“How old’s your brat?”

I had my first mammogram on Friday. Let me just say it is not as painful as some would lead you to believe. At least I didn’t think so. Let me also say that is was routine, so nothing scary. A “baseline” as my doc put it. I don’t expect to get any bad/questionable results. (Fingers crossed.) My doc just figured that even though I don’t fall into a category of high-risk and even though I am not actually 40 yet, it’s silly to put off such an important milestone in a woman’s life. (In other words, I am creeping much closer to the big 4-0 than I really care to acknowledge. Gulp.)

The tech who did my test was very sweet. My age and EXTREMELY chatty. Right off the bat she struck up a conversation about how these tests get such a bad rap, and how women should be able to handle this discomfort if we can handle childbirth. I had to agree with that. She shared that she was recently married and asked if I had any children. I said yes, one.

Right about this time she had finished setting me up for the first “photo” and she walked around to the other side of the glass wall and pushed a button to start the machine. It was loud, but she continued to talk to me anyway. She asked, “How old’s your brat?”

Oddly, I didn’t even bat and eye at the use of the word “brat”. She seemed like kind of a fun-loving chic so I just assumed she had sort of a silly sense of humor. I had to speak very loudly to answer, “Oh, she just turned two this September.” I felt kind of bad trying to answer as the machine was doing it’s work. It seemed like maybe I should be holding very still.

She came back over to me and started to “pose” me for photo #2. All the while we are still chatting away about marriage and when/if she planned to have kids. Again, she walks behind the glass and turns on the machine. Again, she asks me, “How old’s your brat?”

Hm. That machine was pretty loud. Maybe she didn’t catch my answer the first time. I start to say again that she just turned two, but I barely got two words out. She says, “No, hun. Hold your breath.“

Oooohhhhhhhh. Hold your breath! Yeah, that makes a lot more sense.

Funny though, even after I realized what she was actually saying to me from behind that wall, it STILL sounded exactly like, “How old’s your brat?” every time she said it. It’s not surprising she had to come back and take the first picture again. You know, since I was breathing AND yelling about my “brat”.

If it seems impossible that I would get that phrase from “hold your breath” I don’t know what to tell you. She had an American accent, but a really odd way of saying “hold” and “breath”. I tried to recreate it when I told the story out loud to Ted that evening. I could not mimic it. You’ll just have to trust me!

The Guy Outside

KC was quite taken with one particular Halloween decoration this year. We have a “guy”, a torso really, who we purchased a couple of years ago before we had a child. He’s meant to stick out of the ground like an un-dead thing trying to escape the grave. He looks a little like Freddy Krueger minus the hat, knives and striped sweater.

When I first started pulling the decorations out I paused for a moment wondering if he was a bit much for a two year old. She was standing right next to me so I just pulled him out and smiled really big and said “Look! Isn’t he silly?!” At first she seemed a tad unsure, but she got over it pretty quickly.

Ted put “Uncle Freddy” outside the following day while he was home with KC. The next day while I was home with her again as she continued to recover from a bad cold, she starting talking about a “Guy outside, Mommy. Guy outside.” It didn’t click at first so I said, “Did you see someone walking by out there? Are they walking a doggy?” Then she informed me, “Outside, in the rocks!” I understood right away. She was talking about our Halloween guy.

Every day she tells us about him. “Guy outside! “Go see him.” Every day we go outside to check on him. Apparently when Ted first put him out, KC was there and he assured her, “He won’t hurt you.” So each time she informed me of the “guy outside”, she was careful to add, “It’s ok, Mommy. He won’t hurt you.”

She absolutely blows me away sometimes. This kid is kind of a bad ass. I am pretty sure this guy would have scared the bejeezus out of me when I was little. I distinctly recall seeing a photo of Freddy Krueger in one of the local circulars that came in the mail. It was a very clear photo of his disfigured face in an ad for the video store where Nightmare on Elm Street was a new release. It bothered me so much I had to throw it away. I was probably in middle school at the time. (Can you say, “Wussy”?)

