Category: Uncategorized (Page 136 of 188)

It’s time once again to chronicle the children; it seems that Miss M keeps growing up quicker and quicker. No one warned me that #2 grows up exponentially faster than #1! We’ve had quite a streak of good days (weeks!) in the homestead, so I want to be sure to make note of it. As it says in the pumping room at work – “we don’t remember days, we remember moments.”

H boy (20 months)

• Loves – loves – LOVES cornhole. At the lake he likes to play with the big boys, but I found a desk size set from Aunt Bec with 2 inch x 2 inch bags and all. I don’t think he’s put them down since I got them out!
• He’s learning to dress – well, undress- himself. We can ask him to take his pants off and sure enough (5 minutes later) he can get them off. What a big boy. 
• We went swimming at the hotel last weekend and he enjoyed that; he’d float in the raft or hang on to a parent with a death grip. 
• At the wedding last weekend we noticed he is in a more social stage – wanted to run around with the kids (who he didn’t know!) and play on the dance floor. No more sitting with mom and dad at the table?
• His babbling just keeps progressing and you can now notice what words he’s targeting – “what’s that?” or “there it is”. KLR came over last week and started filling in some big gaps for what she thought he was saying and it all seemed to make sense. Turns out H’s speech is fine – it’s mommy that needs a translator. (Should I, in typical American-meets-non-native-english-speaker fashion, I just start speaking LOUDER??). 
• We are also in that phase of leaving no ball untouched. And since he owns no less than 8000 different balls, we hear continuously “ba? ba! BABA!”
• When he’s excited, there’s definately jumping involved – today I even saw 2 feet leave the ground! 
• Feeding himself? Old hat. Well, except spaghetti. And daddy has some difficulty with that one, so there’s time. 
• One of the best parts of the day is after H wakes up and daddy goes in to retrieve him. Their conversations are hilarious. One day they named the diapers. Who comes up with that? It’s one of the many reasons I love both of them. 
• Oh, and those size 4 shoes I shopped around for weeks to find? We’re now in a 6. Thanks to grandma Carol, however, our feet are covered. 
• I should also mention that because “all good bananas come to an end” (words of wisdom from daddy) and we’ve limited his intake, he’s moved on to raisins as a favorite snack. Those have been relocated to the top of the fridge or he’ll just bring the container out and mow down. I suppose it’s better than candy, right?
• H loves to share (well, on his own terms. He’s not even 2, after all), especially with his sister. He even brought over his bean bags the other day for her to hold. Now that’s love.
• A few times now H has not wanted to continue in a napping pattern. We lay him on the big bed and he’s suddenly into it. Perhaps a change of nocturnal setting will be coming for him soon?

Miss M (13 weeks)

• She has gotten so big! We go to the doc to find out exact weight this week. But I can tell from lifting she’s surpassed a good number of pounds. 
• What a giggly girl! She loves to laugh, especially at her brother.
• She’s especially ticklish under her feet.
• She’s starting to get this sleeping thing down pat. We’re taking 2-3 regular long naps with a few short catnaps here and there in between. We go to bed every night around 7-7:30 with typically only one short snack in the middle of the night. If we’re good to her and put her down in a timely fashion, she goes right to sleep, no real bouncing required.
• However, her favorite time of day is 6:30am. I’ve tried convincing her in many ways that the hour is best enjoyed while sleeping, but alas, she wants to spend the time talking about her feelings. What. a. girl. 
• She enjoys sitting in her Bumbo now, so she’s regularly a part of the family meal. We’re going to outgrow that countertop soon. 
• M also enjoyed the swim time at the hotel, which was a relief since bathtime isn’t high on the list of favorites. But she stayed in for a long time – it was mommy that decided enough was enough. 
• She’s still got her baby blues, but hair is shading toward a reddish hue. Not so much like her mama’s; more like her daddy when he grows facial hair. A ‘berry blond she might be? 
• She’s also now pretty good in the car. The only unhappy time is when she’s within 5-10 min of a nap and she has to be a bit vocal in letting us all know she is attempting sleep. Perhaps her way of asking nicely, “mother, would you please turn down that radio?”

The caregivers
Daddy has taken on numerous projects as of late: planning my 30th birthday (did you know he has trouble keeping secrets?); painting the house (we have several windows done, several more to go); researching pools (no, we can’t even have one in this house – must have a fence with it and we’re not allowed a fence – ergo…); looking at HUD houses (because we’ve found so much time to work on this one!); interviewing (3 in the last week!) and lots of cornhole playing with H. His softball season is winding down, so he should be able to walk on Tuesdays again very soon.

I’ve finally switched it up to the 8-noon work schedule and I LOVE IT. Oh, happiness! It gets me moving for the day (I put on pants with a zipper by 7:30 at least 4 days out of the week!), I feel functional and I’m around others, but then I’m home in time that I only miss one of M’s feedings (decreased stress there), enjoy lunch that SuperHusband made, get stuff done during naps, figure out dinner and enjoy the evening. Today I even found myself with more than enough time on my hands. So I baked. I’ve been needing to add variety to our snack life, and it’s blueberry season, so I’ve made a few batches of blueberry muffins. Tonight’s utilized spelt instead of white flour, oats & wheat germ, banana, walnuts and, of course, blueberries. I find them to be quite delish and filling as well. I also did a round of granola bars with peanut butter. I’ve finished off several books as of late (reviews coming – one was quite thought provoking!), and I’ve even fit in a workout about 4 nights a week. Jillian and I are becoming pretty good friends. I must say, it’s quite exciting when the next step up gets easier after doing it only once. But oh, the soreness that is the day after! With much hope, results will soon be evident.

