To never be hungry

I think I made a painful parenting error last night. Not one that I can joke about. But one that breaks my heart, brings me to tears, and has created an emotional wound of sadness in my sweet 5 year old.  

It all started with my immense frustration with Benji for not eating dinner. He almost never eats dinner. Night after night he tells me that he doesn't like whatever I have cooked. Then he goes to bed hungry.

I had finally had enough.

"You HAVE to eat, Benjamin! Your body needs food for you to be healthy!"

We argued for a bit, then in my frustration, I called him to me so I could show him pictures of what happens when you don't eat food.

Dramatic. I know.

I showed him heartbreaking pictures of skeletal children with bloated bellies. My voice cracked as I told him, "This boy doesn't have food to eat. His family can't afford enough food, so his body is very sick."

Benji asked me question after question about why the starving people looked the way they did. I answered honestly, my chest tight with regret. Regret for not being able to help these hungry people. Regret for presenting this mature topic to such a young child. Regret that some of the pictures we saw were of children even younger than Benji.

This is serious stuff. It is so cliché to tempt a child to eat his dinner by talking about children starving in some remote location. Like that even helps. But I took it one step further with the pictures.

Benji started crying.

"I don't want to be like that."

My heart. I pulled him into a hug, "I promise you will never be like that. I promise we will always have food to keep you healthy. You just have to eat it."

To a 5 year old, full of trust, that is a reassuring promise. To me, it broke my heart even more, because I was so painfully aware of our privilege. We will never be so hungry that our bodies wither away.

I helped Benji eat his dinner. Afterward, he lifted up his shirt to show me his full belly; his body lean, yet healthy.

And as I tucked him into bed, he asked me to comfort him with a prayer. Those sickly bodies were weighing heavily on his mind, and well as mine.

Such a serious topic for a young child. Did I do the wrong thing? Exposing him to such horrors? Will it help him take better care of his body? Or will he develop body image or diet issues because of it? Will it teach him compassion? Or fear?

My heart.

Who doesn't love chocolate ice cream?

When my mom tells me that she misses my blog....I guess it's time to sit down and type up a post. (Where the HECK has my motivation gone???) And I have a list of nearly a dozen post ideas, so I really have absolutely no excuse.

A friend of mine had a baby 10 weeks ago. She had invited me to attend the birth, but due to unfortunate circumstances, I couldn't get a babysitter to watch my kids, so I couldn't go. And 7 weeks later, I still hadn't had a chance to meet the new baby. So, we marked our calenders and got our butts over there! I tell you what, I don't understand the fertile-aged woman who can hold a tiny baby and -NOT- have a pang in her ovaries to have a[nother] baby! Gizmo is over nine months now, so I can have a baby any time and he'll definitely be in nursery by the time the baby comes. (Every LDS mom knows how nice that is, right?) Alas, I guess things will have to wait a bit longer before we have another one, though. 'Cause no matter how much those dang ovaries of mine are panging, they are the servants of my breastfeeding relationship with Gizmo....who says "no baby yet".

But that isn't the point of this post. I just can't get over how cute and tiny new babies are, and how much I really want another one.

So, we were visiting with friends. We ate dinner. We talked. We ate chocolate ice cream with brownies. We let the kids (minus the tiny baby) run around and play. We sat at the table to play a card game (Bohnanza anyone?). Then, my friend's sister (who lives in the household) came home. She walked into the kitchen...which is right by where we were playing cards and -totally- visable to us....and exclaimed, "Oh, hello!"

There was Gizmo. On the floor. With a bowl of Bug's chocolate ice cream remains over his face.

He had chocolate ice cream all over his face. All over his hands. All over the floor. And he was sad to see it go when we took it away and cleaned up the mess.

Apparently, Bug left his bowl on the stool he was sitting on, and Gizmo was just tall enough to reach it. And he knew he needed to be stealthy. We had no idea what was happening just 6 feet away!

But who can blame him? It was chocolate ice cream!!

Let's Eat!

This is a shameless plug for a new blog I created on a blog I already have established. ('Cause I can do that!) I have been trying to share recipes with some of my friends and family members. But, of course, I don't have them all typed on the computer. Then I type an email for one person, only to realize I want to send it to someone else, too. So I have to find the sent email, or retype...and before I know it, I'm trying to share one recipe for half a dozen people through half a dozen emails and typings of the same recipe. I just knew I was making it way more complicated than it should have been (and who needs that when you are a busy mother!!?!) So I will now just put all these yummy recipes in one spot, and I'll stop worrying about sending emails. I am pleased to introduce: Tasty Thalman's! Go check it out!