Here’s a shot of KC and her friend “Uncle Freddy” who will probably chill with us for a few more days before he goes back in the attic until next Halloween:

Here are a few more shots including one of the little skeleton “ghosties” Ted hung from the trees…

and here is KC in her fairy costume…

I went totally cheap this year and used the tutu and wings she got for her Birthday plus a 2nd hand crown.  Hey, it works. Plus, just as I suspected, she lasted about an hour or so visiting Grandma, Grandad and her cousins before she insisted on removing the whole get up. We had some fun and then we rushed back to our house to greet all our trick-or-treaters. I am sort of ashamed to say we didn’t bring KC around to trick-or-treat with our neighbors. I don’t think she minded though. She gave out big handfuls of candy to each child who came to our door.

She also ate more candy than she has in her entire short life so far. A big lollipop, assorted sweet tart things, a gummy brain, part of a tootsie roll…and that’s just what I witnessed. She was (and I kid you not) HIGH AS A KITE. It was absolutely hilarious when it wasn’t annoying the hell out of me. (You try diapering a two year old on a candy high. Not. Fun.)

Here’s a shot of her running around our front porch at the peak of her “trip”:

“Hey, man. You got any good stuff? I need another fix. Sweet-tarts? Hershey’s? Charlston Chews? Seriously, dude. I’ll take anything.”

Halloween is pretty great and kids make it even better. I look forward to next year when the festivities will have even more meaning for her. Hope you had a spooky-great Halloween.

Addicted

KC is officially addicted to milk in the bottle. As you know, I’ve been feeling guilt lately about how much she needs her bottle and how much we JUST DON’T LIKE TO GIVE A DAMN. The situation has kind of reached it’s peak and even I have to admit it’s becoming an issue. Since the weekend, milk is all she wants. She is practically starting a new bottle before she even finishes the last. I’ve seen hard core cigarette addicts with more restraint. She came down with a cold last week and I can always tell something is coming on when her appetite takes a vacation. This is how food conversations went this weekend:

KC: “Milk. Milk! Milk! Milk!”
Me: In a cup?
KC: “No way, man! I need that bottle lady! Don’t toy with me!”
Me: How about a banana or some peanut butter and crackers?
KC: “Nooo! No. No. No. Miiilk!” (Falls to her knees in agony and “cries” some more.)
Me: Ugh. Fine. (Spine jumps out of my body to point and laugh, then jumps back in.)

We actually had a couple of nights early last week where we left every single bottle at Grandma’s house. We had to deny her the bottle at home. There was no choice. (I almost ran to the store for a new one. Almost.) She didn’t like it, but she survived for two nights. She even went to bed with a sippy cup of water instead of her usual bottle of water. I was a little amazed to be honest.

Then…Daddy caved on day 3 when she was feeling particularly sick and went back to Grandma’s house to get one. She sent him back home with EVERY SINGLE ONE SHE HAD. Even the newborn ones we don’t use anymore.

Touché, Grandma! You are a worthy opponent!

Due to the illness and the not eating very much, we’ve been just letting her have it since the weekend. She needs the fat and calories from something. But…the last day or two, I’ve been starting to feel a bit played. Surely the ever steady flow of high fat “cow juice” is having an effect on her appetite as well. It needs to be curbed and I am trying. I swear.

Now that she’s a lot better, I think it’s time to buckle down and try again. It’s time to just go for a few of days and refuse to give in to her whining. It’s time…for an intervention.

God, grant me the serenity…

Holiday Wreath Tutorial for the Anti-Martha

About a year ago I complained that I have a long to-do list when it comes to creative projects. I tend to buy materials for things and then never follow through. Paintings for KC’s room are the most unfortunate of my forgotten projects and my most recent is a step stool Ted built for her to use in the bathroom that I am supposed to paint with decorative cuteness. I want to finish it very soon because she really needs it to reach the sink. It’s been in the garage half primed and sanded for over a month now.

I do have one major success to report, however. Behold. A lovely autumn-themed wreath, just in time for Halloween and Thanksgiving. It only took me a year to finish.

Why, yes! Those ARE cattails!

It’s your lucky day because I am going to tell you exactly how to make one of these beauties for yourself.

Step 1: Go to Michael’s or whatever craft store is near you.

Step 2: Start looking at more beads you’ll never get around to using before steering yourself toward the holiday section for what you really came for. Find oddly expensive, twiggy-circly thing that you probably could make yourself if you tried hard enough.

