June 27, 2013

According to Evie v2.0

 
Me: Evie, that's not your Nana. That's my momma!
Evie (confused and mad): NOT YOURS! MINE!
 
Typical toddler.
 
For the record, my husband, father, mother-in-law, and father-in-law don't belong to me either. They're are all hers.
 
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June 26, 2013

My Husband Went to Paris

And all I got was this lousy T-shirt.
 
Just kidding. The t-shirt is pretty awesome. The week, however, was lousy.
 
I'm not posting this to be Debbie Downer, but more Realistic Rosie.
 
I'm sure that one day I will look back at the past week and laugh. However, it's going to take several more glasses of wine and a few cups of coffee to get there.
 
Chris left Friday June 14th just one day after our fourth wedding anniversary. That night I drove to Pickwick to spend the weekend with my parents. The weekend was fine. It always is when you have help. After Sunday things just went downhill.
 
It seems like Murphy's law only applies to me when Chris is out of town.
 
The dogs always misbehave the entire time he is gone. Last week alone we lost four bags of chips, one container of chewing gum, two avocados, one loaf of bread and a bag of chocolate chips. This all resulted in oh so fun upset dog tummy issues that I had to clean up. All with a toddler letting me know very loudly that there was, "Poop, Mommy! Ewww! Yucky! Poop, Mommy!". They also escaped our yard no less than three times while Chris was gone. Reily managed to get in a can of paint and get it all over her and the couch. They were generally just terrible. Le sigh.
 
The dogs were just the tip of the iceberg though. The toddler suffering from temporary insanity and general chaos made for the week from Hell an interesting week. In no certain order the following occurred:
 
Evie was being an angel so I took her to Wal-Mart to pick out a new toy, where she melted down because I wouldn't buy her a broken toy out of the sale bin, and then again because I couldn't give her the new pacis I bought right then!
 
While carrying Evie I slipped in a puddle of boxer drool (gross, I know, but it's life with a boxer), fell down and busted the crap out of my knees to keep her from busting her head.
 
I LOST MY KID. Read that again: LOST MY KID. One morning Peyton, one of my miniature schnauzers, got out of the yard. I told Evie to go play with her puzzles and ran out of the house to go look for the dog. When I came back with Peyton (less than a minute later) the garage door was standing open. I figured I had not shut it all the way. I took Peyton inside and couldn't find Evie. I freaked out, ran outside and she was standing on the front lawn. She looked at me and said, "I lookin' for Peyton, Momma!". Longest forty five seconds of my life. Ever. In other news: my kid can open doors now.
 
I took Evie to Chic-fil-a for dinner. The cow was there. The cow terrifies her. As soon as we walked in the door she started howling, "No! Noooooooooo, coooooooooooow, momma! Nooooooo!" so loudly that an employee actually pulled me aside and said, "Ma'am I noticed how scared she was of the cow, so don't worry he won't come over to this side of the restaurant." She was totally nice about it, and I really wasn't embarrassed but man toddlers are total divas.

Then there was the horrific spider explosion of 2013. Let me preface this with this: I hate spiders. Not only do I hate them but I am also deathly afraid of them. They are soul sucking, evil creatures. I don't care that they eat mosquitoes and flies. Do you hear me? I. Don't. Care. They should all be eradicated. I'm sitting on my couch watching LOST when out of the corner of my eye I see something skitter along the floor. I look over and it is a spider the size of Texas. Not. Kidding. Now if Chris were home I would have screeched and hollered for him to come kill the damn thing. I'm traditional like that. I firmly believe that spider killing falls in the domain of Husband Duties. I creep over to demon spider and chicken out of stomping on it (after all it might jump and attack) so I grab the baby gate raise it high, smash down and succeed in killing the PREGNANT spider. All the spider babies gushed out and I flipped my shizz. I almost wish I had it on video. After stomping and screaming and crying I got them all killed. Then I disinfected the area with rubbing alcohol. Twice. Just in case.

It wasn't all bad though. There were some really bright moments.

Evie told me she loved me several times (with no prompting) and started saying "I love you, too Momma!" before bed.

We went to dinner at the local pizza joint and I got so many pizza sauce hugs and kisses I lost count.

Then there was the time I forgot to put Evie's breakfast on her tray and Evie said ever so sweetly, "Breakfast, momma?". I burst into tears because I was tired, I had just fallen down, my knees hurt and I was so frustrated. I looked and Evie and said, "I'm so sorry baby. Momma's just very very tired." Then this happened:

Evie: Momma very very tired?
Me: Yes, baby. I'm very very tired.
Evie (after a big sigh): Evie very very tired too. ::pats my cheek:: I love you, momma.

Then I melted into a giant puddle of mommy love and things didn't seem so bad any more.

Needless to say we welcomed Chris home Saturday very very happily. I think he liked the part when Evie bolted off the escalator to run to him. Then we had a really yummy breakfast and dinner on Sunday.

My husband is home. My daughter is home. All is right in my world.

Now a picture of the Eiffel Tower because, Paris.

