Possibly my proudest moment as a mother

Last night I stayed up late and fixed Cow.

Who is Cow? That would be the Tiny Dark Lord's long-term lovey. It's a Blankie Buddy that came with a pair of pajamas he received as a baby gift. They've slept together every night since he was about 2 months old, with the exception of one awful night last summer when Cow accidentally got left in the garden and we didn't find him until the next day.

Theirs is a pure love.

Cow is wonderful. Cow has also been loved to death. Discolored, threadbare death. I've scoured the Internet looking for a replacement. (And I no longer mock the desperate parents on eBay who will pay any amount of money to replace a lovey and OH MY GOSH FINALLY GET SOME PEACE.) But my hunch is that the cow was already discontinued when TDL received him. You can get other animals, even in a 2-pack (brilliant) but no cow. I did one day cave and pay a ridiculous amount for a Bear Blankie Buddy that seemed really similar, but of course that didn't fly. I've also learned what The People recommend for loveys--have two and swap them out occasionally. That way they will both wear at about the same pace and will feel and smell "right."

Or, you know, you could be smart and not encourage the whole lovey thing. I'm just saying. I was the one who kept putting the thing in the baby's crib, like an idiot.

Anyway, Cow was dying. Blankie body shredding to bits, coming detached at the head, all of it. I went through TDL's old baby clothes in preparation for the new baby and found the pajamas that Cow came with. And after much procrastination I finally cut up the pants (which were the same fabric as Cow's body used to be), created a new body (now that I'm not as terrified of the sewing machine), and then hand-sewed Cow's head and arms on. Since I'm not a seamstress, it looks totally wonky.

But it used to look like this:

And now it looks like this:

I slipped the refurbished stuffed animal back in TDL's crib and went to bed.

In the morning I went in and asked about Cow, half afraid he would reject it like those sheep mothers who aren't fooled when they're given an orphaned lamb with their baby's skin on top.

TDL: Cow has pajamas!

No lie, he thought it was the most delightful thing. He insisted on carrying Cow everywhere this morning, and would randomly pick him up, give him a hug and a kiss, and say, "I love Cow."

Epic, epic win by me.

And this way he'll still have something to comfort him this December when, as a birthday present, I take away his binkies.

Feel free to share lovey stories in the comments, would love to hear them! Maybe the person with the oddest story will win an imaginary prize or something.

Family Home Evening

Thanks so much to everyone for your commiseration and great suggestions about How to Make Sundays Not Suck As Much. (If you haven't checked out the comments, you might want to--there is some good stuff there!) It does help me just to know that many, many of you are out there gritting your teeth too. 

And now that we've addressed Sundays, let's talk about Mondays. (Also known as The Day Where Order and Sanity and Naps are Restored.) A couple of weeks ago, GH came home from church feeling all kinds of motivated (read: guilty) about Family Home Evening. The basic idea is that you set aside one night a week to be together as a family and to do things that will strengthen your relationships and your testimonies. The Church sets aside Monday night for this, and doesn't schedule any other activities or meetings that night, but you can do whatever night you want. 

This is a thing we have not done for a long while. We are getting back into it now so that the Dark Lord knows this is something we do. Turns out, it's kind of awesome when you've just got one toddler because the whole thing can be over in 10 minutes. 

The first week our "lesson" was to watch the "I Am a Child of God" Mormon Message & then show him pictures of Jesus. After that we threw a ball around and ate banana pudding (the Southern version, made with layers of Nilla wafers, banana slices, and vanilla pudding). I made this because it was one of my family's favorite FHE desserts. I topped the thing off with some real whipped cream because I'd used "reduced fat" Nilla wafers. Needed to restore balance, you see. 

Last night we showed him our wedding album (theme: "Temple Marriage"). Then we played with his stuffed animals. After little Lord Voldemort was in bed, we ate leftover birthday cake from my sister-in-law. 

So far I think the Dark Lord really likes Family Night, especially the part where we sing and play games together. It makes me feel a bit bad to realize this, but maybe we don't spend as much time as I assume we do just playing with him. In the 2 hours every evening when all three of us are home and awake there is cooking and dinner and picking up and iPads and television and computer and phone calls. We don't necessarily ignore him, but our attention is divided or we're trading off. Must think more on this.