Step 3: Wander aimlessly through the floral section of Michael’s completely aghast at how many varieties of fake foliage there are. Agonize over the cheaper foliage vs. the much nicer looking expensive crap accents that you know will make the difference in the end. Compromise by buying some cheap and some expensive accents. (You still need money for Christmas presents after all.)

Step 4: Go home and look at all the twigs and folliage. Scratch your head as you realize you have no idea how you’ll put it together in anything resembling a quality wreath decoration. Contemplate this for a few days then just stick two pieces of the berry-thingies in either side of the wreath. This twiggy-circle format seems to be ideal for this method, however it’s important to note that this may not hold for more than one season.

Step 5: Give up for a while and leave it sitting on the counter. Get sick of moving the thing all the time and stash it away on a high shelf in the laundry room. Forget for a few weeks.

Step 6: Have an ephiphany and realize “This must be why God invented floral wire!” Go buy some at Michael’s.

Step 7: Take a break for a few more weeks. You’ve totally earned it. Meanwhile, be sure to forget where you put the floral wire.

Step 8: Endure teasing and smart-ass remarks from Husband about that wreath you will never make. Plot his untimely death.

Step 9: On almost the one year mark from when you originally bought the bain of your existence wreath supplies, realize this is a 2nd chance to get it done by Thanksgiving. Buy some fancy ribbon to help finish it up.

Step 10: Grab a drink.*

Step 11: Decide floral wire is for amateurs anyway and simply stuff the remaining foliage in the twiggy holder/wreath then wrap the fancy ribbon around the stems connecting them to the wreath in whatever direction seems appropriate to balance the shifting foliage.

Step 12: Tie a knot and slap one last decorative ribbon on the front to camouflage your ingenious support system.

Step 13: Use another piece of ribbon at the top in a loop to make the hanger and put that bad boy on the front door. Sit back and wait for the inevitable praise.

That’s it! Thirteen steps in honor of Halloween and the fact that I honestly believe crafts like this are the tool of the Devil. Yet, come the holiday season, I’m always compelled to try one or two of them with relative success. Happy Autumn!

*I recommend Blue Moon’s autumn brew, Harvest Moon. A delightful pumpkin ale. Don’t worry, it doesn’t actually taste like pumpkin.

Do the clothes make the girl?

Because, if so, KC and I are in trouble. We are both having pants issues. I purchased a pair of jeans (ok two) recently that were clearly too baggy for me. Standing still in the fitting room and eyeballing myself in poses I never make in real life, I decided that the bagginess was worth the “rear view” if you get what I’m saying. (Hint: they made my butt look good. I think.) Reasoning that stretch denim always shrinks, I purchased them and promptly washed one pair in hot water the next day. I now have a pair of jeans that is still baggy, but is now also just a little shorter than I’d like. Great.

I seem to have this issue with pants a lot. Sometimes I find the perfect pair, but normally they are either too small or too big. Often the ill fit doesn’t become really apparent until I wear them for one day. I come home to find my mirror image has gone from “denim diva” to “wrinkly, mom-jean wearing dork”. I have given a lot of jeans to good will.

KC is in this place with me right now except that she’s powerless. I buy all her pants. I buy them without her. I eyeball what looks like a good fit only to find she will grow out of them inside a month, or they are much longer than she is. Most recently I bought two pairs of pants at Carter’s that have no waist. I didn’t notice it before, but they don’t taper in at the waist at all. They actually get a bit wider. She wore them to Grandma’s and just walked right out of them on the spot. My daughter is two and has not got the hourglass figure of girl just yet, but she still needs some kind of mechanism to keep the pants on. (Hello? Elastic?) I don’t think she would put up with suspenders at this point in life. She barely puts up with the pants.

Clothing is frustrating at this age. Since they walk and run you really have to make sure it fits and is comfortable. It’s of even more importance than my own clothing actually. I am only just starting to realize this fact. Babies are easy. They can be wrapped in pools of extra fabric with rolled sleeves or legs. They just lay there so who cares?

Next time around I’m just going to recycle old pillow cases. I’ll cut neck and arm holes. Wa-la!

At this very moment I am heading to Old Navy to check out their toddler clothing. They always seem to have functional stuff. Fingers crossed I don’t waste any more money. The people at good will are going to love me otherwise. I don’t keep receipts for very long. (And by “long” I mean for more than 24 hours.) I am a compulsive thrower-outer. Ever see that new show Hoarders? I am the anti-hoarder.

