Monday, April 30, 2012

Wait...There Are SEVEN Days In A Week??

So, I had every intention of fully participating in the Knitting & Crochet blog week, but then the weekend hit and I was all, "They expect me to write for SEVEN days?? Like, on the weekend, too? Don't they know the week has ENDED? And that Big Mister is home? And that it's time to PAR-TAY?? Or at least nap more since Big Mister can watch Little Mister for me? DON'T THEY??"

Yeah. I only got up to Day Five on Blog week, but goodness gracious I had fun doing it. :) Methinks I'm going to have to do some more drawrings in the future. (And, in my head it is pronounced "draw-rings" like Mike Meyers' Simon from SNL. Or at least the way I think he says it. It's the way my sister and I say it, so it's an in-joke between us that many people probably didn't get and so they instead think I can't spell "drawings." Well, see- I can. And now you are in on our in-joke.) (I guess you had to be there.)

Instead of blogging, I ended up going back to the sadistic massage therapist and, in all honest to God seriousness, my butt is bruised. Like someone-grabbed-a-hold-of-my-cheeks-in-a-ninja-death-grip-and-swung-me-around-the-room bruised. I hopped in the shower yesterday and thought, "HOLY COW! Did that lady read my blog and say, 'I'll give you something to cry about, wussy girl!'?"

The sad thing is that I thought it was going well and was even surprised at the reduction in both pain and in full body convulsions I had while she was trying to find Waldo near my gall bladder and was congratulating myself on how much I had toughened up from the last appointment. And then, after I got home, I finally remembered that I had taken 4 Advil prior to my appointment because I am smart and OH DEAR GOD THE PAIN!

And now I wish I hadn't taken the Advil because I would have been able to feel the full force of her work and could have begged her to let up a little bit and my poor derriere wouldn't look like someone danced the Electric Slide all over it.  Seriously- that lady is an amazing massage therapist. Strong as all get-out and tenacious when she finds an area that needs to be worked on. It really isn't her fault that I bruise easily.*

Anywho...I hope y'all had fun during the Knitting and Crochet blog week and hopefully even found some new knitting and crochet blogs you didn't know about before. All that blogging about crochet and getting into my stash really got my crochet mojo going and so I spent yesterday ripping out the remaining rows on Little Mister's Blanket-o-love and then basically regraphed the whole thing. I had completed 168 rows prior to running out of yarn. I was going to unravel about 80 rows to get to the place where I was going to use the new green instead of the old green. And then I decided that the whole thing was poo, so I unraveled 80 more rows. I ended up with 8 rows of my original work left. I'm still debating whether or not I should be committed.

Ah well. It will be worth it in the end. (I keep telling myself.) I started working on it today and I must admit it feels good. Except for the hunching over while working on Tunisian crochet color work, which really puts strain on my shoulders.

Dagnabbit. That means I'm going to need a massage again. Don't worry, butt cheeks. The shoulders will get the brunt of it next time...

Night, y'all.

* For reals- I do bruise easily. I don't think I've ever gone a day in my life without a bruise somewhere on my body. Usually on the sides of my thighs/hips and arms because those are my preferred body parts to use when locating tables and walls.

Friday, April 27, 2012

Going Yarn Shopping with Gege- An Illustrated Tale

Today is Day Five in the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week and today's topic is "Something A Bit Different." We are encouraged to boldly blog in ways no man has blogged before. Or at least in a way we haven't blogged before. So, I thought I'd demonstrate my amazing drawring abilities while giving you a peek at a day in my (shopping) life.


When I go yarn shopping, I always have something in mind- a goal, a purpose- so that I am focused on buying what I need and ONLY what I need. No frivolous yarn purchases for me.

I am so lucky to have a husband who understands and supports my yarning and crochet endeavors

Our marriage has survived- nay- FLOURISHED for so long because we always support each other and compromise, compromise, compromise.

Yarn is the universal friend maker- the bridge between all ages.

It's amazing how peaceful and serene shopping for yarn can be.

The end result is always the same- a happy wife, a peaceful husband, and a restraining order baby safely secured...somewhere under all that yarn.

 The End.


I hope you enjoyed this snippet of my life.  If so, please let eskimimimakes know- there are prizes to be won for this particular day. YAY! I'll give you candy if you nominate or vote for me. Promise.

(No I won't...that's a lie.)

To view other creative blog postings, google search: LikeI'mGoingToSendYouToMyCompetitors. I'm sure you'll find lots of creative blog postings that way. *innocent smile*

(Ok, ok- search for 3KCBWDAY5. But don't nominate anyone else. I have candy. And nunchuks.)

Thursday, April 26, 2012

To Everything There is a Season Turn! Turn! Crochet!

Alright. Today is Day Numero Four for the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week and the topic is "A Knitter or Crocheter For All Seasons?" We are encouraged to discuss the seasonality of our craft with y'all. Like, "I like to crochet warm stuff in winter because it's cold," or something along those lines. I must admit this topic didn't really get my blogging mojo running so, instead of utilizing the excellent nap Little Mister took this morning to do something productive, like blogging, I ended up thinking, "Ugghhh...why did I decide to commit to writing everyday for this blog week thingy? Seasons of my crochet? I don't make sweaters. I need a sweater because it's cold here. It's almost winter. Winter, spring, summer and fall...all you have to do is call...and I'll be I have that song in my head. I'm hungry. I wonder how long Little Mister is going to nap. Seasons....seasons.....Uggggghhhhhh."

And then I went on the hunt for food. I didn't even spend his nap time cleaning my house but that's because I did that yesterday (!!!!) and yes, that truly was a Porcine Pilot you saw today. You are welcome.

I just couldn't think of how the heck I could say that I make things seasonally and then BAM! It hit me. Instead of crocheting different projects dependent on the seasons of the year, I actually crochet different projects dependent on the seasons OF MY LIFE.

Take a moment to let the profoundness of that statement sink in. I know I had to. I had to eat a sandwich and take a nap it was so profound.

I find that I will go through crocheting bursts dependent on how my life is going. For instance, I taught myself how to crochet in the summer of 2007 when I took a leave of absence from my job as well as a sabbatical from my schooling. I was so stressed out and filled with worry and anxiety and found solace in trying to get a hang of this whole yarn thing.

And then I became addicted and couldn't stop. When I find something I like- a pattern, a stitch, a color- I tend to go through an "Obsession Season."  My first Obsession Season was my "Round Ripple Season," which was most of 2007 and 2008. (There is actually one more that I made but I didn't take a picture of it before giving it away.)

Top L: My sister's boob blanket, top R: Greens for my mom, Mid L: G-ma's 90th b-day blanket, Mid R: Spidey-ghan for Lyteyz's Little Man, Last row: MY PURPLES!!!
 At the end of 2008, I went through my "Scarf Season."

Wait...I'm NOT a scarf? You mean I was adopted???

 I'm currently going through a "Stained Glass Window" season. It started with a pillow and has continued to two purses, a blanket, and a cowl.

One "manly pillow" coming up

The fastest foot-crocheter in the west.

As you can see, I'm also going through an, "UFO Season," as well.

I find that I crochet the most, and the most intensely, during the "STRESS!!!" seasons of my life, whether they are out of my control or self induced, i.e. I put an insane deadline for myself to finish something. Such as an upcoming birthday where I had to crochet furiously for two months to finish this.

Ah yes...the Mario season of 2009. Unusual weather we are having. (Name that movie!)