'nacks

Candy.

Horrible, horrible candy. Or, as Bug would say, "'nacks!" (Snacks).

It turns my two year old into a whining, crying, yelling, screaming, parent-shushing toddler.

Not good.

Therefore, I have divided most of the Halloween candy up between me and the hubs.

Of course, I really don't need all that candy. I'm trying really hard to lose all that baby weight that I so lovingly gained for little Gizmo (who is actually 12.5lbs already, and isn't quite so little).

Which brings me to a something called P90X. Which is, if you haven't heard of it before, a butt-kickin', make-you-feel-like-you're-dying workout program.

My sister and her husband are in town for an extended vacation. They own P90X. And, oh how I love my sister, she is actually motivating me to work out with her. I'm actually pretty good at working out when I have someone to compete with. (And, my sister is as skinny as a rail, so she makes for some good motivating envy!)

Anyway, like this post, I'm completely spacey. (It's been a rough couple of weeks, with the husband working WAY more than he's getting paid to do...stupid salary...and not enough sleep for anyone).

I was talking about 'nacks. This morning, I found Bug on top of the refrigerator. ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE! I tell you what, that kid is crazy. And he got up there for one thing. Candy. Horrible, horrible candy!

(PS- The hubby tickled Gizmo under the chin and actually got him to giggle! It was awesome!)

Food on the Floor

I'm going to blame the lack of blogging lately on the fact that my computer is hooked up to our TV right now. You know, so we can watch hours and hours of "Psych" on Netflix instant download. It's hard to type up posts when you aren't sitting at a computer desk. (In fact, I'm sitting at the table, typing this up, and I'm not even looking at the computer screen...er...the TV screen. I'm sure this post is going to need extensive editing!)

I really don't know what I'm going to blame the lack of vacuuming on right now. I have no excuses. But, as I'm sitting at the kitchen table, I'm painfully aware of the large amount of stale food under Bug's chair. Really, it's disgusting. I just want to know why he has to drop such large amounts of food on the floor.

Yet...during lunch today, I had a bit of a humbling experience, when it comes to food on the floor. I was eating a meal that I just invented, that I will call "Taco Mess". Not quite a soup, not quite a casserole. Anyway, I was asking Bug why he kept dropping beans on the floor (he won't tell me), and all the sudden, a piece of corn rolled off my fork and onto the floor. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have happened if I wasn't so worried about Gizmo. You see, Gizmo was strapped onto my chest in the ring sling, fast asleep. I didn't want to drop food on his head. And I didn't want to bump his back into the edge of the table, so I was having a bit of a hard time getting the food from my plate to my mouth. And then it happened. I dropped food on the floor.

Now, Bug doesn't have to eat his food with a baby strapped to him, but I imagine he still stits there sometimes, wondering how the heck he is going to get the food from his plate to his mouth without making a mess. Sometimes it workks, sometimes it doesn't.

After most meals, I stick Bug in the shower...and vow to vacuum "today"....which may mean "next week". How long will it be before I can move to only vacuuming once a month?? Or, better yet, once a year!

Gizmo's First Hickey

I know babies are often referred to as being "cute enough to eat" or "delicious" or "yummy" or some other good-food analogy. But, it is extremely important that these things aren't taken literally.

Many parents, also, like to play games with their young children by giving them "munchy" kisses and saying that they will "eat you up!" and the like. But, it is extremely important that these things aren't taken literally.

And toddlers shouldn't attempt to play these games with babies.

Bug has recently been "tasting" Gizmo by taking huge, sucking "bites" out of his arm (followed by some dramatic lip smacking and "mmm"-ing.) It started out as just little "bites" and licks. Then, all the sudden, I noticed that Gizmo has THREE hickies on his arm!!!

I've informed Bug that this kind of play is inappropriate. I hope he understands. But, I know it will be hard, because babies really are so tasty!

Poor, poor placenta

Placentas are really amazing things. They nourish a baby for nearly nine months in the womb. They are full of nutrients and hormones. They are the only source of meat that comes from creating life, rather than killing.

