Poor parenting is its own punishment

Matt called me the other night to let me know he was going out with friends after work. I immediately seized upon this opportunity to shirk any nutritional responsibility for my kiddos.

At the McDonald's drive-thru I bought a salad for myself, but tossed my kids to the dietary wolves and ordered them up a mess of nuggets, fries, and the like. That's right. Screw their cholesterol levels!

A bit of instant karma awaited me as I pulled around to the first window where we learned the teen who had taken our order suffered from a most unfortunate acne affliction. Most unfortunate. I did the polite thing, smiled, said thank you, pretended not to notice the dermatological catastrophe before me.

That's when Max shouted from the back seat, "What did that mosquito do to your FACE?!"

I smiled sheepishly, apologized, returned to facing forward, and rolled up the window before Max could follow-up with another probing question.

We got our food from the next window, pulled away, and then discovered Max's cheeseburger (no pickles) had not made it into his Happy Meal. Making our return trip to the drive-thru, I told Max all about teenage acne, that it was most likely uncomfortable and a little embarrassing to the kid who took our money, and we don't want to talk about it in a way that might make him feel bad. Max agreed to say nothing when we saw him again.

During the awkward return encounter with the kid at the window, I explained our pickle-less cheeseburger quandary, and he told us to go ahead to the second window. Just before I could pull away, Max proudly proclaimed, "See mom! I didn't say anything about his pimples!"

The Grossest Job You'll Ever Love

While out to lunch this weekend Max had a productive and slimy sneeze. Matt and I scrambled for napkins and raced to clean up the child before Max could take care of it with his customary lingual wipe (I gagged a little just typing “lingual wipe”).

Relieved that none in our lunch party would be consuming mucus, Matt was yet a little shaken, “I have seen some really gross stuff in my time. I have seen what it looks like when someone shoots themselves in the face with a shotgun; I have cut open a man who had been decomposing for days in the river. But nothing could prepare me for how gross kids are! I have seen things eaten that should never be eaten, disgusting things that had to be cleaned out of horrible places, and the snot! The constant snot …”

I couldn't help burst out laughing when Tough Guy closed his eyes and gave in to a full-body shudder.

Yum!

Did anyone else get super carried away after watching Pan's Labyrinth?

Couple of words make a big difference

Matt and I were upstairs while Max was entertaining himself downstairs. He called up to us, "I got it! I got it!"

We shouted back down, "Yay! Good work Max."

It occurred to us that we need to be more attentive parents when Max clarified, "I got it ... all over !"

The cleanup was just as unpleasant as you might imagine.

Par for our course

Why I Love my Husband

We welcomed our baby girl Molly into our family in May. With the blessed event, however, comes exquisite sleep deprivation. I am prone to pining for the rest that eludes me, even on facebook.

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Perhaps it is my out-of-whack serotonin levels, but Matt's response triggered a violent gigglefit. Sweet Sassy Molassy, I love that man!

Mood Swings

Baby is coming in precisely ONE WEEK from today. I am variably delighted and terrified about the prospect of a new baby in our home.
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I have put together a crude diagram that I just tap with my pen whenever people ask me how much I am looking forward to the big day.
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It's nice to have the arrow back on the right after several horrifying days in the red.

Ew! What?!

I get a weekly pregnancy email from the American Pregnancy Association which include tips for the poor sucker stuck cohabiting with a gravid woman. The tips are usually something like "let her take a nap while you make dinner, and perhaps she won't threaten to cut your break lines." Helpful common sense type stuff.

This week's tip made me deeply uncomfortable.

Massage my perineum?! That's the tip? Well that just sounds horridly awkward.
"Honey, grab that shoe tree and come help mamma stretch out the old hoo-ha!"

That's actually kinda accurate

Amazon has a nifty new feature where you enter a specific PayPhrase that gives you a shortcut to spending your money even faster. If you have shopped there recently you noticed that Amazon will provide you with a suggest PayPhrase which is usually some random bit of word salad.



I was shopping for some baby products when spotted this proposed PayPhrase.

Kerry's Utter Responsibility

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Did they mean udder responsibility? This gave me a hearty chortle, and reminded me that I need to register for some Bag Balm.

BYU Merchandising

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Max is too young to know it yet, but he is a University of Wyoming fan. While he was still gestating away, his mom was sewing Cowboy pennants for his nursery.

With potty training just around the corner, I cannot think of anything more suitable for Max to poop on.