Speaking of which, I also need some big plastic bins to store some of KC’s old clothes in. I feel like I should keep some of my favs in case we do have another girl someday. Surely I’ll be glad I did. However, the urge to purge them all, or at least most of them, is very strong. Very strong indeed. Maybe I’ll deflect this urge by organizing the all the paperwork piled in my office into file folders. Who am I kidding? I’d just toss most of it out. I can already hear Ted: “Hey, Jen. Have you seen the warranty info for the washing machine?”

Um. I have NO idea where that is. I think I saw you with it last. As a matter of fact, I’m sure of it.

Well excuse me, Miss Manners.

Last night we were sitting at the kitchen table after dinner when I suggested KC treat us to a tea party. She happily obliged with her sweet new tea set that makes an annoying adorable beeping sound every time she pours. (and pours, and pours…) She presented me with my serving, added a little spoonful of air for taste and then went about making a cup for Daddy too.

I put my tea up to my lips and gave it a big ‘ole sluuurrp for effect. Ted looks over at me very seriously and says, “It would be nice if you waited for everyone else.”

Well excuse me, Miss Manners. I didn’t mean to offend.

She bakes too. Must get that from her Dad.

Playing Dirty

Ted fixed our back patio so the big concrete blocks along a low wall that encloses it are now mortared in place. You know, so they wouldn’t fall and hurt THE BABY. The baby who’s now almost 2. Sadly it was Mommy who was finally dumb enough to step on one wrong and knock it over so it hit her achilles tendon just right. Ouch. At least that got Daddy moving on the project. Ted did this work a few weeks ago and I just got around to uploading the pics. The resulting dirt mixed with rain made for a veritable child’s paradise of muddy puddles the following afternoon. Behold…

Who needs expensive paints?

You know that scene in Braveheart when William Wallace is charging the enemy all craaazy-like and they show him coming at you in slo-mo?

FREEEDOM!

Happier than a pig in…you know what.

Dear God, it’s good to be a kid. Remember?

Ups and Downs

Last time I weighed myself (roughly two weeks ago) I was pushing 155. After touching 150 for a brief moment this was kind of a bummer. Yesterday at the gym I got on the scale and it gave me a little over 151. I love the scale at the gym. It is my new boyfriend. (Ssshh. Don’t tell my husband.) I’ve been exercising this week. Today will be my 3rd day in a row at the gym. I’ll be curious to see if that scale still likes me one day later, or if my morning snack weighs a pound.

That stuff matters you know. It’s why I like to weigh myself first thing in the morning, naked, after I’ve peed and stuff. But, alas, in the morning I am at home. My scale at home is a whore. She lies and cheats. She has tiny, vibrating lines that confuse my eyes and make me see numbers that aren’t true. She laughs at me. I can hear her when she thinks I’m not paying attention.

The 21 Day Challenge is going ok so far. I’m exercising, I have tried to drink a bit more water and less coffee at work and I’m also eating more servings of fruit in the morning instead of all the cookies. Ah, The Cookies…well…I was able to leave them alone on Monday morning, but this morning and yesterday I ate some. I am weak. They are gone now, though. Those cookies were left over from before this challenge and I am NOT going to buy more. Probably.

I’m off to a decent start. My weight being down motivates me. For the moment anyway. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever make it to the 15 lbs. I would really love to lose. Hard to say since I’m constantly up and down. I know I can do it, but I have trouble with the motivation to do the stuff I need to do on a consistent basis. I have a confession. Part of the problem is that I am at a pretty good weight already. Even though I look at myself and think I’d love to be slimmer, I’m not overweight. I’m steadily moving toward the line as I age though. But, still, I can easily fall into the rut of “feeling good enough” and then I let myself off the hook. Cookies, chocolate, maybe some chips, maybe shopping for shoes at lunch instead of going to the gym. It varies, but it’s a constant thing.

Up and down. Good days and bad days. Cookies and fruit. There are worse things than maintaining my weight. However, the idea of a firmer butt is pretty awesome so I think I’ll keep it up. With the occasional cookie, of course. Or seven.

I mean, really, who could resist? Psychos. That's who.

