Chicken Soup for the Soul

I just waited several minutes for my November pictures to download.

621!!

Jeez!

My approach to photography? Take a bunch. One is bound to turn out.

There are enough here (clearly) for me not to type a word the rest of the week. So in honor of our return to a freezing cold house, a pile of mail, untouched newspapers, and nothing but Chicken Noodle Soup for dinner, I'm starting with the food.

My other approach to photography is..Take a bunch. It helps to remember the good times.

Thanksgiving 2010

  

 

Thoughts on D-Land and some other randomness.

Fearing they'd hold them ransom for my two young children, I can't dump the pictures of The Event at Grami's house. So, no pics. Yet. But brace yourselves because Porkchop on It's a Small World and Scrunch meeting Tinkerbell...Whoa Nelly! This blog has never seen so much unfiltered cuteness.

Scrunch wanted to ride Thunder Mountain. She was only a half inch too short! I almost cried. I did tear when she met Tinkerbell. After waiting patiently for an hour, I was praying, "Please let this be worth it! Please let it be worth it." And it was. Total adoration all over her little Scrunch face.

Porkchop discovered pears and his life was complete. Pears and pixie dust. Very low maintenance, these kiddos of mine. They had fewer come-aparts than the big kids.

In our brilliance, we didn't take a stroller. Only the sling and the hiking backpack. Jillian Micheals 30 Day Shred has nothing on hiking Disneyland. It's my new weight loss plan.

Not realizing I was the mom, I overheard a little pre-pubcent punk-ass mock Porkchop for having one nostril bigger than another. It took all my self control not to womp some gratitude into his face this Holiday. Taibo-ing little shmucks and seemingly drunk stroller drivers is also in my new weight loss plan. I needn't have worried though because Husband had it covered. Good thing he's slightly hard of hearing himself or he'd have heard everyone he took out simply by turning around with the pack cuss him out.

You have not truly lived until you have maneuvered Porkchop, the hiking pack, the backpack, and the pump into the little curtained closet to pump at the childcare center. Next time I'll just unplug the Christmas tree lights for a few minutes and not be so modest.

Hopped up on fairy dust, Porkchop is training for the Olympics. He did a triple roll this morning. Right into the wall. We'll work on that before he attempts the luge. Ok, so that wasn't very funny. But still kind of funny just the same.

Sage parenting wisdom- Watch your mouth. It's gonna get repeated. Scrunch sat on Grami's floor playing with the Little People Nativity when she picked up Baby Jesus and flew him through the air calling him a 'Super Hero'. Thinking I was being funny, I called, "Baby Jesus to the rescue!!" Guess how many times we've heard that since? So glad she's too young for the Primary Program. I don't think she'd get us a part in the Nativity.

It doesn't matter anyway, because if she wasn't so tall her future would be in playing Minnie at The Happiest Place on Earth. I'm tellin ya, hang on to your Macs because when the pictures do come, it's gonna be cu-ute!

So Grateful for So Cal.

Really. Could I get a bumper sticker with that? So Grateful for So. Cal. I think it could catch on. I missed the boat on Jibbitz and SillyBanz, but I think this could go somewhere.

It encompasses so much that I am grateful for- Mi familia, traitor friends, warm weather, and roller coasters. Give or take the roller coasters.

And this week, especially, I could really use the vacation. Between all my sisters in town, Grami, Gramps, Grandma, and Grandpa, I think I'm going to get it. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Here's to hot turkey, long naps, mashed potatoes, more naps, Dad's bread, late nights laughing, and did I mention this mama is looking for a nap? Porkchop is finally sleeping, and I'm still waking up to pump. Icky. I might be consoled by raiding warm cinnamon bread during the night. Ahem. Dad. Shall I attach a neon sign to my HINT HINT!

Travel safe everybody. If you're not making it South for the winter, don't be jealous. There's not going to be a whole lot of leftovers (or Dad's bread) left anyway.

Thankful Thursday

Why does perspective have so much to do with gratitude? I mean, really. Why can't we just remember how good we've got it all the time without having to watch things go to crap for people around us just so our lives can be jolted into perspective?