I really, really wanted to save, and consume in some way (whether dehydrated pills or frozen pills or smoothie style), my placenta. Consuming the placenta will stop a postpartum hemorrhage almost immediately, helps the uterus return to its pre-pregnancy size more quickly, helps regulate and bring in a full milk supply, and nearly eliminates postpartum depression. There is probably more that the placenta can do, because its just so amazing!

Sadly, it didn't happen. I shouldn't have assumed that the hubs would have prepared it for me...especially since he had told me he didn't want to [do it himself]. But, I thought he would if I asked him nicely enough. Guess not.

Instead, it got bagged and thrown away. Just so you know, do NOT ask a woman who gave birth within the last three hours what to do with the placenta, if she had already stated what she wanted done with it pre-birth. She will likely be so engrossed with her newborn that she will say, "I don't care!"

She does care. And a couple days after the birth, she might cry over the loss.

To Texas. And home again.

Well, we are back from our trip to Dallas (as of Saturday night) and I am starting to get back into the swing of things. Meaning, our dishes need to be done, the carpet needs a good vacuuming, and I'm sitting in front of the computer while Bug eats mushy Cheerios.

Let me just share with you a little of how our week went in that great state of Texas.

First, we had the drive down there. It was 16 hours long. 16 hours. We left at 4am, EST, to get down there at a reasonable hour. Bug was AMAZING. I can't believe he handled the drive so well. We stopped every two to three hours to walk around, eat, and take potty breaks. Bug entertained himself in the car by throwing Goldfish at mommy and daddy in the front seats. Luckily, daddy decided it was more funny than something to get upset about, and calmed the mommy before she could threaten to turn the car around!

Bug also entertained himself by putting his blanket over his head. He would then call out "MOMMY! DADDY! MOMMY! DADDY!" until we replied, "Where is Bug? Where on earth could Bug be? I don't know where Bug is?"...you get the point. Then, Bug would uncover his head and yell, "Ah-da!" which is his form of "Ta-da!" And mommy and daddy would both have to say, "THERE he is!" And then the game would start over again. And again.

16 hours.

While the Hubs went to his training (remember, this was a business trip for him that I tagged along on, and not a family vacation) I tried to not go insane. Luckily, I have a cousin that lived only 40 minutes away from our hotel. So, I hung out with her and her family a lot. She has two young boys close in age to Bug, and she is expecting her third....it was nice to know I wasn't the only pregnant woman suffering in the heat of Texas!

My cousin took us to her local pool, that has a GREAT kid area. I had to fight Bug to get him covered in sunscreen, and then to even get him in the water at first. But, once he found out that it was actually fun, I could hardly get him to slow down enough to pull up his swim trunks. And boy oh boy, did I have to keep an eye on those swim trunks. I have a scrawny little kid, and pretty much the only thing keeping the trunks on his little booty was the liner! I really should have just let him run around in the swim diaper. And when it was time to go, Bug wished it wasn't. And frankly, I wished it wasn't either, just so I wouldn't have to fight with him. I secretly wished we could have stayed there, cool in the water, until Bug passed out from exhaustion. That would have been nice.

We also went to a petting farm. It wasn't all that spectacular, but it was free. And they had a turkey that was a big hit with the kids, for some unknown reason. And a cute little bunny, that Bug insisted needed a handful of bedding on its back. Poor little bunny.

It was so hot that day at the petting farm. You know, not being in water. I was sweating so badly, and I got a prickly heat rash under my ample pregnant-woman bosoms. Lovely. And then my husband told me that he would love to live in Texas...and I couldn't convey to him just how uncomfortable I was.

But, the trip wasn't total misery, exactly. Because I got to go swimming again. And again. And again. I don't think my swimming suit every properly dried out the whole time I was down there. Most of the time (like at the hotel pool, that didn't have a "kid" area) Bug sat next to the pool and put his feet in the water. Then he commanded me to swim to the other side, or to go "unner" the water. And one time...just once...the baby within pushed just right on my bladder, and I realized I had about .02 seconds before I couldn't contain it...and...well....we don't necessarily have to finish that story. But come on! Pregnant woman in pool + toddler that doesn't want to leave pool + not enough time to get to the proper facilities even without a toddler that would scream and resist the whole way = I guess you're welcome to come swim in my toilet.

