It's been a while. BK3's birthday was in May. It's July now. He's 2 weeks shy of a whopping 15 months, and I feel like now is the time when I wish my life were in freeze mode. At Revolution, we just wrapped up our incredible summer programs and national competitions with Company. Our house construction is in full swing. My baby boy #2 is due in just 10 weeks. The new dance season is approaching within the week, and we have about 3 months to sell this house. It's go time, and I'm just now realizing how physically slow I'm becoming.
We picked out toilets and plumbing fixtures today. Me and BK3. In November, we talked to a relative about contracting our house for us. One night, along with some drinks, he (the relative) and my hubs came to the conclusion that we could do this on our own, just with his guidance, and save a hefty contractor fee. The two of them looked at me that cold night in November and said "Carrie, you can do this. You don't work during the day. You can handle ALL of the phone calls and appointments." I remember almost hitting the floor. Because I knew at that moment, that they were telling me what we were doing, and not asking me. Did you catch that? "Carrie, you don't work during the day" statement... heh. yeah. When I got pregnant in February, I'm pretty sure I re-visited that statement, and almost hit the floor again. We started construction in March and it's been going pretty well since then. I've since learned the following:
Contractors are worth the money you spend, if you know nothing about building a house (Like Me), and don't wish to have to deal with the ins and outs (again. Like Me).
Building permits are expensive for just a tiny sheet of paper.
Homes inside the city limits of Denham Springs have a lot of building rules.
Framers don't speak English. And they don't think you can speak Spanish either.
Nails are expensive.
Rain Sucks.
Men don't tend to work on the same time schedules as us organized women do.
You can buy a toilet that'll suck the skin off your ass, but everything has it's price.
...as you can see, I could be here for days. But I won't.
So yes, BK3 and I picked out plumbing fixtures today. Since I don't work. Ya know, I packed up the baby, along with my belly, and all the other dance clothing/ipad/etc items I needed in order to run all necessary home building errands, change diapers if/when needed, and go to work. WORK. I thought I was smart by having the necessary 12 bags of Teddy Grahams, 2 sippy cups, enough wipes and diapers, giant glass of water for myself, and a stroller. I figured BK3 would stay in his stroller while in the showroom. Nope. He lasted about 10 minutes, and when it was time to go to faucets for the bathrooms, I gave in and let him run free. Thankfully the worker was patient with me and thought B was cute as he explored the tubs/sinks. Or maybe she was just acting. Just as she was trying to explain to me the difference between the brush silver and the bronze, I hear my son banging on the toilet display, while grunting. Yep - he was taking a shit, while standing NEXT TO a toilet. Good Style B. Thanks. I was able to pick out every faucet, shower head, toilet, and bathtub in 45 minutes. I'd say that's record time. Onto Lighting? No thank you. One errand a day please, even if this mama "doesn't work during the day".
Just as we left there I headed to RDC to meet the A/C repair man, because did I forget to mention the AC went out in one of the dance rooms? Cause it did. Yep.
So I come to the subject which this blog is titled. Upstaged by Daddy. It all happened around B's 9 month mark. He had started to crawl. Was pulling up. And bam. Daddy became the King of the household. Daddy hung the moon. Forget Mama's 9 months of fetus building, heartburn, 9 hours of natural labor, 72 hours of absolutely NO sleep those first nights at home, the stomach virus episode (oy vey) and the endless hours of nursing, rocking, ya know ya know. I'm pretty sure I've been downgraded to 3rd behind Boss, yet still leading Roxie, who sits well in 4th. It didn't take me long to figure out that during B's "all day period" with me, I have errands (since I don't work ya know) for both houses, cooking/cleaning, and doing that god-awful thing that I actually DONT DO during the day (run my business). So B and I get some play time, but it's not all day. When Daddy arrives on his horse with shiny armor, they play. All day. He learns to climb stairs. He learns to climb DOWN stairs. He plays ball. They practice boy things. When we got home from a 7 day stay in Vegas, I was the first one to make it to B who was being held in my mom's arms. It took me less than 1 second to realize he was looking (and reaching) far past me at King Daddy who was just now getting out the car. I'm not bitter. It's ok. I keep telling myself it's a phase, and that maybe he senses that I'm well preoccupied with this baby making, etc. Everyone tells me that it might change after Baby 2 arrives...I'm waiting. My baby boy is growing up so fast - and I think I've done a good job by not breaking down with these prego hormones over the fact that he'd probably choose Boss's saliva over mommy's touch.
So 10 more weeks. And we still don't have a name. I'm patient. Something I like will pop up. Until then, I'll go prop my feet up and sip some hot tea...ya know, since "I don't work during the day...."
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Thursday, June 7, 2012
The first time ever...
I ran from my baby.
If there is one thing I've learned from mommyhood in these short 12 1/2 months, it's that we as women, can endure anything. I laugh now at what I used to say about "I'm never having kids...." blah blah blah. How selfish of me? But it's ok. I was young. We learn. I can't see my life any other way. Being a mother is amazing.
Except on nights like this.
Brannan and BK3 met me at the studio after my last class, to go to California Pizza Kitchen for a dinner out. Have you been lately? They are doing a promotion where you receive a few scratch off coupons at the conclusion of your meal. You're supposed to use them at your "next" visit. Not to mention you cannot open them or scratch them off prior to. Obviously it's a deal to get you into the restaurant just one more time. And since my husband is convinced that we have the $100,000 grand prize sitting on our kitchen table, we've been frequent customers. Hey, 20% off isn't so bad either. We got a few more tonight....I'm sure we'll be back. The avocado egg rolls haven't bored me yet.
