tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56656615669230642092024-02-08T11:19:39.724-05:00Big Trubs BabyRachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-39732965419127993952010-08-06T20:49:00.000-04:002010-08-06T20:49:15.309-04:00Things I Never Thought I Would SayGood job pooping!<br />
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Please don't lick the window, Alex. <br />
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Alex, please don't stick your cheese to the television. <br />
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We are nice to the kitty- we don't touch her butt. <br />
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Come here, let me smell your tush.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-11670668096378479422010-06-18T15:12:00.002-04:002010-06-18T15:12:42.211-04:00Best. Ever.Most amazing thing evah.<br />
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This morning, I was walking with the boy, and he said, "See the flowers?"<br />
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I do. I do see the flowers!<br />
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"They nice."<br />
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Yes, they are, they're beautiful. <br />
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"They bootiful." -- pause-- "YOU bootiful, Mommy,"<br />
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Sigh. Melt.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-91227399461632572912010-05-12T15:43:00.000-04:002010-05-12T15:43:30.903-04:00Naked BoyWhen I was in college, I would babysit for my nephews every time I was home for a visit. On one occasion, my nephew Aaron was just barely old enough to be able to dress and undress himself. I sent him upstairs to get into his pajamas. Not two minutes later, a butt naked 3-or4-year old came walking nonchalantly down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he looked at me and said, "I am Naked Boy. Woo. Hoo."<br />
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I have never forgotten it... and I have never let him forget it, either. (He is now 13 and I'm sure he LOVES when I remind him of this particular night)<br />
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Last night, I was working late. When I got home, Daddy was running the bath for the Boy. I yelled out, "Hello!" to let them now I was home. Out of the bathroom, my blond haired little cherub came running, saying, "Mommy Mommy Mommy!" He was wearing only a pair of jeans. He stopped dead in front of me, I picked him up, and he said, exuberantly, "I NAKED!"<br />
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It took me back to the moment when Aaron did almost the same thing. It took my breath away at how fast the years pass. How quickly my boy, too, will grow up. <br />
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I gave the Boy a kiss, snuggled my nose into his neck, and informed him, "Your BELLY is naked." :)Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-63962876783642425602010-04-26T15:00:00.000-04:002010-04-26T15:00:10.288-04:00Birthday partiesIt's that time of year again (already????).... that lovely, hectic, insane time in which I am planning the Boy's birthday party. I love putting together the party. I love having the right food, an adorable cake, fabulous and enlightened goody bags which cost almost nothing to put together.... <br />
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I hate the invitations and thank-you notes. I spent forevah combing various discount stores for the perfect invitations, which I opened and began writing on BEFORE discovering that a different store had packages which included matching thank-you notes for very little more. Grr. Imagine my distress when I realized that while my son would have the perfect, Lightning McQueen invites, he would have to settle for generic, balloon-infested thank you notes. Which I would write, because he is, you know, two years old and all. All he would do with the notes would be to try and eat them, or "read" them to the cat. <br />
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The theme of the party was very easily chosen this year, as it was last year. Last year we were all about Sesame Street, whereas this year we have matured and moved on to the ever-popular "vehicles" theme, so chosen because the Boy can name literally every vehicle that passes us on the street. And woe to you if you do not acknowledge his naming; he will repeat it at increasing volume until you do. He's just excited; he loves the vehicles SO MUCH that he wants to share them with you. <br />