Near the end of the week, we got to go out to dinner with the Hubs' new boss (by the way, the Hubby got a promotion, and it goes public today, so I'm gushing on the blog about it) and some other work friends. We went to Pappadeaux Seafood Restaurant. Bug ate some alligator and loved it so much, he threw a fit when it was gone. Too bad it was the appetizer for the whole table. And I ate crawfish etouffee (my first time eating crawfish and etouffee, which I've wanted to try since the first time I saw the movie The Princess and the Frog). By the way, it is 10 times more embarrassing to have your kid throw a fit when you are in the company of your husband's employers and they are the ones paying for the meal.

All in all, it was a pretty good week. Although, I did have to eat pizza four different times. (I remembered to bring Tums, so I guess it wasn't so bad!) And the trip back home went much the same as the trip down. "Where on earth could Bug be?"

16 hours.

To Eat or Not To Eat

Oh, yes. That is the question! And not just for me. Some days, Bug will eat and eat and eat. He will clean his plate at every meal, and beg me for a snack three minutes later. Other days, I am begging him to "just take a bite" of his dinner...because I feel like he hasn't had anything to eat since his small bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios at 7am. (By the way, that kid loves Honey Nut Cheerios. Or Honey Nut Scooters or whatever the cheap brand is called! I pour a small bowl, add a little milk to soften them up, and he gobbles them down. On the days that Bug is refusing to eat, I am tempted to feed him cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner...just so I know he has food in his stomach!) Amazing how his appetite can be so dynamic!

As for my recent eating habits...things are getting a little bit better. I have been craving a 4pm salad, complete with Caesar croutons and generously doused in Italian dressing, nearly every day. And often, a couple of cucumbers. I prefer the little salad cucumbers, because they are sweeter and almost never bitter. But, it is so frustrating to have to peel and slice enough of them to satisfy me! Those snacks mostly prevent my nausea from getting too bad. (Notice, I didn't say that my nausea had gone away. It is still there torturing me if I wait until 4:01pm before eating that salad!) It is really strange that I haven't been craving sweets at all. That is incredibly different for me! In fact, there are so many things that are different in me about this pregnancy (with the exception of ridiculously dry and flaky skin) that everyone is assuming that it MUST be a girl! I will keep my fingers crossed.

But, whether it is a girl or a boy, I am excited. Unfortunately, my sleeping has been taking a rough hit. Bug is such a bed hog and he wakes up to nurse way more often than I want him to (which is him waking up at all). I know he is old enough to night wean, but I am afraid that a night wean would really be a total wean! I don't think I'm ready for that! I just want to get him into his own bed, and see if that helps. I've loved co-sleeping with him...but with a new baby on the way, things are going to have to change! And, no matter how excited I am to have another little baby....part of me can't wait until the new baby is old enough to become Bug's new co-sleeping partner! Perhaps it won't be too long before I get my bed back, after all!

Thanksgiving Dinner

This year, I had some friends over for a Thanksgiving dinner yesterday (we did it before Turkey Day so we could get together and eat good food without interfering with family gatherings). I cooked all the food. And I will tell you what...it was all delicious! So good that I am sharing the recipes that I used, so everyone else can enjoy great food, too! I used recipes from the Internet, so to save from having to type them all out, I will be putting in links with my side notes.

The Turkey. This site may seem a little hokey, but I will tell you what...my turkey was GOOD! I had a ten pound turkey. I let it thaw out really well (but when I was cleaning all the giblets out of it, there were still pieces of ice in the cavity.) I cut half a stick of butter up into slices and just put them between the meat and the skin. I also added some dried oregano. On top, I put pepper and coarse salt. I didn't have a lid for my roasting pan, so I made a makeshift one using the rack and foil. I may not use even that next time, though, because I prefer really crispy skin, and this was just somewhat crispy skin. When this turkey came out, it was just falling apart! Did I mention it was really good??

The Cranberry Sauce. This is actually made with pears and honey, too. It was very yummy! I didn't care for the shell of the cranberry, I didn't like the texture of it so much. But I did like the pear chunks. If I make it again, I will probably up the white sugar, do a little less honey, and try to strain the cranberry. (I don't know HOW I will do that....but I will try!) Also, you have to cook the cranberries a little bit longer to get them all to pop. Fifteen minutes works.

The Broccoli Casserole. Yummy stuff! I used whole wheat Ritz crackers. I also made it in a crock pot, which would have been fine if I had drained the broccoli a whole heckuvalot more before adding the cheese. (I didn't add the cheese until about half and hour before I was going to serve it.) This is a recipe that I should have doubled, because it is so good!

