Tag Archives: funny

The Thanksgiving Miracle

27 Nov

IMG_9612.JPGEveryone knows that the one thing my super amazing 21 month old doesn’t do well, is sleep.

We’ve had nannies quit, give up, and cry because they couldn’t get him to nap. I’ve had the “I’m a terrible mom” guilt countless times, because I can’t get him to nap. We’ve sleep trained for months on end. It’s been a process.

The person who seems to get him to sleep the best, is my father in law, and well, he lives 300 miles away in Nevada, sooooo….

I nap with him.

I’ve always justified this because I only have a few days a week with him, when we’re both home at nap time, sometimes, only 1. Who doesn’t love a forced nap on the weekends?

Well, he has been napping at daycare for almost 6 months and I’ve doubted them every time they say “he napped great!” Of course they’re lying…. Or talking about someone else’s kid. Cuz on the weekends, when we do get to cuddle/nap, it’s rarely a “good” nap, but it’s our thing and hey, I’m down with naps.

Cut to this week.

I’ve been taking a class on Sunday afternoons that prohibits me from napping. As much as I’m learning in the class, I stress out about “someone’s” sleep the whole first half of it. I can’t be the one to put him down or he cries for “boobboobs” and “mamas shroom” or “hug you”, so I’ve finally figured out that if daddy does it, eventually it works out. For the first 5 weeks, Grant was able to stay home from school long enough to put him down, then leave, then a babysitter/friend/sister would show up to watch him, and I’d leave.

Last Sunday, Grant had to leave early because of finals/studying. After 30 minutes, I was finally able to get him down for a nap, then I left the house.

Yesterday I had a half -day at work, so because last Sunday was a fluke (had to have been, right?), I planned on cooking all of my items for Thanksgiving dinner while he was “napping great” at school, on Wednesday.

Tuesday night was a mess. I’m sure I can thank teething for our lack of sleep this week, because every once in a while, night time sleeping is bad, but this week, it was several nights in a row. When I dropped him off in the morning, a newer teacher received him from me. I told her that he’d been up all night (from 11:45pm-4:00am… I’m not exaggerating!! Terrible sleeper!!), and she said “well, he’s our best napper, so I’m sure he’ll make up for it then!”

What?!

She knows that REMY is my kid, right? Not one of the other kids? She’s talking about the boy I just handed to her, right?

According to her, “I just lay him down, put a blanket on him and he’s out like a light!”

Dear all the nannies and baby sitters of Remy naps past. THANK YOU!!! Your sweat and tears have paid off and my kid’s the best napper at school!!

Well, I continued on my way of making all my Thanksgiving Day fixings yesterday (just in case I had to join him on the nap wagon).

IMG_9585.JPGSomehow, I managed to get my son to sleep in as little as 10 minutes today. I’m still in shock.

It’s Thanksgiving Day and my work is done, my kitchen is clean, my food is made, I’ve showered (hooray!) and put makeup on (double hooray!) and will actually be ready to leave my house on time for my sister’s, provided that he wakes up on time.

Clearly, I’ve also had time to blog… How is this even real life?! This nap thing is genius!!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!! It’s a miracle!!!

IMG_9610.JPG

And the Best Costume Goes Tooooo…

3 Nov
The best darn "elly" in all the land.

The best darn “elly” in all the land.

Remington Arnow!

aka “Memy Aahhhno”

As a mom, there are a few things that I look forward to being able to experience with Remy, that I never really had the opportunity to enjoy when I was a kid. Halloween is probably the biggest one.

I was raised in a VERY conservative home, with parents who chose to have “Glory to God parties” instead of celebrating halloween. Yes. We were the family who passed out bible tracts and popcorn (cuz you could do that in the 80’s) to all the neighborhood kids who were dressed up, celebrating “satan’s birthday”. Cool, right?

Regardless of my own personal beliefs, my parents did what they thought was right, and I can’t judge them for our differences of opinion, or practice. But, I can choose to do things however I please with my own kids.

The year I found out I was pregnant, I had JUST started working for Dailey. In October, I was just out of my first trimester and not too many people knew me, let alone knew I was pregnant then, so I dressed up as a bank robber. My belly was my bag o’ cash, and no one really “got it”. I thought I was hilarious.

YEAR ONE:

Belly Smuggling Bank Robber

Belly Smuggling Bank Robber

The next Halloween, Remy was just 8 months of bubbling baby chub and I put some thought into our costumes once again. I found an amazing monkey costume and decided to become a banana tree… He was still nursing A LOT, so I had bananas in the appropriate place. Again, hilarious… to myself. I don’t have any great photos of my costume, but COME ON. Look at that face. A funny thing about this costume, was that my sister and our friend brought Remy to meet me in the office. With a BRIGHT GREEN WIG on, my baby still knew exactly who I was, from across the room. Mama baby bonds are pretty incredible.

YEAR TWO

Baby Monkey in his Banana Tree

Baby Monkey in his Banana Tree

This year, I decided to look for costumes in line with Remy’s favorite animals and liked the elephant costume best. Originally, Grant and I were both going to be elephant trainers, and he would be a baby elephant, but on Sunday, I changed my mind. He would be the trainer and I, once again, would be a food item… maybe it’s time to wean.

Here we are as a baby elephant and a bucket of peanuts.

YEAR THREE:

Baby "Elly" and his big ol' bucket of peanuts.

Baby “Elly” and his big ol’ bucket of peanuts.

I plan to continue this habit of mine for as long as he can stand it, or stand me. Halloween is becoming one of my absolute favorite days of the year.

***Thank you, Don Lupo, for the great pictures! 

My Hot Bloggy Mess

5 Jun
One Hot Mess; A Linkup by The Fike Life.

One Hot Mess; A Linkup by The Fike Life.