*****

PS – “Psychos” is a tad harsh. Some people just don’t like Oreos and that’s fine. Chocolate chip cookies, however…

PPS – The scale at the gym said 153 today. I am currently not speaking with him until he apologizes. It was my pants. They are heavy. They are.

PPPS – I totally made that graphic myself. With some images from….well never you mind. If anyone “official looking” asks, that dude is my husband and that is the package of Oreos that was in my desk this morning.

Damn, I love me some cookies.

I’m still trying to stick with the Sisterhood of the Shrinking Jeans, although I’ve been failing pretty badly in the fitness department lately. I can’t seem to get on track since my vacation, but every day is a new day to do better. Am I right?! Hell yeah.

Today the Sisterhood kicked of a 3 week challenge to try and form new habits. We are supposed to pick some things we wish we were better at and try to do them regularly for the next 3 weeks. Things like drinking more water (less beer for me) and eating more fruits and veggies. I think I’ll go for both of those. I’ll also aim to do the gym or some other workout at least 5 days a week even if it’s just a casual walk after work. After all, the goal is weight loss and I do feel like eating better when I’m exercising more.

These things won’t be easy for me, but I think making a shorter challenge of it is a good idea. It may be the only way for me to diet. I hate diets. I usually stay far away from that idea and just stick with exercise, but I know I need some better eating habits. For example, I am also going to add to my list the following:

EAT SOMETHING HEALTHY FOR BREAKFAST, DUMBASS.

Because, DAMN. I LOVE ME SOME COOKIES. Cookies with my coffee pretty much make me feel like this…

Did someone say COOKIES???

Eating fruit for breakfast is not quite the same as eating cookies, but I will try. Fruit with yogurt and granola isn’t too bad. It’s not cookies, but it’s not bad.

Luckily veggies are pretty easy for me. We eat a lot of veggies at our house so I have that going for me. I’d better do a little extra grocery shopping this weekend to be sure I have all the good stuff ready.

Bon appetite!

Quick! Somebody catch that monkey.

KC has burst full throttle into a new stage of development. It seemed to coincide with our vacation, but in reality, I’m sure it crept up slowly like all other stages and we just didn’t notice it until we were hundreds of miles from home. She’s almost 2 and it shows. She gets a little crazy sometimes. Not necessarily BAD crazy, just crazy. She likes to explore everything. People are always saying, “That’s such a good sign! Curiosity is great!” I agree. I do. However, it’s kind of hard to deal with sometimes.

Case in point. I took her to my office on Friday for a visit. She had not been there since she was about 3 months old. She was totally adorable and entertaining. Not shy at all. She bolted around the office like a little monkey on speed. I had to run around after her and make sure she didn’t touch or take everything she liked. My officemates are great people. Everyone seemed to enjoy seeing her and she even scored a cute stuffed animal from one of my friends.

I had planned to take her to lunch along with two of my co-workers, but I had to beg off. She was clearly full of energy and I just knew sitting in a restaurant wasn’t going to work for her. Ted and I discovered this on vacation more than once. I have just accepted it now. For a little while we will avoid eating in restaurants with her. Drive thru McDonald’s taken somewhere that she can run. That’s a better plan! So that’s what I did.

My friends were understanding. I think I really looked the part of the worn out Mom when I arrived. It was a hot day and carrying her across hot parking lots, up stairs and basically just trying to keep her from jumping off furniture and running randomly down hallways had taken it’s toll. We not only visited my office, but had just come from an appointment at Children’s ENT department prior to that.* It was time for lunch and a nap. For both of us.

I joked with one co-worker that taking her places sometimes makes me feel like I am Jack Hannah and I am visiting the Tonight Show with the worlds’s craziest monkey. It’s not the first time I’ve made the joke that I feel more like her “handler” than her mom. She’s a handful, our little girl. She’s awesome and she’s funny and she’s so smart. I love it. It’s just tough following that little monkey around in places unfamiliar. I wouldn’t want her to hurt herself. Or poop in someone’s shoe.

Not the most flattering photo of either of us, but you get the point.

*KC had a bunch of ear infections during about a 6 month period. It’s customary to get that checked by an ENT specialist. They saw nothing of concern…ears looked great, hearing is fine. No worries unless the infections kick back up again. Then we may take another visit. I had to have tubes in my ears as a kid. Remains to be seen if this will also happen with her.