The Carrots. I wanted to find an awesome honey-glazed carrots recipe. And I did. The only thing that I would do with this recipe is either double the amount of carrots, or half the amount of everything else! So good!

The Potatoes. I didn't get this recipe from the Internet. I just learned it growing up in a home cookin' family! Peel and dice about a dozen potatoes (for 8-10 servings). Boil until tender. Drain. Add a whole stick of butter and about half a cup of milk. Mash (with either a hand masher or a hand mixer). Add more milk until it is the desired consistency. Add salt and pepper. Voila!

The Stuffing. Don't put it in the bird. Just follow the directions on the box. Can't go wrong!

The Gravy. This is another one of those learned-it-from-my-family recipes. Pour all the turkey drippings into a frying pan, turn the heat to medium-high/high. In a small cup, add about two heaping spoonfuls of corn starch and enough water to make it easily stir-able. When the drippings start boiling, slowly pour the corn starch mix  in while whisking. Whisk and add corn starch mix until the gravy is as thick as you like it! You can add salt and pepper...but I always forget to, and it still turns out great!

So, there is your Thanksgiving dinner!

I didn't make dessert this time, but if you want some good recipes, try this recipe for a super yummy pumpkin pie....don't forget to use real pumpkin! And if you want to make your own crust, here is a simple but wonderfully delicious recipe. This site also has lots of tips for pie making!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Apples

I know, I know...I seriously need to find a more creative title for this post. But at least I'm actually posting, right??? Right?

Anyway, I hate apples. Mostly. The last time I sat down and ate a raw apple, I threw it up just seconds after I had swallowed the last bite. (Of course, I was pregnant, but I don't think that counts as much, because I only threw up twice throughout my whole pregnancy!) I will tell you one thing, throwing up freshly eaten apple hurts!

I don't like apple juice. I don't like apple sauce. I don't like apple flavored candy (except Sour Punch Straws, sour green apple...yum!). I don't like apple tarts. And I can only eat apple pie if I pick out all the chunks of apple.

Unless I made the apple pie with my dad, then I can apparently eat a whole dang pie all by myself!

A couple weeks ago, I was at my parents' house during the day to visit with my dad. After we chatted for a while, he asked how long I was able to stay. I told him that I had several hours, and then he announced he wanted to make a pie. (He knows that I am an awesome pie crust maker.) My little sister had gone apple picking with her friend about a month before and they still had a couple dozen small apples sitting on the counter. The apples were soft. They weren't rotting, but they were soft. My dad figured the only thing we could do with them, other than throw them away, was make pie! So, he washed, cut, peeled and sliced all the apples. I measured, mixed, cooled and rolled the pie crust. Then we put together brown sugar, white sugar, flour, cinnamon, butter and apples inside the crust and created a lattice top on the two pies with the leftover crust dough. Shortly after the pies came out of the oven, I needed to go pick up the hubby, so I took one and left.

That evening, I tried a piece of apple pie with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream. I was nervous. Afterall, I didn't want to run to the bathroom to upchuck the apples! I took a small bite. It was tasty. I took another bite. It was tasty, too. I was surprised that I was tolerating the apple. And I was surprised that the pie was the best I had ever had....and my dad and I didn't even know what we were doing! I called my parents right away to tell them the pie was a success. And to ask if they liked it, too....they hadn't even tried it yet. So I told them to stop waiting and try a piece of miracle pie!

Over the next week, I ate all but two pieces of the pie. (I left two for the husband. Oh, I did share bites with Bug, too). I didn't even vomit! In fact, I enjoyed every bite!

One more...

When you were a kid, did you ever play those games where you try to shove your mouth completely full of food, but not suffocate? Like the "fluffy bunny" game, where you stuff as many marshmallows into your mouth as you can? Or the Hot Tamale game? (You know, I really enjoy those Hot Tamale candies, but they can be HOT when you have over a dozen of them in your mouth!!!)

Bug has started playing these games already...and he's not even a stupid teenager! But, for him, these games are more like the Goldfish game, or the Cheerios game, or the Mac 'n' Cheese game, or the hash brown breakfast casserole game. I just don't get it. He always wants more, even if he hasn't finished chewing and swallowing what is already in his mouth!

The other day, a friend and her 2 year old son were over playing with us. Bug was sharing his snacks like a good little boy. However, he was also shoving them into his own mouth. And shoving. And shoving. And shoving. Finally, he realized that he couldn't shove any more into his mouth. He also realized that he couldn't chew up what was already in his mouth. Of course, he figured out a solution. He opened his mouth and let that whole school of Goldfish plop out of his mouth. [Cue mommy frantically trying to clean up the half chewed Goldfish before Bug's little friend could eat any.]