We got home around 9:00 p.m. and I got BK3's bath ready right away. I love bath time, as all mom's do I'm sure. I'm exhausted. AND VERY FULL from dinner, not to mention the fact that Baby Boy 2 has hit some sort of growth spurt inside my uterus and I'm feeling a little large lately. I'm sure the 90 degree weather doesn't help. But bath time it is for the little guy. Daddy B was getting changed out of his clothes and walks in just as BK3's face starts to tell us something. I'm not sure about anyone else's kids, but since BK3 was about 2 months old, I can tell when it's time. For a #2. He focuses. Makes a half smile with the left side of his mouth, and then JUST as his face starts to turn like a tomato, he lets out a grunt. That's my son. Or more-so, that's DADDY's son. And I'm going "no.....it's all good. He's done the deed twice already today. He's just grunting....no #2 for him. I quickly start to wash him up, when I get to his backside with the wash cloth. I felt it. The sure sign that a treat has arrived. As I rip my hand and the wash cloth away, the treat flies into the water....which then becomes joined by yet another....AND YET ANOTHER. All within a few seconds.
I caved. I RAN.
I looked at Brannan and said THAT'S IT! I CAN'T. I JUST CAN'T. PLEASE. YOU DO IT!
My son was giggling at his latest accomplishment, and I had run. Fast.
And not one bit of me felt bad for "abandoning" my son to his Daddy who witnessed the whole thing. Daddy B took care of it. Like I know he can. I've made it through nursing a newborn...as Daddy snored next to me. I made it through the 3 midnight runs to the ER with the croup. I made it through the stomach virus without asking for help. And here is a turd in the tub. And I run like a python is chasing me.
Shame on me. But then I realized. Wait...Daddy handled it. Maybe I should run more often?
nah.
If there is one thing I've learned from mommyhood in these short 12 1/2 months, it's that we as women, can endure anything. I laugh now at what I used to say about "I'm never having kids...." blah blah blah. How selfish of me? But it's ok. I was young. We learn. I can't see my life any other way. Being a mother is amazing.
Except on nights like this.
Brannan and BK3 met me at the studio after my last class, to go to California Pizza Kitchen for a dinner out. Have you been lately? They are doing a promotion where you receive a few scratch off coupons at the conclusion of your meal. You're supposed to use them at your "next" visit. Not to mention you cannot open them or scratch them off prior to. Obviously it's a deal to get you into the restaurant just one more time. And since my husband is convinced that we have the $100,000 grand prize sitting on our kitchen table, we've been frequent customers. Hey, 20% off isn't so bad either. We got a few more tonight....I'm sure we'll be back. The avocado egg rolls haven't bored me yet.
We got home around 9:00 p.m. and I got BK3's bath ready right away. I love bath time, as all mom's do I'm sure. I'm exhausted. AND VERY FULL from dinner, not to mention the fact that Baby Boy 2 has hit some sort of growth spurt inside my uterus and I'm feeling a little large lately. I'm sure the 90 degree weather doesn't help. But bath time it is for the little guy. Daddy B was getting changed out of his clothes and walks in just as BK3's face starts to tell us something. I'm not sure about anyone else's kids, but since BK3 was about 2 months old, I can tell when it's time. For a #2. He focuses. Makes a half smile with the left side of his mouth, and then JUST as his face starts to turn like a tomato, he lets out a grunt. That's my son. Or more-so, that's DADDY's son. And I'm going "no.....it's all good. He's done the deed twice already today. He's just grunting....no #2 for him. I quickly start to wash him up, when I get to his backside with the wash cloth. I felt it. The sure sign that a treat has arrived. As I rip my hand and the wash cloth away, the treat flies into the water....which then becomes joined by yet another....AND YET ANOTHER. All within a few seconds.
I caved. I RAN.
I looked at Brannan and said THAT'S IT! I CAN'T. I JUST CAN'T. PLEASE. YOU DO IT!
My son was giggling at his latest accomplishment, and I had run. Fast.
And not one bit of me felt bad for "abandoning" my son to his Daddy who witnessed the whole thing. Daddy B took care of it. Like I know he can. I've made it through nursing a newborn...as Daddy snored next to me. I made it through the 3 midnight runs to the ER with the croup. I made it through the stomach virus without asking for help. And here is a turd in the tub. And I run like a python is chasing me.
Shame on me. But then I realized. Wait...Daddy handled it. Maybe I should run more often?
nah.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
the stomach bug.
BK3's birthday party was this past Saturday. As it felt much more like a wedding, and not a simple birthday party, I was left puzzled as to why we put so much emphasis into this one event...when he truly remembered none of it. Thank goodness I remembered the camera. Oh well, at least the pictures came out cute, and we all sure had a great time. My mother's day was great, at first. My husband woke me up and cooked breakfast for us. We met my family for church downtown, and then shared a lunch with them. Here is where it began to go downhill... BK3 had none of the lunch. He was fussy, didn't want to sit still, didn't want to eat, nothing. Only wanted to be outside looking at the dog that was visiting the area. Brannan and I took turns taking him outside, as something just wasn't right. He never cries. He never fusses for no reason. There's nothing food can't fix when it comes to this baby. I knew something was up. I enjoyed my salad, and then a few hours later, BAM. Doubled over with stomach pain. Nausea. Not ok. I finished out the day in his mom's spare bedroom lying down, as he and baby B visited with the Honeycutts. I felt terrible. And even more so because I couldn't visit with important people on Mother's day. I got home luckily without tossing my cookies, and less than an hour later - there it was. Full on vomiting every 20 to 30 minutes. I had no clue what was going on. Thankfully, Brannan finished up the baby duties, got the toys in the house from the party, fed BK3, bathed him, and even called my OB on call just to see if I could take anything for the vomiting. I was really afraid of harming our new little one that I'm carrying! I told Brannan he better sleep on the couch, made sure his baby monitor was on, and then I tried to sleep. Wasn't working because of course, the trips to the bathroom kind of interrupted that. Then 2 a.m., I hear BK3 heaving in his baby bed. Nightmare. I wake Brannan up and we see that BK3 is covered. His bed, his bumper pads, sheets soaked, clothes soaked. Vomit everywhere. Just about that time I started with the "other end" of the virus. Yeah....it gets better. We get the baby cleaned up, calmed down, not back to sleep just yet, and there it is again. Every 20 minutes. Just puke. Awful. Me praying I don't mess my pants, and Daddy Brannan yelling "HELP" from the living room every time BK3 starts gagging. Seriously. I didn't know what could be worse? About the 3rd time BK3 blew chunks, Daddy B decides it's a good time to tell me "I'm not feeling so good either". Great. Awesome. Let's all just jump on this bandwagon together. No sleep. For any of us. BK3 didn't stop vomiting til 9 a.m. I had finished the vomiting, but kept the other end going for another 12 hours. Daddy B just felt nauseous, but none of us slept. I had a pile of towels in the back room - towels, sheets, bumper pads, clothes, just soaked in vomit. Nasty. And I knew I had to clean that.