When my life season is a little overwhelming, I always have my escape plans in place. Usually sticking my head in the sand like an ostrich is my number one go-to plan. My sands of choice are either books, video games (Hellllloooooo BigFishGames!), and, of course, crochet. I became extremely productive at the end of 2009 and early 2010 due to that particular overwhelming season.

This particular season of my life- new motherhood and relocating to the other side of the world- has been pretty overwhelming, as well. I cycled through all of my escapisms and have actually been pretty darn productive crochet wise, but unfortunately either haven't finished or haven't taken pictures of what I was working on yet, so unfortunately I can't showcase much stuff right this moment. Hopefully very soon, though. It's been a while since I've shared a finished object and I'd like to get some of the many (many!) UFOs out of my "allllllmost finished" pile. (I think the last one was my Christmas tree skirt....HEY! Not only another round ripple, but a Christmas SEASON crocheted item! Totally on track with the theme of today's blog topic!)

So, there you have it. Winter, spring, summer and fall, Gege crochets it all. Is there a season of life when you are most creative, as well?

To see other blogs participating in the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week Day 4, do a search for 3KCBWDAY4.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Did You Ever Know You Were My Hero?

It’s Day Three of the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week. Yes, I just posted my Day Two, but for me in the Land Down Under, it’s really Day Three so I’m playing catch up from posting the first day late and am making up for it by doing a double posting from the future. Or something like that.


Anywho…the topic for today is “Your Knitting or Crochet Hero.” Of course I’m totally picturing a crocheter dressed in a superhero costume, a big “C” emblazoned on the front, flying around Crotchopolis (hmmm…sounded better in my head) to right all the wrongs of this world *coughknittingcough*. But since I haven’t finished my suit yet there isn’t a crochet superhero out there yet, I’m going to have to say the first person to pop into my head was my mom.

Now, she is not an obvious choice for this because she is actually not a knitter or crocheter, although she was quite the macramé queen back in the day. However, she is extremely artistic and amazingly inventive. Extremely. She’s the type of person who can look at a piece of junk and see a gorgeous piece of furniture waiting to be revealed. She can go through a kitchen cabinet and chose a random assortment of ingredients and BAM! The best dinner you’ve had all week. She can see something amazing on TV- a skirt, a curtain, a painting- cock her head to the side and say, “I wonder if they did it this way?” And then WHOOSH! She not only replicates it, she improves it. I can only wish I had a quarter of the artistic talent and abilities that my mom has.

So, after laying the groundwork for how amazing my mom is, and to reiterate that she is NOT a knitter or crocheter, I want to show you exhibit A for why she’s my knitting hero.

My mom is more awesome than your mom.

What you are looking at is the very first knitted item my mom ever made. Ever ATTEMPTED to make. She was in her twenties and decided to take a crafting lesson at the local Senior Center because old people are cool and this is what she came home with. She said she never finished it because she got too busy and started having kids so, in essence, I am the reason why my mom is not the knitting or crocheting superhero she was obviously destined to be.

Once you pick up your jaws off the floor, I want to remind you what my first (and only) knitted item was.

It's a washcloth! Yeah...shut up.

Now look back at my mom’s intricate cabling.

And back to my pathetic excuse for a washcloth.

And now you know why she’s my knitting/crafting/cooking/super hero. (Heeey...maybe I can get her to make me my Super Crochet costume.....)

To see other blogs participating in the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week Day 3, do a search for 3KCBWDAY3.

My Perfect Crafting Day

For Day Two of the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week, the topic is a Photography Challenge Day. We are encouraged to take creative pictures of the yarny kind and there is a competition and everything. Well. I wanted to make it a fair competition for others, so I decided to remove myself from the festivities and instead use this as the “Wild Card” day. Ok, ok. I admit I am not a good photographer. And believe me, I hear you saying, “*Gaaaasp!* No, Gege! You are amazing at everything you do!” But, as true as that is and as perfect as I am (hee!), when it comes to photography I really do not have the eye for it and get impatient trying to set things up for the “perfect shot.”

So. The Wild Card topic is "Craft Your Perfect Day" where we are supposed to discuss what our perfect crafting day looks like. So without further ado, here's what my perfect crafting day looks like.

My Perfect Crafting Day is one where I don’t have to choose:

Do I wash the dishes or my new felted bag?

Do I need clean underwear or do I need to finish just one more row?

Does My Mister need a good wife or a new hat?

Do I need to change the baby’s diaper, or the channel to my favorite show?

Do I vacuum the floor or pet my stash?

Do I get dressed for the day or roll around naked in my yarn?

Do I lay the bed or lie IN the bed?

Do I stop Little Mister from eating that paper or do I finish just one more row?

Do I stop Little Mister from eating that power cord or do I finish just one more row?

Do I change the litter box to get rid of the smell or do I crochet myself a gas mask?

Do I work out to reduce the size of my butt or do I work in to reduce the size of my stash?

Do I need to call my mom or do I need a lobotomy?

Do I make dinner or do I make a shawl?

Do I go to sleep or do I finish just one more row?

Here’s hoping for a decision free crafting day someday soon!

You can find other participants in the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week Wild Card Day by doing a search for: 3KCBWWC

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Lover of Color. And Colours, Too

Today’s topic for the Knitting and Crochet Blog Week 2012 (or, rather yesterday’s topic in Australia time…I had the most difficult time finding the topics for these blog posts. Oh well! It’s still the 23rd in Hawaii.) is Color Lovers. Actually, it’s ColOUr Lovers. I’m assuming Eskimimi is British. Or Canadian. Or Australian? I actually don’t know if Australians spell things funny like that. Considering they spell fiber “fibre,” then I’m thinking they probably do.


ANYwho… I LOVE this topic. I love this topic because I love color. Or colour. Either way. If it’s bright and colorful and especially if it’s purple then I love it. I tend to think and feel in color. When I’m sad or in a funk, my world seems monotone or even colorless. Conversely, when I’m happy and engaged with life, the world is bursting with color- usually from all the unicorn farts. Heck, I even smell in color. My Mister thought it was really odd the first time I told him, “Yummm…this smells so pretty. It smells purple.”

When it comes to yarn, I don’t discriminate. I’m all, “YAAAAARN!” and then buy out the whole store. Usually after snorting as many skeins as I can while rubbing the really soft ones on my face while purring, “Baaaay-beeeee.” You think I’m kidding- just ask Lyteyz. Unfortunately (for my dignity) she’s been witness to my wool induced craziness.

I was looking through my stash and found that I do have lots (and lots and lots) of just about every color in the rainbow. I do seem to have more pinks/reds and blues. Yes, even more than purple, which is odd, really. (*Note to self: Buy more yarn. I mean, buy more purple yarn.)

I love bright, “LOOK AT ME!” colors.

From top left: Stitch Nation bamboo ewe "Snapdragon," Lion Brand Wool "Pumpkin," Universal Yarn Deluxe Worsted 100% Wool "Marigold," RHSS (unknown color), Patons Classic Wool "Too Teal," Classic Elite Yarns Silky Alpaca Lace "2495," Stitch Nation bamboo ewe "Geranium"

And more subtle, “Meh. Whatever. I’m too hipster to notice,” colors.

From top left: Jojoland Rhythm "M13," Caron Simply Soft "Country Blue," Naturally Caron Country "Loden Frost," Patons Classic Wool Merino "Old Gold," Patons Classic Wool "Paprika," Patons Classic Wool "Cognac Heather"

I love pastel colors.

