Piling it on

In addition to buying a house and dealing with Joe's cancer, we've got a guy working in our basement bathroom right now, investigating a wet patch on the wall. He'll have to open up the plaster wall to get to the 1940's plumbing, find out where the leak is and replace the old toilet and the sink pipes at the same time, and possibly remove the garbage disposal in the kitchen sink.

Last night the mortgage lady came over to talk to us. She kept saying to me "you look worried". I didn't tell her I was just straining to keep my eyelids up as she gave detailed explanations of APRs, coupons, points, derivatives and the Greek stock market. Very knowledgeable person, and I'm glad to have her working for us, but there's only so much new information I can absorb late at night.

So during my second trimester energy burst (now fully depleted) I finally got around to covering the dining room chairs. They were lovely when we got them last summer but were not intended for everyday use, let alone everyday use by a toddler. So the fabric was stained and worn out and some of the stuffing escaping.







I got some heavy duty vinyl (half price at the Memorial Day sale!) and went to work with the staple gun. The vinyl is highly water/juice/greasy noodle resistant and most of all wipe-able.



A few more pictures from Mexico

Buy local

"Quality Northwest Brand Since 1944"







Distributed from Illinois? Product of India?? I love a good Indian pickle as much as the next person, but in what possible way is that Northwest?

Goodnight moo

A couple weeks ago Hugo and I were at the park late one afternoon. He loves to go on the swings, and it's hilarious to watch him because his whole body laughs. Legs kick, head goes back, whole body convulses with shrieks of delight - especially when I do an underdog. But then sometimes he gets bored with my routine and starts paying attention to whoever else is swinging and whatever fun things their parent is doing. Suddenly I become chopped liver. After the other kid stops swinging, Hugo suddenly wants to get down, but only to go over to the other swing because it must be way more fun than his swing.

Anyway... the other day he was looking thoughtful (bored) in the swing and suddenly started pointing at something in the sky. For the first time in his life he had noticed the moon. It was visible in the late afternoon sky and Hugo was completely transfixed. I said 'moon' and he tried to imitate the word - came out as 'moo'. Then I thought, well he understands Spanish so maybe I should teach him la luna. He tried that with a bit more difficulty, and eventually began saying moona. So I decided to just stick with English for now.

Not only is the moon exciting, but any round thing in the air, like balloons. The word balloon sounds kind of like moon, so they're also 'moo'. Books that have pictures of the moon (full or crescent) or balloons are suddenly very exciting again. Moo! Moo! A couple days ago there was an amazing full moon and we thought it would blow Hugo's mind to see such a huge yellow moon. It was low in the sky, though, and blended in too much with the superbright LED streetlights, so Hugo just looked confused as Joe and I stood there saying moon! moon! But the last few mornings the moon has been visible around 7am when he's having his morning bottle, so super exciting once again.

That was a long and not very exciting story about the moon. I'm a bit brain dead lately. And distracted. Going through old itunes purchases lately and currently listening to Gorillaz - Dare. I've never been able to listen to music while writing, or studying, or reading. Work best in complete silence. never did no harm, never did no harm

Maybe it's the Mario Kart. Video games are killing my brain cells. I don't typically play or get very excited about video games, but Mario Kart is another story. About 10 years ago my roommate had the game and we would play for, well I won't say for how long of a stretch, but it was a serious waste of time. She eventually moved away and the game went with her. Little did I know that it would show up under the Christmas tree this year, only to tempt me again and worm its way into my very being. Thumbs twitching, carpal tunnel raging, minutes turn into hours. Thing is, I'm a mom now and very busy, at least until the kids go to bed. So instead of cleaning the house or going to bed, I'm getting in another race. It's so addicting! Koopa Troopa has been very good to me. After winning several races you start unlocking more races and more characters and more bikes and karts! I play through the carpal tunnel pain just to see what I'll unlock next. So I got to the end of one of the games (50cc for those who know) and expected to unlock something spectacular, like a Mario movie or a more courses, and all I got was the credits. Such a letdown. Also a bit eye-opening for me that my little "hobby" has turned into an obsession. Always have to look for the next high, always hoping to get more of a rush out of it but it just leaves me drained and feeling like I've wasted a lot of time. I need to stop. But only after I complete the 100cc and 150 cc games. I'm so close!!

poor bubba

Just look, don't touch

Some people blog when they're avoiding homework; I blog when I'm avoiding cleaning up the kitchen.

Little Bubba has been living quite an adventurous life. Today he stood up on the seat of the grocery cart when I wasn't looking (yes, I should have buckled him in). On Christmas day he was standing on a kitchen chair and slipped but caught himself on his chin, biting the inside of his cheek in the process. Later that day he was trying to pet a cat outside and ended up falling on his face and got a bloody forehead and nose. And yesterday he washed his hands in poo.