I have a mentor and dear friend who taught me the meaning of being a nurse. I have watched this woman literally take people home because they had nowhere else to go. I've seen her do an entire med pass from her electric scooter because that's what the patient's needed to have done. She gave me her own '#1 Mom' bracelet charm as good luck. When I moved she gave me a small figurine of Quan Yin, the Goddess of Compassion. She knows how to make everyone feel like the most important person in the world. And she's also one of the only people that I have allowed to continue to call me Yannett-y.

Over the last year she has lost her partner, most of her ability to walk, her independence, very close to losing her home, she has lost her job, her ability to work as a nurse, and she has recently gone on hospice for a very debilitating auto immune disease which will prematurely end her life.

I received an e-mail from her this morning with paragraphs filled, FILLED with all that she is grateful for. Her closing remarks were..."Be well my ever so vital family and friends!!! Cast aside all the ‘stuff’ that makes you worry and throw your arms in the air accepting all the joy heading right at you!  Its there!!!"

Seriously Wendy-lady? 

I don't think I'll ever be able to catch up to her example. If she is there when I get to the Other Side, I'll know I made it to the right place.

Housekeeping

I was cleaning up the 'Drafts' section of my Blogger posts and came across one that made me laugh. All it said was...

"I think I ate eight apricots today."

I have no idea where I was going with that one.

New label

Scrunch threw an Oscar winning tantrum over a second episode of Casper the Friendly Ghost or the color of her pony, I don't remember which. Oh, wait. It was both. It fact, the whole day was one drama melt down after another. She's very good at being two-almost-three, this one. Drama. drama. drama. All. day. long.

But I remained surprisingly calm. I would like big, fat brownie points for that. And by brownie points I actually mean a big, fat platter of actual brownies. Fudge. Hold the frosting. And the sprinkles. Why on earth would you put sprinkles on brownies?

Along with fantasizing about my chocolate orgy, I also knew that one- she would be going to bed (by seven o'clock thank you.) and two, I would get my sweet, blogging-mommy revenge.

This is the first post of my new label.

"Don't mess with me or I'll tell these to your boyfriends"

Story #1. Here, Kitty Kitty

Two days ago Scrunch crawled over to me meowing and purring like a kitty. She has been a "kitty" ever since. "Here kitty-kitty" this, and "here kitty-kitty" that. You get the idea. She has also been a champ at potty training. Until lately. I guess the novelty of picking a sticker wore off or she's too busy doing other things, but she does not for the life of her want to stop and go potty. So I played her little game and called, "Here kitty-kitty! Time to use the litter box!" And it worked!

Don't mess with me sista! No one does drama better than mama.

Where do you call in sick when you're the Mom?

Knit lately

I call it his "I'm not a clefty! I got in a bar fight!" hat.

Makes my yellow scarf look like weak sauce. It was perfect for the Joy school themes this month though. Yellow and Leaves.

Welcome to my way of thinking.

Rather than do the dishes, we baked brownies and ran to the park. But even I know that I should fill the mixing bowl with hot water or I was going to come home to fudge cement. Rather than the cement, we came home to brown sludge, floating pineapple chunks, and the red grease left from browning hamburger floating atop the sink and surrounding the dishes. No prob, Bob. Reason #5,683 I'm glad I'm not a Pioneer- Garbage disposal!

Flip the switch and walah!...Nada.

Try again.

Not.
a.
thing.

The likely culprit wasn't my cooking as much as it was the melanine flower crushed off the child sized spoon I dug out the same morning. This is where I put my thinking cap on and got down to business.

Through my lineage I have inherited a certain stubborn streak. For the sake of a fight, we will call it a "Can- do" attitude! (Mom, remember pulling out the dryer drum in 7th grade?) I was not about to pay $100 bucks to watch his crack while the plumber dug around for ten minutes and then have him tell me it's broken. Thanks, but no thanks!

Fix the disposal? I can do this! Well, with the help of YouTube, a mop handle, Johnny Jumper for the Porkchop, the bedroom lamp, an allen wrench, a potty break, a pumping break, and Sesame Street- I can do this!

And do it, I did!