After FHE, GH opened up his iPad. Instead of lunging straight for his dad's glowing screen of wonder like he would normally do, TDL picked the photo album back up instead and wanted to look through it again. At one point he recognized one of his grandmas and started smiling and patting her face and clapping. It was so very precious. And now that I know he will sit and look at it, I may start reaching for this one more often. 

So. Back to calling on the wisdom of the collective. Family Home Evening activities for toddlers? Anyone? Anything you've really loved doing with your family?

Reflect on this

source

As part of our weekly church services, we take the sacrament, as taught by Jesus Christ while He lived on the earth. We do this to remember the Savior's atonement, to receive forgiveness for our sins, and to recommit to the promises we made at baptism. It is meant to be a sacred, spiritual highlight of our week.

It's just really too bad you have to go to church to get it.

By the time GH and I rush into a pew and plonk ourselves down on Sundays, I could not be less prepared to participate in something reverent and holy and thoughtful. Just reviewing and repenting of what I've done that morning would take longer than the 10-15 minutes provided for quiet reflection while sweet teenage boys bless and pass around their trays of bread and water. Not that I get quiet reflection anyway. The Dark Lord now understands that there are bits of food in those trays and last week he stood up to forcefully & repeatedly command the boys to bring such unto him. I had to bolt out into the hallway with him & missed the water.

GH says that church isn't the problem. It's getting ready for church that's the problem. He's right about that. I am never so mean to him as I am on Sunday mornings as I try to get myself ready for church, get the Tiny Dark Lord ready for church (which includes multiple feedings and diaper changes (which could lead to a bath if he's contaminated enough) and clothes and a well-stocked diaper bag and a nap if any of us want to get out of church alive), make sure my bag is packed with all the things I need for my Primary "lesson" (read: 45-minute-long storytime), and maybe get dinner started and indicate to GH what I would like him to do to help me. The fact that I have expend additional mental energy deciding and then telling him what to do just makes me angrier, even though I know that's not fair. We have to get to church at least 10 minutes early if we don't want to get stuck in the metal folding chairs in the overflow area. (Our ward is too big for the chapel, but they refuse to open up the gym unless additional crowds are expected, like for a baby blessing or a missionary farewell/reunion. This makes for good times and crowded foyers/hallways.)

I disagree with my Gentleman Husband, though, on his position that church isn't the problem. Because the challenges don't let up once we get there. We spend sacrament meeting trying to coral a strong, wiggly, nap-deprived monkey child who wants to run away and won't let anybody but me touch him. I have to take him out when he becomes too loud. This is happening more frequently. I am exhausted and short-tempered. I know that Primary is coming and soon there will be many children to corral and entertain, which will require additional reserves of energy and patience. So basically we spend all morning getting ready for church, and then spend the next three hours wrestling with children. Which seems less like a spiritual feast and more like something you would inflict as punishment on someone who dented your car in a parking lot and didn't leave a note.

I know there are people out there who do this with multiple children and parents who, for a variety of reasons, are there in the pew trenches alone with their children every Sunday. You are probably giving me a "Girl, please" right now. I know this, and I honor you. But knowing how frustrated and exhausted and frazzled I feel every single blessed Sabbath and realizing that it could/will get worse just makes me want to invent some kind of illness and become housebound. Then nice young men would just bring the sacrament to me and my kids could have their naps.

I am actually home right now, not at church. A raging, hysterical Dark Lord fell asleep an hour ago, and there was no way I was going to wake him up 30 minutes later to dress and feed him and drag his groggy, grumpy self to church. I would rather use my tongue to clean the area where the base of the toilet meets the floor. So GH is at the sacrament meeting, and I'm at home, blogging and listening to Music & the Spoken Word. We will switch so I can go to Primary and teach my lesson. It's too bad I won't be taking the sacrament today because it's clear that I'm the one who really needs it: After I fed The Dark Lord breakfast and then assembled an entire lasagna and put it in the fridge for dinner and put him down for an unsuccessful nap and then jumped into the shower only to find 10 seconds in that there was no hot water left after GH's shower, I bellowed a really bad word. On the blessed Sabbath. (Did I also mention that it's Fast Sunday today?) 


