RTT: High on the cold meds

Sooo...2am. I usually reserve your time slot for more trivial things. Ya know, like sleep. Or maybe a quick trip to the bathroom.

But since I'm all hopped up on cold meds I figured I'd be an overachiever & get my RTT out early. The typos? That's the Claritin talking. Or maybe it's the baby. Since he's sitting in my lap wide awake, too.

• I have a problem. I shed. Like a dog. I should be bald by now. I'm talking 2-3 handfuls of hair a day. It's not just post-baby shed, it's always been like this. I thought I had it under control, until...
• I changed a diaper today which contained several hairs. Wrapped in the poop. I need a new Roomba.
• We used to have a Roomba. Until Bear was about 9 months old & she decided she liked to ride it across the living room as it vacuumed. It tolerated her for about a week & then the wheels snapped off.
• Neither. It's one of those words that I can't decide what the correct pronunciation is. Is it "knee-ther"? Or "nigh-ther"? Or is it who the hell cares?
• Am I the only one who doesn't think The Pioneer Woman is the best thing since sliced bread? Sure, she's got some good recipes but other than that...yeah, I'm just not getting it.
• So there's not much that's cuter than seeing fat, nekkid baby butt scoot its way across the floor. Except now as I watch Roo make his way back & forth, I always wonder...is he gonna get rug burn on his little "man-bag"?
• We're taking the slow & steady route with potty training over here. And by slow & steady, I mean, if we were driving on the highway, your grandma would be flipping us off & cursing at us for driving too slow.
• The real problem with 2am? There's nothing on tv. I can't count the number of times I've seen the commercial for those walk-in tubs. How many times do you think some old person who's senile has opened that door while the tub is full of water & flooded their bathroom?

Head on over to Keely's for some more randomness. Go ahead-you know you want to.

Dear Hubband

Dear Hubband:

Right now, you are not even close to being my favorite person.

Remember that pesky little cold you had at the beginning of the week? The one that was so bad you had to come home from work on Monday?

Where upon you proceeded to lay on the couch & moan & whine about how miserable you were. So hot, so sweaty, so achy, yada yada yada.

Remember how I asked you to please go to the doctor, to make sure it was "just a cold"?

Remember how I said "if you won't do it for me, at least do it for the kids?" (What? I'm shameless with the guilt trips.)

Well, Hubband, I would like for you to know: I now have whatever miserable crap you had last week. You know what the difference is, though?

I. Cannot. Call. In. Sick.

I cannot lay on the couch & moan & wail & ignore the kids, nap at will, shower whenever I please because I'm hot & sweaty. I cannot take the "good meds" because they'll make me more than a little loopy & crazy, make me want to do nothing more than crawl into bed.

I would also like to point out to you that I have been sick for two weeks. TWO WEEKS. It all started when Bear got sick. And then a day later, it started for me.

We seem to be in this vicious cycle in our household. You trot off to work at the big box store that everyone loves to hate, where you deal with the sickies all day long. Even though you practially bathe in hand sanitizer throughout the day & change your clothes as soon as you get home, you have still managed to bring home quite the assortment of nasties this winter.

So you bring them home & pass them on to me. As a result of this, I have had a near perpetual cough & runny nose for the past 4 months. I then share it with one of the kids. Bear is a little more resilient, but apparently, every time I sneeze, I can count on sharing it with Roo.

And so the cycle begins. You bring it home, I get it, share it with one of the kids, get them better, then I get sick all over again.

Since November, I have been to the doctor no less than twice a month with a sick baby.

So the moral of this story, Hubband?

Next time you are sick, you better believe you'll be trotting your little hienie over to the doctor's office to make sure that it's "just a cold". Because if I get this again, this sweating & fever & ridiculous cough...you're going to be in a bit of trouble.

Love,
Your sick of being sick Wife

Listen here, Sonny...

Dear Roo:

As I write this (at 12:11am, no less), you are laying on the floor next to the recliner.

{*Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech*

"Did she just say it's 12:11am & her 6 month old is still awake?"