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My MIL is making the cake; as she does, she made our engagement party, bridal shower, wedding, and baby shower cakes as well as the Boy's 1st birthday party cake. I have told her to go crazy with the vehicle theme; one less thing I have to think about. Especially since the Boy (being WHOSE child???) is not especially fond of cake. Not sure where that aspect of his tastes comes from; he is just like me on the cheese front. <br />
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I think I am focusing on all this to avoid believing in the fact that MAH BAH-BEE IS TWOOOO.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-23594519412878703502010-04-01T09:28:00.000-04:002010-04-01T09:28:30.116-04:00Trying.... to keep blogging....I've been trying so hard to do this blogging thing. How do you all find the time? When I get home from work, I am swept into a crazy maelstrom of dinner, errands, outside time (thank god the winter seems to be over), bath, bedtime, and an attempt at restoring my own sanity by reading YOUR blogs. Having an almost-two-year-old tornado who is learning words, letters, and numbers almost faster than I can teach them, who never sits still, who is always exploring and curious to explore even more, makes it almost impossible to sit and write about my own life. But I'm still trying!<br />
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Things are GOOD. The long, dreary, cold winter seems to be over (although in New York, we never lose sight of the fact that it can still snow even in April or May), and we are gearing up with sidewalk chalk, bubbles, and plastic lawn mower, wheelbarrow, and dump truck for a spring and summer full of outside time. I'm feeling optimistic- my husband just got a new job, making a bit more money- enough so we don't have to fret at the end of pay periods, float a rent check, worry so much in general. We're getting to a point where I can see an actual house in our future- sure, it's years away, but it's there, a glimmering possibility on the far horizon. We just signed our apartment lease for another year- it's small, but we love it, and we can make it work- at least until we add to our family in a year or two. Our lives are full of playdates and fun, friends and happiness. Keeping my fingers crossed that it stays that way!Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-81837669770172202632010-03-04T10:55:00.000-05:002010-03-04T10:55:10.076-05:00Awesome.The Boy is learning about what animals say. He's quite good at this, and has many animals and their accompanying noises, all present and accounted for. <br />
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Last night we successfully taught him that the walrus says, "goo goo ga joob." <br />
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I think we rock.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-79212392446596665702010-02-26T21:01:00.000-05:002010-02-26T21:01:07.674-05:00Recent Boy MeltdownsMeltdown #1: In shoe store. Tried a pair of sandals on the Boy (in FEBRUARY, yes, we are wild and crazy). They were far too small, because somehow my child has gone from wearing a 5 to a 6.5 WIDE no less, and it being the middle of winter and all, they didn't have any in his freakishly large size. So we put them back. And he ssccccreeeeeeeeeeeamed. He wanted the SOOS, the SOOS! SOOS PEAS! And it didn't matter that we were getting him two fabulous and very manly pairs of toddler sneakers. He wanted the SOOS! I found myself repeatedly reassuring my boy child that we would indeed, come back for the sandals as soon as they had him in his size. <br />
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Meltdown #2: In our bathroom. There exists in our home a small stepstool from my childhood (so yeah, 30+ years old or whatever). It has a picture of some odd bearish creature riding, for some reason, in a train. On the stool is written, "Step up, I'm a stair, or sit down, I'm a chair." The Boy in his wisdom figured out that if this stool was placed in front of the bathroom sink, he could REACH the WATER and even hold his toothbrush IN the water oh my hell. So then it was bathtime, and we had the audacity to remove him from the stool to put him in the bath. A meltdown such as the bathroom has never seen. I basically threw some soap on him, splashed him with water, and hauled him out because GOOD LORD THE SCREAMING.<br />
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Not a meltdown, but funny all the same: Daily, in our house. The Boy sometimes needs to be given water in every single cup he owns, all at the same time. Then he drinks from them, one after the other. <br />
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This is definitely MY child.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-15748547087939680802010-02-25T20:49:00.001-05:002010-02-26T21:03:00.084-05:00HelplessSo my nephew is sick. A few months ago, doctors discovered that his intestines, rather than being all nice and neat or however intestines are supposed to be, were uh...NOT. Yeah, I don't have any fancy doctor words here. <br />
