Me (watching a 45 year old who models bikinis)- wow, she is in good shape for 45!
Cara- How old are you?
me-41
Cara- oh, but you don’t need to wear a bikini.
me (laughing)- no, I don’t need to wear a bikini
Cara- You need to wear aaaaaaa…
me- tankini??
Cara- I don’t call them that, I call them bikini
Today is a special day. Our family, Eric, Lindy, and Jess are in town and will come watch Jake’s last basketball game of the season. Perhaps they’ll make it to his baseball practice, too, but I’m not sure.
When Jake woke up this morning, he immediately ate his breakfast, and asked if he could sneak in a game or two on the Wii. I thought, “why not?”, and there he sits playing Mario Kart. He loves that game. I may have a future NASCAR driver in the family.
While playing, I asked if he is excited about the aforementioned family members coming to watch his game. With the smile we have all come to love, he shyly said “yes”. I asked if he wanted them to come to his baseball practice, too, and the most amazing thing came out his mouth. “I hope so—and if they do, I’ll swing for the fences!”. After a brief second or two to allow my brain to catch up to what he just said, I asked where he heard that before.
“I just thought of it, Daddy” he said as he kept his eyes on his game. Then he said: “You always tell me to do my best and have fun, so I’ll swing for the fences all the time”.
God I love my son. I hope he always swings for the fences in everything he does. With his heart and passion I don’t think anything can stand in his way. At least I hope not.
Six years old, and he amazes me every single day with his words and/or actions. Yes, I am a biased father, and damn proud of it, but there is a part of me that looks at him objectively to see his strengths and opportunities; I mean, we all have them. I struggle with determining strengths and opportunities for him since he is only six. I don’t want to be that parent that pushes too hard, but it is a challenge not to. I see so much potential in my buddy.
Well, time to get ready for basketball and baseball. Here’s to Jake’s last basketball game of the season, him helping his team win (not that they keep score at this age), and watching him “swing for the fences”.
I still cannot believe he said that this morning. Then again he does or says something often that surprises me, and I hope I never get used to it.
I am exhausted! Let me say it again. I am exhausted!
You would think I had a newborn in the house…no I don’t. It’s just my Baby. I’m referring to my toddler who refuses to sleep on her own.
For the past week, she has decided that she does not want to sleep without her mommy. Sometimes, even her daddy. This isn’t the first time this has happened. In fact, about a month ago, we went through this same thing for almost 2 weeks.
Baby is a good sleeper for the most part. We have a routine for naptime and bedtime. After I read her favorite book, I put her down in her crib and tell her I love her and I say goodnight. Then I leave the room. She is awake when I leave the room and she puts herself to sleep.
Often when I tell people about her sleeping habits, they’re amazed that she can sleep on her own. I was always happy and grateful for that.
Now, I am utterly exhausted and frustrated. I am literally at my wit’s end about what to do and how to handle it.
This is her usual routine now. We still do our same naptime and bedtime routine except that when I put her down in her crib she starts crying and stands up. I still tell her I love her and goodnight then I leave the room. She then continues to cry after I leave. The crying escalates to screams. She calls me and her daddy. She asks us to take her down from her crib. This usually goes on for at least 30 minutes. She may quiet down for a little while, maybe 5 minutes. Then it starts again.
In fact right now, she is crying and screaming, “mommy and daddy”! She has been crying for the last 45 minutes or so. Today she fell asleep on the way home from the store. I put her down in the crib while she was partially awake. (She woke up when I took her out of the car seat). After about an hour, she woke up screaming and crying for me.
So, this may not seem strange but her usual naptime lasts 2-3 hours. Not too mention that she only had a 15 minute nap yesterday because of all this crying and screaming. Last night, she had an interrupted sleep due to her crying and screaming episode that happened about 3 hours into her sleep.
I’ve tried so many things but all have seemed to fail. I guess maybe I should keep a sleep log which I haven’t done. I have tried other techniques from Dr. Weissbluth’s book, “Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child”.
So now what should I do?
I think that hardest part will be having patience. With my second child, I seem to be less patient. Maybe it’s because Baby is so different than Princess when it comes to sleep issues. I know people say you shouldn’t compare but it’s so hard since my frame of reference is from my sleep training experience with Princess. Then I again, I have to attribute some of my impatience with my age. I mean now that I’m older (remember closer to 1/2 a century than not) I can’t tolerate lack of sleep as much as I could when I only had 1 child.
So, what’s a middleaged mom to do?
PRAY!
I miss you! You know what would be great? The summer is just around the corner. You should come visit me. We can spend the morning going for walks and the afternoons at the beach building sandcastles! Sounds fun doesn’t it? Call me later.
x0×0x0x
Love, Auntie Katie
When we want burritos, I soak the beans the night before, grate the cheese, and roll my own tortillas. I bake honey-sweetened, vegetable-packed muffins at least twice a week. We weaned our kids off frozen waffles by buying a waffle maker; my husband mixes waffle batter every few days. From scratch. I bake bread twice a week. We work hard to minimize the processed foods our children intake.
So, perhaps you will be surprised to learn that nothing would make my middle child happier than to eat twelve hotdogs a day. He adores pepperoni pizza, but he eats only the pepperoni, leaving the denuded and pockmarked remains of his feast in his wake. When we go out to breakfast, he wants sausage and pancakes. He eats the sausage, ignores the pancakes, and starts looking around the restaurant for bits of sausage left on other people’s plates.
He really likes encased meats.
Benjamin eats other things, too. He likes broccoli and apples and tofu and Peking duck and pretty much any other food with the not-hard-and-fast exception of spaghetti and Brussels sprouts. Other than his hotdog fetish, he’s a pretty healthy little eater.
His food vocabulary is remarkable, and if you list three ingredients, he’ll tell you what to make with them. Food is his thing. He loves food, and it loves him back. He is such a good eater that sometimes, when we lift his solid little body, we groan and joke, “You’re getting so heavy. I think we’re going to have to stop giving you so much food.” The child eats carrots in front of the television and every now and then requests cashews for lunch.
