Monday, June 1, 2015

It's June already?!

It's June already, holy crap!!
I think I have been waiting for summertime to get here since probably February.  It doesn't get super cold here but it's nice to not have to wait until mid-morning to head out and play.
It's finally starting to warm up a little bit, so I'm sure I'll be complaining in no time about how friggin' hot it is outside.
I think I'm most excited about summer time being here because it means that there will be barbecues and swim dates every weekend from here until September, and having something to occupy my crazy little toddlers is huge in our household.
This weekend we went to the local water park and then to a cookout to celebrate my mother-in-law's birthday.
I have no pictures from those events, but here are some of what we've been up to.
Andy built the kids a playhouse, Jackson has learned to walk and climb recently, we had a blast blowing bubbles at the local farmer's market and Lucy started her first gymnastics class.
Happy June 1, everyone!  It's my favorite month of the year!







Thursday, January 22, 2015

If I make it out alive...

I swear I will laugh about this stuff when she's older.  Or probably even next week.
Today has just been one of those days where I am a second away from dropping f-bombs all up in here to blow off some steam.
I decided that we would stay home today so I could focus more on potty training.  We've been using Pull-ups for the past few weeks but the people on the Internets are right, she's not uncomfortable when wet because it's like wearing a diaper. 
So I bought training underwear in hopes of helping her learn that peeing your pants sucks and makes you feel gross.
I think we are on pair number four or five today. Instead of telling me she has to go, I get, "Uh oh, change the diaper!" or "Uh-oh, pee!" and then I look over and her pants are soaked.
It's progress, though, because I know soon she will probably tell me she has to go instead of telling me she went.
But being housebound has made me cranky.  We usually head out for an activity in the morning.  That way, she is worn out, ready for lunch and ready for a nap instead of like today.
After taking her pee for the zillionth time, we headed out, Jackson, dogs and all to play in the front yard before lunch.
Which was cool, until it was time for lunch.  Because that meant going inside.
Cue the running across the yard screaming "Play outside! Play outside!" which meant mommy had to spent extra time coaxing her in the house like a dirty cat that needs a bath.
While I was making lunch, three time-outs were given for spitting water all over the floor twice and then running to her bedroom with a fork just because I asked her to give me the fork.  She grabbed it off of the counter, I asked for it which apparently means run like a bat out of hell even though running with a fork is a bad idea.  But she doesn't know that.
When she was done with lunch, she hucked her placemat across the table, which connected with my glass of water, spilling it all over the floor and Brody.
The cherry on top was when I had refilled my cup of water, and she decided to pick it up, walk to the other side of the table and dump the contents all over the floor.
So naturally I called Andy and begged him to come home with chocolate.
Now she is sleeping after minimal fuss.  I guess being a badass is tiring.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

That one time I got blood all over the post office

See also:  That time Steph made an ass of herself in front of a bunch of strangers.