Next week, though, will be our General Conference. We will stay home and watch the sessions on TV. I will make my traditional General Conference meal of biscuits & gravy. I will knit and take notes during the talks. Nobody will be allowed to use the sisters' talks as an opportunity to use the bathroom or get more food. (That's what the songs are for.) I might stay in my pajamas. I will hear words of testimony and scripture and encouragement, and it won't matter if my child is running around naked the whole time with food smeared all over his body. 


Cannot wait. 




ps. And seriously, if anybody has discovered the secret to a stress-free Sunday morning with children, please please do share your tips. (And please don't say "skip church and go to brunch." I've already thought of that one.)

Little bits of lovely

I'm telling you, it needs to keep being sunny around here. Life looks infinitely better when there are sunshine and blue skies to be had. Am starting to worry about my plan to one day move to the Pacific Northwest and become a hippie since these gray skies keep turning me into a bridge troll.

But. It is sunny today, so get ready for an outpouring of good mood!

Lovely thing #1: Went to a yoga class this morning for the first time in years--possibly since that one time when a pack of octogenarians kicked my trash. I have a few passes for my local rec center & went to check it out. The class was so, so very good & worked all those muscles that my Physical Butt Hole Therapist says I should work. I also had this moment of, "Oh yeah! I remember being a human who does things like going to yoga alone by herself!" The kind of yoga I've been doing lately has been more of a team exercise. Moves include such winners as "Cooking Hot Food on the Stove While Holding a Toddler," "Bending Down to Retrieve the Remote Control from between the Wall and the Furniture While Holding a Toddler," and, my personal favorite, "Getting up from the Freaking Toilet While Holding a Crying Toddler." That last one led to a new game: "Pooping in Relative Peace While Your Toddler Screams and Pounds on the Closed Door."

Lovely thing #2: Just started getting eggs from a family in my ward. They're $2 a dozen, and tiny precious dark-haired children bring them to my door. Look how gorgeous!

I got these last night, and today I had a fried egg (brown one, top right) and toast for lunch. Delightful, I tell you.

Lovely thing #3: These are the strawberry plants I got yesterday. They are hanging out on my dryer until I can figure out when it's safe to plant them outside.

Lovely thing #4: Have been doing some stash-busting as part of my "let's maybe hold off on buying new yarn for a while since you already have an entire plastic bin of the stuff" plan. Behold, the fruits of my labor, to be eventually bequeathed to the fruits of other people's labors.

Dudes. It's an apple. Could you just die?

Apple Hat

 Am ridiculously in love with this little guy, and keep picking it up and cooing at it.

Welcome to the world hat and chaussons mignons

As for these, you may remember that I made a version of this hat in blue for the fetal Tiny Dark Lord, and then promptly lost it, like a person who totally should be given a newborn to take care of. Right now I keep wanting to knit baby girl stuff, and since I don't have a baby girl it is really nice of other people to take these things and put them on their own female offspring. I almost didn't get these booties mailed off though because I just kept walking around balancing them on the palm of my hand like I was carrying around fluffy baby chicks or something.

Lovely thing #5: The Dark Lord, after hours of resistance, finally deigned to nap. Once he was down I speedy quick made some beef (okay, ground turkey) stroganoff so now dinner is in the bag. And I listened to an interview with Sis. Dr. Susan Easton Black on Mormon Conversations at the same time. And then I got to blog. Winning.

Yes, it looks like somebody vomited on my stove.
But it's really tasty, I promise.

So. Your turn. Let's hear about the lovelies.

Because heaven knows we can't disrespect an old person

My Gentleman Husband is pretty much an advertiser's dream. We've already discussed how he is about Christmas presents, unable to decide what he desires until the holiday ads present him with his options. Recently a commercial for some big new massive fast-food bacon cheeseburger came on TV and he told me about the time when that a similar commercial made him so excited to go buy that a different big new massive fast-food bacon cheeseburger.

GH: "Only, when I got it it didn't look the way it does in the commercials."

Me: "No kidding."

GH: "Yeah. And it didn't taste very good either. I was really disappointed."

Bless his heart. 