But his first, great love will always be encased meats.
Today, as I lifted my three-and-a-half year old to carry him over the deep slush to the car, he put his arms around my neck and murmured into my ear. “I want to stop eating ‘cased meats.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Because I want you to keep lifting me up.”
….American philosopher Eric Hoffer said, “If a society is to preserve stability and a degree of continuity, it must know how to keep its adolescents from imposing their tastes, attitudes, values and fantasies on everyday life.” Too bad Hoffer never met Jamie Murray Wells.
In 2004 while studying for final exams at University of the West of England, Wells, then age 21, went shopping for a pair of prescription glasses. Nonplussed by the $150 pound ($300) price tag, Wells decided to funnel his $2,000 student loan into what would become Glasses Direct, a London-based online retailer that now generates $5 million in annual revenue.
Wells is part of an elite club of preternatural wealth builders who managed to cobble million-dollar enterprises before they graduated from college. The “million-dollar” measure refers to either total revenue generated or the value of the enterprise built (as opposed to the size of the total profit pile). That’s no mean feat for any entrepreneur, let alone one who can barely buy a drink legally in the States.
The nine entrepreneurs featured in our slideshow — six from the U.S. and three from the U.K. — started launching businesses by the tender age of 15, and one before he broke double-digits – Read full article…
Just a quick video showing youtube how juggalos are bad parents
look at how these poor kids are getting treated by parents with violent lyrics , face paint on innocent helpless children and unhealthy faygo poured down their throats , all because some band told them too.
clearly juggalos keep your musical crap from your children and give them a shot at life instead of taking them down to the gutter with you – just look at Anabelle Lotus.
JH will be running a orphanage for all juggalo children.
Traffic here on the blog was down considerably yesterday, in the 400 page-view range. It always goes down on weekends. But not for everyone. Yesterday, about 1,200 people went to the site It’s Almost Naptime to read a story about goldfish, despite my attempts at hard-hitting journalism here at Thinking Out Loud. Maybe I should write about the fish our son brought home several years ago.
He and his brother were attending an AWANA club, and we were waiting to pick them up when I saw the first kid emerging with a plastic bag oozing water and fish and I thought, “I hope our kid didn’t win one of those.’
He did. So on the way home we made a quick stop at a 24-hour store that sells pet supplies, the upscale La Mart de Wal, and bought a relatively inexpensive aquarium, complete with all the fixings.
“Goldie” — who I assure you was not named after Ms. Hawn, even though I enjoyed the films she did with Chevy Chase — was predicted to last several weeks before the inevitable burial at flush sea. Instead it lasted four years.
That’s four years of food. Four years of whatever electricity the filter used. Four years of arranging for the person who was coming in to feed the cats to also remember to feed the fish. Goldie set some kind of record I’m sure among the common household varieties of its species, especially when you consider it did not get to enjoy the company of a friend (and the fact we bought the extra-small fish residence that night at La Mart de Wal). Whatever God said about it not being good for fish to be alone was apparently somewhat lost on us. At least we can take heart in the fact that we were obviously good overseers in terms of food and water changes, and whatever directive God gave humankind in terms of caring for animals. We passed with flying colors.
So there’s my goldfish story. It worked for Missy and Walker and the kids at It’s Almost Naptime, so I expect the same results here. At least a thousand hits today. Or maybe, at the very least, Missy will share her stat secret!
Related post on this blog — July 28/09 — Naptime and Blog Stats
For my Canadian readers, you’ll notice a new button on the sidebar regarding Larry Norman CDs. We’ve picked up a bunch of these on a last-chance deal and are offering them first to Thinking Out Loud readers in this country at their former Canadian list price with a $5 flat rate shipping deal. Or you can simply click here. Weekend readers:
Today I got to celebrate Miss Paige’s first birthday with her one year portrait session. We had a lot of fun and ended her session with a smash cake. Heidi couldn’t resist getting a piece of cake before it was gone. She casually walked over and started licking frosting off the floor.
www.developedmemories.com
We celebrate all stages of life: graduations & accomplishments, marriage, anniversaries, B’days ending in “0″ . Yet we forget, sometimes, it is hard to GRIEVE our past: all our failures, missed opportunities, youthful appearance, loves gone sour.
A most difficult act of kindness is figuring out what to do when someone is grieving. Do something small for them or their family: shine their shoes, sweep their porch, take their children out to play for a few hours. Mostly, let the mourner lead the way and set their own tone. Those in grief usually have the best instincts regarding what they need. These times bring a roller coaster of emotions.
Remember, it is their loss. Go gently, in quiet kindness: All was well, is well, will be well.
“Salve” yourself when you are giving this gift. Refuse to ignore your present: today~which is wrapped up and all yours.
Then celebrate kindness today with those you love!
Not that I am interested in knowing about Tiger Wood’s love life but I do feel for the guy and he is from my home state of Florida. I hate the fact that it was brought up in the spotlight as it was not news that I wanted to hear about over Thanksgiving holiday last year for that matter. I feel for Elin his wife and my only concern is always the children. I may not have any children of my own at the moment but they come first and parents need to do what is best for them.
I heard his apology today and it appeared to be well written yes but he delivered it in a very sincere manner even though he looked exhausted and like he was going to tear up at any moment. I would like to see him take care of his ailment and just want to wish him, Elin and his family the best and hope he does take care of his personal issues privately. People this is not a public matter for us to judge which we as Americans and the media do so quickly. I would like to see him out on the golf course soon doing what he loves and what he is good at.
None of us are perfect and I respect the fact that here is a man trying to change and be a better man, husband and son. So would you continue to love ‘em or leave ‘em? I am having a hard time answering this question but I am sure tomorrow night this topic will come up with Miss Ocean and Miss “V’ during our girls night. I will have to let you know how that conversation goes here in the south!
My sister, Sarah Taylor, also made some squares. She learned how to crochet and made for squares in the weekend she stayed with me 
There are still a few more posts yet today… sorry for the amount of updates recently!