My nephew is 15 and has had a history of digestive issues. Seriously? It took 15 years to discover this?<br />
He had surgery about two weeks ago, recovered, and went home. And then he started throwing up. Repeatedly. He had to go back to the hospital, where we were told it was "most likely" a blockage where his stomach meets his small intestine, and that they "hoped" it would clear up on its own. If not, more surgery. He's sedated and being fed through tubes and lines, with another tube emptying his stomach so the poor kid stops constantly vomiting. <br />
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I wish I could help. <br />
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The relationship between my sister and I (this nephew's mother) has never been good. She was the youngest for 8 years until I came along, and I think our relationship was pretty much sunk before I was born. We had to share a room. She never really fit in with my other sister and I, who despite being 11 years apart, were alike to the point where people couldn't tell us apart on the phone and our laughs were and are scarily identical. The sister of whom I speak did not attend my wedding. Or my baby shower. And did not meet her own nephew until he was three months old, and that was only because we happened to be at my parents' cabin on the same weekend that summer. We never got along. We never really tried (well, I did, especially once my son was born, but there are only so many times you can have a door slammed in your face). <br />
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As a consequence, I don't know my nephew and niece as well as I would like to. I wish I could be there to help. But I wouldn't be welcomed. And that just sucks.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-33108795234136716852010-02-15T15:22:00.003-05:002010-02-15T15:24:36.512-05:00Dude-ismsBecause I never want to forget......<br /><br /><br /><br />Tank oo : thank you<br />Wack-come: welcome<br />Guck: truck<br />Masa guck: monster truck<br />Bump guck: dump truck<br />Tootle: turtle<br />Mutmag: Nutmeg (our cat)<br />Side: outside<br />Chiz: cheese<br />Cheep: chip<br />Masickle: motorcycleRachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-14994851172191180812010-02-12T15:33:00.002-05:002010-02-12T15:40:45.651-05:00Bliss WeekThis week, the Dude's sitter has been on vacation. What was first a nightmare of logistics has turned into an amazing, wonderful week, leaving me wishing that things could be like this more often.<br /><br />Daddy was home with the Boy Tuesday and today. On Tuesday, they went to the children's museum and made a card for me (dying of the cuteness). Yesterday, my mother-in-law's sig other took on the Boy for a day. I'm sure he left our home needing a nap- but our Boy could not stop raving about "Say-um. Say-um" (Sam). There were Matchbox cars everywhere and half a bag of cheese balls had been consumed. I'd say it was a good day. But Wednesday- Wednesday! That was MY day home with my guy. And it was amazing. We went to the library- tried out storytime, but at 20 months, he is just too young to sit still. Actually, I don't know if this kid will ever sit still before kidnergarten. Unless of course, Cars or monster trucks are on the tv. So we colored a picture for Daddy, played in the children's room, and had a discussion about the "shishies" (fishies).<br /><br />There were cuddles. There were kisses. There was much chasing of the Boy. There was sharing of sheese (cheese). There was playing with cars. There was stroking his soft, blond hair and inhaling that baby scent of the top of his head. That scent which is much less present these days. I sniff and sniff the top of his head, as if I can save it up for future reference when the scent is no longer there. My husband thinks I'm crazy- but I'm convinced this is a scent that only mommies can smell.<br /><br />It made me wish so hard that I didn't have to work. That I could stay home with my Boy and have days like that every day. I know it's good for him to have his day care- it's a small, family home day care with only a few other kids, most of whom are all around his age. He is happy there and calls the other kids his buddies. He has fun, and is learning. We need my income in our home. I know that I can't be a stay-at-home mom, and that there isn't anything wrong with that. But it doesn't stop me from wishing.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-29613573335503722522010-02-03T09:23:00.003-05:002010-02-03T10:01:23.268-05:00Dude.We have been sick.