I may just buy one of these BYU potty trainers over at Varsity Baby.

Now Max can learn to defecate and desecrate all at the same time!

You may find this hard to believe . .

. . . but our refrigerator is actually a portal to another dimension!
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Max went looking for a late night snack, but found the gateway to a parallel universe.

This Year's Christmas Card

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The problem with living with two men

WOAH!

Max warns: "Do NOT go in there!"

Time to retire the sign

Seeing as how teeth are nature's way of saying "time to ween," my days of pumping at work are coming to an end.

While I won't miss the inherently awkward experience of running a dairy operation out of my office, I will miss the sign I placed on my door while I was pumping.

Nothing says "don't bother me" like a cow on your door.

People wouldn't even knock when I had my sign up; documents would just magically appear under my door to be signed at my leisure.

It is with a heavy heart that I bid farewell to the deference, privacy, and quiet that was utterly commanded by my bovine sign (forgive the pun).

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Chomp!

It was like the perfect storm.

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A mother's moment of inattentiveness,

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burgeoning incisors,

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and a baby with a head cold . . . .

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Do you see where this is going?!

I sat down to nurse Max (who now has teeth on the top and bottom). We were all set up with his boppy, situated in the rocking chair, and just about to begin, when the this harrowing chain of events unfolded:

• Max opened wide
• I looked away to talk to Matt
• Max SNEEZED and CLAMPED down!

" GOOD LORD AND BUTTER ! "

(We are working on the coarse language around our house)

It's trying times like these when one must remember to "count your blessing." For instance, I am grateful to be living in this age of modern prosthesis.

DIY Demotivation

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Just playing with the demotivational poster generator at Despair.Inc . . .

When our son is 16 years old, this poster is going up on all four of his walls.

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Disastrous cropping

This has to be one of the best photos I have ever taken of Max. Admittedly, the quality is poor, but it makes me laugh every damn time I see it.

He was only about three months old at the time, but was still able to clearly communicate his displeasure with his parents despite being plugged with his pacifier.

I loved this picture so much that I decided that I needed to have it reproduced in mug form. I eagerly looked forward to sipping a warm beverage as our sweet son gives me the finger.

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I was bitterly disappointed when my mug arrived:

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They cropped his first obscene gesture right out of the photo!!! Now we just have a mug with a poor quality photo. What's worse is the fact that I am undoubtedly too lazy to bother to re-order.

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So, I have moved on. I am contemplating redesigning the mast on Max's blog. This way he can flip off friends and family en mass.

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Max says, "Nuts to you, hippies!"

Perhaps not age appropriate

There are so many incredible toys I would love to buy Max. Somehow I have managed to use some parental discretion on the following items:

and my favorites, in traditional University of Wyoming school colors . . .

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For now I am determined not to impose my own weirdness on our kid. When he is old enough, he can decide for himself if weirdness is right for him.

So . . . very . . . tired

We are a sleepy bunch in our household. I keep reassuring myself that sometime between now and Max's high school graduation (Class of 2025!!), he will sleep through the night.

When Max started teething, he got up so often at night, that we said "good parenting be damned" and moved him right into bed with us. At present his crib is serving as a laundry folding station. Now Matt and I are trying to figure the best way to get Max back out of our bed. Our prolonged sleeplessness has resulted in virtual zombification.

Not only are we painfully aware of every sneeze, gurgle, and kick, Max wakes up in the middle of the night and early morning and delights in messing with us. He has awakened Matt more than once with the old slap and chuckle, which is consistently comprised of the following three elements:

1. A single SMACK! square on the face
2. Parental response,"What the . . . ???"
3. Giggling

As for me, I am still dealing with the trauma of awakening to find my nose being probed and explored by tiny-nostril-diameter-fingers. Most recently I woke up at 5:30 a.m. when Max was trying to cram his pacifier into my mouth.

My point is we need to figure out a better method, because every creature in this house is pooped.

Even Mae can no longer deal the prospect of facing another early morning without her hefty dose of caffeine.

(That's a grande, double shot, bassetchino)

Sorry about all the hearts lately

You will never guess what Max said for the first time this morning!!!

That's right. He said "MAMA."

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So it went down like this:

Me: Good morning Littleman!

Max: Mama.

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BOOYA!

I . . . Am . . . Mama.

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He's been saying "Dad" for months. You wouldn't believe the sense of validation I have now that he has personally addressed me as well.

Question regarding responsible parenting: Is it too soon to get this tattooed on my kid?