Last night after making a quick trip to the store to return a Redbox DVD and get some more breakfast cereal, he brought home a box of Oreo cookies. This is not usually an item on our grocery list. Generally what I do is NOT buy prepackaged cookies, chips, and crackers, and then every month or so we go visit his parents in L**** and binge out on all of their prepackaged stuff. And then I wonder why I always feel so gross and bloated and six pounds heavier after a weekend with them. (Secret note from my digestive system: it's because Fritos are a snack, friend--not an entree.)

When I inquired as to the occasion, he informed me that it was Oreo's birthday. Their 100th, to be precise, and it's only right that we celebrate it. The sneaky store people made a display, it seems. So what could he even do? You can't be all impolite and just refuse to participate in someone's 100th birthday.

So. We celebrated, and the Tiny Dark Lord got his first Oreo.

And then, like a genius baby, he signed for milk before he was even finished with it. That kid knows what is what.

Happy Birthday, Oreo!

Instead of picking up the living room . . .

. . . I am blogging. Just wanted to throw out a few recent highlights:

The Tiny Dark Lord's curls, which are multiplying. He thinks it's funny when I mist his hair with water and yes maybe sometimes my expensive Bumble & Bumble curl reactivating spray, so that's good. Of course, five minutes later he thinks it is funny to smear fistfuls of sun-dried-tomato-flavored hummus into said hair. This is less good.

TDL's first trip to Aggie Ice Cream last weekend. He was more interested in my chocolate ice cream cone than he was in his own scoop of strawberry, which just shows his excellent taste. GH's favorite flavor is Aggie Blue Mint, which normally I would shun because blue foods = unholy and wrong, but this stuff actually is pretty good.

Finally got in to see the lady in Cache Valley who does my hair. She is worth the drive, I tell you. Plus there are baby farm animals at her house, which I feel adds immeasurable value to the experience of getting de-dusty-bat-pooped-rooted.

Also, do you like my cowl? I knitted that thing.

We had a birthday party in honor of Spitfire, complete with crepes, fruit, zucchini bread, and fizzy lemonade.  It would have been better with here there in person, but since that wasn't really an option we had to make do with her balloon likeness. Happy birthday, Spitfire!

Email I had to send out yesterday

Subject: My phone went through the wash

Hello, friends and family.

Went in to check on my not-napping baby this morning to find that he had removed his poopy diaper for me. I put his bedding in the wash along with my bathrobe, which had my cell phone in its pocket.

Am going out to buy a new phone today. Will you please give me your phone numbers?

So yeah. It's kind of been one of those weeks. (Again.) Some of you will be receiving your version of this email soon, unless you decide to just take pity and email me your phone numbers now. Or text them, since I do have a working phone again.

The Tiny Dark Lord, though, did prove yesterday that he has some sense of self-preservation, because he was incredibly darling during the Crusty Poop Removal Bath. This adorable Colonel Sanders photo was taken while my phone swished merrily through the wash cycle.

Happy Valentine's Day

We were kind of backwards about Valentine's Day this year. The only real celebrating done that day was when I took the Tiny Dark Lord on an outing to Flour Girls and Dough Boys. He is finally getting over the awfulness that was his cold and we were both ready to get out of the house. He is still as clingy as an anaconda, though, and after a week of holding his 25+ pound self nonstop (and no, nobody else could hold him, ever, lest he summon the rest of the Nazgul) I may need a chiropractor to fix my now hunched and misshapen body. I probably look like an orc all hobbling around and asking about news from Mordor. (Wow, check me out with my LotR references. I just get hotter, you know?)

We're actually going out to celebrate tonight, since this is the night when we have a babysitter (thanks, Auntie Jen!). I know she won't be phased by the hysterical screeching that will surely happen when we leave, which is of great comfort. Plus she already knows a little something about Tolkien babies. I'm just saying.

Tonight's plan is dinner at Restaurant Forte at Utah Valley University (previously known as Greg's Restaurant, which you may have seen me mention a time or two). GH bought me a gift certificate good for "Dinner for Two" as a Christmas gift, and now I'm cashing it in. It's Japanese night, and I'm excited. Plus we have a few friends joining us, so we will have things to talk about other than our baby's napping habits and the current color of his snot.

It is on!

Happy weekend, friends!

Day 10: Scary Stuff

Last day of the challenge, and I was even given a shout-out in the prompt! We are supposed to try a trend that scares us. Last time I put on my big-girl pants and rocked some red lipstick.