<br /><br />Seriously, it was never-ending there for a while. First I got some minor stomach bug, which was followed a week later by a more serious one. That one had the good sense to manifest itself at work, forcing me to barf in my work bathroom. I was horrified. Fortunately, I was working late duty (10:30am-7pm) and it was 6pm, so there weren't many people around to witness or hear my humiliation! Unfortunately, we had had a "food day". Throwing up buffalo chicken dip = no fun. Later that night my husband had the joy of seeing me throw up in a garbage can. It's a good thing we're already married, or he might have run screaming into the night. Then, of course, the Boy got it in the middle of the night. Poor little man, he's only 19 months old, had no idea what was happening to him, and threw up twice in his crib. A musical elephant met its demise, but other than that everything came clean. Even though he had had grape tomatoes for dinner. He segued from that into bronchitis, so there has been an extreme over-viewing of Cars and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse at our house.<br /><br />Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggety dog, we've got ears, it's time for cheers......<br /><br />Fortunately, the lovely lovely Zithromax seems to have destroyed the evil bronchitis, and the Boy is better today, although still tired and cranky. He toddled on off to his friends when I dropped him off at day care this morning.<br /><br />In other news, my husband and I might be insane. We love our current apartment; we love the area; we are happy there and we can afford it. We didn't intend to move until we have another little one on the way or in the house (which, god willing, won't be for another couple years). However, me being me, I'm always on the lookout for a 3-bedroom we can afford. I found one today; however it's about half an hour away from where we currently live. The downside would be that we would have to move in general (HATE) and would be moving away from an area we love. The upside would be that we were in a 3-bedroom we could afford, and would be living closer to two families we love and often have playdates with. I think our general consensus is that we still don't plan to move; however if the place is awesome we might end up taking it. We're going to look at it tonight; we shall see what happens.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-32536797448756168672010-01-04T15:18:00.003-05:002010-01-04T15:22:51.377-05:00LimitsI love Craigslist, consignment sales, and garage sales. I will take any and all hand-me-downs. I have ALMOST no limits. I get way too much enjoyment from procuring three grocery bags full of clothing for my son for $5, only to open them up and find that they include TWO denim jackets, a pair of shoes in his size from Gymboree, a fireman jacket, and clothing from places such as the Gap, Calvin Klein, and LL Bean. But I do have my limits.<br /><br />I will buy, hide away, and strategically bring out over 100 Matchbox cars (for $10) no matter how beat up they look (as long as they aren't broken!). I will buy a lot of toys even if I don't want all of them- and then bring them home and turn around and sell the ones I don't want.... last time I wound up with $200 worth for $10, only to end up making $50 off the ones I didn't want.<br /><br />There is a lot of Clorox Anywhere spray usage in my house. But I do have limits. And what are my limits (my husband asks repeatedly)? Here they are:<br /><br />Things I will not buy used:<br />Socks<br />Swimsuits<br />Potty<br />Hats<br />Anything that goes in the mouth (utensils, bottles, binkies, teethers... that people try to sell these items used drives me crazy)<br /><br />Um... yeah. That's pretty much it. :) Anything else can be cleaned with Anywhere Spray, bleach, and good old fashioned hot water.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-15479895238967628882009-12-29T09:26:00.002-05:002009-12-29T09:30:58.655-05:00Meme time againChristmas was astoundingly wonderful- for us at least. Others I know are not so lucky, but since I have no time to post about it right this second, I am using a Meme to get something up to remind me to post here more frequently!<br /><br />Answer using the first letter of your name only!<br /><br />What is your name? Rachael<br /><br />Artist/Band/Musician: Red Hot Chili Peppers<br />4 letter word: Roll<br />Vehicle: Rolls Royce!<br />TV Show: Romper Room<br />City: Rochester, NY<br />Boy Name: Richard<br />Girl Name: Riley<br />Alcoholic drink: Rum<br />Occupation: Retail<br />Something you wear: Rubber boots<br />Celebrity: Reese Witherspoon<br />Food: Raddichio<br />One thing found in the kitchen: Refrigerator<br />Reason for Being Late: running late!<br />Cartoon Character: Rugrats<br />Something you shout:"Ridiculous!"Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-22741013445179166432009-12-23T10:12:00.003-05:002009-12-23T10:50:42.166-05:00Getting in the swingTo try and get myself blogging more, as well as to get in a blog while working/trying to plan for our trip back home for Christmas....