I dream about blogging all day long. In fact, I have written hundreds I witty posts in my imagination that will never be remembered when I actually have the time to write them down.

In my head, I’m awesome. Hilarious. So entertaining. Helpful when help is needed, be it child-rearing advice (because I’m such an expert) or a bubble of laughter. I’m your blogger. You identify with me and I with you. I drink belinis every night as I sit on my porch overlooking the wilderness, computer on my lap, thoughtful gaze on my face. I make your life feel more understood, and well, we inspire each other’s Pinterest boards, because my photography of normal life’s events is just so amazing. I’ve always got my laundry done, my kitchen clean, my roots bleached, eyebrows waxed, bed made, dinner on the table by 5:30, and nightstands clear of glasses and tissues, and I still have time to make my husband feel like the rock of my fortress. Also, my perfect toddler naps for hours on end, and sleeps a perfect 12 hours at night, waking up no earlier than 7:00AM. Of course, I wake up an hour before my family (since my family is on a perfect and predictable sleeping schedule) and have time for “me” as I get ready for my day, showering away the perfectly unsweaty night’s sleep, sipping my cuppa’ coffee, all while preparing for another glorious day.

I am perfect. No, I’m not. 

Living in my wild imagination is pure bliss, but when you’re living in my body, it’s exactly the opposite.

This is my guest room... not that any guests could use it.

This is my guest room… not that any guests could use it.

Computer is still on the couch opened to work emails about motorcycles (yes I work with motorcycles) not all the blogs I’ve bookmarked “to read at some future date”, I don’t have a porch overlooking the wilderness (unless you call West Hollywood “wild”), I don’t know exactly what goes into a belini (just that I love them and have to pay $14 for them at any local restaurant – thanks, WeHo) and I have a house full of clean laundry begging to be put away, dirty laundry dying to be washed (lest my dogs pee on the pile again), dishes in the sink and bathroom needing to be scrubbed. Floors, oh the floors… wearing socks that accumulate the hair of my two dogs counts as “sweeping” right? I party all the time too, but those parties (like the one I just had) consist of cleaning out the fridge and finally cleaning up the sticky salad dressing that spilled on the top shelf two months ago. It’s a blast.

Hooray for reality, transparency and hot messes.

I can’t count on consistency in my family’s schedule, but I can count on the fact that no matter what… baby’s up. Gotta jam.

Some “Happy” for Your Monday (WATCH)

2 Jun

This is not my child, and I don’t know these people, but this is a MUST WATCH for your Monday.

Get ready for a heart explosion of cuteness:

Attack of the Killer Crows

28 May
Photo Cred: Vincent Bazen

Photo Cred: Vincent Bazen

Crows are scaaaaaary and when you’re on the receiving end of their wrath, they are a living nightmare.

Last Monday morning, I was on my way out to work. Grant was on his way to the library to study. Remy was in the house safe in the arms of his babysitter, getting ready for his first nap.

As I stood at my car, Grant called for me to come “look at the weird crow sitting by our kitchen door on the trash bag”. I sauntered over, as all self-proclaimed (but totally untrue) “animal whispers” would, thinking that this poor little crow was hurt or something. I mean, why else would he be sitting on the stoop by my kitchen door?

I approached him for two reasons; 1. because I’d left something in the kitchen and the baby was going down for a nap on the other side of the house, where the front door is and I didn’t want to distract the babysitter from accomplishing her napping goal; and 2. to see if he would move as I approached. I did not touch him, or even come close to touching him.

Apparently, what it did was piss off his mama.

Suddenly, my head was surrounded by flapping wings and a shrieking crow was trying to ward me off of her young. They must have been in the middle of flying lessons, and he found comfort on my trash (which of course, should have been sitting there in the first place).

I rushed into the house in a panic and slammed the door behind me. Our side door is a window paned door, so I watched as the crow “yelled” at me, beak gaping open and wings ferociously flapping.

Photo Cred: Mark Sebastian

Photo Cred: Mark Sebastian

Not wanting to be late to work, I got what I needed, and headed to our backdoor, thinking I would escape her wrath through the back… NOT SO.

I went outside and my scent must have carried, because suddenly, I was being chased by a big, nasty, PISSED OFF, mama crow. She swooped down to my head several times (see photo above, even though that’s not me) as I ran through my yard, down my side yard (opposite the side with the kitchen door) and when I got to the back gate, I remember that the gate was broken, and I had to run all the way back, around the entire house with an angry crow swooping down to my head, ruffling my hair, and screaming at me. My only options were to run like a lunatic, screaming, swearing and begging for my husband to save me.

I ran all the way to the street screaming and finally, with my protector husband close by, dropped down to my knees (in the middle of the street) and just started sobbing laughing. My husband was there screaming “Fuck You, Bird!!! Stay away from my family!”

If you know my husband, you know how funny this is. At that time, however, I was in tears and dear darling protector of mine flapped his wings so he appeared much bigger that the angry bird.

After the “attack” the crow sat our magnolia tree angrily pounding his (or her) open beak on the branches of the tree, with continued screaming, while ripping leaves off of the tree and throwing them to the ground. Our neighbor Molly said she was “trapped” in her house, and that the bird wouldn’t let her pass, so Grant had to escort her to her car… after all, the birds feared him. It wasn’t the only time he heard someone scream in fear, birds cawing, either. Our upstairs neighbor took to carrying an open umbrella to and from her car as protection!

For several days after, every time I walked outside, a crow would “caw” and I would crouch down… and a few times, I got warning swoops and one time, an extra low swoop to my head.

Thanks, Hitchcock. You’ve ruined me.

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