Yes, folks. Yes I did. And if you have a sensible answer to the question as to WHY he is still awake, I'd love to hear it. Now back to our scheduled story.}

Anyways. It is now 12:13am. You have been put to sleep no less than four times since 8:30pm. Apparently you think I was just trying to put you down for a nap?

And while I think you are scrumptiously adorable, what with your fuzzy blond hair, ever expanding thighs & cheesy little grin, you, my son, have caused me quite the lack of sleep the past few nights.

Let's just say my Sleep Bank is quickly reaching a negative account balance.

So while I think it is ridiculously adorable that you are mastering your crawling technique & repeatedly slapping yourself in the face with a comb as you try to jam it in your mouth, I? I am unbelievably tired right now.

If you & Bear believed in sleeping in past 7:30am, I might be able to forgive your lapse in judgement this evening. However, since you will both be screaming for me in T-minus 7 hours & 13 minutes (because it is now 12:17am), I am not amused.

So, as a warning, you have 3 minutes to finish your shenanigans. Because when that clock hits 12:20am (Good Lord, I haven't been up this late since, well since about 3 months ago before you started picking even more ridiculous times of the night to demand your appetite be satisfied), playtime is over.

You hear that? You are now down to 2 minutes, so you better enjoy your last little bit of freedom. I'm going to bust out the swaddler, pull a Houdini on your heinie, and get you to sleep if it's the last thing I do tonight.

Heh. It will be the last thing I do tonight because as soon as you are off to la-la land, Momma's flopping her tired booty into bed & passing out.

Please don't take it personally, son. I love you & all of your adorableness. It's just hard to remember how adorable you are when I can barely keep my eyelids propped open.

Love,
Momma

Daycare? FAIL.

Dear Miss Sassy Pants (almost) 2 year old:

Oh sweet child, why do you think daycare is your own private hell? I've been there, I've seen the other kids. And the lady who runs the daycare? Unless she's a master of disguise, never once did I see a pronged tail or little nubbins that transform into horns.

Perhaps you thought mommy (yes, mommy...apparently you have decided "Momma" is too immature for your vocabulary) was leaving you so I could traipse around town, shopping in all the cute little stores here. Or even, heaven forbid, indulging in some "chaclleee" without you.

Did you think I was trying to punish you? Trying to exclude you from the oodles of non-existent fun you imagined Roo & I were having?

Ahh but quite the contrary my little leg-clinger. Although I had the best laid plans of enjoying my three hours twice weekly, it never happened. I chose to use those three hours doing the very things you complain about (quite loudly, I might add) when you are home with me.

Paying bills? Waahh. Laundry? Boo hoo. Cleaning & vacuuming? Screeeeeeeeeech.

So you see, shadow? I wasn't out painting the town red-or in your case, pink-while you were at daycare.

Why then, did you persist in attempting to convince me that daycare was torture? I mean, I realize I am pretty awesome & all that, but you need a break from me as desperately as I need one from you.

Instead of enjoying your time with other little people that speak your cuh-razy language, you chose to spend the majority of the time crying & running to the door to ask "Mommy? Here? Now?" And then, when I would come to pick you up, you would immediately dissolve into a small puddle of tears & demand "Bye Bye. Now. Carter. In car. Seat, peeeaaassee?"

So, Little Miss Sassy Pants, you win this round. Daycare no more. I have to admit, a tiny little piece of my narcissistic ego is maybe, just a tiny little iota, just a smidgen, inflated knowing that you love & adore me so deeply that you never want to be separated. And then the part of my brain that dies every time I walk past the laundry room & see the mammoth pile waiting for me, that little part of my brain begs for more than an hour & a half of solitutde per day.

So there you have it, little Bear. No more daycare. No more break from that crying, screaming thing on the floor that missed your memo that he should be crawling after you, not trying to steal your baby.

Love,
Your mean momma

(P.S. If I'd known a few weeks ago that the daycare lady considered you to be her "most challenging kid ever", I never would have made you go back there. Anyone that thinks you are challenging doesn't deserve you.)

{Mostly} Wordless Wednesday

"Well hello there, Ladies. Care to join me?"

Random Tuesday Thoughts

Brought to you by Keely.

