I was all set to log on and post a witty entry about my sickeningly perfect children, you know, the one who refuses to nap and the one who screams all the time (good luck figuring out who is who!), complete with pictures, but I can't seem to locate my camera cord. It was where it should be a couple of days ago, but in this house, that statement means absolutely nothing. Last time I said the phrase, "it was there a couple of days ago", the "it" was found in the dryer, 3 days later. Why in the dryer? I have no idea. I just don't question it anymore. We're convinced we have a little troll living on the third floor of the house. We just know it comes down while we are sleeping and takes and hides everything that is needed and/ or important to us.
Really, though, I'm pretty sure the little troll isn't really a troll, but a 30 inches tall, bald, almost 22 month old little boy. I'm almost positive that when I finally locate the camera cord, it will be in the same vicinity as my cell phone, the other half to my favorite pair of flip flops, the bagel I gave him for breakfast yesterday, his sister's pacifier, 23 of his pacifiers, and the medicine dropper I use to give him the nasty cheap generic Tylenol we get for free through the health clinic.
So what am I going to do about the much needed missing camera cord? Well, not much, really. After I get done whining about it here, I'm most likely going to stare out my back window and watch my flowers meet their slow, painful demise caused by the over watering they have endured for the past 3 weeks because of the torrential thunderstorms that never cease to occur. Then when I'm bored with that, I will pour myself my sixth cup of decaf coffee for the day and wait for my husband to get home. When he gets home, I'll tell him we need a new camera cord because I'm NEVER going to be able to find the missing one, which he will be extremely happy about because that means he gets to go run a real "manly errand" for once. So he will drive the 20 miles to the nearest store and come back 3 hours later and $200 poorer because he will have spotted 7 things we didn't know we needed, but clearly cannot live without. While, in the meantime, I will have found the missing cord on accident, probably behind the tv or in the dishwasher or perhaps even on the desk, right where it belongs. But, since he drove so far and was gone for so long, I won't want him to go all the way back to return the one he bought and I'll be too lazy to return it later, so then we will have 2 camera cords to loose. It's going to be a good day!
UPDATE: I found the cord about 7 hours after I posted this... it was behind the high chair because that, apparently, is where it belongs.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
the stairs
We have 2 flights of stairs in our house, each with 15 steps. Believe me, we count them every time we walk up and down. It's the only way W is going to learn his numbers because I never think to teach him otherwise. The poor kid is going to go to kindergarten and be tormented because he only knows how to count to 15.
These stairs are not my favorite because they are pretty steep and there is a 6 inch open gap between each stair. Being the paranoid mother that I am, I'm convinced that W is going to somehow maneuver his 19.291 inch head in such a manner that it's going to get stuck in this 6 inch gap and then we will be stuck with a hefty bill from housing for the removal of the stairs to free his extra large noggin. Another reason why I'm not a fan is because my feet are so big, they often get caught under the stair I'm stepping onto. Well, really, my left foot is the foot that always gets caught. Thank you pregnancy for making it one and a half sizes larger than my right.
Really, these stairs are a death trap. And I, of course, insist on adding to the danger factor because I'm constantly putting piles of junk on them with the intention of taking the pile up the stairs the next time I go. But that never seems to happen. Currently, the first 8 stairs have a pile of whatever on them. There's a pile of dirty clothes, dirty dish towels, a bag of stuff to take to the laundry room, a picture and frame that need to go to the third floor, books that go in the baby's room and goodness only knows what else because I haven't actually seen the bottom of the stair in about 3 weeks. You would think that I would grab a pile each time I go up the stairs, but I never do.
What's worse, is I have piles at the top of the stairs of stuff that I need to take down. So now, there are 4 stairs at the top that are filled with junk, meaning there are only 3 empty stairs. Soon, the piles are going to start intersecting and I am not going to have any idea what goes up and what comes down!
The sad part about all of this is I could be cleaning them, right now. But instead, I'm writing about the problem. When I end up with a broken neck, arm, leg, or all of the above, all of you are more than welcome to lecture me on stair safety and you could even say, "I told you so", if you feel so inclined.
These stairs are not my favorite because they are pretty steep and there is a 6 inch open gap between each stair. Being the paranoid mother that I am, I'm convinced that W is going to somehow maneuver his 19.291 inch head in such a manner that it's going to get stuck in this 6 inch gap and then we will be stuck with a hefty bill from housing for the removal of the stairs to free his extra large noggin. Another reason why I'm not a fan is because my feet are so big, they often get caught under the stair I'm stepping onto. Well, really, my left foot is the foot that always gets caught. Thank you pregnancy for making it one and a half sizes larger than my right.
Really, these stairs are a death trap. And I, of course, insist on adding to the danger factor because I'm constantly putting piles of junk on them with the intention of taking the pile up the stairs the next time I go. But that never seems to happen. Currently, the first 8 stairs have a pile of whatever on them. There's a pile of dirty clothes, dirty dish towels, a bag of stuff to take to the laundry room, a picture and frame that need to go to the third floor, books that go in the baby's room and goodness only knows what else because I haven't actually seen the bottom of the stair in about 3 weeks. You would think that I would grab a pile each time I go up the stairs, but I never do.
What's worse, is I have piles at the top of the stairs of stuff that I need to take down. So now, there are 4 stairs at the top that are filled with junk, meaning there are only 3 empty stairs. Soon, the piles are going to start intersecting and I am not going to have any idea what goes up and what comes down!