And once Bug's little mouth was again free to chew away...he began shoving in more Goldfish.

It's good for you

My grandma once told me that doctors now believe parent's shouldn't discourage their kids from eating boogers. The logic? Boogers have germs in them from the air around us that will help build up the immunity of the kid eating them. Part of me wants to say, "That makes sense!" and part of my wants to say, "Grandma, that is the craziest and nastiest idea in the world...other than eating something else that would be nastier, of course!"

It is interesting though. I've seen tons of kids dig in their noses for treasures that are apparently too tasty to pass up. In fact, I think it is something that is almost biological. Where else could so many kids learn it? Unless there are parents out there everywhere that have the habit. It reminds me of biology classes that I've had before where I learned that frogs eat their own skin after they shed it. And that mother animals will eat their placentas after they give birth. (And my little sister's dog that would eat what my dad referred to as "kitty crunchies" or...litter box treats.) It seriously intrigues me. I don't think it is wrong. But I can't help but think it isn't something I would prefer to do.

Bug has been a little bit snotty recently. I blame it on teething. (He has ten teeth now. TEN! Two of them are the first of his little molars. So grown up!) And the snot is continually running down into his mouth, where he licks it up like it is a delectable treat. I wipe and wipe and wipe, yet still it runs. And if it isn't running, his nose is full of crystallized boogers. A cave of wonders, I tell ya! And every now and then, he gets a sticky little ball of gummed up booger hovering right around the edge of his nostril.

It was one of those sticky snot balls hanging out on his nose the other day. I was feeling a little too lazy to go get a tissue to wipe it up, so I was just going to swipe it with my finger and.....uhm....stick it under the couch I guess. (Really, I'm not sure what I was planning on doing with the booger once it was on my finger. That might have just been the motivation I needed to go get a tissue.) But, as my finger swiped down, Bug stuck out his tongue. There wasn't time for me to pull my finger away. I swiped that gooey booger ball right onto Bug's tongue, and he ate it up.

Maybe this is why children eat their boogers (apart from it being good for their immune systems). Their parents must just be too lazy to grab a tissue, and they conveniently swipe those boogers into the kiddos' mouths.

Spit it out...NOW

With WBW come and gone, I have gotten on a roll with posting daily. (Really, I typed and scheduled all my posts for WBW, which means I haven't really blogged all week. And every time I have wanted to sit down and blog something, I remembered I already had posts ready for the week...and I just don't do more than one post a day. So, I have several pretty good stories from this past week to fill up my blogging needs for a while now!)

Here's one of those good stories.

Bug loves getting on the computer and playing with everything on the desk and in the drawers. I mean, he LOVES it. Usually, I tell him he isn't allowed, and I keep the chair pushed into the desk. Other times (usually after a massive melt down on Bug's part, and no patience on my part), I just let him up there to play and I sit on the couch with a good book. It keeps him entertained for a while. Plus, I'm married to a computer guy, so if Bug seriously screws something up, I know I have someone coming over to fix it around 6pm.

Eventually, Bug will get off the computer and run around playing with all his other toys (or all of my other belongings that he thinks are his toys). And, eventually, I get a whiff of that lovely smell that reminds me I'm a mom, and I should probably change Bug's diaper before I start the next chapter in my book.

So, that's where I was, down on the floor getting out a diaper and wipes, trying to coax Bug over to me with my best motherese. But Bug wouldn't come near me. He had that look on his face that told me he was doing something wrong....and I could tell he had something in his mouth. Hmm....sometimes he looks like that and I try to fish whatever it is out of his mouth, only to realize it is a cheerio or piece of a graham cracker. (Of course, I always wonder what he just finished doing to make him look so guilty before he put the little snack in his mouth.) However, my intuition told me that what he had in his mouth this time was something that shouldn't have been in there. I held my hand out and told him to come spit whatever it was out. He, hesitantly but obediently, walked over to me and spat out, with a great streaming strand of saliva and spit bubbles.....

Eight safety pins and a paper clip.

Muah!

Bug loves to give kisses. Unless I ask him to give me a kiss. Then he usually turns his head and acts like he didn't hear my request for a smooch. But, when he does kiss me, he thinks that he is supposed to kiss on the mouth. That's OK with me, I guess. For now. I know some families do the whole mouth kissing thing. Mine, growing up, wasn't one of them. I thought the families that did that were weird.