1. Dear Random Family Visitor: A phone call one hour before you plan on showing up does not constitute "plenty of notice." You see, in my household, unless we have somewhere we have to be, chances are we're still in our PJ's until after naptime has come & gone. And my house? Never clean before naptime. So when you decide to surprise me like that, I have to run around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to get everything clean & the kids dressed. On the flip side, though...at least you called & didn't just show up at my door.
2. Oh & when I say "clean my house" when I get a surprise call like that? What that really translates to is: clean up every room except my bedroom. Because my bedroom becomes the dumping ground for everything I don't have the time to put into its correct place.
3. The flip side of everything getting tossed on my bed? I can stay in one room & sort everything to get it to its correct home instead of wandering around the house & getting distracted by something else & forgetting what I was doing in the first place.
4. Nekkid baby butts are the cutest things in this world. Yummier than a confetti cake cupcake with icing.
5. Dear Bravo: Enough with the Real Housewives of (insert random city no one cares about). RH Orange County is good. RH NYC is decent. RH Atlanta? FAIL. And now? RH New Jersey? SERIOUSLY? I predict a big, fat FAIL.
6. Dear Hubband: I get it. You are sick. However, this does not mean the world has stopped revolving. You are at home, so I expect at least a little bit of help. If you are sitting in your chair & the kids see you there? They want your attention! This whole "pretend not to hear them so Mom will get up & take care of it"? Yeah. That was old oh, I don't know...before the kids were born.
7. Oh & Hubband? The recliner is not your throne & the remote is not your scepter. Likewise, I am not your hand maiden, so when you want something that is sitting 2 feet away from you? Get up & get it your damn self!
8. Dear Twilight Casting Agents: Kristin Stewart SUCKS. Could you have possibly picked someone with less personality?

Now head on over to Keely's place & get you some more random thoughts!

Dear Monday:

Dear Monday:

I'd like a re-do please. I can name the exact time of day you started sucking.

12:33am.

It hasn't gotten any better since then.

I blame you for Roo waking up every hour & a half. And then declaring 6:34am a good wakeup time.

I blame you for Hubband being so sick he has to leave work. I also blame you for his fever.

I blame you for the 30mph winds & threat of severe storms that are keeping us trapped inside.

I'd like to blame you for Bear's hatred of daycare, but I think that one would be kind of hard.

Perhaps I can just blame you for having to go pick her up after only 45 minutes.

I blame you for my mountain of laundry & the toy baskets that threw up in my living room.

So Monday? It's in your best interest to stop sucking right now so that I don't continue to hate you.

Sincerely,
The over-tired, cranky, stressed Mom.

Uh, well, hmm..

Well, internets, I see my sister was kind enough to introduce herself yesterday.

In typical little sister fashion, nonetheless.

Always butting in, trying to show up the big sis.

Putting in her two cents when she really has no clue what she's talking about.

Ok, Ok, I'm kidding.

Sort of.

But seriously.

She's a good sister. Loves her Bear & Roo like they are her own. And she's a good doggie momma, too.

And really, she's pretty funny. So if you haven't yet, you should go check her out.

Go see Caitlin.

And if you ever stumble across some crazy post here, I can guarantee you a 99.999% positive that she's the one who wrote it.

I HAVE THE POWAH!

Someone gave me the ability to author posts on this blog...hehehe. By the by, internet, I am Cara's sister, Caitlin, and I don't have babies, or even a baby, but I do have two dogs...So I'll try and chime in with parenting advice every once in awhile by attempting to apply my methods to humans. We'll see how that goes...

Potty training: Wait until your child makes the pee face, then throw them out the door. Or, if they have an accident, rub their noses in it, give them a little swat with a newspaper, and then throw them out the door. Worked on Abby in a week!

Fussy eaters: Buy the food that smells like garbage. My children love that.

That's all I've got for now. I will share future nuggets of genius at a later time...

--Caitlin

Strolling Along

Urgh. It's getting close to that time.

Time for the dreaded double stroller.