Jenn x
* Ravelry Group * Facebook Group * Twitter * Donate to EveryChild *
♥ Look what arrived on Valentine’s Day ♥
A precious little bundle of sweetness to our daughter and son-in-law!
What a blessing to us all!♥
(CUSTOM) SHAMROCK Baby Bloomers (Diaper Covers) Our crisp white bloomers are perfect to go under all of her pretty dresses, tutus, or as a solo speciman with a simple top and a matching hair bow!
Shamrock Personalized Baby Bloomers Diaper Covers
They can be used as diaper covers or as pretty, personalized panties! SHOWN Embroidered in BALLET PINK for the name over our St. Patrick’s Day shamrock embroidery design with BALLET PINK satin ribbons. YOU choose the color ribbons and we’ll use the same thread color for her name. If no thread color is selected for her name, then we’ll choose a complementary green color.
So, yesterday I woke up to my children fighting…at 5:30am. Happy Valentine’s Day. How come they just know the day all you want is to sleep in past six, yet they are determined to never let that happen? So, I mustered up my patience and strength and walked downstairs to get the only thing that could brighten my morning- coffee. Oh, please let it be delicious – and strong enough to get me through the morning. Why did I stay up last night? Was that movie worth being this tired today? Ugh…
Lets move on to dinner. My romantic dinner involved inviting the parents over, so the six of us (myself, hubby, 2 children, and grandparents) could enjoy a nice dinner together. So, my husband pounded out some chicken, I made a tomato sauce and a “healthy” (I use this term lightly) alfredo sauce. Oh- and the best part- green beans with oranges and an orange vinaigrette dressing. Delicious. The green beans were possibly the best beans I have ever had.
Now, of course, the grandparents brought chocolate for the boys, so they were flying high after dessert, and I was hit with a “Flicker the flashlight” in my chest, but overall, good food, good family, good night.
A good friend of mine usually joins me for a weekend round. For the first time this weekend he brought his 4th grader along.
I hope you had a chance to get some snow frolf in this weekend. For what it’s worth, I covered the spread, had a good lunch, and took this picture :
That’s our 4th grade friend on the 18th hole in the late afternoon.
The best part? It was a good and sunny 50 degrees at the time. We’re back baby! See you out there this week.
Oooh, that brownie mix looks good! I say to a bedraggled customer wrestling one of those carts with the red plastic car on the front which is supposed to entertain toddlers.
mmmm. yes. ha ha. Henry? Are we making brownies later on? ~ {Ms. Bedraggled speaks high pitched baby talk to the red faced furious toddler strapped into the red plastic car} ~ Yes? Oh yes, we are! We are making brownies! Yumm! This girl likes brownies too! {pointing at me with exaggerated gestures}
Haha, yes, haha, Heya Henry! I lean over and wave at Henry,a red faced male toddler with incredible blond curls. Can I come over and make brownies at your house? – Now I turn to Ms. Bedraggled and talk in a normal voice – You know, this morning I was looking up a recipe for “Magic Brownies” and boy oh boy did I find “recipes” for “MAGIC” brownies! Hahaha! I am trying to engage Ms. Bedraggled, to see if I can get the slight edge of hysteria in her voice to soften a little. I hand Henry a Chiquita Banana sticker.
OH MY! Haaahaahaha! Not for Henry! *giggle* {Her tone comes down a notch from hysteria to plain stress}
Oh, no! I meant, well, I was looking for those brownies with the coconut and the different chips and nuts? You know, like, um - I am cut off midsentence fortunately because I have instantly gone from ‘friendly’ to ‘horribly embarrassed and stuttering’.
Oh! Yes! YUMMM! Yes! What are those called? I used to work for a restaurant and we made them all the time!? Um… oh, my, well… {now it is Ms Bedraggled who is stuttering and needs to be rescued from brain-fart-itis}
Yes, those! But boy was I startled by what I found online… I don’t even know where to get the, um, “ingredients”, for the kind of “magic brownies” that popped up on G**gle, you know?! Definitely not for Henry! They are like brownie bars right?
That’s It! Magic Bars! God, now I have to go back into the throngs and get more ingredients, I think I have to make those tonight! {She is so emphatic – I wish, not for the first time, that I worked on commision because I totally just sold more groceries to this customer}
Well, I know that baking supplies are on aisle 5, but as for the “magic” ingredients I think you’ll have to shop somewhere else! I wink and nod and smile and Ms Bedraggled is transformed into young hip momma who is going to bake some magic tonight, with or without Henry, and she pays for her groceries with a smile and a flip little wave of her manicured hand while Henry chews on a Chiquita Banana sticker.
Hello! I say to the next customer in line, How are you doin’ today?
Plastic he says gruffly, and turns to stare off at the exit doors.
I sigh and begin the process of scanning his order while I think about what kind of magic Henry’s momma will make tonight.
During the late afternoon yesterday, it started snowing! The excitement in Charleston was palpable. Schools let out early and everyone was talking about the weather.
I had to go pick up my laptop from Jason Charles, the Daniel Island Computer Doctor, and had so much fun bundling up and walking through the snowflakes. I thought that I’d pick up some carryouts from Wasabi (my favorite sushi place) and hit Daniel Island Wine and Spirits to see if the helpful folks there could help me decipher what was in an “Orange Blossom” ~ a tasty drink that I tried last month.
What was fun and charming earlier quickly became a frustration as dozens of residents descended on the Publix parking lot. It was getting dark and many were not used to driving in snow (which had now turned to freezing rain). I’ve never understood why grocery stores run out of bread when it snows. There are many things that I’m sure that I would need if we were stuck in the house for a day or two. Milk, water, batteries — those are the items that come to mind for me!
The snow accumulated through the night. Colin and Davis spent the night with Grammie and Poppy (still on DI) so we didn’t get to play in the snow with them 
. They had a great time and were still out playing at 10:00 at night! They usually go to sleep by 8 so I hope they slept in a little bit for the grandparents.