The sad part about all of this is I could be cleaning them, right now. But instead, I'm writing about the problem. When I end up with a broken neck, arm, leg, or all of the above, all of you are more than welcome to lecture me on stair safety and you could even say, "I told you so", if you feel so inclined.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
small talk
For the past couple of days, there hasn't been going on in my life. Certainly nothing exciting enough to write about. So I haven't written because that would be like making small talk and I HATE making small talk. I don't just hate it, I suck at it. Since I strive not to be one of those parents that constantly talks about their kids to people who really don't give a blue balloon about them, I always end up saying something totally stupid and/or pointless. Which, I guess small talk really is pointless but I'm talking POINT-LESS.
For instance, today I saw someone I know casually while I was out. I didn't have anything to say so I ended up telling her that I like soft pretzels. But I don't like all of the pretzel, just the bottom part of it. Then W eats the sides and we leave the middle for the birds because neither of us like the middle. Now, tell me, why on earth would she care about that?!
I could have told her that I secretly wished *NSync would make a comeback or that I hated chinchilla fur. Even telling her that I had already changed 3 poopy diapers by 11 am or that if you put CDs in the microwave, it makes a pretty light show would have been better than stupid pretzels. I could have even told her that the reason why I went to the store toady was because I was out of coffee creamer and my world simply doesn't spin if I don't have hazelnut coffee creamer for my coffee each and every morning. But, no, I chose pretzels. No wonder why she gave me that look like, "Oh, poor thing, you're a loser and you don't even know it." Sigh. I hope I haven't always been this lame.
For instance, today I saw someone I know casually while I was out. I didn't have anything to say so I ended up telling her that I like soft pretzels. But I don't like all of the pretzel, just the bottom part of it. Then W eats the sides and we leave the middle for the birds because neither of us like the middle. Now, tell me, why on earth would she care about that?!
I could have told her that I secretly wished *NSync would make a comeback or that I hated chinchilla fur. Even telling her that I had already changed 3 poopy diapers by 11 am or that if you put CDs in the microwave, it makes a pretty light show would have been better than stupid pretzels. I could have even told her that the reason why I went to the store toady was because I was out of coffee creamer and my world simply doesn't spin if I don't have hazelnut coffee creamer for my coffee each and every morning. But, no, I chose pretzels. No wonder why she gave me that look like, "Oh, poor thing, you're a loser and you don't even know it." Sigh. I hope I haven't always been this lame.
Monday, June 25, 2007
currently loving (06-25-07)
The 2007 BOB Duallie Sport Utility Stroller
This stroller is worth every single penny we paid for it. We chose this one because we will mainly be using it on rough road and dirt paths. I will walk with it and my husband will run with it. I was worried the fixed wheel would make it hard to walk with but I was so wrong. It is so light and easy to turn. It moves quickly (almost too fast) and it has the smoothest ride you could ever imagine. It's like a freaking Cadillac w/ 4 wheel drive! Holy cow. Neither of the babies look bothered or appear to shake when we are on the dirt. I can't even feel the bumps as I am pushing it.
This stroller distributes weight very evenly and you can't tell there is such a weight difference between the kids. It pushes so evenly and straight all the time. The sun canopies go down past W's chest so he has tons of sun coverage but can still see out.
Our single jogger is one of the Jeep Joggers and you can hardly compare to the BOB because it would be like comparing apples to oranges. Both strollers, but totally different. You get what you pay for with these strollers and I can tell the difference in the more expensive strollers vs. the cheap strollers. Both babies love to ride on it and if it's in the house, W will grab his shoes, crawl in it, sit down and say "bye bye". When I tell him it's not time to go, he throws a fit. This is coming from a kid who refuses to be strapped down to anything. I LOVE this stroller! Now if it only came with a guarantee that I would loose 15 pounds by using it everyday...
on my list (06-25-07)
3am. Yes, that's right. 3am is the thing I am loathing this week. You know how your mom always told you that nothing good ever happens after 2 am? Well, it's true because 3 am is what comes after 2 am and 3 am is the worst hour EVER. By 3 am, I've only been asleep for maybe 4 hours which means I'm in my deep sleep when I get woken up by one or both babies. Since I get woken out of my deep sleep, I'm exhausted and can hardly think straight and I end up being crazy irrational. Like thinking that the lightning is going to strike our house and we are all going to die or that drunk kid who lives across the street is going to take the corner too fast on his way home from the bar and plow into our garage, which would make it collapse, which would make W's room fall through the ceiling.
3am is too early to wake up for the day but by the time I can calm down one or both babies, it's almost pointless to go back to sleep because then I will only have 2-3 hours before I have to wake up again, which would be during another deep sleep cycle. Then I'm just cranky. But if I don't go to sleep again, I'll be just as cranky because I will be tired. There's no winning.
3am just plain sucks. It's on my list.
3am is too early to wake up for the day but by the time I can calm down one or both babies, it's almost pointless to go back to sleep because then I will only have 2-3 hours before I have to wake up again, which would be during another deep sleep cycle. Then I'm just cranky. But if I don't go to sleep again, I'll be just as cranky because I will be tired. There's no winning.