Once the smoke cleared and Daddy B got his 6 hours of sleep that he needed, he looks at me and says "man, that was rough". It quickly reminded me of the my laboring process. 9 hours of 29 mL Pitocin, no epidural, lamaze breathing, contractions that were peaking OFF the charts with only 30 second breaks (they lasted for 90 seconds). After that 9 hours, I gave in and said "OK. Bring out the needle...this is going nowhere", but not in a calm voice. Once I got that needle.....and calmed down. And smiled. Daddy B looks at me and says "Man...glad you got that epidural. That was stressful." Gee babe was it? Yep, I agree. I do. It must have been so stressful :) With a smile.
I was so thankful though. Despite the 48 hours of no sleep Sunday and Monday, I was SO thankful that Daddy B sat there on the couch with a sick BK3 and only yelled "HELP". I wasn't sleeping anyways.....duh. I could've been the one on that couch. Pretty sure I'd have been crying at that point.
Needless to say, I hated throwing up when I was a kid. I used to tell everyone around me "I love you", because I thought I would die. I hated it that much. It scared the living daylights out of me. I still hate it. But what I hate even more is to see my little munchkin have it too. I said it today "I'll birth 5 more children before I have to go through all three of us and the stomach virus within 24 hours ever again." It was THAT bad, and I'm trying not to be dramatic. I kept reminding myself that "It's just a stomach virus", people are really sick out there, and here I am complaining about a stomach virus. It was more the process, and my test as a mama. Not the actual feelings of the sickness.
No. I'm not "Mom" enough to breastfeed my babies til they're standing up to my breast at 4 years of age for a photo-op with TIME magazine. But I am "Mom" enough to survive the stomach bug. With the whole family. In 24 hours. Can I get a hell yeah?
Once the smoke cleared and Daddy B got his 6 hours of sleep that he needed, he looks at me and says "man, that was rough". It quickly reminded me of the my laboring process. 9 hours of 29 mL Pitocin, no epidural, lamaze breathing, contractions that were peaking OFF the charts with only 30 second breaks (they lasted for 90 seconds). After that 9 hours, I gave in and said "OK. Bring out the needle...this is going nowhere", but not in a calm voice. Once I got that needle.....and calmed down. And smiled. Daddy B looks at me and says "Man...glad you got that epidural. That was stressful." Gee babe was it? Yep, I agree. I do. It must have been so stressful :) With a smile.
I was so thankful though. Despite the 48 hours of no sleep Sunday and Monday, I was SO thankful that Daddy B sat there on the couch with a sick BK3 and only yelled "HELP". I wasn't sleeping anyways.....duh. I could've been the one on that couch. Pretty sure I'd have been crying at that point.
Needless to say, I hated throwing up when I was a kid. I used to tell everyone around me "I love you", because I thought I would die. I hated it that much. It scared the living daylights out of me. I still hate it. But what I hate even more is to see my little munchkin have it too. I said it today "I'll birth 5 more children before I have to go through all three of us and the stomach virus within 24 hours ever again." It was THAT bad, and I'm trying not to be dramatic. I kept reminding myself that "It's just a stomach virus", people are really sick out there, and here I am complaining about a stomach virus. It was more the process, and my test as a mama. Not the actual feelings of the sickness.
No. I'm not "Mom" enough to breastfeed my babies til they're standing up to my breast at 4 years of age for a photo-op with TIME magazine. But I am "Mom" enough to survive the stomach bug. With the whole family. In 24 hours. Can I get a hell yeah?
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Everyday Hope.
A friend gave me the link to an iphone app called "Jesus Calling". It's a daily devotional, worth reading I think.
Here was today's:
Do not long for the absence of problems in your life. That is an unrealistic goal, since in this world you will have trouble. You have an eternity of problem-free living reserved for you in heaven. Rejoice in that inheritance, which no one can take away from you, but do not seek your heaven on earth. Begin each day anticipating problems, asking Me to equip you for whatever difficulties you will encounter. The best equipping is My Living Presence, My hand that never lets go of yours. Discuss everything with Me. Take a lighthearted view of trouble, seeing it as a challenge that you and I together can handle. Remember that I am on your side, and I have overcome the world.
And a verse that accompanied it:
I can do everything through him who gives me strength.
-Philippians 4:13 (My favorite scripture)
I read that a woman jumped today from the I-10 Mississippi River bridge. Of course, stings my heart, since I'm all too familiar with the feelings associated with someone taking their own life. This devotional today hits it so close. I will find myself negotiating through a situation in my head....should I do this? oh what about that?....should I pray about it? WHY AM I EVEN ASKING MYSELF THIS?????? OF COURSE PRAY DAMNIT!
We live in such a fast paced world. One that demands us to be on top of our game at every second, once we open our eyes. I'm reminded today that our first and only option every morning should be to pray. Give me strength - for I'm not able, without You. I'm as stubborn as they come, but the moment I release the greats, the not-so-greats, and the bads to Him, my day is full of sunshine.