Then, Bug was born. And he had such sweet little lips. I couldn't help it. Every time I kissed him, I kissed those soft baby lips. (I've actually read that that is a natural instinct for moms to kiss their babies mouths, in order to inoculate themselves with the germs that baby is about to swallow. Then the moms can make antibodies that will go straight to baby via breast milk. Amazing!?)

Then, Bug got old enough to give kisses. And the excitement of it (for him) didn't last long. Apparently, I get so mushy and overreact, and then Bug doesn't want to kiss me anymore. But, when he does, he opens his mouth wide and plops a kiss right on my mouth. It's always very slobbery.

And, recently, Bug has found that he can suck while giving a kiss, and it creates hilarious reactions from mommy and daddy! Oh yeah, he also discovered something else that causes a hilarious reaction...chomp down on mommy's puckering lips. Mmmmmmmuah!

No joke.

My husband called me this morning, as usual. Only this time he actually DIDN'T call at the exact time that I was trying to get Bug down for a nap. He told me he is having a rough day already (it was only a quarter after 9am). Some guy had a stroke on the bus this morning on the way into work. So, he had to get transferred to another bus to get to work. Oh, and the reason he called was to inquire of the location of a key. I'm guessing it is a very important key. It was on the floor, under our bed. After he sighed a sigh of relief (glad to know the key wasn't completely lost) he told me to write a funny post on the blog today. Oh dear. Cue the writer's block. And I promise, none of what I have typed here so far is an April Fool's joke. None of it. I promise. Really.

And then I realized it was April Fool's day. People are supposed to be funny on April Fool's day. That means that my expectations for a SUPER AWESOME and HILARIOUS post today have been raised 100 fold. And I have writer's block. And a baby hanging, whining and biting my leg. These are the things I blog about, right? Why isn't it funny right now? So, I pull out my "Mother's Lamentations" paper, where I keep a list of my labels and ideas for future posts (all good control freak bloggers do this, right?). I'm about to cross off all the ideas on my list. They aren't good. They aren't funny. Well, maybe they would be if my brain could formulate some sarcastic, witty way to exaggerate the truth. Ok...now what. I guess my next reference would be Bug himself.

HOLY MACKEREL, BUG!!! He is sitting amidst a pile of CDs and DVDs. Any that aren't already out of place, are currently being violently flung out of place. The hole punch appears to have vomited on the floor (those little paper dots will be Bug's snack later today, I'm sure). And Bug is trying to eat the Juanes CD insert. My only picture of the Latin American Fabio, almost a casualty to baby slobber. Who next, Bug-a-boo, Josh Groban???

Well, here is an April Fool's day related lament, of sorts.

I remember one April Fool's day, my mom dyed our milk. And I couldn't drink it, because it bothered me to look at. I think one gallon was pink and the other was yellow. My mom liked to dye food. In our church, we have missionaries. Missionaries serve the church for two years. When they first come out, and for the first couple of months, they are called "Greenies". One time when we had a Greenie in our ward, my mom invited the missionaries over for dinner. We had our typical Sunday dinner...spaghetti. But, for the new guy, my mom dyed the spaghetti green. And the sauce. I don't know, but I'm pretty sure if you add green dye to red sauce, it just comes out looking gross. Really gross. Of course, we all ate it. And it tasted ok. But, the mind is a powerful thing. And that spaghetti looked gross. Really gross. Gross enough to send a missionary back home. No joke. In all honesty, we don't know if the "green" spaghetti really sent the guy back home, but he really did go back home shortly after the spaghetti incident.

Poor Mom.

Uhhh...Whoops.

I am very strict about what my kid eats. And everybody knows it. My mom threatened to feed him a pickle once, and I told her that if she did, she wouldn't be allowed to babysit him EVER AGAIN. I get to decide what he eats. And when. Although that is proving to be more and more difficult, as Bug is deciding that he really wants to eat big people food now.

The other day, we were over at my parents' house. Hanging out, eating their food, the usual. After dinner, we had some ice cream. Mint chocolate chip for me, and raspberry chocolate chip for anyone who didn't want mint (who wouldn't want mint?)