From Top left: Lion Cashere Blend "Light Blue," Sensations Bellezza Collection Tesoro "Purple," Sensations Bellezza Collection Tesoro "Pink," Sensations Bellezza Collection Tesoro "Peach," Sensations Bellezza Collection Tesoro "Yellow"

I love variegated colors. Maybe a little too much…

From top left: Senations Arctic "Berry," Patons Classic Wool Merino "Regency," Patons Classic Wool "Rosewood," Lion Brand Wool "Autumn Sunset," Patons SWS "Natural Crimson," Reynolds Top Seed Cotton Print "5132," Patons Classic Wool (unknown), Patons Classic Wool "Retro," Lion Brand Wool "Ocean Blues," Elegant Yarns, Inc Kaleidoscope "21"

I love putting different colors together and seeing the outcome.

As part of this blog topic, one of the suggested questions was, “How much attention do you pay to the original colour that a garment is knit in when you see a pattern?” I thought about it for a second and realized that I really don’t crochet things from other people’s patterns. I love looking through the patterns and have a great collection of crochet pattern books, but I find I have too many ideas in my head to crochet other patterns. This makes me a little sad, really. I have so many things I’d love to make that so many gifted designers have made. Like this jacket from Shibaguyz.

Bangkok Jacket, AKA: MINE, ALL MINE!!!

How amazing is that??? I must admit, the gorgeous bright green is one of the reasons this jacket has suction cupped itself to my face while chanting, “LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME! I am soooo pretty!! Make me NOW!” I find that that color with that design is just perfection. I love it!

Then I realized that many times when I see patterns, I do often think, “Ooooo…it’d look great in this color!” One exception is this blanket by Lisa Naskrent.

Moorish Mosaic Afghan AKA: *jaw on the floor*

I can’t even begin to express how much I am in love with this blanket and it’s precisely due to the perfect combination of colors she chose. I have seen different versions of this blanket on Ravelry and none come close to the absolute jaw dropping awe I felt when I first laid eyes on this blanket. I remember the first time I saw it. My Mister and I were eating lunch at Mama Lucci’s and I was flipping through the Interweave Crochet magazine when I was dumbstruck with the gorgeousness and literally gasped, slobbered and tried stringing together words, “Daaaaa…….Must….lick…..purdy……….AAAAAACKKKKK!”

That, my friends, is the power of color over me.

I’ve showed that having the right color can make a project pop with my Super Mario Blanket.

Heck, I’ve spent the last couple weeks taking apart a million rows of Tunisian crochet just because of the differences in these colors.


Yeah. I know. It’s a sickness, I tell you. Nothing a little crochet therapy can’t handle, though. Fondling all that yarn made me a leeeetle bit loopy. Til tomorrow, y’all.

From Eskimimi: To read all about other peoples' love of colour from those taking part in Knitting and crochet blog week, simply perform a Google search for the tag 3KCBWDAY1

Monday, April 23, 2012

Good Mom/Bad Mom

You guys, we had a rough night. Little Mister didn't sleep at all, thus Big Mister and I didn't sleep at all. It’s been another 6 days since Little Mister pooped. AGAIN. He did have a little bit of a shart yesterday, but certainly not a 6 day poop shart. I also think he’s teething again since he’s sticking everything in his mouth- including my giant plastic crochet hooks. I so wish I had my camera while he was holding it while under his Fibonacci blanket yesterday. Of all the times to forget my phone at home…argh.

He's not napping today, either. I finally put him on the floor in my bedroom so I could have a minute to myself to…take care of business…and the next thing I know, the cat is running into the bathroom, her arthritic hips flailing, while meowing maniacally and pointing accusingly at Little Mister who was stealthily army crawling our way with a laugh on his lips, a twinkle in his eye, and a look of determination on his face. At least I hope it was “determination.” I’m afraid it was, “homicidal mania” and his “happy laughter” was, “Ima gonna get you, cat,” with “This ain’t no “twinkle” I be crazy, yo!”

I'm tired and a little bit on edge today and the only things that keep popping into my head were the following Good Mom/Bad Mom examples. And they gave me ideas made me giggle. I could really use a laugh today, so if you can add any to these, please do.

Ten Differences Between A Good Mom and A Bad Mom

Good Mom: Teaching your child the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you’d have them do to you.
Bad Mom: Teaching your child the Golden Rule: You poop on me, I poop on you.

Good Mom: Offering your baby your breast for some nutritious breast milk.
Bad Mom: Offering your baby your toe for some moldy toe jam.

Good Mom: Teaching your baby to say, “I love you, grandma!”
Bad Mom: Teaching your baby to say, “I’ll cut you, dirty whore!”

Good Mom: Securely fastening your baby to their car seat.
Bad Mom: Not fastening the car seat to the car.

Good Mom: Giving your baby a teething ring to help with the pain of teething.
Bad Mom: Taping your baby’s mouth shut so they’ll quit crying about their stupid teeth.

Good Mom: Offering your baby a variety of fruits and vegetables.
Bad Mom: Offering your baby a variety of road kill.

Good Mom: Teaching your child to pick up their toys and put them away.
Bad Mom: Teaching your child to pick up some hos and put them in ICU.

Good Mom: Letting your child play with a rubber ducky in the bathtub.
Bad Mom: Letting your child play with a plugged in toaster oven in the bathtub.

Good Mom: Clapping and laughing when your baby rolls over.
Bad Mom: Clapping and laughing when your baby rolls down an embankment.   

Good Mom: Gently rocking your baby and cooing, “Go to sleep, sweetie.”
Bad Mom: Not so gently hitting your baby with a rock while yelling, “GO TO SLEEP, BUTTMUNCH!”

Here's hoping tonight will be better than last night!

PS: I'm going to be participating in the 3rd Annual Knitting and Crochet Blog week this week. Should be fun! (Thanks to Libby for blogging about it, otherwise I'd never have known!)

Saturday, April 21, 2012

The Voices In My Head

In my mind, I’m still 22 years old and able to hike hours and hours and bike miles and miles and I can still lose 5 pounds in a couple days by skipping lunch every now and then and still climb up the pinon trees to shake down those lovely, tasty deer turds. In reality? In reality I’m mrfmrfmrf years old, had a baby fairly recently, and I haven’t been exercising regularly in….well, about 2 years, if I’m honest. (HOLY COW! TWO WHOLE FREAKING YEARS??? How did that much time slip by me without me realizing it???)

So, thanks to my new friend Miss A, I’ve been remedying that sad, sad fact and have been walking just about every day with her. Some days we’ll even jog. Or she’ll jog and I’ll try to walk really really fast picking up my knees really high so that it resembles jogging to people driving by. Then I manually jump start my heart again while using my stealthily hidden bicycle pump to reinflate my lungs. We’ve also been steadily increasing our mileage. We started out with about 4 miles and, as of Thursday AND Friday this week, we’ve completed 6 miles. Or just about 10km. I KNOW, RIGHT? We’re like some super-fit postpartum mega babes or something.

As I’m trudging along, trying not to die too much, I’m constantly trying to shush the voices in my head and try to pay attention to our conversation. One of the voices is extremely optimistic, enthusiastic and maybe a tad bit annoying. We’ll call her “Geanie.” The other voice is a little more realistic, pessimistic, and sometimes really grouchy. We’ll call her “Meanie.”

This is the conversation between Geanie and Meanie on Friday as Miss A and I went on our 6 mile trek.

Geanie: OMG! I’m so excited to try a different route today! We’re going to totally work those muscles and I’m going to be a super fit, hot, mega babe in no time flat. How flat? AS FLAT AS MY ABS ARE ABOUT TO BE! Booyah!