I'm thankful for my friendly reminder, from my fast-paced iPhone app. And thankful for the friend who sent me towards it. Reminded today to cherish those I love. And to never hesitate to share the amazing power of His love to everyone I know.
Loved.
Here was today's:
Do not long for the absence of problems in your life. That is an unrealistic goal, since in this world you will have trouble. You have an eternity of problem-free living reserved for you in heaven. Rejoice in that inheritance, which no one can take away from you, but do not seek your heaven on earth. Begin each day anticipating problems, asking Me to equip you for whatever difficulties you will encounter. The best equipping is My Living Presence, My hand that never lets go of yours. Discuss everything with Me. Take a lighthearted view of trouble, seeing it as a challenge that you and I together can handle. Remember that I am on your side, and I have overcome the world.
And a verse that accompanied it:
I can do everything through him who gives me strength.
-Philippians 4:13 (My favorite scripture)
I read that a woman jumped today from the I-10 Mississippi River bridge. Of course, stings my heart, since I'm all too familiar with the feelings associated with someone taking their own life. This devotional today hits it so close. I will find myself negotiating through a situation in my head....should I do this? oh what about that?....should I pray about it? WHY AM I EVEN ASKING MYSELF THIS?????? OF COURSE PRAY DAMNIT!
We live in such a fast paced world. One that demands us to be on top of our game at every second, once we open our eyes. I'm reminded today that our first and only option every morning should be to pray. Give me strength - for I'm not able, without You. I'm as stubborn as they come, but the moment I release the greats, the not-so-greats, and the bads to Him, my day is full of sunshine.
I'm thankful for my friendly reminder, from my fast-paced iPhone app. And thankful for the friend who sent me towards it. Reminded today to cherish those I love. And to never hesitate to share the amazing power of His love to everyone I know.
Loved.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
The chore chart.
When I found out I was having a boy (December 2010), I bought the book "Wild Things; the art of nurturing boys". I figured I had a lot to learn about the male species. And low and behold, after the first chapter, the book had already described my husband to a T. From start to finish the book was pretty informative. The whole time reading, I kept telling myself to Buckle Up. I'm very to the point, concentrated, focused, take the steps necessary to accomplish goals, type person. I don't see the point in adventure, except if it's to some deserted romantic island with no kids. Each chapter of this book was teaching me to sit back, relax, and enjoy the adventurous spirit that my son (and my husband now) will hold. I had finished reading the book a few weeks after BK3 was born, and now, at 11 1/2 months, li'l B is completely taking on the profile that the book has prepared me for. He explores. He gazes. He is determined to grab, feel, examine, and attempt to destroy just about everything he touches. I have entered a whole new realm of mommy-hood, which includes chasing after this 22 pound munchkin, and he's starting to get much faster than I am. My 95-year old cuban grandfather calls BK3 the "Hurricane". Fitting. Every time I bring the baby over there, Brannan turns their small very neat house into a demolition derby. He even tried to climb up the inside of the fireplace. YEP. He can't even walk yet. My papi just watches....and then when it's just about to get dangerous, he'll yell Kelrie! (His slang for Carrie).
And now to my loving husband. He cares for me. He provides. He is probably the nicest person I know. He loves me. And he is good to me. But if there's one thing he has no capability of understanding, it's my need/request to stay on top of housework. Since we're both working parents, we both have to tackle this tough job. One problem: I need a neat house to survive. He does not. And since I now take on various hats: business owner, mom, fetus-maker, house contractor, homemaker, etc, I am having a VERY tough time sweeping/vacuuming the house daily, making sure the Doberman smell is gone, wiping countertops, finishing laundry, cooking for dinner (even though I work from 3 to 9:30 every night, and teach Zumba 3 mornings of the week), etc etc ETC! Brannan's always saying "Babe, I'll do whatever housework you need, just ask". Well, I thought that was Nagging? Right guys? Babe do this, babe do that....babe, laundry. Babe trash. Ya know. I was trying to be nice...by just expecting it to get done right ladies? hell yeah. Not. So - instead of using the tad bit of my brainpower that was left to tell Daddy B what housework needed to get done, I just went to wal mart, bought a dry erase magnet board for the fridge, and created a chore chart. Ok. Go ahead now. Laugh. I know...I KNOW.
I figured, he can just look at the chore chart, and SEE what needs to get done. I'll put a check mark or my initials by whatever the chore is for that day. He'll know he doesn't have to do it.... Well lemme tell ya how this went down. We have a few chores: Vacuum/Sweep, Dishwasher Unload (not load, because that's just expected when you use a dish), Trash (all of it), Countertops/tables, Mop, and Laundry. Ya know - the usual. Except we have 145 pounds of dog living in our house, that's a rough 1100 sq ft. They live inside. And you could stuff a small teddy bear with the dog hair, should you not get rid of it daily - either by vacuuming or sweeping. Everything started off great. I explained it to him (while he smiled that smile that said "this is gonna be fun"), and I figured hey! Let's do this. A few days went by great....and then I wake up one morning to get the day going....I look at the fridge. He's put his initials BKW on the chart for Dishwasher, Trash and Laundry. I notice....there's no dishes that have been cleaned. Just a few in their dirty. The kitchen trash was out, but not the rest of the house. And there was a load of his car washing towels onto wash, with full hampers of dirty clothes elsewhere. I ask him about it. To which I learn that he put his initials down because he loaded a dish or two in the dishwasher. He also put a load of clothes onto wash. And he took one trash can out. Well....then we had to make the chore chart more specific. Ya know - THE WHOLE JOB HAD TO GET DONE. That was just a teaser for me, on his part I guess.
A few days later, I wake up to see more initials on stuff....BK on a trash. BK on Dishwasher. maybe another BK somewhere else but at this point I was just getting ticked off. I'm pregnant people. I'm tired. No time for this. So I start to be understanding and think "Ya know, he took one trash out. Thanks". But the dishwasher? Come on. He put 3 dishes in the dishwasher. No unloading job here. So when I talked to him later, I'm like DUDE we need to get this straight. You can't just put your initials on something because you INTENDED to do it. Or you put 2 DISHES in the dishwasher. We went over this....
