulikeImliketotallyasenior!” when I used to chase them around and change their diapers.