Meanie: OMG my butt is so sore from that stinking walk yesterday. Why didn’t we stretch? Now we’re going to have to go to that sadistic massage therapist again. Aw crap. I forgot my water. I’m going to dehydrate and die! UGH! It’d be a whole lot easier if I didn’t have to push this kid in this stupid heavy stroller.

Geanie: WHOO! Feel that burn! Extra weight from pushing Little Mister = more calories burned = I AM SO FREAKING AMAZINGLY AWESOME!

Meanie: Oh c’mon! Hills?!? There were no stinkin’ hills on our regular route! Why did we have to do this stupid trail, anyway?

Geanie: WAHOO! Hills! My butt is going to look so amazingly amazing! You’ll be able to bounce a quarter off of it!

Meanie: Bounce a quarter off of it??? Do you listen to yourself, woman? It’d be a total “WIN” if it just stopped flapping in the breeze when we farted.

Geanie: I can’t believe we’ve already gone 2 miles. Just one more mile and then we can turn back and then another measly 3 miles and we are done!!! Such a short, pretty, AMAZING walk!

Meanie: OH MY LANTA! Only 2 miles so far??? I AM GOING TO DIIIIIIIE!

Geanie: My goodness there are a lot of flies out today. They must be attracted to all of the carbon dioxide I’m producing which means my lungs are TOTALLY WORKING!! GO RESPIRATORY SYSTEM, GO!!

Meanie: AAACKKKK!! These stupid flies won’t leave me alone! My lungs are full of lead! My heart is going to stop any moment now and Little Mister is going to be motherless! I’ll haunt Big Mister to the ends of the earth if he tries bouncing a quarter off my embalmed butt!!!

Geanie: Whew! Feel that burn!! YAAAAAY!!

Meanie: OOOOOHHHHH MYYYYY GOOOOOOOODD!! One of those stinking flies just flew in my mouth! I ATE A FLY! I ATE A FLY!! I’M GOING TO DIIIIIIIE!

Geanie: Oh my- what a thoughtful little creature. Trying to give me some added protein during this AWESOME workout!

Meanie: I FORGOT MY WATER!!! THE FLY IS FLYING IN MY THROAT! I CAN FEEL IT! It’s going to poison me slowly and claw out my esophagus and then I’m going to DIIIIIIIIIIE!

*Miss A kindly and thoughtfully unscrews her water bottle cap so I can take a gulp of water to wash down the fly*

Geanie: Ahhhh….a mouthful of water is so refreshing.

Meanie: I hope she didn’t backwash. Drinking water she backwashed in means we’re married in some countries. UGGGHHHH! Why didn't I check Australia's marital laws before moving here????

Geanie: YAY! A wedding! Maybe we should buy her flowers or something?

Meanie: Yeah- keep walking there, Miss A. Keep your eyes off my badunkadunk. I ain’t no easy trollop.

Geanie: BEST FRIENDS F.O.R.E.V.E.R. !!!!!!!!

Meanie: FINALLY! I can see the parking lot so this stupid, inhumane torture walk of insanity will finally end. KILL ME NOW!!!!!

Geanie: WHEW! 6 miles! I am amazing!!! Feel the burn, fat! WAHHHOOOOOO!

Meanie: Must….drink…..water…..going….to…..die………….now.

Little Mister and I thankfully made it home safely. Yes, I am both proud of walking a hilly 10k and a little leery of Australia's marital laws. Either way, Miss A and I are totally super fit, postpartum mega babes. Bounce a quarter off of THAT!

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Hot, Acrylic Lovin'

So, as I mentioned a few days ago, I have to rip apart Little Mister’s Blanket o’Love that I’ve been working on since last year since I am basically a neurotic perfectionist when it comes to my crochet. If there is a mistake or a hint of a mistake, or a whisper of a hint of a mistake, or if it sucks really, really badly, I need to rip it all apart and then do it over and over and over again until the planets are aligned and the unicorns are once again farting rainbows.

My Mister wishes I was this neurotically obsessed about keeping our house in a perpetual state of perfection, or at least NOT in a state of OMG THERE MUST HAVE BEEN A TORNADO SO CALL FEMA NOW! But we all know that is plain silliness because I need to work on perfecting my crochet which leaves the sum total of zero minutes to work on the house. Dishes are dirty? Maybe a double crochet through back loop only will help me to forget about clean them. Floors need to be vacuumed? Maybe this fine lace weight alpaca/silk mix gorgeousness will magically distract me make the crap disappear. POOF! (If not, I’m pretty sure Little Mister won’t mind working on his pincher grip/self feeding skills he’s been utilizing as of late.)

As much as I obsess about my crochet, I must admit this particular project has me dragging my feet. I am having cold sweats thinking that I might give my sweet Little Mister something less than perfect, but the scope of what I have to do makes me think, “Well, he has to learn about disappointment sometime.”

What’s causing me this heartburn is the fact that I have to rip apart 60 rows or so of Tunisian color work. That's about 70 kajillion rows of regular crochet because Tunisian crochet eats regular crochet for breakfast, poops it out to make room for second breakfast and then still has more yarn to eat for elevensies and luncheon. Thus, I’ve been dragging my feet and not getting on with it since it is an incredibly, incredibly painful yarn-eating endeavor. Honestly, if I lived in the States and had easy access to the yarn, I might just start the whole thing again and give this one to my brother since he’d love it and I’d be totally ok giving him something that sucks is less than perfect. (Your turd sandwich is in the mail, li’l bro! *giggling and running away*)

Because it’s Tunisian, I have about 15 hundred million different colors in each row that start making passionate, sensual, worthy-of-Sting-tantric-sexy-time tangles with each other as soon as I release them from their crocheted chastity belts.

Actual yarn conversation, I swear:

Oooooh baby. She’s starting on our row. That’s right, baby. She’s going to loosen these bonds keeping us apart and we’ll be able to get all kinds of nasty, kinky, tangleness going on. Oh, come on, baby. You know you want to. Give daddy some hot acrylic lovin’!

And then I look away and blush and then make sure Little Mister can’t hear what’s going on because he’s much, much too sane young for this kind of thing.

So, this has been a sloooow process. And, since I need to do it but don’t really want to do it, I’m finding things to distract myself from the task at hand. Like *shudder* cleaning. *SHUDDER* (Truth be told, I’ve been pretty obsessed with my new vacuum and have been taking it out at any little provocation because it actually works and I’m all, “WHEEEE! LOOK WHAT I CAN DO!” Although I think I’m so excited by the fact that, since it works so well, I don’t have to try to create a vacuum by holding in my farts anymore.)

However, I’m slowly but surely getting there. I know I’ll feel better once it’s all out and I can start working on it again. But, Little Mister? Turns out he’s a vindictive little guy.


Either that or he overheard the Tunisian crochet yarn conversation which means I've got a lot of therapy to pay for when he's older.

What's hot acrylic lovin' mama?

Monday, April 16, 2012

Free, Free, I'm Free At Last!

Ladies and gentlemen, I’m very pleased to inform you that The Eagle Has Landed. It took six days of nail biting apprehension, two days of trying to get apple juice down the gullet, and one thermometer up the backside, but it has finally happened. Little Mister finally pooped.

I know, I know. Y’all are probably saying, “This is way more than we needed to know about your child’s digestive behavior.” To which I have to say, “DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD BECAUSE MY BABY POOPED!”