I will admit, most of the time I psych myself out about really dumb things to only discover it's really not as bad as I thought (like going to a new grocery store with two kids under three.  I know.  I really over thought that one.)
And going to the post office with a two-year-old and a 10-month-old should have been one of those things, had I actually thought more about it.  In the past I hadn't been to keen on dragging them to the post office, but since we live in Roseville now, and said post office is walking distance from a park and a library, we make a fun little outing of it now.
I needed to mail a humidifier tank back to the manufacturer because I ordered the wrong box, and you would think with all of the Amazon Prime ordering my family does, we would have a box that would fit it, so I could just print up a postage slip and mail it from home.
But seeing that I like cute things, and the tank is shaped like a frog, of course it wouldn't fit any boxes we had.
So, I had to visit the dreaded post office.  Now, even before kids, I never really visited the post office a lot, nor had I mailed a ton of packages, so I didn't really know how it "worked."
I thought they would find a box for me and package up my froggy tank.
Nope.
When we rolled up to the post office, Jackson had been asleep for a few minutes.  Since he'd been fighting a nap for most of the morning, I decided I would wear him and put Lucy in the stroller.  You know, because I thought they would box up the tank.
Right away, it's super awkward because I have Lucy in the double stroller since we were planning to walk to the park afterwards, and the post office is tiny.  I mean, I could have pushed it into the post office and bowled over a few elderly patrons and some bubble wrap.
So awkward mom of the year I am, I see an employee in the lobby and meekly hold up my tank, saying I need to find a box for it.
The guy pretty much held my hand through the whole process.  I'm a 32-year-old woman who doesn't know how to mail a package.  They should really teach that in school.
After trying to fit it in several boxes, we finally found one.  The post office guy asks if I need tape, and I say yes.  I set the tape and my large box down on their tiny little table, and ask Lucy to hang onto the tank.
Watching me awkwardly fumble at folding the box (since I have a 23-pound sleeping baby strapped to my chest, which makes most things tricky) he offers to tape the bottom of the box for me.
I put the tank in the box, he hands me some bubble wrap, I stuff it in the box and give the extras to Lucy because she loves bubble wrap.  I know, plastic and a toddler, and all of those warnings about this not being a toy, but I'm right there, hello.
Being the person that I am (the can't ever ask for help person) I attempt to tape the box shut.
As I'm pulling the tape down to cut off a piece, my finger comes down on the jagged cutting blade and leaves what looks like a tiny little shark bite on my finger.
Being that it was my finger, though, of course it starts to profusely bleed.
All over the box, all over the table, all over the stroller, all over the floor.
Basically, I am just flinging blood all over the place everywhere I go.
I tell the poor, confused employee that I cut myself, not because I'm mad about it, but because I want him to know his post office lobby has basically become a haz mat scene.
He relocates me over to another counter so I can finish filling out my address sticker.
Now, I should pause here and say that the stares and whispers on the part of the other patrons had already started when I walked in with my enormous stroller and started taking up the post office dude's time.
The stares and whispers pretty much tripled as soon as the blood started flowing.  Some of them were of the sympathetic variety, but there were definitely some judgmental ones going.
As soon as my package was taped and ready, I had multiple offers to cut in line to the front.
But being that a) I wasn't sure how I would navigate my stroller to the front without taking anyone out and b) I already felt bad for making a spectacle, I headed to the back of the line.
Of course that was a mistake, because Lucy was done with her snack.
I had to endure hearing "Go to the park?" and "Turn around, turn around!" and "Get down, get down!" for the remaining ten minutes we were in the post office.
Props to the sympathetic lady behind me, who has a 3-year-old but was smart enough to visit the post office while he was in preschool.
The nice man in front of me, after offering to let Lucy hold his mail, offered again for me to go ahead of him, so I sighed and did it.
Next time, I'm going to Kinko's.
End scene.

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Old house love

I took a totally unintentional break from blogging this past month, but I'm pretty sure it had to do with, oh, I don't know, moving.
We've been living in our new house for three weeks now, but today marks the day that the Lincoln house is no longer ours.  
I had a mini-meltdown this morning when I realized that it was Nov. 1, and yesterday was the last day it was ours.
Andy and I did some cleaning over there during the week, and I made it maybe two hours into cleaning without crying over some memory I had.  I think I was in Lucy's room, and realizing that someone was probably going to paint over her mural made me pretty sad and then it was all over from there.
I like to say that I(we) grew up in that house.  It was the first house we bought, and we spent most of the time we've been married there.  We brought Brody home to that house, we had so many parties and shenanigans, and then we brought each of our babies home to that house.  That house will always have a special place in my heart.
Enough with all of the sappy shit, though.  How about a trip down memory lane?
 Ahh, my graduation party.  We later found the "baby" behind the TV.

 Dirty Scrabble was born at this table.
 And who can forget the adult pinata party?  We stuffed it full of miniature bottles of booze, quarters, candy and poppers.

Aaaaand our very first Halloween party, where Jeff (left) dressed up as Scott (right).
 We brought Lucy home here!!
 And Brody.

 We made Cake Pops...
 And brought Cartman home!


 And had six Christmases...
 And five Halloweens (two of which I remember, hee hee).
 And we brought Jackson home here!
Goodbye, old friend.  You were a really good house, we were very lucky to have you!
(There were so many more pictures I could have posted, but as you can see, I have two little children, and ain't nobody got time for that.)

Saturday, October 4, 2014

A small town really is like a family

I realize how cliche that sounds, but it's true.
This is my last Saturday night in our small town.  
I realize a population of 43,000 isn't really that small, considering the town I grew up in only had Tonaround 1,400 people in 2000.
But Lincoln really is like a small town, and I'm really going to miss it.
Any given day, I can drive down the street and know the guy driving the garbage truck next to me, the police officer on the side of the road doing a traffic stop, the dude cleaning the fountain in Beermann Plaza and most of the guys on the fire engine racing through town.
We can go to Target for diapers and wind up stopping to talk to at least one person we know, and that's on a good day.
We try to go the library every Thursday for Mother Goose on the Loose, and love chit chatting with the librarians we've come to know and love.
We've been here for six years, and the first year we pretty much kept to ourselves.  I didn't really start getting to know people until I started working for the newspaper, and the town really grew on me, I started to get to know so many different people that I consider friends now.
I'm a little sad about moving to the next city over.  Sure it's bigger, and there's more stuff to do there, but I'm really going to miss seeing familiar, friendly faces on an almost daily basis.
Cheers Lincoln, it's been fun getting to know you.  We'll be back to visit often, I promise.