<br /><br />Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. (Barenaked Ladies, of COURSE)<br /><br />Are you Male or Female? I'll Be That Girl<br /><br />Describe Yourself: It's Only Me<br /><br />How Do You Feel? Some Fantastic<br /><br />Where Do You Live? Home<br /><br />If you could go anywhere, where would you go? Hello City<br /><br />Favorite Form Of Transportation? In the Car<br /><br />Your Best Friend? Beautiful<br /><br />Describe The Weather: Baby It's Cold Outside<br /><br />Favorite Time Of Day? When You Dream<br /><br />If they made a TV show of your life, what would they call it? The Humour of the Situation<br /><br />What is life to you? Fun & Games<br /><br />Describe an ex-relationship: Too Little Too Late<br /><br />Describe your current relationship: Rule the World With Love / One and Only / I Love You<br /><br />Describe your job: Tonight is the Night I Fell Asleep At The Wheel<br /><br />Your Fear? Spider In My Room / Never Do Anything<br /><br />How would you like to die? Easy<br /><br />What is the state of your soul right now? Wonderful Christmastime<br /><br />Best Advice? Fight the Power<br /><br />Thought Of The Day: I Can I Will I Do / Long Way Back Home<br /><br />Motto: Who Needs Sleep?Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-68635288156265488082009-12-21T09:34:00.002-05:002009-12-21T09:47:30.780-05:00Totally CheatingIt has been such a long time, and there is so much to tell... and yet I am going to cheat by doing a meme. I haven't been tagged (because honestly I don't think there is anyone out there reading these words), but what the heck. I just want to keep this blog active, and my New Year's resolution is to write at least once a week in 2010, and hopefully more. I love reading other "Mommy" blogs, even though I hate that label, and I would love to add to them, and possibly be a source of entertainment and solace for some other first-timer out there. Anyway. On to the meme!<br /><br />What were you doing 10 years ago?<br /><br />Ten years ago, I was 21 years old. I think that should probably answer that question! I was in college at SUNY Albany and at this time of year, I had just started dating someone who would turn out to be a huge mistake, but who did get me on the path to meeting my now-husband (who I met while celebrating the demise of my relationship with the Mistake!), so there you go.<br /><br /><br /><br />Five Snacks You Enjoy:<br />1. Movie Theater Butter popcorn<br />2. Cheetos<br />3. Seasonally shaped Reese's peanut butter (trees, eggs, pumpkins, etc)<br />4. Ruffles Cheddar and Sour Cream potato chips<br />5. Peppermint stick ice cream<br /><br />Five Songs That You Know All The Lyrics To:<br />1. What A Good Boy, Barenaked Ladies<br />2. Both Hands, Ani DiFranco<br />3. Don't Let's Start, They Might Be Giants<br />4. Dance Myself to Sleep, Ernie (Sesame Street!)<br />5. The Flag, Barenaked Ladies<br /><br />Five Things You Would Do If You Were a Millionaire:<br />1. Pay off the cars and student loans<br />2. Buy a nice, 4-bedroom, 2-bathroom house with a big yard full of trees<br />3. Put away money for the Boy for college<br />4. Take my family on vacation<br />5. Hire a cleaning service!<br /><br />Five bad habits:<br />1. Not exercising or eating as well as I should<br />2. Reading too many blogs<br />3. Picking at my fingernails<br />4. People magazine<br />5. Letting myself get irritated quickly<br /><br />Five Things You Like To Do:<br />1. Sleep<br />2. Read<br />3. Watch the Real World & Amazing Race<br />4. Play trucks with the Boy<br />5. Plan/ make lists<br /><br />Five Things You Would Never Wear Again:<br />1. A size 5<br />2. A fancy, heavy wedding dress<br />3. teeny tiny tank tops<br />4. Crushed velvet<br />5. guy's jeans<br /><br />Five Favorite Toys:<br />1. The Boy's blocks<br />2. Computer<br />3. My camera<br />4. The cats<br />5. My husbandRachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-60937360326219748892009-11-18T10:08:00.002-05:002009-11-18T10:37:14.158-05:00It's Been a WhileA new job was started. New routines were learned. A terrible day care situation was remedied, with a dream day care situation, which then had to be changed yet again.<br /><br />It's a terrible state of affairs in the economy when a wonderful, may I say PERFECT, day care provider is forced to take a different job because there aren't enough kids in her day care? Our Boy was the only child in her day care. A licensed psychologist and play therapist, she spent all day loving, nurturing, and teaching our little guy, but she got no other takers on her wonderful, affordable day care. She was offered a job with the state, paying more than my husband and I make together. She had no choice but to take it or there was fear that she and her husband would actually lose their home. I can't fault her for that. I think it hurt her as much as it hurt us to end the situation. Fortunately, she has a friend who is a licensed provider and the transition was handled as well as it could possibly have been handled. The Boy has been there for two days now- today is his third. He has cried each morning (although he stops as soon as his parent leaves!) It breaks my heart to hear him cry, and I feel so badly that it has to be this way. But I know he is there, with a kind caregiver and other kids near his age, playing trucks and blocks and going for walks.