You have no idea how very relieved I am about this. I have been lining his car seat with an inch stack of paper towels just in case. I’ve been massaging his tummy throughout the day being careful to aim him at his dad. I’ve been playing “Bouncy Bouncy” with him in hopes that vigorous shaking would somehow loosen his sphincter’s death grip on the payload. I’ve been sniffing his butt at night before I pick him up to feed him to avoid a midnight surprise. DUDES! I’ve become a BUTT SNIFFER!! (Now there’s a sentence I’ve never thought I’d type. Oh, and hello to all you weird perverts who arrived here from googling butt sniffage. Sorry to disappoint you.)

(Actually, no, I’m not. Perverts.)

And then today, Day Numero 6 of Poop Watch 2012, I went to the Chemist (Pharmacist for you Yanks) and bought an infant suppository.*cue suspenseful music here* DUNN DA DUNNNNNN.

Oh yes. I was bringing out the big guns. To paraphrase Marvin Gaye, ain’t no butt cheek high enough, ain’t no diaper thick enough, ain’t no colon deep enough to keep me from getting the poop.

Fortunately, just the threat of having a little glycerol bullet shoved up his pooper was enough to get Little Mister to get with the program and release the hounds, as it were. *Dance of Joy*

So, we can all rest well tonight. He doesn’t have a full, uncomfortable belly to prevent him from sleeping peacefully and I don’t have to worry about what I’m going to find when I go sniff his butt in the middle of the night. Wait...I mean...I don't have to sniff his butt at night anymore. Yes. That's what I meant...

Saturday, April 14, 2012

A Ticking Time Bomb

I don't know whether it's because he's still adapting to the new time zone here and recuperating from all the travels, or if it's due to the change in diet- he's been eating some solid foods this week- or if it's just to get back at me for eating cheese while in New Mexico and causing him intestinal distress, but whatever the reason, I am scared. Like SCARED scared. I am scared because my Little Mister has not pooped in four days. FOUR.DAYS.

This means, of course, that we are in for one heck of a doozy once it happens. And, since he's been eating some solid foods, it means that it's not going to be the "sweet" smelling breast milk poopies. It is not just going to stink, but staaank. After his first solid food poopy diaper a while ago, I seriously considered breastfeeding him until he was potty trained because, good golly Miss Molly! The smell was something like a mixture of old people farts and death. Fruit Roll Up boobs be darned- if he's not potty trained till he's 5, it's worth it.

The longest he's ever gone without a poop was three days and I'm still trying to recover from that one. I'm really not sure how we'll survive this one, but I really hope it happens tomorrow so I won't be alone with the carnage Little Mister won't be so uncomfortable. It's like playing Hot Potato whenever we're holding him.

Me: Here you go, daddy! It's your turn!
Mister: But, ummm...I uhhh....I have important work to do on the taxes. Yep. Taxes.
Me: GOOD GOD, MAN! If he poops on me again, the IRS is going to be the least of your concerns!"

*Mister takes him*

*Two minutes later*

Mister: *halo burning bright over his head*

Little Mister: Ma mama ma ma mama mama ma ma

Me: *angry squinty eyes* You did that on purpose.

We are hoping to go on a slight road trip and then a hike tomorrow. If he hasn't pinched a loaf by breakfast, I'm thinking we are hunkering down for the day. If you don't hear back from me soon, send reinforcements.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Apparently My Carpet is White...Who Knew?

So. After having a very hyper-want-to-be-active-but-sleeping-baby-prevented-yet-another-selfish-dream-of-mine afternoon yesterday, I decided to vacuum my house. Because apparently I'm a mother now so I have to do things like "vacuum" and "clean" and "wear clothes" when I'm home now. Sheesh. Next thing you know I'm going to have to start putting the knives and guns on unreachable places instead of strewn about the living room. GAH! KIDS CHANGE EVERYTHING!

Well, the only problem with me vacuuming my house, other than the afore mentioned "vacuuming," is the fact that my vacuum sucks. Or rather, it does NOT suck. It's about as effective at picking up dirt on my carpet as Little Mister's diapers are at containing his poop. No matter how many times I passed that noise-making wand of disappointment over the floor, the only thing it managed to suck is my time. I think I would have had more success sucking stuff off my carpet if I yawned really hard over the dirt particles.

SO. Once Little Mister woke up, I loaded both him and that canister of stale air in the car (making sure to  buckle both him AND his car seat into the car- fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice....well, I'll learn sometime) and headed out to return my vacuum. I was prepared to fight with the vacuum gatekeeper- I was going to let them know that I was tired of playing, "What Does the Baby Have in His Mouth Now?" and "Five Second Rule! Oh Darn, There's Cat Hair," followed by, "That's Ok. It was only Two Seconds Anyway." I was ready to pull out the big Mammy Yokum guns and say, "I HAS SPOKEN!" with a really, really stern look on my face if they gave me any grief.

But, all that practicing in front of the mirror and teaching Little Mister how to cough pitifully while batting his incredibly cute eyelashes was for naught. I went in there, told them I needed a new vacuum, and they said, "Ok- no worries." Sweet.

Now, the following I completely blame on an incredibly rough night of waking up with Little Mister FIVE- yes that's right- 1, 2, 3, 4 OH MYLANTA NOT AGAIN! times. I was pretty much a walking zombie, thus the need for a double shot of caffeine at lunch time. Also, I blame it on my lack of an advanced engineering degree.

I took my new vacuum home and joyfully took it out of the box and then spent the next 30 minutes trying to put the darn thing together. The instructions were all written in PICTURES...apparently it was to help those of us who is a wee bit stoopid for written instructions. Or for those who can't speak English. No discrimination here. All you had to do was "CLICK" "CLICK" "CLICK" and then you could happily start issuing evacuation notices to all those dust bunnies that have been taunting you for the last 6 months.

Well, apparently I was much too intellectual for the pictorial Cliff Notes version. I needed the smarty smart words, darn it. Words that would tell me, "If the tube won't let you "CLICK," try twisting it in another direction, dummy," and, "Don't worry if that pole won't go down prior to hearing the "CLICK" because, if you follow the diagram and "CLICK" first, the pole will go down automatically. Dummy."

I'll give you a click, click, click. Dummy.
Seriously. It took me 30 minutes to accomplish what a slightly blind, illiterate French person could do after taking a cursory glance at that diagram.GAH!

Of course I was frustrated with how long it took me to put this insanely simple thing together, but my spirits were lifted when I saw how powerful that mother sucker was. And then I was grossed out.

Let me back up- I have a play mat in the living room for Little Mister to play with his toys, but he, as of Sunday, has started crawling. (WAHHHHH!!!! My baby is growing too quickly!!) So, I folded up and tossed aside neatly put away his play mat since there's really no sense in trying to contain him in one space anymore. That ship has now sailed. (WAHHHHHH!)

So, I've been letting him practice his crawling on the carpet. The brown carpet that hides dirt very, very well. The carpet I had just vacuumed with my previous, wimpy vacuum. The carpet I thought would be fun to vacuum once again with my new, powerful vacuum, just to see if there was anything left behind. Behold- this is after that initial vacuum session:

Oh my wow- is that the cat in there??
I KNOW!!!! You may have gotten cooties just looking at that picture! I have the heebie-jeebies just thinking of that grossness lurking in my house. I spent the next 30 minutes scrubbing the nasties off of Little Mister. If only there were written instructions instead of those blasted pictures, I could have had my floors cleaned a half hour earlier!