His response:
Well babe. That's why I only put 1/2 my initials....because I only did 1/2 the job. ya know BK? Not BKW.
I laughed. I remembered the book. Relax Carrie. This is a sign telling you to LET IT GO. It's housework. I thank God every day for giving me a match that 100% completes the the qualities which I lack. He keeps me laughing with moments like this. When I try so hard to be ON TOP OF THINGS. And he reminds me to slow it on down and enjoy life. It's laundry. No matter how many times you take care of it, it'll pile back up. Sit back every now and then, and let it be.
The chore chart is blank. Still on the fridge, but it catches things like "what to buy from the grocery" and "BK3's party planning list". I learned that when I want something done, just ask damnit.
Now all of you mamas reading this, shaking your head with a smile, or wiping the tears away from laughing so hard at me. Thanks. I know. I'm learning. Remember that last blog? Positive thoughts and prayers accepted :)
I'll get to the next-door-neighbor's chicken and BK3 takes a tumble in his walker subjects next blog. I'm pretty sure my toddler is missing inside of one of my cabinets right now...
And now to my loving husband. He cares for me. He provides. He is probably the nicest person I know. He loves me. And he is good to me. But if there's one thing he has no capability of understanding, it's my need/request to stay on top of housework. Since we're both working parents, we both have to tackle this tough job. One problem: I need a neat house to survive. He does not. And since I now take on various hats: business owner, mom, fetus-maker, house contractor, homemaker, etc, I am having a VERY tough time sweeping/vacuuming the house daily, making sure the Doberman smell is gone, wiping countertops, finishing laundry, cooking for dinner (even though I work from 3 to 9:30 every night, and teach Zumba 3 mornings of the week), etc etc ETC! Brannan's always saying "Babe, I'll do whatever housework you need, just ask". Well, I thought that was Nagging? Right guys? Babe do this, babe do that....babe, laundry. Babe trash. Ya know. I was trying to be nice...by just expecting it to get done right ladies? hell yeah. Not. So - instead of using the tad bit of my brainpower that was left to tell Daddy B what housework needed to get done, I just went to wal mart, bought a dry erase magnet board for the fridge, and created a chore chart. Ok. Go ahead now. Laugh. I know...I KNOW.
I figured, he can just look at the chore chart, and SEE what needs to get done. I'll put a check mark or my initials by whatever the chore is for that day. He'll know he doesn't have to do it.... Well lemme tell ya how this went down. We have a few chores: Vacuum/Sweep, Dishwasher Unload (not load, because that's just expected when you use a dish), Trash (all of it), Countertops/tables, Mop, and Laundry. Ya know - the usual. Except we have 145 pounds of dog living in our house, that's a rough 1100 sq ft. They live inside. And you could stuff a small teddy bear with the dog hair, should you not get rid of it daily - either by vacuuming or sweeping. Everything started off great. I explained it to him (while he smiled that smile that said "this is gonna be fun"), and I figured hey! Let's do this. A few days went by great....and then I wake up one morning to get the day going....I look at the fridge. He's put his initials BKW on the chart for Dishwasher, Trash and Laundry. I notice....there's no dishes that have been cleaned. Just a few in their dirty. The kitchen trash was out, but not the rest of the house. And there was a load of his car washing towels onto wash, with full hampers of dirty clothes elsewhere. I ask him about it. To which I learn that he put his initials down because he loaded a dish or two in the dishwasher. He also put a load of clothes onto wash. And he took one trash can out. Well....then we had to make the chore chart more specific. Ya know - THE WHOLE JOB HAD TO GET DONE. That was just a teaser for me, on his part I guess.
A few days later, I wake up to see more initials on stuff....BK on a trash. BK on Dishwasher. maybe another BK somewhere else but at this point I was just getting ticked off. I'm pregnant people. I'm tired. No time for this. So I start to be understanding and think "Ya know, he took one trash out. Thanks". But the dishwasher? Come on. He put 3 dishes in the dishwasher. No unloading job here. So when I talked to him later, I'm like DUDE we need to get this straight. You can't just put your initials on something because you INTENDED to do it. Or you put 2 DISHES in the dishwasher. We went over this....
His response:
Well babe. That's why I only put 1/2 my initials....because I only did 1/2 the job. ya know BK? Not BKW.
I laughed. I remembered the book. Relax Carrie. This is a sign telling you to LET IT GO. It's housework. I thank God every day for giving me a match that 100% completes the the qualities which I lack. He keeps me laughing with moments like this. When I try so hard to be ON TOP OF THINGS. And he reminds me to slow it on down and enjoy life. It's laundry. No matter how many times you take care of it, it'll pile back up. Sit back every now and then, and let it be.
The chore chart is blank. Still on the fridge, but it catches things like "what to buy from the grocery" and "BK3's party planning list". I learned that when I want something done, just ask damnit.
Now all of you mamas reading this, shaking your head with a smile, or wiping the tears away from laughing so hard at me. Thanks. I know. I'm learning. Remember that last blog? Positive thoughts and prayers accepted :)
I'll get to the next-door-neighbor's chicken and BK3 takes a tumble in his walker subjects next blog. I'm pretty sure my toddler is missing inside of one of my cabinets right now...
Sunday, April 8, 2012
...and baby makes 4.
Today is the day many of us are thankful for the one who died for us. The reason we are here, and the reason we are forgiven. The day that we all say positive things. The day that we promise ourselves to try harder when the waves in our lives crash against one another - when we normally frown and say why me? Today we promise to do better.