Chad and I showed Miles the snow and we watched in awe as our neighborhood turned into a wonderland. Grammie sent us photos of the boys making a snowman. It was as tall as Colin and even had a carrot nose! They built it outside the condo on Island Park Drive and several people stopped and took photos of it. The boys were so proud!
Once we put Miles to bed, Chad and I sat by the fire and played Scrabble. We would go outside every few minutes and watch the snow. It was a cozy feeling to be inside where it was warm.
It’s now Saturday morning and the snow is already melting. It was fun to see our world transformed by a blanket of snow but we’re thankful that we will probably be back in short sleeves by next weekend.
I am constantly amazed at how fast children grow… Adam was born at the end of November and he is so BIG already… and CUTE!!!
Aren’t his lips just beautiful?
He’s definitely got his daddy’s smile!
Seriously need to go to sleep….. but I might miss something…
We tried to get some cute sleeping shots but no luck…………
Back in Compton, California in 1977, a house with a woman and four children inside caught fire and burned to the ground in the middle of the night. When the flames were doused, firefighters found the body of Earlene Williams, 32, inside by the front door. A later autopsy would show she’d been strangled. The four children were missing and there was no trace of them in the ashes. They were Earlene’s three daughters, Ivy Matory, Violet Matory and Yolanda Williams, as well as Sir-Kristopher Marshall, a neighbor boy who was spending the night. Authorities later determined the fire was arson and had been set in the room where the children slept.
They didn’t have to think very hard to find a suspect: Earlene’s husband, James Williams. Twenty years older than his estranged wife, he was already facing serious charges. Back in 1976, James allegedly sexually assaulted his then eleven-year-old stepdaughter Ivy and was charged with child molestation and rape. Earlene, quite sensibly, separated from him when she found out. But that wasn’t enough to keep James out.
When the police picked up James the day after the fire, he had a bad cut on his hand. Probably it was him that made the trail of blood that lead from the Williams/Matory house to a nearby alley. But he said he cut his hand trying to fix his car. He had been on his way to Bakersfield that night, he said, but his car broke down and he wound up sleeping in it. He knew nothing about the fire, Earlene’s death or the whereabouts of the four children. The cops had nothing they could pin on James, so they released him. He was promptly rearrested after Earlene’s autopsy results came back proving she was a homicide victim. A month later, he was facing five murder charges: Earlene, and each of the four children, one of them his own natural daughter.
This I found out through articles on Newslibrary today. The fire, the missing children and James’s arrest received pretty scant press coverage. There were articles in several local papers, but they were not very detailed and all were on the inside pages. An arson, murder, and four missing (and probably murdered) children apparently wasn’t good enough to make front-page news back in 1977, perhaps because the people involved were black and poor. I know that James was convicted of Earlene’s murder eventually and is now dead. I don’t know how the homicide prosecutions for the children turned out, though.
I do know that they remain missing to this day — over thirty years now.
We hear a lot about premature births, but no-one seems to talk much about very long pregnancies.
Doctors always calculate birth dates after a 280 day pregnancy but, as every woman knows, we don’t all have a 28 day cycle. That said, there have been some really long recorded pregnancies.
Aulus Gellius reports that, after a long conversation with doctors and wise men, Emperor Adrian decided that the child of an irreproachably chaste woman, born eleven months after her husband’s death, was legitimate.
The Supreme Court of Frise (Northern province of the Netherlands) decided in October 1634 that a child born 333 days after the death of the husband was legitimate.
The Paris Parliament declared that the child of a widow, born after a fourteen month pregnancy, was legitimate.
Bartholinus mentions an unmarried woman from Leipzig who gave birth after a sixteen month pregnancy.
French and Scottish Law stipulate that the longest possible time for a pregnancy to last, and the baby to remain legitimate, is three hundred days. Prussian legislation made it three hundred and one days.
Historical writers have often mentioned very long pregnancies of twelve months, fourteen months, fifteen months. There have been pregnancies of forty-two to forty-five weeks, three years, twenty-three months, two years and even one of four years.
There is the story of a twenty-five year old woman who became pregnant the 10 February 1876, and felt her baby move the 17 June. The 28 July, she almost had a miscarriage, and was advised to wean the baby she was breast-feeding.
She was expected to give birth mid-November 1876 but it didn’t happen until 26 April 1877, nine months after the first movements of the foetus and four hundred and forty days after conception. The baby was wide-awake and weighed nine pounds.
Another case, from Clifton (West Virginia), is about a young woman who had expected to give birth on 1 June, but kept the baby until 15 September. The foetus had remained in the uterus more than twelve months, nine of them after its first movements had been felt.
There are lots of these cases. I shall end with the story of a thirty-five year old woman, expected to give birth on 24 April 1883 and who, in May, felt contractions which stopped. During the next six months, she stayed about the same size, and it was believed several times that her first contractions had begun.
In September, the cervix dilated to allow the introduction of an index and middle finger which directly touched the head. This state continued for a month, then the dilation disappeared.
During the last nine months of the pregnancy, the baby’s movements were sometimes unbearable for the mother. At last, the morning of 6 November, after a pregnancy of 476 days, she gave birth to a little boy weighing thirteen pounds. Both the mother and the baby were well, in spite of the use of chloroform and forceps.
So, why don’t we hear more about very long pregnancies? Is it because our modern doctors would never allow us to go the natural distance? Or is it because we demand immediate delivery when we arrive around the 280 day mark?
Strange, very strange.
I got a sneak peek of the NEW Nutrilite Kids coloring book this morning, and it is super cute! It teaches kids about the importance of fruits, vegetables, and color – while still being fun!
The coloring book will be coming out on February 1, 2010 as part of limited-time, special promotion.
Nutrilite Kids Bundle Promotion
Starting on February 1, you get a free Nutrilite Kids Coloring book when you order a Nutrilite Kids Bundle. So, what in the world is a Kids Bundle? It includes three Nutrilite supplements for kids:
This “Kids Bundle Promotion” is only valid February 1 through June 30, 2010.
