Up to Speed

I don't know if you keep up with both  of my blogs. If you do, you've already read THIS and THIS. If you haven't, you should read those two posts to catch you up to speed on our whereabouts and whatabouts. Go head... I'll wait...
...waiting.

...waiting.

...all caught up? good! If you are nice and observant you'll note that those were posted about 2 months ago, and there has been no update since, oops. We've been a little busy. We moved into that gorgeous house. We unpacked every box that first week-- because my mom is an animal, I tell you! He help was invaluable in setting up our household and creating a homey space. I couldn't have done it alone... I'd still be unpacking the first box and fretting over where to put each and every last item inside. So thanks to my family and friends who helped move and helped unpack and helped make our home awesome in such a short time. What a blessing!
Since the move we've been staying nice and busy.
Slowly rooms are coming together and looking like maybe design was intentional... and not just where things landed when they came out of a box. This is a slooooooooow process though and kind of driving me nuts.
We still don't have any grass in our yard, but we get closer every day. Getting the house in June, it was too late and too early to sod or seed. So we've been killing time prepping the yard for beauty in september. My Dad spent a weekend tilling and grading the yard, it was kind of a mess, and tons of gravel in our top soil... which is really thick, dense clay. Then last week the boys put in a 40+ hour weekend and now we have a beautiful cedar fence surrounding our property. We threw in some simple landscaping (perennials around the front porch) and a few trees and it's starting to be a yard.
Next week the pros are showing up to put in a sprinkler system... and then hopefully by the first of september we'll be ready to lay down some sod. GRASS! Oh em gee. It will be such a blessing and such a facelift to not have this yard of mud. It's been extra bad because the past couple weeks have been rainy... mud mud mud. I am sick of it.
The hardest part about everything has been my limited involvement due to the kid I'm growing. I feel guilty chillin' inside while everyone is working their buns off outside. Not only that, but I want to be involved in the DIY stuff too. sigh.
This kid seems to be growing steadily and healthy-- and is right on track still for our Dec 6 due date. We are super excited for another busy baby boy, and if in-womb activity is any indication, this guy is going to be just as busy as his big brother.
And... that's just about everything for now. This was kind of a wordy not exciting post. Sorry about that. I will have more interesting things to share soon. :) Until then, you can check out the other blog for all kinds of new house info and projects that should be going up shortly.
And now you are officially caught up.

Out of Shape and a Deal breaker

I generally consider to be in decent shape. I mean, I'm not an elite athlete by any means, but I run semi-regularly. We get out and do active stuff. I can run a mile and hold a conversation without dying. I mean, that's an acceptable level of  'in-shape' right?
But there is one thing, more than any other athletic feat, that gets me every time. It is monstrous both in it's everyday simplicity and the sheer amount of physical stamina it requires. Nothing else can get my heart pumping, panting for breath, and sweat pouring in such a short amount of time. Do you know with this immensely physically demanding task is?
Carrying laundry baskets up the stairs.
No I am serious.
There are two big flights of stairs between my laundry machines and my closets. Nothing makes me doubt my level of physical fitness more than carry full baskets of laundry up and down those stairs.
Seriously. It is my least favorite and most labor intensive household task. And the reason why I have decided when we buy a house, the location of the laundry room is a DEAL BREAKER.
Idealy, I would love a ranch style, so I don't have to haul anything up and down stairs... but if there are stairs I insist that the laundry facilities are on the same floor as the bedrooms. I am not even kidding.
It's a non-negotiable for me at this point.

Vocab (16 mos)

At 16 months Sam says the following things... (and adds to this list daily)

 
Names
Mama
Daddy
Poppy (Grandpa S)
Memaw (Grandma S)
Papa (Grandpa P)
Nana (Grandma P)
G.G. (Great Grandma P)
MeMe (Aunt Melodie)
Cookie (Aunt Cookie/Amy)
Cha Cha/Charlie
Wi Wi/ Weanie (Winston)
(When prompted to say Sam, he says, ME!)

