Life is Good

Last week I started a new job and I love it!

The people I work with are friendly, funny, and super laid back.

It's a nice change from where I've been the last month.

And there are some bonus features to where I now work.

Let me round out some of my favorites:

The bathroom smells like a Mister Misty Freeze - cherry flavored, I think. Let me clarify - The WOMEN'S bathroom. I will not vouch for the smell in the men's room!

The sensor in the paper towel dispenser (in said women's bathroom) is malfunctioning, making it so you have to lean all the way into the doorway. So there's a good chance I'm going to get smacked in the face by a swinging door for my good hygiene efforts. This is particularly funny to me since my company produces sensors. Ironic.

On my desk I have approximately 50 paper clips, 14 post it note pads, three tape dispenser refills, two computer screens, one stapler and zero files.

But my social calendar is blowing up. I have two potlucks, one holiday lunch, one holiday dinner, a holiday party and 3 paid holidays coming up! Which probably means my rear is going to be doing some blowing up of it's own. Sigh.

I suppose I could exercise some self control and not eat ALL the goodies offered.

But where's the sport in that?

How can I gloat about the amount of weight I lose after the baby if I don't gain any weight in the first place?

That makes sense, right?

In other exciting baby news I found out today that I get to be fitted for the ever stylish, highly sought after compression hose.

They sound sexy, right? Ow, ow!!

Not only do I have to wear them, but I have to be measured for them.

I'm not even sure that I want to know how big my thighs are, I definitely don't want someone else to measure them and then record that number for others to review and assign a size to.

If those panty hose come and they have a size that begins with an X, I'm ripping that tag out immediately and blocking the memory from my brain.

Just one more thing I'm going to hold over my son's head when he's older.

Right along with the amount of time I end up in labor with him, and my never ending supply of gray hair (which I swear has multiplied since becoming pregnant the first time).

I think his high school graduation party would be a good time to bring up these items...along with the naked baby photos.

I'm really looking forward to it.

Wax On, Wax Off

Oh, if only I were talking about waxing.

You know, as in, I am smooth as a baby's butt kind of waxing?

Listen, even my butt isn't as smooth as a baby's butt, let's just be honest about that one!

But oh, I long for the days of manicures and waxing. Time to myself. Feeling pampered and luxurious (still a word, honey!).

No, my greatest luxury in life right now is a pair of velour maternity sweatpants.

They are the only pants that don't cut off my circulation and make me feel like a bratwurst stuffed inside a hotdog.

Nice imagery, right?

Anyway, as usual I've run away from the point.

And by run, or course I mean, waddle.

Back to the point.

Wax on, wax off.

I'm convinced that I am housing within my being the next Karate Kid.

This eggplant sized human, who cannot even open his eyes yet, somehow manages to reach out and punch me with a force that was never achieved by his older brother - bless his heart!

And when I say he is punching me, I am not exaggerating.

I know, it's hard to believe. What with my propensity for story telling and all.

But it's true.

Today, as I walked down the hallway at work, his assault sent me staggering into a wall, grasping my stomach and exclaiming, "Ouch!"

And maybe that was a tad bit dramatic.

But only a tad.

I miss my anterior placenta.

I didn't think I'd ever type those words, but there they are.

And it's true. I miss it's protection. This posterior nonsense is just plain silliness.

I love this boy - and I love that he's so active.

But I don't need to see his little fist trying to escape through my skin - like a scene from Alien.

Settle down in there Daniel-son or I will send the Sensei after you!

Yo Mama

Yo mama.

She's great, I know.

If she's anything like my mama she's your good friend.

And you talk about everything, right?

No, not right.

Yo mama did not tell you about some things. It's true, I promise.

At least my mama didn't tell me about everything.

And neither did anyone else for that matter.

Like, for instance, why didn't anyone mention that if you color your foot black with Sharpie to hide the fact that you got a run in your pantyhose BEFORE you left the house that it wouldn't come out for three days...and counting?

Now, I love a good Sharpie, but there's a reason why you're not supposed to use it on your skin.

Consider yourself warned.

But you probably don't need that warning.

Because you probably wouldn't do that...on account of the fact that you don't have baby brain...piled on top of mom brain.

Well, good for you. But I do, which means I can't come up with simple words like "cough drops" and "picture frames" when in everyday conversation with co-workers.

You think I'm kidding, but I'm not.

And my mama didn't tell me about that either.

That I would completely lose my brain after having babies.

I'm thinking about getting some Ginko Biloba...or maybe just one of those 5-hour energy drinks.

Don't judge me yet.

I can still perform complicated tasks like concatenating. It's the easy stuff like, you know, conversation...and stuff...that eludes me.

See what I mean?

But again, unless you can not only say concatenating, but you know what it means and you can perform it for me as proof, you are not allowed to make fun of me.

Let's talk about why you can make fun of me.

And you guessed it, yo mama didn't tell you about this either.

So, I have a little human being making eyeballs inside my belly, right?

And he's busy in there. So he's not paying any attention to where his hands and feet are flying...or his disturbingly pointy head and bottom for that matter.

And I have no control over that.

Which means I have no control over...other things.

Let's just say if we are friends...have a little compassion about letting me use the bathroom in every store we walk into. Or pretending that you don't smell that.

Because I'm going to pretend that I didn't do it.

Deal? Good.

I know there were other things I wanted to mention here, but I can't remember right now.

No really, it's true.

And it's 8:30 pm.

Which, at this point in life, is WAY past my 7 pm bedtime.