Starting on February 1, you can order this promotion using one of the two SKUs below, depending on what flavor of Nutrilite Kids Brainiums you’d like:
Life as an only child meant that I was the sole object of my parents’ affection and the recipient of their undivided attention. I didn’t have siblings to play with — or fight with — but I had plenty of toys and animals (real as well as stuffed) to occupy my time. I didn’t wear hand-me-down clothes, I didn’t have to wait for my turn in the bathroom, and I didn’t have to share the car.
…And then I got married and had two children.
Like it or not, feminists, my husband is head of the household in the sense that he works full-time and pays for the house, cars, utilities, and taxes. I consider myself a work-at-home mother, so my hours and pay are significantly lower. Therefore, I pay for groceries and anything the girls need. In short, he’s shelter, and I’m food and clothing. While we share financial responsibilities, he’s has tenure when it comes to household management…but I still have a voice in the matter.
Then, there are our two daughters, Ava and Maryn, aged 6 and 4 respectively. They come packaged as a unit given that they act like twins in so many ways. They share a room (and often a twin bed), play with each other’s dolls, use one another’s crayons, and drink out of the same cup when I’m not looking.
And then, there’s me. Mama’s in the middle.
I am happily married with two children whom I love, and three pets that I adore. Yet sometimes, I have to fight to be heard. I feel exactly like Noisy Nora, a product of writer Rosemary Wells, of the “Max and Ruby” cartoons on Nick Jr.
Noisy Nora is the middle mouse-child sandwiched between a brooding older sister and a squalling baby brother. If Nora wants to be heard, then she has to make considerable noise. Her ongoing fussiness becomes so routine after a while that even her noisy behaviors fall on deaf ears. It’s only when the noise stops that her family begins to listen.
A few nights ago, I was fretting over decisions that needed to be made and messes that needed to be cleaned up. I wanted someone — anyone — in the house to feel as burdened by these things as I did, yet no one seemed to care. Bags of trash needed to be taken out, loads of laundry needed sorted, the dog needed walked, the cat needed fed, homework needed checked, and baby teeth needed brushed. I became angry that no one felt as concerned about these tasks, and so I felt it was high time that I made some noise.
Noisy Nora broke a vase, and I shattered a glass in the sink. Noisy Nora flung paint all over the house, and I splattered fried chicken grease all over the cabinets. Noisy Nora slammed windows and doors, and I mashed potatoes until they resembled baby food. When Noisy Nora reached the end of her rope, she yelled at the top of her lungs, “I’M LEAVING!”. And she left.
But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to leave the house; I just wanted a break within it. I wanted to be a part of my family, not “apart” from them. More importantly, I didn’t want to feel guilty about it. Like Noisy Nora, I was throwing a tantrum; like the middle child, I wanted to be noticed.
Spoiled? Only the milk in the refrigerator. I wanted to be spoiled, not act spoiled. I wanted my husband, who had his priorities in order (the trash and the dishes and the dog and the cat can wait) to notice that I was upset. I wanted my children to stop finding reasons for me to get up the second a tried to sit down.
As Noisy Nora and I found out, sometimes disturbing the peace is the best way to achieve it.
Random Junk is exactly that. Honestly, how much explanation do you need?
I have three children. My eldest is my daughter, Deva Alyssa. She is almost eight now, and lives (primarily) with my mom in Alabama. She’s a great kid; I talk to her as often as I can, and when I do it reminds me of when my grandfather used to tell me to slow down while speaking. When she was born, I walked around my ex’s apartment singing “What I Got” by Sublime to her.
My second child is Jason Cameron. He is four (and a half), and I wrote about him in some detail a couple of days ago. Though Deva is my first child, I wasn’t able to be there for when she was a child; Jason is who I really cut my parenting teeth on. Jason’s song was Paint it Black. My third child is Thomas Cade, and he is almost three (in April, his birthday is just a few days away from Deva’s).
Thomas is the baby, and he acts like it. He’s also insufferably sweet and irritatingly cute – he has to be, for all the shit he puts us through. Thomas’ song – Wish You Were Here. And with these three perfect children, for some reason we decided that wasn’t enough. We have a fourth coming, due in March-April (so apparently, I am a big fan of July and August).
After this, I am getting my nuts cut off.
No, not a vasectomy; not fucking good enough. I am going to find some angry feminatzi, yell about how she should be in the kitchen wearing a dress, hand her a meat-cleaver, and spread my legs open. It’s the only way to be sure.
I’ve taken this all in stride. The pregnancy has been moving along fairly steady, and though my wife complains a lot, this one has been easier on her than the other two… and thus easier on me. It is now the beginning of February, just a month or two away from the new child and I have been realizing something.
Holy blistering fuck, there is a new child coming.
Freak out with me after the jump.
Baby in da Hood
It’s kind of funny how it is just now hitting me we are going to have another child. I’ve been through this a lot in the last couple of years, but this one is different. When my ex broke up with me an hour after telling me she was pregnant, she then moved to the other side of the country. Now, I know I am an asshole, but something told me this might be more than just the personal power of my assiness. Sure enough, a week later she was with another guy – but I don’t want to go into that old horse again. It’s been beaten to death, many, many times already.
With Jason, we had the move to distract us; leaving New Mexico for Newfoundland changed everything – with the exception of the first three letters of where we lived. Also during that pregnancy, Hurricane Katrina was ripping the Gulf Coast a new asshole. Seeing where you grew up obliterated can take your attention off certain things. I remember watching the news with Maggie and saying “Hey, that place has great gumbo… yeah, right there… you can almost see the roof. There’s a car crashed in the side of it.”
With Thomas, I had a life-threatening condition pop up, so a fair amount of emphasis was on me. Even when that was dealt with, there were a lot of things that had to be taken care of… Jason was starting a daycare program and his autism was just in the diagnosis bits. We had a lot of things on our plate. Thomas came into our life suddenly and just sort of melded right in. He wasn’t overlooked by any means; he just didn’t cause much of a fuss. He has, however, made up for it since then.