Money SAVED...
$100 bucks on the plumber
$77 plus or minus shipping for a new Insinkerator from Amazon = $177

That's more than HALF of the cost of my heart's greatest (current) desire!

Cricut Expression

I also inherited an uncanny ability for justification, budgeting, and hint dropping.

Epiphany and my budding photographer.

I finally figured out how people manage with more than two children.

Eventually they put their own shoes on. And leave them on.

We're not quite there yet, but I feel we're getting close. Not the part about raising more children. I still feel that more of the one's I've got need to wipe their own butts before we think about things like that. I'm just sayin' that I'm starting to see how it's possible.

Late for a date at the train museum, Scrunch waddles towards the door hauling her baby's diaper bag.

"Mom, don't forget my purse."

I figure I better check before I lock her down in her car seat with a lighter or a Sharpie.

"It's very heavy," she tells me.

Greeeaaaate! This ought to be good. "What 'cha got in there?"

"A bow. A sippy cup. Strawberry Shortcake. My Camera. And an apple."

Proudest moment of my parenting life. Seriously.

***

Yes, my kid has a camera. Don't look at me, I had nothing to do with it. She can thank Grami and Gramps for that one.

One of these days, if she figures out she's holding it backwards, I'll start her own blog. For now, we've got 169 pictures of her nose.

A first for everything.

12:27 a.m.- I've been asleep for 93 minutes. I am warm and I am tired. Porkchop begins to fuss and it's hard to tell if he's hungry or uncomfortably teething. Almost by reflex I check that he has his appliance before I pop the bottle in. It's there. He's still uncomfortable and on the verge of a come apart. I resort to the Tylenol. Check #2. Appliance is there. We head for the recliner. I rock. I bounce. I sing. I cuddle. He is miserable. I reach for the bottle again and he's just plain not havin' it. Without thinking, I do my triple check and dammit all to hell! The appliance is missing!

It's 1:17a.m. I begin searching for a small figure eight shaped piece that gives Porkchop a false palate. It's covered in denture adhesive and when he finagles it out, it sticks to everything. Oh, and he won't eat without it. Identifying it's exact location at all times has become my current life's mission. As calmly as possible I begin searching. Twenty minutes on my own, back and forth between the kitchen and the family room, and I don't see it. I finally resort to waking Husband up. "His appliance is missing." He hauls out of bed and we are now searching together. EVERYWHERE.

The recliner is upside down. I've searched the bottoms of our socks. Everything Porkchop has had contact with in the last seventy two hours. And Husband is on his hands and knees with a flashlight under the fridge. Short of Pig Latin, I have muttered a prayer in every language I know. Please, please, please let us find his appliance! After another grueling half hour of identifying every dust bunny in every crevice of the kitchen and family room but still no appliance, I am close to a meltdown. Both tired and annoyed with the situation, our conversation is limited because if we talk right now, it's just not going to be nice. Husband already tried being funny and patting my butt, and he about lost a limb. We are about to throw in the towel and I'm going to sit down on the floor and cry when husband reaches towards me, and he's headed for my chest. Are you freakin' kidding me? If you're seriously about to try what I think you're about to try, you have just about the worst timing on the planet and you are going to lose a limb. Just at the top of my unzipped sweatshirt his hand emerges with the appliance.

Oh, halle-fricken-lujah! I rejoice.

Wa-hoooo-eee!

Zippity-do-da. And all that.

Sure I'm glad the appliance is back, but I never thought I'd lose anything between my boobs.

...

P.S. Husband's appendages remain intact. He is a such a good sport and really loves me, you know. His only comment on his way back to bed was, "Next time I'll frisk you first."

The Breakup

While Scrunch's birthmom was in labor we watched Pretty Woman. Right there in her hospital room a special spot was growing for Richard Gere. It was a good omen.

For the last five months every week I've had a date, or rather Porkchop has had a date with Dr. Richard Gere. Richard Gere is a special name at our house. And our real life dude much more famous.

People practice medicine for all sorts of reasons. It doesn't matter what they are, you have to at least pretend to care. The difference with Dr. Gere, is that he really does. He's gone above and beyond for us. What doc gives out his personal cell and home phone number "just in case you have questions or are concerned for any reason"?