Welp. It's been a fun 40 days of no social networking. On Ash Wednesday, I did the "unthinkable" and deleted the Facebook & Twitter apps from my cell phone. It took about 2 days of withdrawals to break the habit. I realized JUST how bad the addiction was when I found myself scrolling one app page to the right, and hitting the bottom right square with my index finger...without thinking. Now, the Parenting app would continually pop up, until I realized, STOP FINGER....THAT'S NOT FACEBOOK. After a few days, I felt cleansed. Hilarious. Cleansed is the word I used. I found myself paying MUCH more attention on the road. I would fall asleep more quickly at night. I watched my son play with his toys more. And by day 4, realized it was nice. I had made a good choice. The one thing I grew to miss was looking at the pictures people would post, and keeping in touch with the cool events in people's lives. The many things I didn't miss were the "pity me's", the "oh no she didn't's", the nonchalant status's that were supposed to be vague, yet was obvious to all of us who they were about, the drama, and everyone's favorite, the "my child is better than yours". Yep I said it. Maybe I can just block all of those pages....
So today, I can fill you in on a few awesome things that are happening. I got my first dosage of "mommy, let me do it" from BK3, who's pushing the 11 month mark. I thought I would break down and cry when I held out the piece of yummy juicy chicken for him to eat off of my finger. Instead of opening super wide like he used to, he pushed my hand back, then grabbed it with his own hand. And ate it. Such a small moment, that I'll probably remember for a while. I mean damn, it happened over 2 weeks ago. We signed the construction loan on the new house, which we've been patiently waiting for. The dirt work is complete, and we're hoping a slab will be poured in the next week or two! Mother nature, prayers, and patience are key in this process, so I've learned. Everyone tells me it takes about 6 to 8 months to build....I'm hoping more on the 6. Because on October 16th, we'll be welcoming another exciting member to our family of 3. The Webb's will now be 4. Surprise! I'm 13 weeks and still wondering if this is true. But oh the bulging belly, hormones, headaches, and midnight ice cream runs surely remind me. Brannan and I were hoping to start trying in April / May. God just decided to give us a little jumpstart. That's all. The babies will be 17 months apart. Everyone tells me I'll lose my mind, but I figure, Hey---I'm sure it's just another feat that millions of other mama's handled - while designing their dream homes, running a business, knitting a sweater, and writing a cookbook too ya know? Needless to say, I welcome your positive advice and prayers.
Which brings me to the realization that with each kid, your endurance as a mama increases, however your sharpness in other areas definitely goes downhill. I'm beginning to think most of your mind actually travels south, but that's ok. Brannan and I were heading to our dear friends' wedding rehearsal and dinner one Thursday night a few weeks ago. Brannan and I swapped car positions in order to take his new truck (he got one, by the way) so mine was getting parked closest to the house. As I'm getting out of my car, I remember "lock the door, RIGHT NOW, because you know your husband is going to ask you as SOON as you get in that truck". So I did. The next morning, I was running around 80953 mph, ya know the usual, and almost walking out of the door for Zumba. Looking for the keys - again, the usual. But can't find em. OH SHIT, did I lock them in my car? No, couldn't have. I remember specifically locking it. The keys would've been IN my hand. I text Brannan "Did I leave my keys in your car last night?". "No", his reply. I walk outside.....even though I KNOW the keys aren't in the car, because I remember specifically locking it. Pull the handle, the car door opens. With my keys sitting in my drivers seat. Well I'll be damned, how the hell did that happen? I go to Zumba, work out, groceries, and come back home. A knock at the door. It's my neighbor (they just moved in 2 weeks prior, and they have a CHICKEN in the back yard - we'll get to that in another blog). He begins to tell me that "Last night me and my wife were outside, and noticed your car was running. After several hours (SEVERAL HOURS!!!), I walked over and realized you had left your car running...and unlocked. So I wondered if someone had hit ya over the head? Or what? I just left the keys on the seat, hoping you'd figure it all out ma'am." About then my ears were blurring everything he said, I mustered a "Thanks sir, I REALLY appreciate it" and ran back inside....Probably to throw up from embarrassment OR morning sickness. And I realized. I am now that mom. I just left my keys in my car, running, and went to St. Francisville for 5 hours. I live in the ghetto. I'm shocked that the car wasn't stolen. God is on my side. Again - I welcome your positive thoughts and PRAYERS.
Happy Easter everyone! I know I have so much to be thankful for :)
Welp. It's been a fun 40 days of no social networking. On Ash Wednesday, I did the "unthinkable" and deleted the Facebook & Twitter apps from my cell phone. It took about 2 days of withdrawals to break the habit. I realized JUST how bad the addiction was when I found myself scrolling one app page to the right, and hitting the bottom right square with my index finger...without thinking. Now, the Parenting app would continually pop up, until I realized, STOP FINGER....THAT'S NOT FACEBOOK. After a few days, I felt cleansed. Hilarious. Cleansed is the word I used. I found myself paying MUCH more attention on the road. I would fall asleep more quickly at night. I watched my son play with his toys more. And by day 4, realized it was nice. I had made a good choice. The one thing I grew to miss was looking at the pictures people would post, and keeping in touch with the cool events in people's lives. The many things I didn't miss were the "pity me's", the "oh no she didn't's", the nonchalant status's that were supposed to be vague, yet was obvious to all of us who they were about, the drama, and everyone's favorite, the "my child is better than yours". Yep I said it. Maybe I can just block all of those pages....
So today, I can fill you in on a few awesome things that are happening. I got my first dosage of "mommy, let me do it" from BK3, who's pushing the 11 month mark. I thought I would break down and cry when I held out the piece of yummy juicy chicken for him to eat off of my finger. Instead of opening super wide like he used to, he pushed my hand back, then grabbed it with his own hand. And ate it. Such a small moment, that I'll probably remember for a while. I mean damn, it happened over 2 weeks ago. We signed the construction loan on the new house, which we've been patiently waiting for. The dirt work is complete, and we're hoping a slab will be poured in the next week or two! Mother nature, prayers, and patience are key in this process, so I've learned. Everyone tells me it takes about 6 to 8 months to build....I'm hoping more on the 6. Because on October 16th, we'll be welcoming another exciting member to our family of 3. The Webb's will now be 4. Surprise! I'm 13 weeks and still wondering if this is true. But oh the bulging belly, hormones, headaches, and midnight ice cream runs surely remind me. Brannan and I were hoping to start trying in April / May. God just decided to give us a little jumpstart. That's all. The babies will be 17 months apart. Everyone tells me I'll lose my mind, but I figure, Hey---I'm sure it's just another feat that millions of other mama's handled - while designing their dream homes, running a business, knitting a sweater, and writing a cookbook too ya know? Needless to say, I welcome your positive advice and prayers.