3am just plain sucks. It's on my list.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
the only time it will ever be this clean
It's really important to me that my house be comfortable and inviting. I want to feel like I'm at home where ever I am so I spend a lot of time (and money) decorating and arranging everything so it's just perfect. Hence, my obsession with IKEA. I'm sure this never ending quest for the perfect house (or as perfect as it can be considering it's owned by the government and chosen for us) frustrates the heck out of my husband, but he's pretty good about not letting me know if it does. In fact, he's upstairs painting another room for me as I'm sitting on my lazy fat butt typing this. What a man!
When we arrived here 7 months ago, I realized this house was going to be a challenge. It's not a gorgeous house. It's NOT my dream house, that's for sure. But I am slowing making it perfectly livable. Today I finally finished the nursery. I am pretty darn proud of it, considering what limited resources and materials I had... the walls are cement and we have all of 4 paint colors to choose from. I'm really quite happy with how it turned out. I just don't think it's fair that W's bedding is nicer than mine. Is it lame that I like to sneak in his room to lay down with him before he wakes up so I can soak in the soft sheets and plush down comforter? I hope not!
Friday, June 22, 2007
boo
Today was one of those days that you don't really realize how it passed. Somewhere around 5 pm, I realized it was already 5 and I had no idea what, exactly, I had done all day. I know we went for a long walk around the pond. I know we threw bagels at ducks while on our walk and I know I showered when I got home. But I can't really pinpoint where the rest of my day went. It was one of those days that you pray your husband calls before he comes home so you can frantically run around the house and pick up the messes you don't remember making and start dinner to make it look like you were actually productive while he was at work, actually working his butt off.
Thankfully, my husband calls me everyday before he comes home so on days like today, I have plenty of warning. It's really for his own good that he calls, though. It's for his safety. I have a tendency to freak out at the smallest normal settling noise from the house. I'm all but petrified of intruders coming in as I'm home alone. I'm always on edge.
My husband has a bad habit of unintentionally scaring the bad words out of me by coming into a room without making any noise. Many a time, he has been injured from my knee jerk reactions of kicking or elbowing him (and worse) as he sneaks up behind me. God forbid there really be an intruder one day.
Just 2 nights ago, after my shower, I ran downstairs to grab my hairbrush. He was rocking the baby in the computer chair and I ran back upstairs to dry my hair. When I was done, a few minutes later, I went into my dark bedroom and there, in front of the window, was the silhouette of a big burly man.
Because I didn't have my 9mm in my ankle holster (can't wear that in the shower!), I had nothing to protect myself except for a lot of really bad words. I couldn't whip out my nunchakus and he was too far away for me to use my awesome self defense moves. Turns out, it was only my husband. I thought he was downstairs still but he had come up to put the baby to bed. Of course, with my string of profanity, I woke her up and then we were all in a bad mood. I'm sure he thinks I overreact. But he's getting used to it. I get scared so often it's pretty much common place. And that is why he affectionately refers to me as "Boo".
PS. for the record, I don't have a 9mm... those are for wusses. ;)
Thankfully, my husband calls me everyday before he comes home so on days like today, I have plenty of warning. It's really for his own good that he calls, though. It's for his safety. I have a tendency to freak out at the smallest normal settling noise from the house. I'm all but petrified of intruders coming in as I'm home alone. I'm always on edge.
My husband has a bad habit of unintentionally scaring the bad words out of me by coming into a room without making any noise. Many a time, he has been injured from my knee jerk reactions of kicking or elbowing him (and worse) as he sneaks up behind me. God forbid there really be an intruder one day.
Just 2 nights ago, after my shower, I ran downstairs to grab my hairbrush. He was rocking the baby in the computer chair and I ran back upstairs to dry my hair. When I was done, a few minutes later, I went into my dark bedroom and there, in front of the window, was the silhouette of a big burly man.
Because I didn't have my 9mm in my ankle holster (can't wear that in the shower!), I had nothing to protect myself except for a lot of really bad words. I couldn't whip out my nunchakus and he was too far away for me to use my awesome self defense moves. Turns out, it was only my husband. I thought he was downstairs still but he had come up to put the baby to bed. Of course, with my string of profanity, I woke her up and then we were all in a bad mood. I'm sure he thinks I overreact. But he's getting used to it. I get scared so often it's pretty much common place. And that is why he affectionately refers to me as "Boo".
PS. for the record, I don't have a 9mm... those are for wusses. ;)
Thursday, June 21, 2007
i did it
I finally drove on the autobahn! And I did it all by myself and I only wanted to flip off 2 people! I'm not sure that flipping people off here translates like it does in the States, though. I don't know why I was so scared. I mean, I've driven much faster than I drove today when I lived in California. Plus, the drivers here are much smarter and calmer than CA drivers... for the most part.
I had to go to IKEA (again) to pick a few things up that I just had to have so I packed up the babies and we went. If you go on a weekday, you get to park close to the store instead of having to park halfway to home like if you go on the weekends. So I decided it was better to go on a weekday when I didn't have to arm wrestle 3 other mothers to use the chair in the baby room instead of waiting until Saturday to have my husband drive us. This saved us an argument, too... well, until I inform him that he will be hanging more pictures this weekend.