This is different though – first off, there is a 90% chance this is a girl. Something worth noting: fathers flip out when they find out they are having a girl. I’ve been there, done that – and it doesn’t fucking matter. I am having a girl, and it is my duty to protect her. Like Chris Rock said, if you have a daughter, you have one purpose in life… too keep your baby off the pole. If you raise a stripper, you failed. I now find myself contemplating new types of purchases again; a shotgun, shells, and maybe some very large dogs and a chain-link fence. That would be great… people passing down the hall would be like “Yeah, that’s Old Man Carroll’s apartment. Stay away – his daughter is cute but that fucker is crazy. He surrounded his door with razor-wire. Look at the size of his mother-fucking beard.”
So yeah, I am freaking out a little, and with good reason. Girls are evil. I know – my wife says so. Unlike the boys, I have to take extra precautions to make sure that everybody knows what will happen to them if they fuck with her. I don’t know if Newfoundland is ready for a crazy fat American. They aren’t prepared for the power of over-protective redneck, but by Pesci, they are going to see it.
INCOMING!
Preparations for a new baby are always fun, and we’re running the entire gauntlet again. The first and foremost thing is all the appointments. Keep in mind we have two kids already – our weeks are already filled up with all sorts of things that mean I can’t stay up at night and watch cheap porn (thank you Internet. Porn when it is convenient for me… now that is change I can believe in). There are all sorts of different things popping up for Maggie; ultrasounds, prescription runs, hospital visits, doctor’s office visits – I am fairly sure she flew to Rome and visited with the Pope at some point. This shit fills up a day pretty quick.
On top of that, you need specialized tools to have a child. You have the standard stuff; your crib, bassinet, diaper pail, diaper holder, child carrier, rocking chair, and that sort of thing. Then you have the weird shit. Guys, if you are a new father, I am going to warn you right now – avoid giggling the first time you hear the words “breast pump”. Absolutely keep your idiot mouth shut – and don’t keep giggling every time you hear it from then on out. Trust me on this; I absolutely learned the hard way.
You also need to get ready for the looming trip to the hospital. I have some advice on this, also. First off, one of two things is going to happen: either you’re going to have to go in to be induced, or your wife is going to ruin a chair. Second, while you are waiting to go into the birthing room, don’t get too distracted by things that aren’t your wife. When Jason was born, I got involved watching Spider-man on the television… and I may have said “But… there’s only a ten minutes left!” when it was time to go. Do not do this. Lastly, and probably most importantly, you’re wife is going to be pushing something very large out of something very small. No matter what comes out of her, if it isn’t a baby, she doesn’t need to hear about it – ever. Wipe the smirk or disgust off your face, forget you ever saw it, and shut the fuck up about it. No matter how many clever comments you can make, she doesn’t want to hear it. Do yourself a favor; forget about them.
Babyproofing Reality
You did it. You are now the proud owner of one new baby. Congratulations! But there are some things you should keep in mind to keep your baby running at peak performance. With proper maintenance and care, you can get several years of enjoyment out of your offspring.
One of the things we’ve been grappling with is teaching Jason and Thomas that they have a sister coming; Deva understands, she’s old enough to get what’s going on. Thomas doesn’t really care. He just isn’t old enough to comprehen everything in this house is about to get noisier, and that he won’t be the baby anymore. Jason is the real hard one… aside from just the strangeness of a new sibling; he also gets very upset with change (autism rears its ugly head). Along with his therapist, we’ve been doing everything we can to prepare him for this. I don’t know if he gets that the baby is coming out of Mommy’s belly though – he hugs it, instead of her now, and sure to tell her he is hugging the baby.
I’ve also been psyching myself up for this, but I think I am getting to old to be a father. By the time Amber (That’s her name, by the way. Amber Cynthia Darlene Carroll – that’s right motherfuckers, my daughter’s initials are ACDC) graduates and moves on to start her life, I will be in my early fifties. I am really worried about how I will be able to connect with her as a teenager. Luckily, I have the power of beard, as Chuck Wendig wrote about recently. What Chuck doesn’t know yet is that the beard also has another power; it allows you to not be an asshole to your children. Sure, some people might claim that comes from not being an asshole in the first place, but we all know that isn’t the case with me. I am going to rely on the power of the facefur to be more understanding and not jump off the deep end – until her boyfriends show up. Then the beard and I are going to apply foot to ass.
More than anything else, right now is a time to support my wife. It doesn’t matter what I am going through, or the excitement I feel – she needs me right now. While I may be anxious and a little scared, she has to go through this process. Her body has changed, she is going to be in agony, and she is going to be depressed afterwards. This isn’t just having a child for her; this is a change to her entire reality. Guys, do yourselves a favor when you go through this: tell her you love her, tell her she’s beautiful, and take care of everything for a few weeks afterwards. Let her rest.
She deserves it.
Tomorrow on an Idiot’s Guide: Metal Never Dies: Ozzy Osbourne. Return next week for the final Random Junk issue as a column: A Gamer Parent.
Clever Kiwis
The New Zealander of the Year was won this week by Ray Avery.
Some of you may have heard of him? I met him briefly last September as his daughter Amelia is one of Pepi’s little friends. I had no idea until this week that he was a scientist, inventor and social entrepreneur – I just knew him as Amelia’s Dad, who was co-hosting her first birthday party at the home he shares in Mt Eden with his lovely wife, my friend Anna.
It is fascinating and humbling to hear his story and how his work will save the life of millions of people.
It has also made me reflect on the friendships you make as a new parent. You meet people at ante-natal and post-natal groups who on the surface are just like any other new Mum or Dad; slightly frazzled looking, a hint of cereal on their sleeve and carrying an assortment of bags; for nappies, toys, food etc, yet their lives Beyond Children can remain a mystery. Often, it’s enough to know the name, sex, age and latest milestone of the child and conversations can be held for hours.
The relationship between new parents is unique. You share your deepest emotions; fear, insecurity, euphoric joy and pride with people who a year ago were complete strangers. And yet, whilst you share this “parent life” with these friends, often their careers, achievements and pre-baby lives can remain unknown.