Which brings me to the realization that with each kid, your endurance as a mama increases, however your sharpness in other areas definitely goes downhill. I'm beginning to think most of your mind actually travels south, but that's ok. Brannan and I were heading to our dear friends' wedding rehearsal and dinner one Thursday night a few weeks ago. Brannan and I swapped car positions in order to take his new truck (he got one, by the way) so mine was getting parked closest to the house. As I'm getting out of my car, I remember "lock the door, RIGHT NOW, because you know your husband is going to ask you as SOON as you get in that truck". So I did. The next morning, I was running around 80953 mph, ya know the usual, and almost walking out of the door for Zumba. Looking for the keys - again, the usual. But can't find em. OH SHIT, did I lock them in my car? No, couldn't have. I remember specifically locking it. The keys would've been IN my hand. I text Brannan "Did I leave my keys in your car last night?". "No", his reply. I walk outside.....even though I KNOW the keys aren't in the car, because I remember specifically locking it. Pull the handle, the car door opens. With my keys sitting in my drivers seat. Well I'll be damned, how the hell did that happen? I go to Zumba, work out, groceries, and come back home. A knock at the door. It's my neighbor (they just moved in 2 weeks prior, and they have a CHICKEN in the back yard - we'll get to that in another blog). He begins to tell me that "Last night me and my wife were outside, and noticed your car was running. After several hours (SEVERAL HOURS!!!), I walked over and realized you had left your car running...and unlocked. So I wondered if someone had hit ya over the head? Or what? I just left the keys on the seat, hoping you'd figure it all out ma'am." About then my ears were blurring everything he said, I mustered a "Thanks sir, I REALLY appreciate it" and ran back inside....Probably to throw up from embarrassment OR morning sickness. And I realized. I am now that mom. I just left my keys in my car, running, and went to St. Francisville for 5 hours. I live in the ghetto. I'm shocked that the car wasn't stolen. God is on my side. Again - I welcome your positive thoughts and PRAYERS.
Happy Easter everyone! I know I have so much to be thankful for :)
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Hell on Wheels
It has begun. At the ripe ol' age of 8 1/2 months, my son has taken on the name of Hell on Wheels and he's 15 years shy of a driver's permit. BK3 is just like his daddy. Calm, content, and caring. Nothing really bothers him, except the few times I'll wave a bottle in front of his little hungry face in hopes that he'll say "mama". But that's about it. At almost 9 months, he still barely crawls. I started to think that he would go straight to walking, when just this week, he started to take a few on all fours. He'll crawl about 2 strides, then sit back and rest. If his toy gets tossed across the room, he'll look at it, sigh, and go on to another toy that's close. Lazy? Maybe, but definitely content. Not bothered. It's great for now, since I don't have to gate him in, leash him up, or whatever people do these days to make sure their kids don't get into things. He sits on his carpet and plays...when I walk by, he'll look up at me, throw his hands in the air and kindly ask with his big brown eyes "Pick me up mama?"
Well all of this took a good healthy turn today. As I usually let him spend a little while in his walker each day, today was no different. Normally he won't go too far, mostly backwards. But today, something clicked. Light switch. My son figured out how to lean into that walker the direction he wanted to go, then BAM those li'l legs start a going, and before you know it, he's in a full sprint across the tile. STILL. No big deal. YET.
I'm going about 90 mph to keep up with the housework, cooking (if I even cook that day), office work, preparing for class, you name it, and BK3...not sure what i was doing at this particular moment but I head into the kitchen where B3 is, and notice a puddle of what looks like dog piss on the floor. Um...Roxie? I look up to see Roxie huddled up in the "dog chair" tail tucked under. Wondering why she relieved herself on the kitchen floor, I let her out, cleaned it up, made sure it wasn't on B's feet, and we're moving on. Fast forward to about 30 minutes later...B's still in his walker and I am folding clothes in the living room. I hear B go fast and Bam...runs into something. Giggles. Repeat. I paused before finally going into the kitchen...JUST as I turn the corner, he clips Roxie's heels with the walker...she scurries off, tail tucked....B giggles....wait is that PISS!? I take one look around the room at the 4 piles of piss to realize the culprit. My son. In our tiny 13 by 12 kitchen, 4 puddles of dog pee and a VERY scared Golden-Doodle with sore heels. BK3 was having the time of his life. So now I'm cleaning up more piss, making sure my son's feet aren't caked in it, and taking him out of the walker to give Roxie a little time to relax.
Episode #2. Today, I had about 30 minutes to give B his lunch bottle, feed him his lunch then head out of the house before teaching for 7 hours. I put him in his high chair with his bottle, while I packed him up, loaded the car, put on real shoes (I was afraid I'd leave in my slippers if I didn't change now), and mascara, eat lunch, then feed B his lunch...and head out. B was done with his bottle my tasks were almost complete, so I put him in his favorite place (the walker) for a few minutes while I finish up. The dog room is off set from our kitchen, and since it's an add-on room, it has a little wood strip that divides on the floor. B's walker hasn't been able to get over this hump, to this day. I was taking an important phone call, and a few minutes later I look over to see B IN the dog room (way to get over that hump), holding the dog bowl. Holy shit. I had just filled the dog bowl with about a gallon of water. It was now about an inch deep at Brannan's feet...which he was gladly stomping in. Dog room, flooded. I've got 3 minutes to shove sweet potatoes down his throat, and now I've got to perform some sort of flood clean up. Meanwhile, Boss is just sitting in the dog chair (same one Roxie resorted to) looking at me like "I didn't do it."