If only I had turned the page:

These are not the instructions you were looking for *waves hand*

Yeah. Well you know what? Shut up.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012


Little Mister is asleep and I had two diet cokes for lunch. I'm not quite sure why I put those two facts together in one sentence, but my fingers won't stop typing because I had two diet cokes for lunch. I was going to go on a walk with Miss A, but Little Mister decided to fall asleep thus leaving me to my own devices: jittery with a caffeine high and no physical outlet with which to relieve the jitters, except for my keyboard which DOESN'T TYPE FAST ENOUGH FOR MY CAFFEINE THOUGHTS.

Holy moly- I have a lot to do around the house- ironing, mopping the floor, tidying up my bedroom, finishing decorating the kitchen. Egads...I'm overwhelmed just thinking about it all. Instead I think I'll just sit on my butt and think of all the things I could be doing but instead not do any of them because my fingers WON'T STOP TYPING.

I could work on the blanket I'm sitting by that I've been making for the guest bed that is located in Little Mister's room. It's a great idea to have the guest sleep with the baby, no? Heehee- I'm the best hostess EVER.

Thumbs up with my rad blue toes and the not-so-rad burn mark I got from dropping my iron on my foot, which is the real reason I'm not ironing right now. My iron attacked me. I got the hint.

I also need to finish the blanket that I was working on for him, but I have to rip out nearly half of it and I'm crying a little bit inside just thinking about it. I was *thiiis* close to finishing it before our US trip, ran out of yarn, and then found the yarn at Michaels. And then I found even better colors than the ones I had used so I decided that the work I did was crap and had to be redone. OH THOU FOUL MICHAELS AND THY TEMPTING YARN OF DOOM!

I'm not sure if I'm fighting off the iron or preventing my hook from gouging out my eyes. ALL THAT WORK DOWN THE DRAIN. Darn me and my anal, perfectionistic ways!
And now I've spent way too much time taking pictures of my feet and running them through Instagram. HAHA! Thinking of running my feet through Istagram...They look best in Hefe.

Impressed with myself that I managed to do a whole blog post, including taking pictures, all while Little Mister continues to sleep. WOOT WOOT! Who's the fastest typer in the west? (Or....south....east? Where the heck am I?) That's right! It's this crocheter right OH LOOK A KITTEN!

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

What to Eat When You Don't Want a Heart Attack: Free Recipe

There are so many things about the States that I have missed since living in The Land Down Under- my sister and friends, free refills, the toilet flushing down clockwise*, knowing which side of the road to pull over when I’m being chased by the PoPo - but something I really miss are some of our favorite restaurants. Sure they have McDonalds – they’re Australians, not heathens- but other places like Crisp and Juicy (if you are in the DC area, YOU MUST GO THERE!), Chipotle, Macaroni Grill and, perhaps most of all, Carrabba’s. (Yeah- I eat at all the typical American restaurant chains. I happen to like familiarity and gosh darned tasty food. So sue me.)

WELL. Remember that very loving, smart, Christmas Mayor of Whoville that I married? He not only gives me gifts that he knows I will love and utilize, but he also gives me gifts that he knows he will benefit from, as well. Cute, smart and devious?!? Oh yes, ladies. Be jealous.

I am speaking of course of The Carrabba’s Italian Grill Cookbook.

I KNOW, RIGHT?!? All of your favorite meals from the restaurant conveniently located in your own kitchen so you can cook great Italian meals the way Nana Carrabba did back in the old country, which is, of course, Texas.

My Mister’s favorite meal is the Filet Bryan (pronounced ever so snootily: fee-lay bree-yon. Or at least it’s pronounced that way in our snooty house. Because we are awesome like that.)

The one drawback to being able to cook your favorite recipes is that you get to see just how much butter, fat, and butter they put into it. It’s like you’re eating some steak with your butter. Butter and goat cheese and some more butter, just in case you hadn’t had that heart attack you ordered yet.

Needless to say, this isn’t going in our normal rotation of meals. BUT, since my Mister requested it for his birthday meal, I am willing to oblige him- he’ll get his side order of heart disease and cellulite for Christmas.

To balance out the tremendous amount of fat that went into the meat portion of the meal, I made some Broccoli with Red Pepper Flakes and Toasted Garlic from Cookinglight (this has been a staple in our house for years), and then some roast potatoes of my own devising. It’s based off of a recipe I made when we were first married, back when dinosaurs ruled the earth, and recreated for this meal since I couldn’t find the original recipe and I really did not want to make the artery clogging Carrabba’s mashed potatoes that My Mister usually orders with this meal.

So, here you go- my recipe for some tasty taters. I call them Noah’s Ark Potatoes…because the ingredients go in two-by-two. HEE!

Gege's Noah's Ark Potatoes

A little bit of heart attack to go with the healthy stuff.

Whatcha need:

2 lbs potatoes
2 Tbs Dijon mustard
2 Tbs whole grain mustard
2 Tbs olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tsp Italian herbs
salt/pepper to taste

Whatcha do:

Preheat oven to 200 deg C or 390 deg F
Wash potatoes and cut into inch sized pieces. Place in 13"x9" casserole dish.

Mix next 5 ingredients (mustard through herbs) in a small bowl and then cover potatoes with it. Mix well to cover the potatoes.

Bake for 45 minutes, or until they are soft and delectable.

Enjoy your non-artery clogging side dish and pray the good fats in the olive oil are enough to conquer the bad fats of the butter.


*AS IF!! I have no idea which way the toilet goes down either here or in the States. I just make my deposit, hit the button and then get the heck out of Dodge. I don’t dilly dally thinking, “Oh wow- now THAT is a masterpiece. Look how cute my digested food looks going around and around…and, oh my- doth mine eyes deceive me? Is dear darling poopsie going around and around in the wrong direction? *girlish giggle* Those silly Australians! What will they think of next?” 

And for those of you thinking, "Why don't you just flush it when you haven't used the bathroom?" the answer is: because I have a life. *snooty giggle*

Saturday, April 7, 2012

A "Relaxing" Weekend...Or, "OH DEAR GOD THE PAIN!"

Oh my wow, peoples. My body is so sore. It feels like I’ve been run over by a steam roller- all my muscles are screaming obscenities at me. I’d love to tell y’all it’s because I’ve been working out so hard core that I’m making your puny little muscles jealous just by being in the same room with me, but I really don’t want to brag about how much better I am than you all that much. *preening haughtily*

Ok, ok. The truth is that I just came from one of the most intense therapeutic massages ever in the whole world. EVER. Holy moly. How does one little woman pack such a punch in her tiny little hands?? It’s like I turned over and she activated her bionic Hulk hands to start kneading the muscles off my bones leaving me a whimpering puddle of goo on her table. A *naked* puddle of goo, to boot.

One good aspect of this is that she validated what I’ve always known: I have buns of steel. She may have used the words “extremely tight gluteals and hip flexors” but we all know that really means I have one heck of a fine derriere.

We started the session with me face up while she worked on my neck and throat area. I told her I had been having headaches so she worked on the base of my skull by sticking her hand up my armpit and shoving aside anything blocking her way. I can honestly say that I no longer feel pain there anymore. I no longer feel anything there at all. I may have left half my skull there for all I know. Ahhhh…sweet relief.

I then had to roll over, self-conscious that this lady was going to see my nude postpartum body, but after karate chopping my neck a few hundred times, I figured her retinas deserved to be seared. That’s right, lady. Take it allll in.