He loves to open and close things, put things in, take things out. Drawers, bags, baskets, whatever. He often puts clean diapers into the diaper pail and wants to pull things out but I usually stop him before he succeeds. Well, yesterday he hit the jackpot. While I was in the kitchen taking food out of the oven he was pulling out, and opening up, the biggest, smelliest, creamiest (ha ha! sick!) diaper from earlier in the day. I heard his distress cry (it's distinctive and usually means he's stuck somewhere) and found him at the top of the stairs with arms outstretched. The pooey diaper was open-faced, face down on the floor (thankfully on the wood floor and not on the rug). His hands were covered in poo. Is it possible to be horrified to the point of laughter? Because that's what happened. I was laughing and howling and yelling "stop" over and over. I grabbed him by the elbows and ran to the tub, but for some reason didn't want all his clothes to get wet, so I just turned on the faucet to wash his hands. Well, that was the wrong move because it was awkward trying to turn the water on and get the soap and put his hands under the faucet without getting poo on me. I failed, and got poo on my hands, my sleeve and the side of the tub. Once we were both washed and his shirt was off, the poo hunt began. I kept saying very loudly "where's the poo?" and "don't touch that" and "I'm freaking out!" He was slapping his bare chest, probably because he was cold, but I wasn't ready to look for clothes - I was looking for poo. Finally got it all cleaned up, put a clean shirt on him and went into the kitchen to look for a piece of chocolate. That's why I'm the size I am - stress eater. (ok, and bored eater and over eater)


He's also been imitating everything we do, which is very cute, but sometimes frustrating because often I'm trying to get him to do something and not just copy me. For example, he got behind the couch where the new dehumidifier is, a place he's not supposed to be. When he's back there he messes with the machine, turns it on and off, fiddles with the outlet, tries to knock over the floor lamp, bangs on the thin, single pane windows. Not supposed to be there. A big fat NO. So I'm talking on the phone and see him peeking out from behind the couch, poised to turn off the dehumidifier. I make my I-mean-business-face (raised eyebrows, no smile), silently mouth 'no', and gesture/point that he needs to get out of there. He smiles and points his finger and starts waving his arm back and forth. Mocking me. Not yet 18 months and he's mocking me. I had to laugh - yes, mommy looks funny when she makes faces and waves her arms around.

But he's such a cute and fun baby. I love how he barks at pictures of dogs, how he talks to his stuffed animals in a tiny voice and wants the teddy bear to sit on his lap during story time. I love that he loves sitting on laps for book reading and backs up to sit on your lap even when you don't have one. I love that if you ask him where something is he puts his hands up and looks around, even if whatever it is you're looking for is right in front of him. I love that he claps every time he makes a basket in the Nerf basketball hoop, and likes to chase and tickle people, and pretends to put lotion on his face and my face, and still dances like a maniac.

little music man

Hugo loves music. Whenever he hears it, even if it's a silly, annoying little electronic beeping song, he starts stomping his feet, sticking his little behind out, spinning in circles, clapping hands and "snapping" fingers, and oddly cocking his head to the side and holding up an arm. Guess it just feels good.
He also loves to play music. At first it was just banging on the piano and shaking maracas, but now he toots on the recorder and jams on the harmonica. I've loaded a couple videos on my facebook page. They are definitely worth checking out.

Today my coworkers had a very nice farewell lunch for me and showered me with cards and gifts and hugs. It was great to see everyone again. It's only been a couple weeks since I stopped working but in a way it seems like forever since I've seen them. Man, I don't know what to say, it'll be hard to leave that all behind.




But...
I get to spend more time with my sweetie pie

Damn bandaids - mama, please don't be offended

I've decided to leave my job of 10 years and stay home full time. Yesterday was my last "real" day. This is a message I sent to a friend today:

So on my first real day of being a stay at home mom I accidentally snagged Hugo jacket zipper on his skin! I started to unzip it and he howled - I couldn't see where it was stuck but could tell it wasn't moving and he was in pain. We got it off, but he was left with a little wound. It broke the skin on his tender little chest. It must have hurt so badly. And then when I was on the phone with cabinetparts.com people asking how to return stuff, he somehow cut his finger on something and there were little blood smears all over the place. He wouldn't hold still so I could put the bandaid on, and I was trying to open it with one hand while holding him and keeping the bloody finger away from everything in the bathroom and I started swearing! I said damn bandaid!
This does not bode well.

We're not off to a great start. He is, however, taking a nap right now - in his crib. I count that as a huge success any day. But why are bandaid wrappers so hard to get open? They should be on a roll, like scotch tape. Or at least with a bigger pull apart area so they can be easily opened with the hand and teeth. Of course, Hugo did not like having the bandaid on his finger and kept trying to pull it off. I put one on my finger thinking it would help if we had matching owies - it didn't. He finally resorted to sucking on the bandaid, and kept sucking on it for the next several hours until it finally came off in his mouth.