 
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June 24, 2013

Shouts Out to the Boy Moms

The second a woman even thinks about getting pregnant she starts labeling herself. I will be a instinctual mom. I will be a breastfeeding mom. I will be a ferber mom. I will be a baby wearing, bottle feeding, cloth diaper using, vaccinating mom. I will be that kind of mom.

For all the labels we put on ourselves there's one that is entirely out of our control, one that no matter the timing, position or full moon we have a 50/50 shot at: the great unknown, the big kahuna:

 
From the second we find out via ultrasound or birth it's a label we embrace fully! I am having a son! I'm having a daughter! Then we start extolling all the reason we are really really glad we are having sons or daughters.
 
Well, I only have to worry about one penis. Girl moms have to worry about all the penises in the world!
 
Boys are so messy; I'm really glad I don't have to deal with all that! Boy moms have to deal with slugs and mud and dirt, ick! I'll take my charming polite little girl, thank you!
 
Girls are so drama! I could not deal with that! I feel sorry for all those girl moms come the teenage years!
 
OMG! All the cute clothes! Tutus! Bows! Squee! I feel sorry for boy moms and their lack of cute clothes!
 
People actually get pissy about this and write bitchy blog posts. We get defensive over our children, because let's face it, we're moms and moms are probably the most defensive group of people out there. We talk about shotguns and prom dates and hussies that steal boys hearts.
 
I am a girl mom, and I love it. Love it. Bring on the drama, because I wouldn't change this for the world. My boy mom friends, though? Neither would they and I absolutely adore them and their boys. I respect them not because I believe their job is any harder than mine, but because it is imperative that we are all in this together. These women are raising the boys who will be Evie's protectors, best friends, playmates, confidants and boyfriends.
 
So, shouts out to my boy mom friends. The ones who heard "It's a Boy!" and dove head first into the world of baseballs, lizards and dirty, roughed up, skinned knees. The ones who are conquering the great unknown. After all, they are girls raising boys. The ones who are raising up a respectful generation of men. The ones who deal with mud and dirt and bugs. The ones who are teaching their little men to say please and thank you. The ones raising boys with big hearts and gentle hands. The ones who are teaching their guys manners and that chivalry is not dead. The ones who got tasked with the seriously difficult job of teaching their boys the difference between acting like a man and acting like a caveman. The ones who don't buy into the "boys will be boys" notion. The ones who are teaching their sons that a woman is a gift to be treasured, not something to be trashed and then thrown aside. The ones who are raising men I'd be proud to call my son-in-law. The kind of men who won't be flawless, but who will be upstanding, hardworking, just plain good men.
 
You're doing a good job, and your sons are lucky to have you. I hope sincerely that I am up to the task of raising the kind of woman that you would be proud to have as a daughter-in-law.
 
Some of my fave boy moms!
 
* ERIN * MINDI * ANDIE * SARAH * JENN * CANDICE * NATALIE * 


 
 
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June 19, 2013

Destination Vacation Part Four

Friday dawned cloudy with double red flags flying still. Sigh. It was our last day in Destin so my mom and I were determined to go to the beach. We guilted gently persuaded the guys into coming with us. Just before we trekked our stuff down to the water the flags changed from double red to yellow! The menfolk were much more amenable to participating in beach time after the flags changed! We were so glad we decided to go down to the beach that day. It turned out to be the most beautiful day. It wasn't too hot or too breezy and the water was crystal clear. Evie napped for awhile which allowed Chris, William and me to play on the body boards a little bit. When the time came to pack up and head back to the house we were so sad.

{Beach Nappin'}


{Dune Grass}

 
{Loving the ocean!}




{Beautiful clear water! This was on a sand bar about 20 feet off the shore. So calm and shallow I walked my Nikon out there!}


{Water stompin' and boy this sun is bright!}
 

{Pretty pink piggies!}



That night we decided to head over to Harborwalk Village to eat one last yummy meal at The Crazy Lobster. On the walk in we noticed a kiddie train that ran the length of the street and after a delicious meal we bought tickets for Evie and Chris to take a ride. Our little choo choo loving girl had a blast. Chris said she was talking the whole time about how much she loved the train and how it was "Evie's choo choo!". Needless to say she did want to get off, but somehow we managed to pry her away with minimal meltdown issues. Next, we went to the candy/ice cream shop and then down to the dock for a family picture.

{Choo! Choo!}



{Family photo!}
 


On Saturday we said good-bye to Destin until next year. It's always so hard to leave Destin, but this year it was especially hard. I feel like Evie had so many firsts and really changed a lot that week. She was so much fun, and we had a blast with my family! Coming home was definitely bittersweet, and going back to work just plain sucked!
 {In flight treat!}
 

{When you just can't decide which paci to use!}
 
 
*A Note About Cloth Diapering: Yes, we did travel with our cloth again this year. I'm not going to dedicate a special post to it because we did almost exactly the same thing we did last year, except we did use disposable swim diapers mostly. As always I am happy to answer any cloth diaper questions you have related to travel or not!
 

 
Read PART ONE!
Read PART TWO!
 
Want to read about last year's trip to Destin?
 
 
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