I'm discovering that IKEA is a national pastime here. Friends were meeting at the entrance to go have their morning coffee and pastries at the cafe. Couples were carting their babies while carefully deciding which color curtain was exactly right for their room. The elderly were congregating outside to say goodbye to each other and to make plans to meet again the same time next week. Children were eagerly awaiting their turn to go into the children's center. Really, IKEA makes the world go round. It's consumerism at it's finest. That place gives you a high and just makes you happy. Maybe it's the fact that you can fill your cart until it's overflowing and still spend less than 200 Euro? Maybe it's the fact that there are so many things to choose from? I don't know. I just have to figure out how people here get their purchases home. Their cars are the size of the tires on most SUVs in the States. I'm assuming home delivery is a big business here.
I had to go to IKEA (again) to pick a few things up that I just had to have so I packed up the babies and we went. If you go on a weekday, you get to park close to the store instead of having to park halfway to home like if you go on the weekends. So I decided it was better to go on a weekday when I didn't have to arm wrestle 3 other mothers to use the chair in the baby room instead of waiting until Saturday to have my husband drive us. This saved us an argument, too... well, until I inform him that he will be hanging more pictures this weekend.
I'm discovering that IKEA is a national pastime here. Friends were meeting at the entrance to go have their morning coffee and pastries at the cafe. Couples were carting their babies while carefully deciding which color curtain was exactly right for their room. The elderly were congregating outside to say goodbye to each other and to make plans to meet again the same time next week. Children were eagerly awaiting their turn to go into the children's center. Really, IKEA makes the world go round. It's consumerism at it's finest. That place gives you a high and just makes you happy. Maybe it's the fact that you can fill your cart until it's overflowing and still spend less than 200 Euro? Maybe it's the fact that there are so many things to choose from? I don't know. I just have to figure out how people here get their purchases home. Their cars are the size of the tires on most SUVs in the States. I'm assuming home delivery is a big business here.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
will it eat my babies?
I don't know what this thing is, nor do I want to know. But this is the ugly thing that greeted me at our back door yesterday afternoon. It was trying to get in the house. I thought I heard something knocking on the door. Ok, not really but it was sure big enough to knock. Pretty sure it would have made a snack out of my babies if it had gotten in. I should add that my husband wanted to skew it and grill it for dinner. It really could have fed a family of 4.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
bullied by a six year old
This morning we had to go to the commissary. My husband came home last night after 2 weeks of training and there isn't nearly enough food in the house to sustain him for even 5 minutes. I hate going to the commissary for so many reasons. 1) everyone there is cranky, 2) everyone there is crazy/ or mean, 3) they are always out of everything I need (still no diapers for CB), 4) it's hard to shop with a baby strapped to your chest and one in the cart, kicking you in the thighs as you walk and 5) my bill is always over $200, for just one week.
When we got there, I was struggling to pull a cart from the entrance and this woman and her six year old breezed past me. We began to walk down the first aisle past this mom and I heard her six year old say "Wow! That lady has TWO babies. That is just crazy." Like she's never seen someone with 2 kids before? We continued to walk and the girl saw one of her friends and they proceeded to chat in the middle of the aisle. The friend had on a little princess crown and was carrying a princess wand. The six year old emphatically informed this poor girl that she looked "stupid". The friend ran off crying to her mother. While these 2 girls had been talking, the six year old's mother walked off and was nowhere in sight. So the little monster started to follow me.
At first, W was doing his normal "I'm not too sure of you so I'm going to peek around my mom to see what you are doing because I don't want you to hurt me" thing. The monster was trying to get W to laugh and it wasn't working. So she informed me that my baby was "stupid". Really? Ok. I asked her where her mother went and said she should go find her. The monster said "No. She can find me". Then she told me that my shoes didn't match my outfit. I was wearing white flip flops, jeans and a blue tank top. Looks good to me! Then she kept pestering W. W was getting annoyed by her and started say "Shoo fly" every time she would come near. (W HATES flies so I taught him to say shoo fly when they are bothering him). Finally she got bored with terrorizing my stupid kid and ran off to find her mom.
But as I turned down the next aisle, there she was. There was no getting away from this kid. I could have turned down another aisle instead, but that would have ruined the Fung Shui of my cart and then my entire day would have turned to crap. So I continued on, praying her mother would not let her wander off. Yeah right.
The monster started to follow us again and this time, she started to pull on CB's legs. CB was sleeping in the Baby Bjorn so I was getting really upset. I told the monster to stop and asked her again to go to her mother (who had been long gone by this time). The monster told me no, again, and continued to follow us. She started to pull at W's legs and he kept saying "no more, no more!" and then she started to take off his shoe. W knows that if you take off his shoes, he's not going to get to go outside anymore and that causes one large fit. So W started screaming at her, which woke CB, which pissed me off like you wouldn't believe. I knelt down to the monster and told her "You need to go find your mother RIGHT NOW and leave us alone", to which she responded, with a stomp of the foot, a hair toss and one hand on the hip, "I don't want to and you can't make me." Oh really? Freaking watch me, Thumbelina.
I started to tear through the store to find this monster's mom. I was practically running over innocent children and elderly people. I finally found the mom in the check out aisle! Was she just going to leave the kid there? I hate to say it, but I would consider leaving her, too... Anyway, I went to the mom and told her that her daughter was bothering my kids and that she had been disrespectful (I'm SUCH a tattle tale!). Just then, the monster emerged and when she saw me talking to her mom, she started to "cry" and said "Mommy, that lady is being mean to me!" The mom got really mad at me and said, "My daughter would never disrespect anyone! How dare you make her cry!" (She was fake crying... No tears. Little brat.)