At the moment, I'm pretty well scared of everything. Just got the dead car towed away ($55) and am waiting for the results of the diagnostics ($89) and the estimate (all my $$$) and all I want to do right now is lock myself in my bedroom and watch Friday Night Lights for the next six hours. (Seriously, how amazing is a show that can make a sedentary, anti-sports person like me care so incredibly much about football? My sister Jen decided she needed to check it out when she heard me (ME!) sniffle, "It's just . . . man those kids have heart!")

Decided a few days ago that I wanted to get brave and try wearing a hat, so started making myself a version of one I just knitted & mailed off to my sister Spitfire.

Star Crossed Slouchy Beret by Natalie Larson

Only . . . guess who doesn't have have enough yarn to finish hers?

Yeah. Sounds about right.

And now, before I go tuck myself in with Coach Taylor (not like that, dirty!) I leave us with a healing sight: my fluffy-headed little angel boy, who I hope will keep napping for at least a few minutes more.

Day 8: Dress up a coat. Or don't.

I didn't. I don't think I even wore a coat that day. Not that it wasn't cold, but because I didn't remember to.

This was my second visit to the physical therapist. I went to see her because I was referred by a urogynecologist, to whom I was referred by my ob/gyn when I went in for a check-up and asked about some post-baby muscle weakness I was still having. The OB said that my darling little 9-pound, posterior, forceps-delivered Dark Lord had basically broken my bottom and that I should go see some specialists about that to see if I need reconstructive surgery and and oh by the way you should only have C-sections from now or you'll make it worse mmkay?

These . . . were not words that my Hypnobabies/midwives/birthing pool self expected or wished to hear, and they threw me into kind of an absolute state. I won't get into all of that mess here but will say that I'm glad I'm not pregnant right now and have some more time to get additional opinions and weigh risks and come to terms with whatever. Also on the list of "things I have time to do" is to visit a Physical Butt Hole Therapist to try to get myself fixed back up. Because that's the kind of glamorous that I am. I am so incredibly glamorous, friends, that I can now accept as a typical Wednesday activity something like, say, lying on an exam table with electrodes taped to either side of my @$$hole.

It's a decadent life.

And I know I said I wasn't going to get into this but have any of you had bad tears with your babies? And if so, did you keep having bad tears? I know everyone is different, but I really would like to know.

Day 7: Winter Brights

I'm too late to link this one up over on Kayla's blog, but I did do it! I'm good at dressing up, I'm just really, really bad at getting pictures that day. So today is the day where I put on a whole bunch of dirty clothes and take some pictures. Yee haw.

Also, as a special supergreat bonus, I am going to tell you what went on during the days where I wear each outfit.

Monday's 1980s-inspired outfit happened on the day when I drove up to Farmington to visit one of the chiropractors at the Advanced Health Clinic. They practice something called Chiropractic Muscle Activation, where they use acupressure to re-activate muscles that have gone wonky. Back when poor GH was in a ton of pain from sciatica stuff and we had spent just about all our money on doctors and painkillers and physical therapists and massage therapists and every other thing under the sun, a relative recommended this clinic and they were the ones who fixed him.

So. Fast-forward to last week, when I was the one visiting a physical therapist. During the evaluation she noted that some of my muscles seemed to be "off-line" and weren't working the way they were supposed to. When I explained this to GH later, he reminded me that we know somebody who knows how to get your muscles working again. And all we have to do is give him all of our moneys.

Tuesday was Day 7: Winter Brights.

First I dug out my green sweater from its storage bin. I like the sweater but do not like the way it fits on my post-baby tummy. Too bad, as it is quite bright. Switched to this instead:

J.Crew sweater, Old Navy Jeans, Shade shirt,

I bought this scarf at a street market in downtown Pittsburgh in September and I think it is very cheery. I, on the other hand, do not seem very cheery in this shot. Seriously, must remember to use lip gloss. Or tallow. Or bacon grease. Something.

This was the day the Tiny Dark Lord had a cold. I bought some of those Booger Wipes you recommended during the last bout of illness and wow, they really are kind of awesome. Instead of clawing at me and twisting like a deranged tiger, as per usual, TDL sat and bore these wipes with a sort of wary dignity. We made it through the day by watching Signing Time DVDs and not napping at all ever.