Episode 3. I take Brannan to his room to change him. Realizing at this point YEP....just another day I'll be late. I'm pretty good at it now. The being late thing. And I have him on his changing pad, which lies atop his dresser, tucked below the shelves of the hutch. We've been talking about raising the bottom shelf soon, since when B rolls over on his changing pad, his head hits the shelf....Brannan, in rare and hilarious form today, decided it would be fun to take his feet (once I had his shoes put on) and kick the shelf above him. Mind you, the shelf, that is somehow only manufactured to be held to the hutch with two stud things on each side....not 4. So one good swift kick and this shelf was at a diagonal. With a heavy piggy bank, books, a heavy glass frame....wow. Not to mention how heavy the shelf itself was. My son's leg just may be as golden as I hope it is once he starts Soccer! Instead of letting his leg go, so that I can re adjust the shelf, he decided to keep it there, like a kick stand. While I have a mini-panic and finally secure everything, I gave a loud firm "NO" and held him still. I could tell by my own face that I had a scary look offered.....he laughed at me. Louder than any tickle session. Laughed. In my face. Oh boy. Here we go.
So aside from the wine bottle he managed to pull out of the fridge door (I thought I had closed that?). The mini shelf episode. The great dog-room flood. Or maybe the 5 puddles of dog piss I managed to clean up today....It was a good day. And that was just the adventures of Mommy and BK3. I love it. I laughed all day long. This little boy has my heart, and I cannot wait for all of the many adventures we'll go through. Now...just need to work on that "mean face".
Well all of this took a good healthy turn today. As I usually let him spend a little while in his walker each day, today was no different. Normally he won't go too far, mostly backwards. But today, something clicked. Light switch. My son figured out how to lean into that walker the direction he wanted to go, then BAM those li'l legs start a going, and before you know it, he's in a full sprint across the tile. STILL. No big deal. YET.
I'm going about 90 mph to keep up with the housework, cooking (if I even cook that day), office work, preparing for class, you name it, and BK3...not sure what i was doing at this particular moment but I head into the kitchen where B3 is, and notice a puddle of what looks like dog piss on the floor. Um...Roxie? I look up to see Roxie huddled up in the "dog chair" tail tucked under. Wondering why she relieved herself on the kitchen floor, I let her out, cleaned it up, made sure it wasn't on B's feet, and we're moving on. Fast forward to about 30 minutes later...B's still in his walker and I am folding clothes in the living room. I hear B go fast and Bam...runs into something. Giggles. Repeat. I paused before finally going into the kitchen...JUST as I turn the corner, he clips Roxie's heels with the walker...she scurries off, tail tucked....B giggles....wait is that PISS!? I take one look around the room at the 4 piles of piss to realize the culprit. My son. In our tiny 13 by 12 kitchen, 4 puddles of dog pee and a VERY scared Golden-Doodle with sore heels. BK3 was having the time of his life. So now I'm cleaning up more piss, making sure my son's feet aren't caked in it, and taking him out of the walker to give Roxie a little time to relax.
Episode #2. Today, I had about 30 minutes to give B his lunch bottle, feed him his lunch then head out of the house before teaching for 7 hours. I put him in his high chair with his bottle, while I packed him up, loaded the car, put on real shoes (I was afraid I'd leave in my slippers if I didn't change now), and mascara, eat lunch, then feed B his lunch...and head out. B was done with his bottle my tasks were almost complete, so I put him in his favorite place (the walker) for a few minutes while I finish up. The dog room is off set from our kitchen, and since it's an add-on room, it has a little wood strip that divides on the floor. B's walker hasn't been able to get over this hump, to this day. I was taking an important phone call, and a few minutes later I look over to see B IN the dog room (way to get over that hump), holding the dog bowl. Holy shit. I had just filled the dog bowl with about a gallon of water. It was now about an inch deep at Brannan's feet...which he was gladly stomping in. Dog room, flooded. I've got 3 minutes to shove sweet potatoes down his throat, and now I've got to perform some sort of flood clean up. Meanwhile, Boss is just sitting in the dog chair (same one Roxie resorted to) looking at me like "I didn't do it."
Episode 3. I take Brannan to his room to change him. Realizing at this point YEP....just another day I'll be late. I'm pretty good at it now. The being late thing. And I have him on his changing pad, which lies atop his dresser, tucked below the shelves of the hutch. We've been talking about raising the bottom shelf soon, since when B rolls over on his changing pad, his head hits the shelf....Brannan, in rare and hilarious form today, decided it would be fun to take his feet (once I had his shoes put on) and kick the shelf above him. Mind you, the shelf, that is somehow only manufactured to be held to the hutch with two stud things on each side....not 4. So one good swift kick and this shelf was at a diagonal. With a heavy piggy bank, books, a heavy glass frame....wow. Not to mention how heavy the shelf itself was. My son's leg just may be as golden as I hope it is once he starts Soccer! Instead of letting his leg go, so that I can re adjust the shelf, he decided to keep it there, like a kick stand. While I have a mini-panic and finally secure everything, I gave a loud firm "NO" and held him still. I could tell by my own face that I had a scary look offered.....he laughed at me. Louder than any tickle session. Laughed. In my face. Oh boy. Here we go.
So aside from the wine bottle he managed to pull out of the fridge door (I thought I had closed that?). The mini shelf episode. The great dog-room flood. Or maybe the 5 puddles of dog piss I managed to clean up today....It was a good day. And that was just the adventures of Mommy and BK3. I love it. I laughed all day long. This little boy has my heart, and I cannot wait for all of the many adventures we'll go through. Now...just need to work on that "mean face".
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