Monday, September 8, 2014

Six months

This little nugget turned six months old on Sunday!


































I cannot even put into words what Jackson adds to our family.  He is the happiest, snuggliest and funniest little boy.
This little meatball loves his sister, and she's the only one who can really make him giggle by doing nothing at all.  She sneezes, he laughs.  She shrieks, he laughs.  When I say nothing, I mean she doesn't try to make him laugh, pretty much her existence makes him laugh.
Everyone comments on how big he is.  And the kid his huge.  We weighed him on our bathroom scale and he was 20 pounds last night.  At his doctor's appointment today, he was 19 pounds, which is what Lucy weighed at one!

I'm not sure if it's a boy vs. girl thing, or what, but we have been more successful with breastfeeding, so I think that has a lot to do with it.  
We got clearance to start solid foods, so tonight he had his first taste of oatmeal.  I was too busy manning the spoon to get pics, but Andy did, so I'll have to get my hands on those.  I think it's safe to say he enjoyed it, and kept grabbing the spoon.  He needed a bath right after, that's for sure.

He's a pro at rolling over both ways, and has started scooting backwards on his tummy.  It's really only a matter of time until he's crawling!
I can't wait to see what the next six months hold for this little nugget!  

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Pumpkin spice and NICU beds

Lucy turned two on Monday, which has drummed up a bunch of different, somewhat fleeting, feelings for me over the past week.
The feels get me at the most randomest times, and make me think of all of the things Andy and I had to endure two years ago.
I ordered my first Pumpkin Spice iced coffee from Starbucks last week, and it took me right back to Lucy's first week home.
Pumpkin Spice syrup always comes out around the first week of September, and being sleep deprived, Andy and I hit up the drive through what seemed like almost every day during her first few weeks home.  
I think from now until she's all grown-up, Pumpkin Spice will make me think of baby Lucy (and they better still have it then!)
The past few weeks, every time I've driven north on Highway 65 from Roseville, I think of sitting in the backseat on the way home from the hospital, with Lucy next to me.
And just driving past Kaiser Roseville, but especially visiting it for doctor's appointments, always make me think of the week I spent there after she was born.
Her whole birth experience was exciting, scary, fun and traumatizing all at the same time.  I look at the photo on the left and I am just so thankful that everything turned out well in the end.  Seeing my little baby hooked up to tubes and wires was terrifying, and not knowing if she was going to be okay for the first few days was something I wouldn't wish upon anyone. There are days that I sometimes take for granted the silly, vibrant and smart two-year-old I have (especially when she's being mischievous) but then I think of how bad things could have gone and I thank my lucky stars.
The cooler mornings we've been having remind me of waking up and hobbling down three stories with milk I'd pumped the night before to the NICU so Andy and I could change her diaper, take her temperature and attempt to nurse her and then give her the milk I'd brought with me.  
We'd hang out for awhile, I'd pump and we would wait for the doctor to make his rounds so we could hear about her platelet and white blood cell counts and how close we would be to taking her home.
For the six days she was in NICU, it was pretty much a lather, rinse, repeat type of thing.  Wake up, pump, go down to the NICU for a few hours, go upstairs and take a nap or relax until the next feeding.  We would do that until 8 p.m., and I would skip going down for the midnight and four a.m. feedings, and sorry not sorry, because I needed my sleep!  I feel a little guilty saying this, but when we had Jackson, I sort of missed skipping the early morning feedings like I did with her because he roomed with me.
I think about watching "Friends" during my middle of the night pumping session, and making fun of the show "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" with Andy.  I mean, who doesn't know they are pregnant until they give birth to a full term baby in a toilet?  Come on!
I think of our supportive family bringing us food for lunch and dinner.
I remember before we had Lucy our dogs were our babies, and I sent Andy home each night so the boys wouldn't be lonely.  And once I'd been discharged going home to see them, and they were so happy, and I burst into tears because I felt like I was more worried about my dogs than my baby at the time.
But even though she was in the NICU, I always knew she would be okay and I think that's what got me through such a scary time.  Sure, the thought that maybe her platelet count wouldn't go up crossed my mind, but as her numbers kept going up and up, I knew she was going to be okay.  Life would be a little hard for awhile with having to keep her isolated form other people, but that was a temporary and necessary measure to keep her healthy.
And in the end, it totally paid off, and we have a loud, opinionated and smart toddler running around our house.  I cannot wait to see what the next year brings for our little girl!