Is it too early to call genius?

I wasn't kidding before when I said that I spend a lot of my time feeding the Tiny Dark Lord, for lo, he is like unto a pit without bottom.

Have been showing him the "Eat/Food" sign for, oh, I dunno, about seven months now, and he is just barely doing a version of it back to me (sticking his finger in his mouth, which could also mean "my gums hurt and now your day is going to suck") Usually he just sees me do the sign and then chortles maniacally about how YES FOOD THE FOOD IS COMING YES FOOD NOW! So . . . at least I know he gets what I'm doing.

Because he's seen me doing this for months and months, you'd think the simplest way to inform me that he wants to eat would be to do the sign. But maybe he's a creative type, because these are the other ways in which he has recently announced his desire for sustenance.

1. Making smacking sounds with his mouth.
2. Opening the trash can, fishing out an empty jar of baby food, and taking it to GH.
3. Yelling at me when I take the tray off his high chair at the end of a meal, reaching out to grab the tray, and smacking it emphatically back down on his lap.
4. Going in the kitchen, finding his high-chair tray, and bringing it to GH.

The best, though, happened last week. GH and I were in the living room watching TV and the baby went into the kitchen. We heard him puttering around in the pots & pans cupboard, and then he came back into the living room carrying the small frying pan I use to make his eggs. He set the pan on the carpet in front of us and then I saw his hand go into his mouth.

Me: Dude. He's eating something, what does he have? (Hoping it's something like an old Cheerio but braced for it to be an earring or clod of dirt.)

As we watched, the Tiny Dark Lord reached into the empty frying pan, picked up imaginary food, and brought it to his mouth. Twice.

Us: Uhhhhh . . . is . . . is he telling us he wants eggs?

(Yeah, I'm sure TDL thinks we are the most moronic humans ever to be given a child, but come on. This is new to us. Communication that resembles charades rather than monkey shrieks is a whole new thing.)

GH: Well, we'd better make him some eggs so he knows we understood him.

He went into the kitchen and made a scrambled egg, which TDL devoured happily.

He is training us well.

Eye contact is free, people

photostock / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Yesterday I took The Tiny Dark Lord to a local library, mostly because he was getting bored and cabin-feverish after nearly a week of being stuck at home with lame me. The holidays spoiled him, what with all the other kids and adults and toys and dogs and nonstop excitement.

This is the first time I've ventured into this particular library in months and months. Because I have weekly access to other libraries with bigger collections through work, it's easier for me to get the things I need through them. So I don't go for books. TDL is too young for the story times offered at our local library, and even if he weren't I wouldn't take him anyway because you have to pay to attend. I was completely staggered when I learned this. It's a nominal amount, used for craft materials, but I still say that's creating a barrier to early childhood literacy. Reading stories and singing with kids doesn't cost anything. They can freaking color at home.

Now, I get that it's extremely difficult being a small library with a limited budget, limited collection, and limited space. I worked in one. We couldn't help the funding/space/collection limitations, but we still provided quality service and created a space where the community felt welcome. Something about the vibe of this library just does not do that for me. Instead I get a decidedly "I am busy with my solitaire game do not bother me or make noise" feeling. But I did get a good sense of what is really important to them: there were 25 printed signs in the adult section, letting me know that cell phone use was not acceptable. I'm not kidding, I went around and counted.

The hard thing is, it takes a lot of work to change a vibe. It's this intangible thing that isn't a line item in your budget but it makes a huge difference in how your organization is perceived. How exactly do you put your finger on and then explain to staff members what needs to change? "Stop being yourself?" Do you just fire people because they aren't smiley enough? I have been there. It's not fun. I do think that taking down about 20 of those signs would be a start, though.

Now that he is walking and since it's still cold outside (except for yesterday, holy cow it was in the 50s), I will probably start taking TDL back more often because there is more room for him to roam around than the 18 square feet of grody shag living room carpet currently available to him. Plus he needs to spend more time in libraries so he knows that they are true. Maybe my heart will soften about this particular one, or I will see that I am wrong in my current assessment. Maybe.

But, back to you. Anybody want to dish on the things your library does really well (or maybe not so much)?