<br /><br />I can't even speak of our first caregiver. I'm glad he is out of that home, that's all I want to say about it.<br /><br />The Boy grows every day. Learns every day. His vocabulary grows by 4 or 5 words per week, and he runs headlong into every new experience. He has discovered the joy of Hot Wheels and goes everywhere with a toy school bus given to him by friends of ours. When we are driving in the car, he identifies every vehicle we pass. "Truck! Car! BUS!" He runs to us and hugs us, sending such a wave of joy to me that I find it difficult to stand up.<br /><br />Three of our friends have had babies since last I wrote. Snuggling these teeny little girls (yes, girls, all of them!) makes me ovulate, I swear. And yet, despite the fact that I want and know we will have one more child someday, it doesn't fail to make me SO GLAD that we are past the baby stage with our Boy. I can completely understand where people who have their children close together are coming from. It seems like such a good plan to get all those diapers out of the way. But in our family, the right thing for us is to have this time as a new family. For it just to be the three of us for a while. To revel in our new parent status, to lavish our time and affection on our firstborn son and to give him all that we can possibly give him before introducing a sibling into his life. If we were to have another child now, we wouldn't have the money or time to be the parents to our Boy that we want to be. I am thankful that we have the option to choose when our next child will be born (barring some catastrophic failure with the Pill, of course). Clearly the Pill has worked for us- when I went off it for the first time in ten years, I was pregnant with the Boy within three months.<br /><br />Instead, I can live vicariously through these teeny girls, help out their exhausted parents, listen with sympathy to their up-all-night stories. Then I can return home with my husband and our Boy, give him his dinner (which he can eat with a fork), his bath (which he loves to play in), watch some Baby Einstein or read him a story, and tuck him into bed (where he can put himself to sleep and stay asleep all night long). It's a happy time.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-44448055703877211662009-08-12T20:42:00.002-04:002009-08-12T20:50:56.036-04:00Again! Again!When the Boy was first born, and little and wee and tiny, and waking up every three hours, and having GERD, and I was in the throes of PPD, and crying, and sweating, and having panic attacks, I JUST. KNEW. I could never, ever, ever do it again. I could not for the life of me figure out how those poor Mamas could care for two little ones at the same.time.<br /><br />I wanted the Boy to have time with just his Mama and Daddy, special time, three-of-us-time. I honestly could not see myself parenting two under the age of like, 10. I knew, in the farthest reaches of my brain, that I would want to get pregnant again before the age of 35, due to the rapid decline in fertility after that and the higher risk of birth defects, not to mention being called "advanced maternal age". This is a woman who had a weeping nervous breakdown in the middle of the street because her husband would not eat a bagel at the same time the 8-months-preggers woman wanted to eat a bagel, and then proceeded to cry for an hour. And then laughed about it. Please do not call me "advanced maternal age." Or I might bite off your nose and spit it out. Or eat it on a bagel.<br /><br />But I honestly did not think I could do it. I didn't think I would WANT to do it.<br /><br />The Boy is 14 months old now. Husband and I had a discussion this past weekend about the fact that neither of us could see me running around after two kids under the age of say, 3.5. I definitely could not see that, and don't want to see that.<br /><br />But I am starting to see how it's possible that I could want to have another baby someday. I WANT to. I am thinking longingly about pregnancy- the kicks, the ultrasounds, the knowing I am creating life and how it's the most awesome thing ever. Despite all the barfing.<br /><br />We did it so well the first time, I'm excited to see what the second time will bring.<br /><br />In about three years. Please.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-65258384627726876952009-07-30T20:05:00.002-04:002009-07-30T20:10:38.974-04:00No time no time no time!I am so envious of all the blogs I read, whose authors seem to be able to find the time to post daily or even weekly!