Now. Now is when the *real* work began. It’s like she had x-ray vision and could see the exact spots to poke at, making me writhe and moan in agony. I’m pretty sure she said in her Swartzeneggar voice, “Stop crying like a little girl baby,” as she was getting the kinks out of my shoulder via my spleen. I had to take a double take at her license on her wall- I could have sworn it said, “Hades College of Massage- Beelzebub, Master Masseur.”

She continued down my back, massaging my toes through my ribs, and then she came upon my extremely tight buns of steel. I was so afraid I was going to blast her with the amazingly powerful fart I had lined up, but I’m pretty sure that would have somehow given her even more magical powers from her Dark Underlord Master. I’m not sure what she was digging for down there…seriously lady…is that your elbow? Why is my arm twitching that way? I’ve never convulsed like this before. Wait…what are you…..wait….WAIT…..YOOOOOOU SHALLL NOT PAAAASSSSSSSS! 

*trying to do an angry face but too busy flopping like a dead fish*

She then went back up my back, revisiting the places she obliterated before and finding new areas she missed when I realized that she really did draw on powers from below Mordor. I could only pray the Blood Of Jesus Christ over my back as I felt the fire in her finger tips as she went back up and down my spine. She claims they were “hot stones” but we all know that is code for “Fingers of Satan.”

She ended the session by gently placing her hands on my back and neck in a sort of Jedi move telling me, “These are not the muscles you were looking for.” She left the room, leaving me to pick up the pieces of my body that were now strewn all around me.

I somehow got up and dressed myself, documenting the various bruises and missing vertebrae. I’m not sure what she put in the water she left for me to drink but it must have been something waaay powerful. So powerful that I somehow made another appointment with her in 3 weeks.

Dark powers, I tell you. Dark powers.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Wait...There's a Lesson in Here Somewhere...

So today I was on laundry load numero 105 when the power went out. Just out of the blue- kerblewy. And then it was back on again a couple minutes later. It was one of those times where you think the power company is just messing with your head- a kind of prank to see how many people use UPSs and how many now had blown out TVs and appliances. They couldn't care a fig if both my washer and dryer had all of my baby's clothes in them since they were too busy giggling and pointing at me while I kept pressing the refresh button on my laptop before it dawned on me that no power = no internets. Uggggghhhhh.

While this was going down, I was waiting for Little Mister to wake up so we could go to our friend, Miss A's house for a play date with her daughter, Miss E. Miss E is 2 weeks younger than Little Mister and she and Miss A moved here 2 weeks after we did, thus making us kindred spirits in our postpartum frenzied states. She and I have been going on (at least) 4-mile walks nearly every morning, making her a very important component of my regular exercising (ok, ok- the *only* component of my regular exercising) as of late.

Little Mister had a wonderful 2-hour nap which I was going to very gently wake him out of to ensure he didn't sleep all day long and thus never get back into the topsy-turvy daytime schedule we both are adjusting to. Instead, a workman that I was expecting later in the day decided that, since he was in the neighborhood, he would stop on by, ring the doorbell, and thus scare Little Mister awake. Now, I'm not one of those moms you read about on STFU, Parents who thinks that the world should stop while her baby sleeps and gets angry if someone audaciously decides to *gasp*shock*horrors* ring the doorbell instead of sending smoke signals from the driveway to get my attention. However, since I was literally minutes away from gently waking him up to see his eyes slowly open, witnessing the recognition dawning in his face while his adorable, toothy smile slowly spreads as he looks at me, I was just a leeeeetle perturbed that this guy came 2 hours early, even after I had *just* spoken with him on the phone and requested he come later. UGGGGGGGGHHHHH.

So, after soothing my poor, startled Little Mister, I hurriedly got him ready to go, changed his diaper and threw a spare one in his bag while trying to find my house key that my very sweet friend and neighbor returned to me after looking after our old, arthritic cat while we were gone.

ANYwho, in my haste, I forgot that I have to wash his "big boy" (convertible) car seat since he had a poopy-problem in it during our trip. So, I had to use his infant car seat once again. We no longer have the base ready to go in our car since we don't use this car seat anymore. That's ok since we can use it with or without the base and, since Miss A lives about a mile from us, there was no need to set up the whole contraption. (Even though Little Mister is a big boy for his age, he's nowhere near the 35 pound weight limit for this car seat, thus he's still able to safely use it.)

So. I securely buckle him into his car seat, throw some toys on him to keep him occupied for the 2 minute drive, and let the service man know we were leaving so, if he needed to get into the house, he should have come at 2:30 like I told him he should. (No, I didn't tell him that...but I was thinking it very loudly with a very haughty voice in my head. Take that, service man!)

I get into the car and try to remember that I once again have to drive on the left side of the road and by the time I finish telling myself, "OTHER SIDE OF THE ROAD, GEGE!" we were pulling into Miss A's driveway. As I hurriedly made the turn into her driveway, out of the corner of my eye I notice a blob of color swoosh in the back seat, at the same time hearing a soft *thud* behind me. As I'm running through the events leading up to this moment, it dawns on me that, without the base of the car seat in the car, I have to manually attach the car seat into the car with the seat belt. As the wheels are slowly turning in my head, I look behind me and see Little Mister's cute little toes waving at me at eye level. Since I didn't hear any crying, I let out a sigh of relief thinking, "No tears = I'm still a good mom."

I throw open my door and rip the back one off it's hinges to see Little Mister looking at me, upside down, with a look that said, "I'm not sure what happened, but I can see my toes from here, mama!" I debated for a few seconds whether or not to take a picture, but then I thought that there would be tangible evidence that could be given to the authorities, so I thought, "Nah. I'll just blog about it instead."

Once I ensure my Little Mister is ok, I take him out and then have to promptly sit down as my body convulses with a maniacal laughter that is tinged with relief, disbelief, and hope that there were no witnesses nearby. As I furtively look behind my shoulders, I finally pull myself together and ring Miss A's doorbell.

We had a great play date, but as it drew to a close, Little Mister decided that he was going to get sweet, sweet revenge for my earlier transgression. Miss E was ready for her nap, so I pick up Little Mister and am walking towards the door, idly chatting with Miss A when Little Mister does a huge, full body convulsion in my arms, grunting a slight, "Ugh!"while  nearly wrenching himself free. I clamp down on him thinking, "Not on my watch, bub! I'm a good mom!" And then, just as I'm starting to feel redeemed from the car seat incident, I also feel some wet warmth oozing down my arms and legs. As the wheels are slowly turning in my head, Miss A announces, "It's poop. Ohhh, it's poop," the horror evident in the slight quiver of her voice. With that one powerful push, he managed to splurt all over himself, me, and Miss A's carpet. UUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!

She quickly ushered me into the baby's room where I did my best to clean things up. Of course, since the power went out in the middle of the dry cycle earlier today, I had no extra clothes to put Little Mister in. (When will I ever learn?!?) So, I loaded him back up into his car seat, swaddled in a towel from Miss A, deeply humiliated about messing up her carpet (ok, ok....99.5% humiliated...the other .5% was thankful it wasn't my carpet. Sorry Miss A....just keeping it real!) but I would be danged if I didn't secure that car seat in the car with the seat belt this time.

Ohhh yeah. Who has two thumbs and wins Best Mom of the Year Award?

*smug smile on my face*


Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Silly Rabbit- Teeth Are For Food!

Whew! I'm pleased to report that, after around 34 hours of travel time, my Misters and I have arrived back safely home Down Under. There were lots of little snafus along the way (including one where they upgraded Big Mister to first class while banishing me to the very back of the plane with Little Mister on my lap...uh yeah. Thankfully for our marriage we got that one worked out.) but all-in-all, we got home safely and all I could think of was, "Oh dear Lord do I need to brush my teeth." Seriously. I think my teeth melted en route from Sydney. Heck, I think Little Mister's teeth melted when I kissed him. Blech.