Because I'm sure you love you some blurry iPad pics

Have I mentioned that I lost my digital camera, again, some more? I did. I left it in Logan over Thanksgiving and no one has been able to find it. So all my pictures are crappy.

What is not crappy, though, is the one little corner of the house where I just went ahead and dumped Christmas all over it.

And that is called festive. Go me.

Am afraid to take a picture of the tree because the alien satellite star on the top has started doing this weird flicker loop thing. It's probably initiated its countdown sequence, and I should expect either detonation or little green men shortly.

Our neighbors are moving this weekend so I offered to take their baby while they clean their apartment and stuff. The Tiny Dark Lord was thrilled to have some eligible female company for breakfast. Check out the eyes he's making at her:

Then they played all adorably in the living room while TDL bopped to Ella Fitzgerald's Swinging Christmas. He even decided to be a sharer when he saw little B trying to chew on a plastic toy--he took it out of her hand and then pressed it into her face. Way to help there, guy. He loved our neighbor baby slightly less though when they both got tired and cranky and wanted to be held at the same time. Then his eyes were full of suspicion and his hands were full of shoves. But for this one second they are both asleep except for the part where TDL totally isn't but I'm ignoring that.

Hope everyone has a great weekend! My plans for tonight include baking sugar cookies and maybe driving through the lights at Thanksgiving Point. What about yours?

ps. Not to sound like those crazies who run around yelling about the War on Christmas and freaking out about the abbreviation Xmas (hint: it's not actually disrespectful), but why bother calling them "Holiday Lights," Thanksgiving Point? I mean, we all know to which holiday you refer. Unless you are about to prove me wrong and have Hanukkah and Kwanzaa lights up too, in which case I take it back.

One year

The Tiny Dark Lord turned one on Saturday, and we celebrated with much fanfare. Or, you know, as much fanfare as a one-year-old is up for, which isn't a lot.

My cake turned out fine, except don't even ask me about the frosting I tried to make which looked like a bowl of fresh baby vomit and resulted in me running to the store at 10:30pm to grab a can of Western Family vanilla frosting so that (when combined with the boxed cake mix) I could just give the kid a year's worth of preservatives and artificial crap all in one go. Woot! 

Suck it, Martha!

The birthday singing weirded him out a bit and he wasn't sure quite what was going on. Then I dumped this thing on his tray that is much bigger than the stuff I usually give him, so it took a second for him to decide how to approach it. As you can see below, he figured it out.

Chocolate cake, baby. I pretty much blew your world with that one. Now get a load of ice cream. 

I love this little guy so much. Even though he chose to reject all of my genes in favor of his father's (Eyebrow and love of fine cheese notwithstanding) I just can't get enough of him. I keep thinking of him as the same little baby elephant I brought home from the hospital, but he's changing and learning and growing so fast that I'm always surprised by it. 

Happy Birthday, Tiny Dark Lord.

You'd think after a year my sphincter would work better

Tomorrow the Tiny Dark Lord turns one.

Can't believe it. A year ago today I was in a labor & delivery room, chillin' on my birth ball, with absolutely no clue of the kind of fun I was about to have. Ah . . . memories.

Am trying to make him something resembling this cake for tomorrow's little cake & ice cream shindig. Annnnnd that's pretty much the end of my efforts. Except possibly there will be some white and blue balloons, although I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with them once I have them. Will have to consult Pinterest (while ignoring the sure-to-be-subsequent-impulse to go crazy overboard).

Tonight GH and I have tickets to go see the Celebration of Christmas concert at BYU. Last year we had to skip the Christmas festivities because of all the fun I was having at home on the couch with my baby, boobs, and bottom, so I'm excited. Am going to treat this like an actual date. The kind where you shower beforehand and put on makeup and do your nails and wipe the infant vomit off your shirt really thoroughly with a baby wipe.

Happy weekend, everybody!

I die

Thanksgiving was great, my Costco pumpkin pie was well-received, and The Pink Stuff looked just like an oozing brain as it melted on its platter all afternoon.

Because I was awake uncharacteristically late on the night of Thanksgiving, I decided to drop in to Old Navy when it opened at midnight. But when I pulled into the parking lot and saw the line of several hundred people stretched out from the door, I just kept on going. Went back the next day at 11am and had a perfectly pleasant time with other pleasant people who did not try to slap me or steal my stuff.