Due to our circumstances (arriving in New Zealand, unexpectedly 2 months pregnant), most of our friends here are people we met through Pepi and although our social circle is wider here than it was in the UK, I would say that we only have a handful of real friends who we know well, who understand and accept our foibles and feel comfortable exposing theirs.
I know that our friends here are lawyers, accountants, teachers, self-made business men and women and shop workers. I know that most have travelled widely and many have lived overseas. I also know when most are planning to have their second child (in some cases, this has been planned and has already resulted in baby # 2). But with such a young friendship, I realise there is still so much we don’t know about each other.
In the meantime, I am immensely proud to know Anna and her family and will congratulate her in person in the sandpit at playgroup this week.
Can you believe I’m already talking about Easter? Crazy huh?
Well, I figure it’s better to be prepared, so without further ado – McDonald Photography presents their 2010 Easter Mini Sessions!
This year I’m really excited because Linda with Zodiac Ranch is allowing us to borrow a few of her bunnies! There may even be BABY bunnies in time for the sessions! What’s cuter than that?
Sessions will be taken every hour from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. on a first-come, first-serve basis, March 19 and 20. RESERVE YOUR SPOT BEFORE MARCH 1 AND RECEIVE ONE FREE 5X7 PRINT!
Packages are as follows:
Package 1
$34.99 includes your choice of:
2 5×7s & 4 wallets
OR
1 8×10 and 4 wallets
Package 2
$44.99- Your choice of:
2 5×7s & 2 4×6s
OR
1 8×10 & 2 4×6s
Package 3
$54.99 includes your choice of:
1 8×10, 2 5×7s & 8 wallets
OR
1 8×10, 2 5×7s and 4 4×6s
*Additional prints may be ordered at regular prices
*Shipping is available for $7.99
Contact me today for more information or to reserve your spot! 248-760-7959 or jennifer@photosbymcdonald.com
Hawaii’s children are among the nation’s healthiest, according to the most recent data published by the National Survey of Children’s Health (NSCH). Areas where Hawaii’s children exceed the national level include having been breastfed, oral health, vigorous daily activity and positive social skills. More of Hawaii’s children are insured (96.2%), compared to Mainland children (90.9%), which may explain why they receive more preventative care.
Children in Hawaii fall slightly below national levels for days of school missed (5.7 in the las year, compared to 5.8 for Mainland children) and watch slightly more TV (55.9% watch TV one or more hours a day, versus 54.4%).
Still, children are highly valued in Hawaii’s culture, and it shows in these latest health data.
The Good Wife's Guide
The Good Wife’s Guide above has been around for a while. Some claim it came from The Housekeeping Monthly in the 1950’s – others insist it was from an earlier generation. Still others say it’s somebody’s idea of a joke. Regardless, it is worthy of a response. Here is my official response to The Good Wife’s Guide that my husband handed me, right before he ducked. I’ve listed each tip and my response is in blue and italics below it.
1. Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready on time for his return.
Okay, before we go any further, just when would that be?
Most men are hungry when they get home, and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favorite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.
First, I thought I was his favorite dish. Secondly, lobster is his favorite meal, but in today’s tough economy, I’ve been working very hard (he’s not the only one who works, you know) to make our food dollars stretch a little further, but the two lobster tails won’t mate. Serenading lobster is a time-consuming task. Ift might not leave me with any time to make dinner.
2. Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you’ll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your makeup, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.
If you read further into this Good Wife’s Guide, you’ll know why it isn’t possible to accomplish this husband-pleasing task. But, I’ll give you a few reasons. While I was resting for 15 minutes, the kids painted the bathroom walls with my lipstick and strangled the cat with my pretty hair ribbon. Besides that, saying husbands are work weary and then suggesting that they have the energy to stay out all night (#10) is contradictory. A more realistic look at this task is in order.
3. Be a little gay and a little more interesting to him. His boring day may need a lift, and it’s your duty to provide it.
Well, might I suggest that if he wanted me to be gay, that should have been discussed long before I became a good wife, although I’ll admit it would probably make things interesting. I may have to sacrifice the lobster farm, though, to have time to lead become a “little” gay and lead such an interesting life.
4. Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house. Gather up schoolbooks, toys, paper, etc., and then rust a dust cloth over the tables just before your husband arrives.
Okay, we’re back to #1 again. Just when will that be? And if I did all of that, I wouldn’t be rested, fresh, and look all dolled up anymore per instruction #2. When you decide what you really want, get back to me.
5. Over the cooler months of the year, you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel like he’s reached a haven of rest and order and it will give you a lift, too. After all, catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.
So does raising kids, but that doesn’t mean I had to enjoy childbirth. Besides that, shouldn’t I be getting most of my immense personal satisfaction from him and the gay, interesting life I lead on the side? Oh, and hand me the short end of the stick I keep getting. I need more kindling.
6. Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the children’s faces and hands, comb their hair, and if necessary, change their clothes.
All right. Stop right here. The children have been changing their clothes ten times a friggin day since they were two. Isn’t eleven times unreasonable?
Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noises of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet.
For starters, there aren’t enough hours in the day to wash and dry the 10 lads of clothes that the kids go through and you’ve just added one more load. I’ll also have to assume that the dead cat’s fur can just stay on the floor, but doesn’t that violate #4? But I think I can keep the children quiet. I’ll go get the duct tape.
7. Be happy to see him. Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.
I “sincerely” tried this once. Wearing nothing but a smile, I wrapped myself in Saran Wrap and waited to greet him at the door. But by the time he got home, my smile and most of my body had melted away. And somehow, the Saran Wrap got stuck to the duct tape on the two-year-old’s mouth, and her lips are now stuck to my thigh. I’m beginning to believe that you’re setting me up to fail here.
8. Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first – remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.