Oh yeah...did ya catch that? Little Mister's TEETH. As in, multiple. When I last updated about his teething (right before Christmas), he had cut his first tooth. About 2 weeks later, his second bottom tooth showed up. About 2 weeks prior to our trip (about a month ago), both his 2 upper front teeth broke through at the same time. And then, right smack dab in the middle of our trip, 2 more top teeth broke the same time.

My poor, poor Little Mister. Not only was he dealing with an international flight, jet lag, long car rides, meeting strange new people for the first time, and a toilet breath mommy, he was also dealing with a mouthful of teeth that decided to show up all at once. He was such a trooper on this trip. He really doesn't complain much at all and the only time he cried (instead of just fussed) was when mama couldn't control herself and ate cheese on her red chile enchiladas. I told myself it was ok to eat the cheese since he should have outgrown his dairy protein allergy by now and, since I was in New Mexico (which in Spanish means "Cheese is Life"), I was almost 100% certain that he wouldn't have a reaction since it's the Land of Enchantment, and we all know that "enchantment" means "magic" which means I CAN EAT THE MAGICAL CHEESE, DARNIT!

*hanging head in shame*
*magical shame*

So, no. He's not outgrown his allergy yet and I am back on track with my dairy free meal planning. I do hope he outgrows it soon- not for my benefit, but for his. If he doesn't outgrow it, he may have to be very strict with his food intake to prevent ingestion of any sort of dairy protein, which quite frankly is everywhere. For now, I don't worry about his food intake since the boy WILL NOT eat.

Yes. You read that correctly. He is 8 months old and refuses to eat food. As my dad asked, "Then how did he get so big? Just from you?" The answer: that's correcto-mundo.

I started offering him solids at 5 1/2 months, though he never really took to it. I kept offering him some foods every so often to see if he would magically discover that food is delicious, but to no avail. Right before we left on this trip, he was finally accepting some foods sometimes. However, during these last 2 weeks, whether due to the changes associated with travel, his teething, a growth spurt, or all of the above, he's refused to eat almost completely.

I'm not too worried about it. He's obviously thriving on breast milk, so I'm not concerned about his growth. Also, I know he knows how to eat, so I'm not worried that he'll be one of those kids who has to eat pureed foods until they're 10. I'll just keep offering foods to him while reminding him that I'm a professional in this area so he can trust me when I say, "Eat this" and hope he'll believe me sometime soon. Because Lord knows he's also not going to be one of those kids who is breastfed until he's 10, either. *shudder*

(I was just picturing the state of my boobs after breastfeeding for 10 years. Let's just say "fruit roll up" isn't a term you want associated with your breasts.)

Ahem. My eyes are up here, people.

Ok, I'm really fighting this jet lag hard and am very much losing the battle. My Mister just got home from work and I need to make him some dinner. Why he didn't take today off is beyond me. I would have called in "Jet Lag" and make them prove it's not a real sickness. And then I would have gone, "HAAAAAAAAAAAAA" and breathed on them. Because I'm mature like that.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Greetings from the Homeland!

Here it is. The last day of March- my most favoritist month of the year- and I’ve yet to post anything about either NatCroMo or NatNutMo (National Crochet Month and National Nutrition Month for those of you not in the loop). I know, I know. Bad Gege- no soup for you.

So, to make up for my lax blogging, I’ll make it up to you here and now. You ready?


Yeah- that’s right. I said “more healthier.” I never said this was NatGramMo, so I done did it and I ain’t gonna change it for nobody.

The truth is that, every time I sat down to write something, I just couldn’t find my voice. I’ve not been the happiest of campers these last few months- pregnancy, birth, moving and family issues really took their toll on me- and I really have been trying to get out of this funk. Even though I do love Australia, I must admit I’m not too crazy about the part I happen to live in. I feel so very far away from my family and friends and I have been feeling quite homesick recently.

I feel like I’ve been marinating in this very bleak, dreary bad mood for a long time- too long- and I really need to get back into life before Little Mister grows up before my eyes and I miss it all. I'm also pretty sure Big Mister is ready to have his cheerful, optimistic wife back and not this negative, complaining shrew that seems to have bashed her over the head and dragged her to the netherworld. Thankfully, a few things have been happening in the last few weeks that have given me a much needed happiness boost.

One thing is that I’ve been exercising fairly regularly which has always been something to lift my spirits. As such, the last few stubborn pregnancy pounds have slowly been melting off, as well, which is definitely something in the “positive” column. And, as my post title suggests, I am indeed back in the good ol’ US of A, which is just too amazingly wonderful for words. I drank 3 refills of Diet Coke at Chipotle just because I CAN GET FREE REFILLS HERE!! Little Mister was dancing the Macarena all night afterwards from the caffeine-laden breast milk, but dagnabbit- it was worth it. FREE REFILLS!!!! If that doesn’t make you feel proud to be an American, I don’t know what will.

I was able to shop at Michaels to buy some yarn that otherwise would have taken a month to arrive at my house. This yarn was very important because, since it is NatCroMo, I’ve been waving my hooks high and have been finishing up Little Mister’s blanket- the one I started a year ago but wasn’t able to finish before his birth and then didn’t want to finish because it’s fairly large and definitely too warm to use in the intense Australian summer. Now that the weather is cooling down, however, it’s time to finish his blanket-o-love. I was *thiiiiiis* close to completing it prior to our trip here but ran out of the main color. I was frustrated for about half a minute until I realized that I CAN GO TO MICHAELS AND BUY YARN. Is this a great country, or what??

We also visited an alpaca farm in Sandia Park, NM. Mmmmm.....alpaca. I'll write more on that later, though.

Couldn't take his hands off the alpaca. That's m'boy!

Hey you! Yeah you! You taking a picture of me?
We packed a lot into these last two weeks. We saw my grandmother- Little Mister's lone surviving great-grandparent- and both my parents and in-laws which was great, especially since my dad was the only grandparent who hadn’t seen Little Mister yet. He was unable to visit us prior to our move (part of the family issues…..GAH) and couldn’t wait to get his hands on his “Little Buddy.” He bought him his first pair of Chuck Taylors which brought a tear to my eye- such a proud mama!

He inherited his daddy's hair, but his mommy's shoes.  I win.

The biggest highlight (sorry mom and dad!) was getting to spend time with my sister and with Ronda. So much laughter and fun and food and laughter and catching up and then more food and even more laughter (and then crying) was shared. Oh how I needed that!!

We left New Mexico yesterday and will be flying back to Oz on Sunday. That gives me and my Misters today to enjoy some much needed downtime to reconnect and just chill before the extremely long journey back home. Yes, I’m sad to leave my family and friends again, but I am ready to be back home. And that’s how I know I’m starting to feel better. I’m ready to go back *home*. To Australia.

Oh man! What was that?? Out the window just there….a flying pig?? And…brrrrrr...I think I heard the news say that hell has frozen over??? I could have sworn that fat lady down the hall was singing! Or maybe it was just a loud fart…she was rather walrus-y, so who can tell for sure.

It’s the big one, Lord! I’m going HOME.

Oh give me a home
Where the kangaroos roam
Where the dingos and the walabies play.
Where seldom is spilled 

Because your drink’s not refilled,
And all the folks wish you g’day.