The day of his surgery he came in on his day off to fit Porkchop personally with his new appliance. He sat with us and chatted in the waiting room while he was in recovery and he was with us when we saw him the first time. I saw him tear up when I started crying. Every visit he has told Porkchop how awesome he is and "way to go mom!" As we leave "Keep up the good work! I'll see you next week."

So yesterday when he pulled up his calendar and said, "Unless he starts teething on top, I'd like to see you every three months" I nodded and smiled and we left the office with a "We'll see you soon."

He broke up with us. Thinks we should see other people. We're too good for him now. And it's in thanks, a large part, to him.

We will always love Richard Gere.

And Dr. Senders too, but he deserves his own post.

I'm pretty sure we've been pegged with this description more than a few times. And it's cool, because it is true. You may have added/subtracted a part about where we live, how much you love/hate me, or that I once had purple hair (on purpose). And all of that is probably true, too.

There is only one time, one, where I would ask that you never use this description. Never, never, never, (did I mention never?) use this description when talking with someone/friend/friend of a friend/chick who is in the process of adopting or is hoping to adopt or is planning on adopting. Please don't peg us as "that couple", the one that someone always knows that adopted and then they got pregnant. Because that's not how it works. And that's not how it worked.

You may not realize it but it is actually hurtful, and can be mean. Adoption should never be pursued as a cure for infertility. It also puts a negative connotation towards adoption. Like a family just adopts/adopted so they could get pregnant. Ahhh! Makes me crazy. And as a mama bear, ticks me off!

If I am talking with someone and they hear Scrunch was adopted and that then Porkchop came biologically, I automatically get an "Oh, that's wonderful!" Um, yes. Yes it is. But you know what? Adoption is wonderful too. And that's what you should say to these friends/friends of a friend/chick who is in the process of adopting, or his hoping to adopt, or is planning on adopting. Say, "That is wonderful!" and leave it at that. Because it is wonderful you know. Wonderful to me.

Note to Self

80 lbs. of apples does not make as much applesauce as you would expect.

What exactly was I thinking?

Back to the Grind

• Tomorrow is my first day back to work since Porkchop's surgery. It's only been three weeks and it feels like longer than my leave ever did when he was born. I am going to remember how to take a blood pressure, aren't I?

• Speaking of blood pressure, how bout them elections? I got out the vote. Not that it did a damn bit of good. Note to self...They're all the same.

• I overheard Scrunch in the bathtub get all huffy and strict with the plastic turtle and rubber ducky. "Shh!! You need to be reverent. You're taking the sacrament." as she dumped a shampoo cap full of water over their heads. 

• That girl! She's a firecracker. I was feeling all wussy because by the end of the day I am wiped out, but the friend who watched her the day Porkchop was in surgery told me, "Man she's an active child. I've got four! And I don't wonder what you do all day."

• Today's Joy school did me in. I don't know if it was Halloween or what their deal was, but a frenzy of crazed two year olds descended on my dining turned play room. N was for Nature. T for Turkey. And I spent two and a half hours talking in that high pitched kindergarten teacher voice to keep their attention for more than three seconds. Note to self...there's not enough money on God's green Earth to entice me into opening a daycare.

• Husband kicked my trash in Scrabble tonight. I was a sore loser and got pissy. His winning word? Kong. What the...? It's like playing Scrabble with a twelve year-old. And he won! I'm getting a better reference than dictionary.com. They think shabu is also a word. Tap. Tap. Tap-a-roo!

• I've watched too much Adam Sandler. Can you imagine playing Scrabble with that guy?

• I'm going to bed before I go search 'Scrabble SNL' on YouTube. I've got to work in the morning.

• Please take mercy. No butt wounds, okay? I always seem to get a butt wound right off the bat.

A is for Awesome

Awes-vember, as it has been affectionately dubbed, is off to a good start.

Artgurl had a little giveaway and I won! I won something. I actually won something. I don't think I've won something since a "It's hot to not" t-shirt in the 4th grade.

Anna Maria Horner. Ah. Piecing this quilt and looking at all the colors is just a happy place.

Avocadoes are awesome! As of this morning there is one tiny white pearly thing on his left bottom gum that wasn't there before.