Okay, but I’m sure he’s going to notice the totaled car in the driveway, and I hope the boa constrictor that got out of its cage doesn’t slither up his leg before he’s done saying the all-important things he has to say. I’ll wait to tell him, too, that the Department of Homeland Security has disclosed that duct tape will be the weapon of choice in the future, and that we are now under suspicion because of the large quantities I’ve been buying to keep the kids quiet. Therefore, I must curtail my duct tape purchases for the unforseeale future. He may suspect something’s wrong without me saying anything, though, because the kids are pretty noisy without it.
9. Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late, stays out all night, goes out to dinner or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax.
I must really point out that the contradictions simply have to stop. If he has such a very real need to be at home, then he could and should come home. That aside, how can I have his lobster ready, be fresh, and keep the house and the kids clean if he comes home late? Why should I even have to make his favorite dish if he’s going out to dinner? We could’ve spared one of those poor little lobsters. No comment, however, is necessary on the “other places of entertainment.” I’ve become a little gay to make his life more interesting. That’s all the entertainment his strained and pressured day can handle.
10. Try to make your home a place of peace, order, and tranquility where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit.
Finally, here’s one that is doable. But it will probably require tying up the children, in addition to purchasing another roll of duct tape. I’ll have to take lasso throwing lessons to catch them, though, so I may have to abandon my gay, interesting life and my 15 minutes of so-called rest. He better enjoy the peace and tranquility while his kids are bound and gagged, because I have a pretty strong hunch that it borders on child abuse. If that happens, I’ll probably be in jail when he’s looking for his favorite dish tomorrow night. Be careful what you wish for. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
11. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.
Yes, I have heard that many people on the brink of insanity often have a strange sense of calm about them before they lose it.
12. Don’t ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such, will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.
Since it now appears that you are talking about the Almighty here, I must interject with an English lesson. Anytime you’re referring to God, any reference to Him should be capitalized. Him, His, and He all fall within the rule. Oh and before I forget, why does this guide include a reference to God? I thought it was about husbands and wives…
13. A good wife always knows her place.
Yes, of course she does. She also knows her husband’s place, and she takes a break from her gay, interesting life to visit him at the cemetary every Sunday.
The other day my daughter asked me to clip her fingernails. I told her no initially but ended up doing it anyway. I thought about it. Did my mom clip my fingernails when I was 10? NO! Then I started thinking about all the things that I was doing on my own when I was 10 and I realized that I’m doing WAY too much for her. Don’t get me wrong. She does a lot for herself, but it’s mainly for things that matter to her, like packing her swim bag or reminding me to sign her up for swim meets and her running program. But when it comes to basic stuff – clipping her nails, putting on her lotion, packing her lunch – those all fall to me or Mark. I tried to think about why we were in this pattern. Why was I doing so much when she could do things herself? Mark’s answer was tough but true. He said, ‘It’s faster for you to do it and you don’t want to take the extra time to let her do it herself.’ OUCH! Boy, I don’t like his answers sometimes, but he admits he’s just as guilty as I am.
So I’ve decided to make a few changes. No more clipping fingernails or toe nails. No more putting on lotion (except the occasional hard to reach back spaces). And when we finally move, I’ll be introducing her to Mr. and Mrs. Washer and Dryer. And yes, she will be cleaning her own bathroom. I’ve probably waited too long, but there will be some changes around this place! Right after I go give my sleeping angels a kiss to help quell the mommy guilt that is sure to come.
This is the day mothers all over Rwanda have been waiting for with eager anticipation since the beginning of October. The new school term starts today. Classes broke up an eternity ago and after the long Christmas break pencils are sharpened and satchels packed. The signs were there yesterday. It was a public holiday and all Kigali was quiet, but still youngsters could be seen in the city centre, sullenly three paces behind a parent and pulling a suitcase on wheels. There is a privileged segment of the capital’s population which sends its children to boarding school.
Now normality has returned, if there is such a thing in Rwanda. Like a changing kaleidoscope, everything slips into a new pattern. Suddenly the morning streets are full of children in uniform. Yellows, blues and greens fill the pavements and there is a buzz that has been noticeably absent for the past few months.
Yet there is part of life here that continues as ever. This morning, on the way up the dirt track that connects us to the road, I was chased by a group of children. They were fast, but the Land Rover was faster and besides, it was uphill. We have become used to spotting where children come from by their appearance. Children the world over attract dirt but grime that has become ingrained takes on a shade of permanence that is telling. These boys probably belonged in the local village rather than the street but it was obvious that they wouldn’t be going to school today, and likely not tomorrow either. Instead of a smart uniform, their rags told of a less privileged existence. Aged between perhaps six and ten, maybe they had been to school once but it is very possible that they have never yet seen a blackboard, let alone homework.
Education is at the centre of all that is needed for Rwanda’s future. There is a rich economy which is growing but it is only the educated that are able to participate. Education is all. Mothers were sending their children to Bronwen’s Bible class with school jotters, expecting them to be given English lessons. We know a nursery school where children as young as two are given homework because the parents expect it! Becoming part of the new Rwanda is a dream for many, but it is a dream that won’t be realised without an education. That of course needs money which is just what most people here don’t have. Amafaranga pfite – there is no money!
Check it out, kids.
Get ready for some thrills and chills this winter… it’s time to bring on the hills with quirky’s new Snow Shredder. The Snow Shredder is the ultimate in winter sleds, comfortably fitting two kids, aged six and up, in its roomy seating area.
Here’s what makes this sled so cool:
- A headlight in the front of the sled, with an easy on-off button, allows for fun night sledding
- A retractable handle makes it easy to carry the sled uphill for your next ride
- A steering wheel up front lets YOU take control of your ride, while three adjustable steering wheel heights allow you to cruise in comfort
- Extra handles are located in the back of the sled for the backseat sledder to hold onto (it can get scary back there!)
This sled is made of polypropylene. Its over-all dimensions are 60in x 21in x 12in, and the seating area is 39in x 17in x 6in.
You can buy this limited edition sled at Quirky.com, the cool site where you can submit ideas for products, influence products being developed and earn money doing it and shop for new and innovative products developed by users like you, at quirky.com.
Learn all about Quirky.com in 30 seconds.
Best of all, Micah designed it!