For the past 6 months I've managed with Bear's behemoth Graco Quattro (WTH was I thinking? Really?) & a sling for the fat man. Or, if the Hubband is along for the ride, we take the beast for Roo & the umbrella stroller for Bear.

I plan on getting a more comfortable sling for Roo, to try & avoid the double for a little longer. Totally lurved the ring sling up until about the last month. It's getting to be too much for my shoulder & back.

One of my mom friends has turned me on to the Sleepy Wrap, which I'm planning on getting so that I can still carry Roo on quick trips.

But with summer coming up & lots of outdoor time planned, I can't really expect to carry Roo constantly. Hello heat rash. I know I can't trust the Bear to walk independently for anything more than a quick trip, so it seems my best option for when it's just the 3 of us (which it is about 99.9% of the time) is to invest in another friggin' stroller.

So my question to you, internet, is: what has been your preference in doubles? I've narrowed it down to 3 options, so I'm looking for a little feedback in what other people have found that works for them.

And puh-lease. Please do NOT suggest the Graco DuoGlider. Just looking at that monster makes me want to cry.

Here's what I've found:

Chicco Trevi Twin Stroller: I like this one for it's smaller size & the fact that it's lightweight. Downside? I worry about being able to fit through doorways since it is a side by side. Baby Trend Double Sit-n-Stand: I picked this one over the other Sit-n-Stands that don't offer the back seat, just the bench & handle bar for the kids because Bear still enjoys riding in the stroller & again...not sure she is ready for the amount of independence that would come along with not being IN a seat.
InStep Suburban Safari: I've heard a lot of positives about a jogging stroller versus the traditional 4-wheeled strollers-ease of maneuverability, comfort, weight, etc. Again, though, same as the Chicco-would it fit through a doorway? Also, how compactly does it fold up? The Graco monster I currently own takes up almost the entire back of my Jeep, so that's definitely an issue for me. So. Internet. Any advice?

Not at all...

Nope. They don't look alike at all.

Bear:



Roo:



They are both right at 6 months old.

Wordless Wednesday...Butt Paste

Upon discovering that pesky baby acne, Bear turned to the cream that had thus far solved all of her skin blemishes...

Random Tuesday Thoughts

Here it goes. I always have lots of random thoughts, so let's see what I can pull out of this 'ol noggin.

Hubband's days off are a double-edge sword. Love having him here but damn it all if he doesn't screw up our routine every single time. The kids go nuts from the extra time they get to spend with him. When he's awake, that is.

I am incredibly, insanely, boringly AVERAGE. I have yet to stumble upon that one thing that just flat out strikes my fancy. I can't sew, I'm an average cook, an average housekeeper. I have a black thumb, I'm always behind on laundry, I don't have an artistic bone in my body. This is something I've been working on this lately. I think it's a large part of the funk I've been feeling since we moved to a new town.

I've never been incredibly outgoing. I'm most likely to be found sitting in the back of the room, silently watching what's going on. This carries over to my blogging, too. I read a lot of blogs but am usually hesitant to comment & try to find new bloggy friends.

So. Hello internet. I like to blog & I like to read your blog. Want to be friends?

Oh, and internet? I'd love a new look for this page but have about -0293843 experience when it comes to designing pretties for my page. I couldn't even figure out how to upload a picture instead of the boring 'ol "Chronicles of Bear & Roo" at the top. Anyone wanna help? Anyone?

Potty training sucks. Recently Bear has hit a total wall with it. She'd rather pee on the floor & then come tell me what she did than use the potty that is sitting 2. feet. away.

I hate being stuck in the rut of renting, which I've done for the last 7 years. But the thought of taking on a mortgage makes my stomach turn. We make what is essentially a house payments worth of student loan payments every month & that blows. I know we can afford it but the thought of adding another payment like that to our monthly bills makes me want to barf.

Max & Ruby is my least favorite cartoon out there. I refuse to let Bear watch it. If I ever heard her talking to Roo like Ruby does Max, I would be so mad!

Ever wonder what in the world that parent was thinking when they came up with the phrase "Do you want a spanking?" Seriously? What kid is going to say yes to that?

Head on over to http://www.theunmom.com/ for more randomness & to join in the fun.