So if I remember, I'll be back.

Otherwise, I'll just try to post more often.

I said, try, stop laughing.

White Chocolate Marshmallow Cake Bar

You should make these.

Like right now.

They were eat-the-whole-pan delicious.

And I know, coming from me, that doesn't mean a lot.

What with the dessert-whore situation I have going on.

BUT, in all seriousness these were amazing.

And disturbingly easy to make.

And you probably have all the ingredients in your pantry! Bonus!

Here's the link to the recipe.

Just a few notes on how I operate in the kitchen:

I made them with the graham crackers (highly recommend).

I baked them in an 8x8 pan, as the original recipe suggests.

Of course, I used more marshmallows than the recipe called for...because I could...and when have you ever said, "I wish this had less marshmallow."?

I hope those words have never come out of your mouth - for then we shall not be friends.

Ah, but we are friends. And that is why I share this recipe with you.

Because you know you want some!

So, now you have to go make them.

Because you can't have any of mine.

There aren't any left.

I don't apologize.

Happy Baking!

Yep, Yep, Yep

Let's just get it out of the way and move on.

I haven't blogged in a very long time.

Look back at the last blog and the whole explanation is there.

Mom stuff...yadda, yadda, yadda.

Done.

Moving on.

Halloween!!

Ok, we're not big celebrators of Halloween in our house.

We're more fans of Jesus. You know how it goes.

But we have a little one. And what is cuter than dressing your child up in a ridiculously embarrassing costume and parading him out in front of strangers?

I submit there's nothing cuter.

Except maybe kittens in teacups. That's pretty cute.

But I digress. Halloween.

We took Pookie to the MOA for the...*insert dramatic music here*..."World's Largest Indoor Trick-or-Treat Event"!!

Ta da!

Not because he needed candy, or because we were particularly excited about trick-or-treating.

More because we didn't want to deal with the thugs in our neighborhood who don't understand that no lights on at our house means don't knock repeatedly on the door until our dog is about to have a heart attack and our baby is awakened from his early, but necessary 7 pm bedtime.

Yep, yep, yep.

So, we dressed the little one up like a monkey (VERY last minute CLEARANCE costume scored at Menard's on Sunday night!) and headed out to the Mall for some family fun and some dinner.

And we found both. And then some.

We also found lots of mom dressed in inappropriate costumes, toting around their inappropriately dressed children.

Awesome.

In all my stay-at-home-mom, turtle-neck wearing naivety I forgot that SOME women use this holiday to dress like...well...like ladies of the night...eh-hem!

Yep, yep, yep.

I have a few things to say about that ladies.

1. You are someone's mom. I'm not saying you have to pull out the chest-high jeans, but we don't all need to see HOW you made those babies you're carting around!

2. Lingerie is NOT a Halloween costume. It's not, I promise.

3. The only goodies I want my husband and son seeing have the names Milky Way and Snickers printed on them. So unless your backside and chest-ular area are stamped with these logos - put 'em away!
*And side note: Even if they ARE stamped with these logos - WEIRD - I still don't want to see them - and neither do my boys. Wear a coat. And some long pants. And maybe a scarf.

There, I think I've adequately outlined my thoughts on that.

Until next year. :)

Have a great Tuesday everyone. I'll try to get pictures up soon!

Pictures, Costumes, and More

"Somewhere, someone who is busier than you is running."

That's probably true. And, likewise, somewhere (all over) someone who is busier than me is blogging.

But I can't seem to get it done.

Ugh.

Most days I just feel like my day-to-day is just not interesting enough to post about.

Making meals, cleaning bathrooms, doing laundry...endless games of peek-a-boo.

These are things only a mom cares about.

And without beautiful pictures to document each process of my life - it's just words. And even though I love words, sometimes they are just not enough.

Words cannot adequately portray our life - in all it's messy glory.

So, here are just a few images of our life over the past few weeks.







We've been to the zoo, we've celebrated special events with family, took our first family trip to the park, and, as I mentioned before, had many days of "normal" in between.

And even though I don't have great pictures of much of it, I have great memories...and we've had great time together as family.

So, I'm going to have peace about it.

And then I'm going to take more pictures, darn it!

Get your act together, Katie!

Ok, I'm done yelling now. I think. Yeah, I'm done.

I'm off to print out a pattern for Pookie's Halloween costume and finish invitations for a dear friend's baby shower.

Craftiness will ensue!

Victory

I am sitting in between a laundry basket (that is hiding a wet spot from where I cleaned up cat puke on the couch) and a pile of clean laundry.

Both have been sitting here for more than 24 hours.

Not the cat puke.

That was a new surprise.

There are toys scattered on the floor, cat hair everywhere and dust layers on the bench in front of me.

But the dishes are done.

I'm calling that victory.

Oh, and my babe is sleeping...for the first time since 6 am.

I'm claiming victory for that one too.

The chicken has been removed from the freezer and just may be ready in time for dinner...once I figure out what dinner might be.

Victory.

I'm claiming little victories these days. It's easier than feeling defeated by dirty floors, piles of laundry and pancakes for dinner...again.

I'm trying to learn about letting go and accepting the fact that I cannot do everything.

Shocking, I know.

It's a rough lesson. And it's not my favorite. But I'm learning to embrace the chaos, because as the sign says...

"Please excuse the mess...we LIVE here."

And we do.

And we like it that way.

But, even with my new-found calm over the chaos I still wouldn't be heartbroken if our pets showed up bald one day.

I'm just saying.