<br /><br />This summer has been so busy, the days flashing by us like minnows in a stream. Our nights and weekends are taken up with soaking up as much Boy time as we can, before Monday morning comes and it's back to work and the sitter's house. The Boy is doing well at the sitter's; Mondays are always a little rough, but I can hear him stop crying as soon as I'm out of sight.<br /><br />We've had such a wonderful summer so far, despite weather that seriously made me think my car was going to float away on several occasions. We've gone to museums, zoos, parks, playgrounds, and the county fair. We had a visit from Grandma and Grandpa. The Boy has learned how to run, say "tuck" and "tanks" and how to point, eat people food, and climb. He is an amazing little Dude and we constantly marvel at him.<br /><br />Seriously, how do other people find time to post so frequently? Between catching up on movies through Netflix, work, Boy time, errands, and Family Fun (notice I didn't mention cleaning. I loathe cleaning and do it only when necessary/my mother is coming into town) there is no time left over...<br /><br />Life is grand.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-90121842644774878412009-07-21T21:05:00.002-04:002009-07-21T21:09:31.692-04:00KindHe hugs. He flirts. He shares whatever piece of food he currently has mashed up in his hand. He brings a book to you and plops down on your lap to flip the pages faster than you could ever read them. He hands you a toy, a wet washcloth, a crumb off the floor, a rock, a bug, a handful of sand.<br /><br />He stomps up and down in a tantrum. He marches in place and waves his arms to dance. He has dimples in his cheeks and at the base of his fingers. He smiles and the world smiles. He says, "hi kitty" and "dada" and "mama" and "bbbrrrrrrmmmmm" (truck noise). He chatters in his own language.<br /><br />He is learning to run, and often falls down. His armpits are ticklish. He loves plums and yogurt melts and chicken and corn. He loves trucks and bugs and sand and splashing.<br /><br />He's the world to me. His strawberry blond hair, his blue eyes, his chubby knees and tushy butt and niblet toes. He, and his father who assisted in his making, are my world. My family. My guys.<br /><br />I am seriously the luckiest.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-41023498261110915942009-07-17T20:05:00.000-04:002009-07-17T20:06:10.183-04:00Pardon?The Boy walks around the house, saying,<br />"Nine nine nine nine nine."<br /><br />I mean, he's German (nein?) and all. But come on.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-90126728604208046332009-07-15T21:13:00.002-04:002009-07-15T21:17:30.953-04:00The Contents of My PurseBecause I have been struck down with the virus of DEEAATTTHHHH that the Boy had last week, have no energy to think up something original, and feel guilty about not having posted in a while. Despite the fact that I think no one reads this but me.<br /><br />1) Burt's Bees (3 tubes)<br />2) Contact rewetting solution<br />3) Work ID<br />4) One binky<br />5) Travel size tube of baby sunscreen<br />6) Vera Bradley wallet- from the pre-baby days when I could "afford" VB<br />7) Index card with our insurance policy number on it<br />8) Coupon for organic milk<br />9) Orbit citrusmint gum<br />10) Nail file, with pictures of jalepenos on it (on a stick??)<br />11) Cell phone<br />12) Hairbrush<br />13) AND comb<br />14) One pen. Which I can never find when I need it.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-28675911539398326702009-06-30T19:15:00.001-04:002009-06-30T19:17:06.807-04:00And No....It's not getting any easier for me to leave the Boy at his sitter's house. He cries when I leave, and even though I know it will end about a minute later, it still breaks my heart, each and every morning. Is there going to be a morning when he doesn't cry when I leave?<br /><br />And dear God, is it going to come soon?Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-75361074392802249272009-06-22T20:32:00.002-04:002009-06-22T20:39:46.556-04:00Getting Better All the TimeThis morning, I cried on my way to work.<br /><br />I took the Boy to his sitter and had a bag with a gallon of organic milk in it to leave at her house for the week. I took the Boy in and he was a little clingy, but I would expect that on only his second Monday at the sitter's. Then I went back outside to get the milk.<br /><br />And he cried. Screamed. Wailed. Pushed his little face up against the glass door, scrunched his eyes shut, and cried for me. His Mommy. Who is supposed to always be there. And who had just turned around and left him. My heart broke in a million pieces. I went back in and held him, kissed him over and over again, and told him it was going to be okay, that he would have fun with the sitter and her little girl, and Daddy would come to get him at the end of the afternoon. Then I committed a cardinal sin of parenting, that which the books and websites tell you you shouldn't do ever ever ever. I snuck out while he was distracted by a toy.