Of course, Bug was there next to me. Begging, whining. So, I sucked the ice cream off of a piece of chocolate and gave it to him. (I'm not sure which would be worse for him to have, the ice cream or the chocolate?) He stopped whining as he enjoyed his little treat. Then, he moved along to my dad...because grandpa is always a sucker for begging babies. My dad gave Bug a little spoonful of raspberry ice cream.

"Did you just give him ice cream?!??!" I asked, shocked.
"Yeah, isn't that what you just gave him?" my dad was a little confused.
"NO!" I shrieked, "I gave him a piece of chocolate!"
"Oh."
Sigh. My kid is going to have digestional problems, and allergies, and diabetes, and tooth decay, and obesity, and heart problems, and cancer, and every other health problem I can think of.

When I get my dream house...

Who on earth thought it would be a good idea to have carpet in a dining room. Who? Fess up, so I can spit in your eye!!! Or maybe I will just make you clean the crusty, dried up, kidney beans out of my dining room carpet. And the carrots. And the peas. And the Cheerios. And the Rice Krispies. And the cracker. And the banana. And the chewed up paper. And whatever-the-heck-THAT-is.

I think you would rather me just spit in your eye.

I keep reminding myself that it may not be so bad if I actually buy a high chair. Or a large tarp. A really, large tarp.

And then I hid under a rock.

Last night, my hubby took me (and Bug) out to dinner at the Cracker Barrel. And, let me tell you what, there is nothing better than stick-to-your-ribs, country cookin' breakfast for dinner! I swear, the sawmill gravy and buttermilk biscuits are to die for! And that hash brown casserole. And the country smoked ham. And pretty much EVERYTHING ELSE, except the grits. Yum!

But, I'm not here to blog about the delish grub.

Of course, yesterday was "one of those days". You know, the kind of day where the baby decides that he's too grown up for regular naps, so he only gets one in the early, early afternoon. The kind of day where he is totally unpredictable. And that's probably why I didn't get dinner ready...thus the meal at Cracker Barrel.

We were sitting there at our table, sipping our water, trying to entertain Bug. (I always hold him in my lap until our food comes, because he doesn't like to sit in the high chair very long.) Then, I decided I would nurse Bug before our food came out, just so there would be a greater chance that I could sit him in the high chair and eat my own meal in peace. So, I got out all my nursing gear (Yep, that's right, I just plopped 'em out there! Actually, I mean, I got out my nursing cover and a burp cloth for the inevitable spraying). And I was struggling with that DOGGONE nursing bra when Bug decided he wasn't going to be patient. He started SCREAMING! You probably would have thought he was being tortured, rather than about to be nursed.

Seriously, I think you are underestimating how loudly he was screaming.

And guess what? THE WHOLE FREAKING RESTAURANT TURNED TO LOOK AT ME!!!! And there I was, struggling with my screaming baby, trying to get my stupid bra unclasped, trying to not flash anyone (though my husband swears some guy walking by the window got a peek), trying to get Bug latched on, my face was hot and flushed, my hair was in my face, and every single person was LOOKING at me.

So, what did I do? I started speaking -loudly- about how rude people are, and how I'm just trying to nurse my baby, people don't need to be so freakin' nosey, go ahead and look you rude people...blah, blah, blah. And my husband, trying not to laugh, smiles and says, "I love you, Honey. You're so spirited."

A few of my favorite things...

Bug is so hilarious! He keeps me laughing all the time. Even when he is being a pill, it only takes one little giggle or babble to make me laugh. Just last night, we were laying in bed. I had nursed Bug, and I was sure he was asleep. He had rolled away from me, and I was glad to roll away from him to snuggle with the hubby. Not even a minute later, Bug rolls back over and starts laughing and playing. It was liked he had just tricked me into thinking he was asleep, and now he was having a great laugh about it! Crazy kid.

No matter how much Bug likes to keep me from sleep and my dear, patient husband, he likes nothing better than hair...except maybe paper. When I am nursing Bug, he plays with my hair, and his hair. When I am holding Bug, he grabs my hair to feel it, and to eat it. I swear, my hair is always wet, because he tries to eat it all the time!

Oh, but then there is paper. That delicious treat. He WILL find it, if there is any on the floor. And he will eat it. And he will cry if you take it away from him. One perfectly healthy day, Bug vomited. Upon my further inspection, I found a slimy, little wad of lime green Post-it stuck to the back of Bug's throat. And Bug's tongue was dyed green. Where and how on earth he found that, I may never know. But he sure loves paper.