So the mom and the monster left the store but not before the mom bought the monster candy because she was so "upset". And, not before the monster turned around and stuck her tongue out at me and called me a "stupid lady". It took everything in me to keep from yelling out to her that Santa isn't real.
When we got there, I was struggling to pull a cart from the entrance and this woman and her six year old breezed past me. We began to walk down the first aisle past this mom and I heard her six year old say "Wow! That lady has TWO babies. That is just crazy." Like she's never seen someone with 2 kids before? We continued to walk and the girl saw one of her friends and they proceeded to chat in the middle of the aisle. The friend had on a little princess crown and was carrying a princess wand. The six year old emphatically informed this poor girl that she looked "stupid". The friend ran off crying to her mother. While these 2 girls had been talking, the six year old's mother walked off and was nowhere in sight. So the little monster started to follow me.
At first, W was doing his normal "I'm not too sure of you so I'm going to peek around my mom to see what you are doing because I don't want you to hurt me" thing. The monster was trying to get W to laugh and it wasn't working. So she informed me that my baby was "stupid". Really? Ok. I asked her where her mother went and said she should go find her. The monster said "No. She can find me". Then she told me that my shoes didn't match my outfit. I was wearing white flip flops, jeans and a blue tank top. Looks good to me! Then she kept pestering W. W was getting annoyed by her and started say "Shoo fly" every time she would come near. (W HATES flies so I taught him to say shoo fly when they are bothering him). Finally she got bored with terrorizing my stupid kid and ran off to find her mom.
But as I turned down the next aisle, there she was. There was no getting away from this kid. I could have turned down another aisle instead, but that would have ruined the Fung Shui of my cart and then my entire day would have turned to crap. So I continued on, praying her mother would not let her wander off. Yeah right.
The monster started to follow us again and this time, she started to pull on CB's legs. CB was sleeping in the Baby Bjorn so I was getting really upset. I told the monster to stop and asked her again to go to her mother (who had been long gone by this time). The monster told me no, again, and continued to follow us. She started to pull at W's legs and he kept saying "no more, no more!" and then she started to take off his shoe. W knows that if you take off his shoes, he's not going to get to go outside anymore and that causes one large fit. So W started screaming at her, which woke CB, which pissed me off like you wouldn't believe. I knelt down to the monster and told her "You need to go find your mother RIGHT NOW and leave us alone", to which she responded, with a stomp of the foot, a hair toss and one hand on the hip, "I don't want to and you can't make me." Oh really? Freaking watch me, Thumbelina.
I started to tear through the store to find this monster's mom. I was practically running over innocent children and elderly people. I finally found the mom in the check out aisle! Was she just going to leave the kid there? I hate to say it, but I would consider leaving her, too... Anyway, I went to the mom and told her that her daughter was bothering my kids and that she had been disrespectful (I'm SUCH a tattle tale!). Just then, the monster emerged and when she saw me talking to her mom, she started to "cry" and said "Mommy, that lady is being mean to me!" The mom got really mad at me and said, "My daughter would never disrespect anyone! How dare you make her cry!" (She was fake crying... No tears. Little brat.)
So the mom and the monster left the store but not before the mom bought the monster candy because she was so "upset". And, not before the monster turned around and stuck her tongue out at me and called me a "stupid lady". It took everything in me to keep from yelling out to her that Santa isn't real.
Monday, June 18, 2007
currently loving (06-18-07)
Lansinoh® Clean & Condition Cloths
These things ROCK! I love them. They work so well and are really soft and gentle on the baby's bum. Totally worth the money. I like them much better than regular wipes.
on my list (06-18-07)
Apologies in advance to those who love and swear by Luvs. I don't mean to offend with this post.
I have had to switch CBs diapers from Pampers Swaddlers to Luvs because our commissary has somehow been out of Pampers for a week. Huggies make her skin break out so those are not an option. Luvs are the stupidest, most poorly made, annoying diapers on the market. First of all, they are not any cheaper than the Pampers because I've gone through 100 Luvs in the time I go through 50 Pampers. These things don't absorb anything! So I've ended up spending the same amount of money on diapers this week and I've had to change twice as many. Not a great bargain.
Plus, these things fit so weird! They hardly go higher than her belly button and the sides don't stretch. Because of this, the diaper is constantly falling down and exposing her little bum. This leads to massive blowouts and now I'm having to do even more laundry. And, yes, the diapers are the correct size. They just are a horrible fit.
So, bottom line. I hate Luvs. They are on my list.
I have had to switch CBs diapers from Pampers Swaddlers to Luvs because our commissary has somehow been out of Pampers for a week. Huggies make her skin break out so those are not an option. Luvs are the stupidest, most poorly made, annoying diapers on the market. First of all, they are not any cheaper than the Pampers because I've gone through 100 Luvs in the time I go through 50 Pampers. These things don't absorb anything! So I've ended up spending the same amount of money on diapers this week and I've had to change twice as many. Not a great bargain.
Plus, these things fit so weird! They hardly go higher than her belly button and the sides don't stretch. Because of this, the diaper is constantly falling down and exposing her little bum. This leads to massive blowouts and now I'm having to do even more laundry. And, yes, the diapers are the correct size. They just are a horrible fit.