Food
Mooony (smoothie)
Turkey
cookie
Cheese
Nana (banana)
Juice
Hungy (hungry)
eat!
Wa-dee (water)
More
BEAN! (jelly beans, or any candy)


Animals
Doggy
Puppy
Munny (bunny)
Mooo (when he sees a cow)
Roar!(when asked what a Lion says)
Woof woof (when asked what a doggy says)
Pops his lips (when asked what a fishy says)

Other
No (or shakes his head)
Baby
Jesus
Ahhh-meeeen! (Amen, after bedtime prayers)
Potty
Poopy
Bootie (when he sees his naked bootie in the mirror)
Ball
B-ball (baseball)
(makes motorcycle noises when on his rocking cycle)
Go!
Car
Keys
Kiss/Kisses
HI! (especially when he sees or holds a phone)
Bu-bye.
Ni-night
Boo! (like he's scaring you)
No no no (when he's doing something he knows he's not supposed to)
Peas (please) (rarely when prompted)
Tank you (occasionally when prompted)
Shoe
Pocky (we have no idea what this means, but he says it constantly, it is by far his favorite word)

Phrases
All done!
Ohhhh nooo!
uh oh
(Will sing jibberish if you ask him for a song)

Signs (etc.)
More
All done (turns up his palms and shrugs)
Berries
Bye bye (waves)
Blows kisses
Will point to his Head, tummy, toes, ears, nose... and penis (his Dad is very proud and amused by this last one.)

Sam is a chatty kid, and talks or sings jibberish all the time. When not using recognizable words, he still mimics the things we say and our inflections. He loves being sung and read to, and loves singing along or patting rhythms along with music that's playing. We, of course, believe he is of superior language and musical intelligence (unbiased parents that we are)... but he is a joy to watch learn and communicate each day!

Mama Confessions #17

I hate kid music.
There, I said it.
I mean, with all the wonderful, complex, beautiful, interesting, fun, and richly educational music available to us at the click of a button these days--
WHY is there a whole genre dedicated to silly, simplistic, poorly orchestrated, nonsense, bad grammar, and character voices with terrible vocal technique that you are supposed to expose your children to before anything else? It's horrifying. Not to mention obnoxious.
Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggity dog... No.
You put your belly in, you put your belly out... Are you serious?
I like to ate, ate, ate, aepples and banae-naes... UGGGHHH!
Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere... please shoot me.
I can't do it. I don't want to.
Sam listens to the radio with me. We listen to my playlists. We listen to classics, top 40, broadway, progressive rock (thanks, Daddy), instrumental and choral music, easy listening, folk music, alternative... and whatever else we feel like that day. (As I write this, Sam is jammin' out to his all time favorite song-- Phillip Phillips' Home)
But I can't do it. I can't turn Pandora to that toddler station. I won't put in the CD of 'silly songs' someone gave us. I can't. It hurts my head and offends my musicianship.
And you know what? Sam seems to be developing well. He loves to sing and has above average rhythm skills for a 1 yr old. Sooooo...
Why does that stuff even exist? Does anyone enjoy it? Can anyone tolerate it? Can we sign a petition to make five green and speckled frogs sitting on a speckled log GO AWAY? I can't be the only Mama who feels this way...

Vocab

@ 14 months Sam says the following words:
Mama (His first!)
Daddy
Puppy (whispers)
Doggy (whispers) (Puppy and doggy are used interchangeably for any animal)
Cookie (whispers)
(ba)Nana
HI!
Kisses (whispers)
Bye-bye
Thank you
...Shakes his head no, waves, and occasionally signs 'More'

And names the following people:
Mama
Daddy
Poppy (Grandpa S)
Papa (Grandpa P)
Nana (Grandma P)
MeMe (Aunt Melodie)
...And bubbles his lips whenever he sees G.G. (Great Grandma Mary)
...When asked to say 'Grammy' or refer to Grandma S in any way, he just says 'Poppy'

We can't be the only couple who had this conversation this week.