Which is a good thing, because I snagged the last little wool peacoat in the Tiny Dark Lord's size, and I would have fought somebody over it.

Behold:

Home safe!

The baby angels did not have my back quite as much on the trip home. The flight was completely full, there was a delay in taking off (which meant that with the early boarding the Tiny Dark Lord and I were sitting there for an hour before the four-hour-flight even started), and then the fun began.

Imagine trying to contain a very strong, determined, young chimpanzee on your lap during a flight and trying to keep him from throwing himself at the people sleeping around you. It is fun times. Add to that a disgusting diaper, an airplane bathroom changing table where we probably both caught hepatitis, and a bit of screaming from him and some almost-crying and shooting-self-in-the-face wishes from me and you've got yourself a party. He finally fell asleep at the halfway point while I held him standing back in the galley, only then I felt awkward and intrusive when the flight attendants came back and sat in their seats and got out their lunches. Also there was this random guy also standing in the galley who would lean over and ask one of the seated flight attendants to top off his drink. I didn't want anyone to think I was with him, so I left and went to stand by the stinky bathrooms for a few more minutes until I thought TDL was far enough gone that I could get us back in my seat. He stayed out until we landed and then we both took massive naps when we got home. Whew.

One thing that did help while he was awake was my iPad--specifically, the new Make it Pop app designed by my friends. Why yes, that's right, my friends design apps.* They are just talented like that. And seriously, friends aside, I kind of love this one. The Tiny Dark Lord loves it too. Even though he is not quite coordinated enough to play all the games yet, he loves looking at it and touching the different images and watching me play. He actually started giggling during the popcorn game, which was precious.

This app holds his attention for much longer than some of the others I've downloaded for him, and we can stay in the game for longer because he can't accidentally touch any "locked" icons that prompt us to pay money, or a button that close the whole thing down, or any of the other annoying things that can happen when an infant is scrabbling his little hands over the screen.

As for me, if it weren't for the young chimpanzee on my lap I probably would have just popped the bubbles in the bubble/shape game for the entire flight because it gives me the same de-stressing satisfaction I get from popping bubble wrap (but it's much quieter).

Y'all should check it out. The graphics are beautiful, the music is quiet, it's fun, and there all these cool little details. Example: there is a crow in the balloon game that will squawk if you touch him. It is funny.

*Note: my friends did not pay me to say any of this, nor did they give me the app for free. I bought it, I really liked it, I wanted you to know about it, and I want Alma to become a millionaire so she can buy me really nice birthday presents. That is all.

Winter Wonderland

The week has zoomed by and tonight we fly out of Anchorage at 1:00 a.m. Just checked the seat map for our flight and there are only about 3 open seats on the whole plane. Not sure the tiny baby angels have my back this time, seating-wise. But hey, they could still come through for me. Or maybe my chunk of a Dark Lord will just slumber peacefully in my arms for 4 hours until they turn white from loss of blood and fall off, at which point I will have to just leave them on the floor because like I want to wake him up.

Finally got a good outdoor shot in my parents' back yard. (Aaaand now all the Alaskans think I'm talking about guns.) TDL thought the falling snow was great, even though as you can see he is STILL refusing to wear his hat, like a turd-bucket. We've had at least 13 inches of snow in the last week, which has me feeling all Christmassy and "let's go drink another gallon of hot chocolate and hey sure I have room for some more brie"-y.

And because I haven't eaten enough in the last week, we are heading to my parents' ward's annual Thanksgiving Dinner over at the church building. My mom was asked to bring stuffing and, get this, funeral potatoes. Does anybody else eat funeral potatoes with their Thanksgiving dinners, or is this just an automatic Mormon Ward Dinner reflex?

More pictures and recaps to come once I'm home!

Important milestones

Sure, I may not have been able to get even one picture of The Dark Lord's first makeshift Halloween costume, but by golly I was on top of things for this one.

Behold, baby's first Brie.

Am so proud I could weep.

Other milestones during this trip: salmon, sushi, and pumpkin cheesecake. Tonight we are having a seafood feast, so he may be adding lobster and Alaska king crab to the list!

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