<br /><br />And proceeded to sob in the car through most of my ten minute drive to work.<br /><br />And the Boy proceeded to have his best day yet with the sitter.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-39367584497546108672009-06-19T19:58:00.003-04:002009-06-20T21:06:26.003-04:00New LifeThus ends my first week back at work. It's been hectic, it's been fun, it's been a learning experience. I've been fortunate enough that, for the first year of Alex's life, I was either home with him during the day before going to work, or home with him in general. But all good things must come to an end (especially when you have student loans and also want to buy your Boy all the books in the Target's childrens' book aisle) and I went back to work (albeit at a new job, with normal hours and an actual supportive environment).<br /><br /><br /><br />Monday was rough. Every day is rough, really. I want to be with my little Boy, caring for him and playing with him. Originally we had arranged that my Husband would drop off the Boy and I would pick him up, but logisitics led us to change that. Monday went fine, as Husband took a half day from work and picked up our Boy around 1:00 pm. I worried about our Boy until I knew he was back at home, but his day went well and he had fun playing. The rest of the week was not so good. Our Boy periodically remembers that he misses us, and cries.<br /><br />I know it was only the first week, and there will be adjustment issues for all involved. But the thought of my Boy wanting me or his Daddy, and us not being there, is enough to shatter my heart into tiny pieces. I always want to be there for him, and I know I can't. Somewhere deep down in my rational mind, I know this is good for him. He will learn and grow and have fun. I also did enjoy being out of the house, learning new things and meeting new people- having conversations that don't include poop or Cheerios! I can't even begin to describe how horribly guilty I feel for actually liking my new job, but I know very well that all the working Mommies out there probably feel the same way.<br /><br />It does help that our sitter only watches our Boy, in addition to her own two-year-old. She has lots of age-appropriate toys, as well as a small dog and a cat, which the Boy adores. She is a nice person who I can tell takes good care of our guy. But she isn't us. And we're not there.<br /><br />The time in between when I get home from work and when the Boy goes to bed is so small. Too brief. I feel cheated. I'm no longer the one giving him his lunch, putting him down from his naps, and giving him his bottles- at least on weekdays. I hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it. And yet I like the job. People tell me it gets better- but does it?Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5665661566923064209.post-29677792041433826262009-06-10T12:34:00.001-04:002009-06-11T21:37:23.096-04:00And Then He Was OneMy boy is one year old.<br /><br /><br /><br />He turned one yesterday. We gave him his presents, since he will be so inundated at his party that we didn't want to overwhelm him any more than we had to. A bubble mower, a couple small trucks, a Fisher Price Push-and-Go alligator, and a book called Things That Go. Despite his father and I being mildly disappointed by the mower (the Boy can't push it fast enough yet to get the bubbles going on his own), he LOVES it and quite happily pushed it all over the back yard for a long time. Walking. On his own two feet, feet on which there are little niblet toes that I still love to nom. Thank goodness he still lets me nom his toes.<br /><br />I sit with him, smelling the top of his head, which has been the most intoxicating scent in the world to me for the past 365 days. I would know my Boy anywhere just by the smell of his strawberry blond hair. I admire his chubby hands and reminisce over the teeny hands that wrapped around my finger so long ago- and yet five minutes ago, wasn't it? Of course, now the Boy has ME totally wrapped around his finger, but that's besides the point.<br /><br />He's a year old.<br /><br />I gave myself a moment to look back on the last year of my life. His birth, his milestones, his smiles and silliness, his illnesses and accomplishments. How every single day he has touched my heart. How every stage, every age, was my favorite. How he is my favorite age right now. How I wanted to slow down his growing up. How I am so excited to see our future.<br /><br />And that's where we are now. Looking forward to the future.Rachaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11422633068829830016noreply@blogger.com0