So, that’s about it on the home front. Just a quick note to self to remind me how sweet life really is.

Or at least it saves this gal an anxiety attack followed by a streak of depressing attitude. **I originally saw that line as a facebook group – “Let’s eat grandma!” vs. “Let’s eat, grandma!” Punctuation saves lives! and thought it was hysterically funny. Nearly as funny as The Oatmeal. Can you tell I’m a grammar junkie? I take on such noble causes because I’m such a horribly bad speller. (In my opening line I tried to use the word “baught” or “bowt” or ba-out but the google spellcheck had zero suggestions. Streak it is.)

But let us return to the story at hand. Punctuation. And the stress it can induce. And this story isn’t even coming from a horrendous resume.

Today the husband sent a text informing me that one of the positions for which he interviewed had been filled. Boo. I was sad. We were a little hopeful, specifically because it was within a commutable distance from our current dwelling, not to mention the perk of the tremendously cheap babysitting within a mile of the school. We had an inkling that he didn’t get the job, but hearing it outright is never fun.

I sent a message to my dad asking who had filled the spot and he did not know. There are no more than 16 people who live in that town yet he was still without intel. I told him that perhaps, then, husband must’ve received a call [inferring: that he didn’t get the job] because the position was filled. My father thought I was being a smarty pants and thought husband did get the job. His response via text: “He got it!!!”

You are correct. Those are exclamation points. Not a single question mark. 

Imagine seeing that one come through. So I quickly cut off the lube technician (hehe, yes, that’s what they’re called) I was interviewing and called husband to find out what in the sam hillfire was going on. And we discovered the confusion.

I was told that he didn’t get the job. Twice. In one day. The same job. And my hopes sunk deeper every time.

I know it probably seems as if I’m selfishly hoping that he gets a job soon to relieve my own self from working, but honestly it’s not the case. I’ll likely continue working the same hours if he gets a position. If he doesn’t find something, I might have to go full time, but there *might* be a little part of me that would actually enjoy that (the work. Not being the hero. Husband is much better at hero endeavors).

What I want so much is for husband to have the opportunity to do what he enjoys, what I know he does so well. I want to know the past 2.5 years have been worth it. I want him to experience the joy of taking pride of a job well done – not just at the end of every day, but also in knowing the sacrifice he put forth to get this far, going back to school as an adult and earning a second degree. We changed jobs, homes, communities, churches… all so we could chase this dream. I can’t bear to think that the dream will slip through our fingertips this year and that we’ll have to wait another 365 days to try again.

But alas, one of the many reasons I love him: he is still hopeful. He had an interview today that went splendidly. He has interviews scheduled for Friday and Monday. As quoted in the movie… “…beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it’s the middle that counts the most. Try to remember that when you find yourself at a new beginning. Just give hope a chance to float up. And it will…”

So, in the space/time continuum that is known as work relationships, there was a boundary crossed. Yes, that’s right. I became friends with a coworker. How dare I?

I find work relationships an interesting breed; the average person spends more time with co-workers than the folks you know from playgroup/church/college or however normal people find adult friendships. However, though you spend lots o’ time with them and find out all kinds of interesting facts, they generally remain “work friends.” Do you invite them to your kid’s baptism? Birthday parties? Celebratory functions after 6pm on Fridays? It’s awkward like a first kiss when trying to figure out the appropriate margins in which these folk lie.

And then the day comes. You decide to take the relationship to the next level. Beyond work friends. Now, you’re just friends. Whose paychecks happen to come from the same place. And you can gripe about it.  Together.

Husband and I have had this very experience (seeing as how we both work at the same place. Sort of). The friendship – especially on his part, as he’s had some sort of bromance with my coworker’s husband – has tipped over the border of work friends, but we still tread lightly as we’re not exactly sure how we fit into friendship space. But this week we took the plunge, bared our soul and said, “you’re important to us.” We do that by the most obvious means: pasta and chocolate.

I’m making light, but I really was a bit skittish about pronouncing such a relationship with edible food product. What if they don’t think us the same way? What if we’re not in that inner circle of trusted people who they want to interact with during a stressful time? What if home and work really do need to be separate for them?And why are adult friendships so difficult to understand? I have more apprehension at showing someone that they’re valued now than I did in middle school.

As adults it’s difficult to really establish deep relationships. It’s like mature dating. In a foursome. Do they like us? Do they think we’re cool? Weird? Well, better yet – are they ok with the fact we’re weird?
Fortunately the story ends well as the couple expressed gratitude (more than once) which made me feel all the better at my follow through. I’m not the weird girl that shows up with food. I’m the weird friend that shows up with food. If they do feel that I’m buying love with carbohydrates, they don’t mind.

Apparently, all it takes is a bit of gastronomical love to cement things in place and know that there is trust and reciprocal care for one another. However, I’m not sure how the rules apply once the relationship has been made known to the public via blog. We didn’t DTR in these terms…

*5 points if you can name this sitcom reference