So, bottom line. I hate Luvs. They are on my list.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
junk mail
When I moved to Germany, I had no idea I would be moving to the Missouri of Germany. The weather here is ridiculous and out of control. Within a few hours, we can go from sunny and warm to thunderstorms with a 20 degree temperature drop. This isn't the best weather to live in when you have a 21 month old monster who loves to play outside.
For the past few days, we have been experiencing very intense thunderstorms. The kind that make the windows open and shut on their own; the kind that make me cry. W HATES these storms. As soon as he hears the thunder start, he flies across the room and jumps into my arms, trembling, until they pass. Of course, he hasn't been able to go outside during all of this and after a few days of not being able to satisfy his urges to explore, he gets very cranky. Just like his father.
Today was a particularly rough day. After watching Cars for the 243 time (you think I'm kidding?), he still wasn't happy so I let him go outside during a quick break in the storms. He was so excited to get to play in the puddles the rain had left, not to mention the overflowing water table we keep on our back porch. Being the white trash that I am, I let him go out in just a diaper and he was soaked to the bone within 45 seconds. He played in the mud, screamed at a stray cat, transfered water from the water table to my pants, threw rocks, picked innocent flowers and best of all, drank endless amounts of dirty, bug poop, moldy leaf, and goodness knows what else ridden water from the table. I can't get the kid to drink water from his sippy, but he will gladly drink that crap. I don't get it.
Just as he had reached the pinnacle of excitement, the thunder started to roll. I could see him frantically trying to decide if his desire to play outweighed his fear of the thunder. Within a few seconds, the light bulb went on and he realized that if he sat on my lap and played, life would be good. But, because we essentially have a lightning rod installed on our porch, because I had to have a huge umbrella, I decided we should go inside before my bad luck caused the lightning to fry us. It was then that all hell broke loose. You would have thought I killed his favorite puppy in front of him. Screams were coming from that child that I had never heard before. My handsome little man disappeared and a little evil monkey had taken his place.
I tried everything in my arsenal of bribes to calm him down: cookies, candy, juice, a fresh roll of toilet paper, even soda (gasp!). There was no match for this fit. I resigned myself to the fact that my ears were going to be abused for at least 45 minutes and silently wished we had stronger alcohol than cooking wine in the house. Just then, a ray of hope, a heavenly gift from the angels above appeared from the mess of junk mail on my kitchen table. The Fisher Price summer catalog. With a quick flick of the wrist, I snatched it and waved it in front of the evil monkey as a symbol of surrender and peace. The evil monkey stopped screaming for just a second. Enough time to let me to see his bluff and know that he was contemplating taking this peace offering. And then he ran away screaming. So I placed it on the floor where he could easily get to it. Once I had walked away, the evil monkey, still screaming, made his way to this curious book and started to poke it with his toe, as if to see if it was going to bite him. Then he saw it. The page with the cars. CARS CARS CARS!! WOW!! The evil monkey vanished and my handsome little man was appeared.
For 45 minutes, he sat looking intently at each and every page. I half expected him to pull out a highlighter and circle which toys he wanted for his birthday, or at least corner the pages. It was bliss. Pure contentment and pure silence except for the occasional "meow" or "moo" when he saw an animal of his liking. The last time I saw him like this was when he was 15 months old and going through his "Heidi Klum" phase. He would get a hold of the Victoria's Secret catalogs and carry them around all day. Occasionally he would stop to stare at her picture. He was so in love with that woman. I like to think it's because his mother looks exactly like her... Well, one can dream.
For the remainder of the day, W carried around the Fisher Price summer catalog. He even asked to take it to bed with him. God bless Fisher Price and their propaganda. I am now searching the web for other stores that will send me their junk mail to keep my child occupied. I guess junk mail does serve a purpose besides lining bird cages and being used for kindling. It's really the little things in life, isn't it?
For the past few days, we have been experiencing very intense thunderstorms. The kind that make the windows open and shut on their own; the kind that make me cry. W HATES these storms. As soon as he hears the thunder start, he flies across the room and jumps into my arms, trembling, until they pass. Of course, he hasn't been able to go outside during all of this and after a few days of not being able to satisfy his urges to explore, he gets very cranky. Just like his father.
Today was a particularly rough day. After watching Cars for the 243 time (you think I'm kidding?), he still wasn't happy so I let him go outside during a quick break in the storms. He was so excited to get to play in the puddles the rain had left, not to mention the overflowing water table we keep on our back porch. Being the white trash that I am, I let him go out in just a diaper and he was soaked to the bone within 45 seconds. He played in the mud, screamed at a stray cat, transfered water from the water table to my pants, threw rocks, picked innocent flowers and best of all, drank endless amounts of dirty, bug poop, moldy leaf, and goodness knows what else ridden water from the table. I can't get the kid to drink water from his sippy, but he will gladly drink that crap. I don't get it.
Just as he had reached the pinnacle of excitement, the thunder started to roll. I could see him frantically trying to decide if his desire to play outweighed his fear of the thunder. Within a few seconds, the light bulb went on and he realized that if he sat on my lap and played, life would be good. But, because we essentially have a lightning rod installed on our porch, because I had to have a huge umbrella, I decided we should go inside before my bad luck caused the lightning to fry us. It was then that all hell broke loose. You would have thought I killed his favorite puppy in front of him. Screams were coming from that child that I had never heard before. My handsome little man disappeared and a little evil monkey had taken his place.
I tried everything in my arsenal of bribes to calm him down: cookies, candy, juice, a fresh roll of toilet paper, even soda (gasp!). There was no match for this fit. I resigned myself to the fact that my ears were going to be abused for at least 45 minutes and silently wished we had stronger alcohol than cooking wine in the house. Just then, a ray of hope, a heavenly gift from the angels above appeared from the mess of junk mail on my kitchen table. The Fisher Price summer catalog. With a quick flick of the wrist, I snatched it and waved it in front of the evil monkey as a symbol of surrender and peace. The evil monkey stopped screaming for just a second. Enough time to let me to see his bluff and know that he was contemplating taking this peace offering. And then he ran away screaming. So I placed it on the floor where he could easily get to it. Once I had walked away, the evil monkey, still screaming, made his way to this curious book and started to poke it with his toe, as if to see if it was going to bite him. Then he saw it. The page with the cars. CARS CARS CARS!! WOW!! The evil monkey vanished and my handsome little man was appeared.
For 45 minutes, he sat looking intently at each and every page. I half expected him to pull out a highlighter and circle which toys he wanted for his birthday, or at least corner the pages. It was bliss. Pure contentment and pure silence except for the occasional "meow" or "moo" when he saw an animal of his liking. The last time I saw him like this was when he was 15 months old and going through his "Heidi Klum" phase. He would get a hold of the Victoria's Secret catalogs and carry them around all day. Occasionally he would stop to stare at her picture. He was so in love with that woman. I like to think it's because his mother looks exactly like her... Well, one can dream.
For the remainder of the day, W carried around the Fisher Price summer catalog. He even asked to take it to bed with him. God bless Fisher Price and their propaganda. I am now searching the web for other stores that will send me their junk mail to keep my child occupied. I guess junk mail does serve a purpose besides lining bird cages and being used for kindling. It's really the little things in life, isn't it?
Saturday, June 16, 2007
willpower is overrated
I knew I was right! Willpower is totally overrated! After eating a plate of brownies for dinner, I was reading Shape magazine, while enjoying a bag of Twizzlers, and I came across an interesting study. Apparently, the people at the Journal of Consumer Research did an experiment that proves my theory.
"Two groups of people were asked to write down any thoughts they had in six minutes; one was told not to think about a specific image (in this case, a white bear). Afterward, individuals in both groups went shopping with the same amount of money. Those who had been required to exercise self-control spent nearly three times as much as those allowed to think freely. The lesson: "Your willpower is limited," says study author Kathleen Vohs of the University of Minnesota. "It's hard to exercise control in more than one major way at a time."
So, there ya go. Just one more reason to live it up and not feel guilty about eating the plate of brownies. It will keep money in the bank!
"Two groups of people were asked to write down any thoughts they had in six minutes; one was told not to think about a specific image (in this case, a white bear). Afterward, individuals in both groups went shopping with the same amount of money. Those who had been required to exercise self-control spent nearly three times as much as those allowed to think freely. The lesson: "Your willpower is limited," says study author Kathleen Vohs of the University of Minnesota. "It's hard to exercise control in more than one major way at a time."
So, there ya go. Just one more reason to live it up and not feel guilty about eating the plate of brownies. It will keep money in the bank!
Thursday, June 14, 2007
an explanation
Some of you may wonder about my writing style. Here's the deal: I write like I speak. Unless I'm writing a term paper. If I'm doing that, then I come up with all kinds of thesaurus worthy vocabulary and use sentence structure that would dazzle even the most anal English professor. But that's a lot of work, so I don't do it. The next time I do writing like that will be when I'm writing my children's term papers so they get A's and get into a fantastic college on a full ride so I don't have to pay for it. Isn't that what all the parents do these days? I can't even tell you how excited I am to do a science fair project from scratch the night before it's due and let my little man take all the credit as he stands next to his perfect photo board in his preppy polo and heavily starched khaki pants.
Much of my writing style comes from the constant barrage of emails I receive from friends on a daily basis. It's normally nothing but mindless banter, witty comments and harmless teasing. Occasionally, we can come up with a good pun. That's a good day when that happens.
But the most influence on my writing has come from my best friend, T. T and I met 6 years ago while we were both working the worst job known to man. Ok, well maybe not the worst job known to man. I mean, we weren't bottling deer pee or artificially inseminating cows or even picking up dead armadillos from a sweltering Texas highway in the middle of the summer. We were just working with annoying, entitled tourists but still, it was pretty bad.
T and I hit it off from the start and we haven't stopped talking since. For 6 years, we've laughed about the same stories over and over. We think they are funny but apparently, our husbands think otherwise. Since she lives in the land of Snow and Santa Claus, not to mention the occasional igloo and penguin and I've lived in the land of cows, rain, more cows and now live in the land of beer, leiderhousen, and soft pretzels, we have to communicate by email. We are both too cheap to call unless we are using night and weekend minutes. Reading her emails makes me feel like I'm talking to her. Only she can fit Paris Hilton, big trucks, tapered pants and bad hair into the same paragraph and make it work. As Tyra Banks would say, "She's fierce". Since she writes this way to me, I write the same way back to her and it works. It's just a running commentary on the inner workings of my brain. It's almost therapeutic. And, since I can go for days without talking to another adult in person, it's nice to be able to write out my thoughts, word for word. Consider this my Zoloft substitute.
Much of my writing style comes from the constant barrage of emails I receive from friends on a daily basis. It's normally nothing but mindless banter, witty comments and harmless teasing. Occasionally, we can come up with a good pun. That's a good day when that happens.
But the most influence on my writing has come from my best friend, T. T and I met 6 years ago while we were both working the worst job known to man. Ok, well maybe not the worst job known to man. I mean, we weren't bottling deer pee or artificially inseminating cows or even picking up dead armadillos from a sweltering Texas highway in the middle of the summer. We were just working with annoying, entitled tourists but still, it was pretty bad.
T and I hit it off from the start and we haven't stopped talking since. For 6 years, we've laughed about the same stories over and over. We think they are funny but apparently, our husbands think otherwise. Since she lives in the land of Snow and Santa Claus, not to mention the occasional igloo and penguin and I've lived in the land of cows, rain, more cows and now live in the land of beer, leiderhousen, and soft pretzels, we have to communicate by email. We are both too cheap to call unless we are using night and weekend minutes. Reading her emails makes me feel like I'm talking to her. Only she can fit Paris Hilton, big trucks, tapered pants and bad hair into the same paragraph and make it work. As Tyra Banks would say, "She's fierce". Since she writes this way to me, I write the same way back to her and it works. It's just a running commentary on the inner workings of my brain. It's almost therapeutic. And, since I can go for days without talking to another adult in person, it's nice to be able to write out my thoughts, word for word. Consider this my Zoloft substitute.
finally
People have been telling me for months that I need to have a blog. A real blog. About my life and not about my babies. Although, lets be honest, how could I not talk about them non stop?? So, I've bitten the bullet and decided to start one. I'm not sure how many people will actually find it interesting as my life mainly consists of diaper duty, breast feeding and cleaning. Occasionally I get to go outside of my home to explore the great unknown that is Germany. But that is really quite rare. Maybe 1 or 2 times a week. And even then it's not like I'm exploring new ground. In the 7 months I have been here, I've only driven to 5 places. Well, I've been out more than 5 times, but I've only gone to those 5 places. Having 2 kids under the age of 2 just doesn't allow for much spontaneity.
So here's a little bit about me: I've been married to my husband for almost 3 years. We have 2 kids, W, who's currently 21 months and CB, who's currently 4 months. Yes, both of them were planned and we wanted them close together, so stop asking. Some tell me that by having children now, I have thrown my life away because my life before marriage and babies was so promising. I tell them to shut it.
Before I was married to the Army and had babies, I was a full time student and got my degree in Politics and Government and my almost degree in Psychology. I hated my college career. I will never go back. It sucks when you are smarter than most of the professors. After I got my degree and almost degree, I moved to Washington DC to work in the House of Representatives. That is what was so promising about my life. But I quickly found that I didn't want that life. Working 12-14 hours a day wasn't my thing. I'm too lazy for that. So instead, I put that life on hold until I could better handle the stresses and challenges. Not that being a full time mom is any easier!
Honestly, my life is full of stress. My husband is constantly gone and I am often left to take the role of mom, house cleaner, cook, and nanny alone. In the past 4 years, this is the longest I have lived in any one place. I don't speak German, nor do I read it, and I'm scared to death to drive on the autobahn. That makes life a bit difficult here. My life has been filled with drama galore, pain, heartache, laughter, tears, anger, pure rage, and unbearable, painful, and unconditional love.
One thing I have learned in the past few years is that if you don't have any expectations, you can't be disappointed when everything goes to hell. And, if something goes well, then you are pleasantly and happily surprised. That is why I have named this blog "No Expectations". It's become my coping mechanism and my life's motto.
So here's a little bit about me: I've been married to my husband for almost 3 years. We have 2 kids, W, who's currently 21 months and CB, who's currently 4 months. Yes, both of them were planned and we wanted them close together, so stop asking. Some tell me that by having children now, I have thrown my life away because my life before marriage and babies was so promising. I tell them to shut it.
Before I was married to the Army and had babies, I was a full time student and got my degree in Politics and Government and my almost degree in Psychology. I hated my college career. I will never go back. It sucks when you are smarter than most of the professors. After I got my degree and almost degree, I moved to Washington DC to work in the House of Representatives. That is what was so promising about my life. But I quickly found that I didn't want that life. Working 12-14 hours a day wasn't my thing. I'm too lazy for that. So instead, I put that life on hold until I could better handle the stresses and challenges. Not that being a full time mom is any easier!
Honestly, my life is full of stress. My husband is constantly gone and I am often left to take the role of mom, house cleaner, cook, and nanny alone. In the past 4 years, this is the longest I have lived in any one place. I don't speak German, nor do I read it, and I'm scared to death to drive on the autobahn. That makes life a bit difficult here. My life has been filled with drama galore, pain, heartache, laughter, tears, anger, pure rage, and unbearable, painful, and unconditional love.
One thing I have learned in the past few years is that if you don't have any expectations, you can't be disappointed when everything goes to hell. And, if something goes well, then you are pleasantly and happily surprised. That is why I have named this blog "No Expectations". It's become my coping mechanism and my life's motto.
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