Z: How about a foot rub?
Me: Sure, then we can make out.
Z: (makes a face) I'm not really feelin' that tonight.
Me: Then I am not really feeling a foot rub.
Z: But I have a coupon! You gave it to me for Valentine's day!
Me: Maybe you should have given your wife a coupon to make out, if you were planning to cash that in.
Z: But you told me not to get you anything for Valentine's Day!
Me: That was a trap. It's always a trap, you know that.
Z: (Defeated) I know. But how am I supposed to surprise you when you control all the money?
Me: Be very clever and thoughtful.
Z: What, am I supposed to make tiny withdrawals and hide away $5 a week for months in advance?
Me: Yes. If that's what it takes. PLAN AHEAD.
Z: (pause)    Sooo... no foot rub?
Me: No foot rub.
Z: (Walks away grumbling about how unfair life is...)

A list of nothing in particular

1. I'm inconsistent in posting. I am also inconsistent in caring about that.

2. My child can whip out outlet covers and cabinet locks in .2o seconds. He's like a baby ninja. I can't even get those dang things off, and he just laughs at my efforts to keep him from caustic chemicals under the sink and live electricity.

3. I made Red Velvet Cheesecake Swirl Brownies (yes, there's a lot going on there) for valentines day gifts. They are yummy, but didn't change my life. But I have discussed my feelings on Red Velvet before, so this should not come as a surprise to you.

4. It's February 12 and I still have up Christmas decor. I mean the tree is down, but I still have sparkly red balls hanging about. They are red so I tell people they are valentines day decor, but lets be honest, I'm not fooling anyone.

5. I watch Bunheads when I can catch an episode. Usually on hulu during naptime while I'm doing about 15 other things. And I KNOW the show is ridiculous. But I love it still. It's like... Gilmore Girls with the fast talking and the witty banter, but it's got my girlfriend Sutton Foster in it? So I feel like I have to love it. And also I love fast talking and witty banter. My inner dialogue is fast talking and witty banter. My writing style is fast talking and witty banter. I hope you read in a similar manner. Fast. Witty. Bantery.

6. I made my one year old son's valentine a spoof on one of the trashiest shows on television. Which I don't actually watch-- no for reals-- but my dad does-- yeah, for reals-- and so you have that to look forward to in the next couple days.
(Oh, but Oopsies, that post will be on that other blog so check that out on Valentines Day for your cute attack plus outtakes of epic amazingness.)

7. Amy Lee talked me into doing Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred with her. I have been shredding for less than a week, and OMG it hurts. But I can't stop because Jillian will yell at me. And she tells me I am not allowed to do a 20 minute workout and phone it in. And she tells me abs aren't free. And I believe her.
Amy suggested we take before and after bikini pictures... and though I never plan to wear a bikini in public ever again, I did it and it was so gross. But I haven't deleted the pictures yet because *fingers crossed* I wanna go, "Wow look at the difference!" in about 24 more days.

8. Nothing else to add, I just needed there to be 8 things, because seven is odd AND prime, so I couldn't stop there for obvious reasons. Here's a picture of Sam with a pineapple:

Mama Confessions #16

I was a Dog-Mom before I was a Mama to Sam.
This has mostly been no problem. Both of them are still loved and cared for in a manner befitting their specific species and everyone is happy.

But I do occasionally (okay, all the freaking time) slip up on terminology.
"Sam-- I mean, Winston!"
"Sam has been barking-- err, crying at me all day!"
"Sit! Quiet! ...and that doesn't work for you because you are Sam, and not a dog."

And more than anything...
"I'm gonna go put the baby in his kennel. Dang it, I mean crib."

Mama Confessions #15

Sam is learning to walk right now. Sam is a busy, ornery little boy. Sam runs into, knocks over, crawls over, falls on, and bumps his head on just about every piece of furniture he sees. Sam has lots of bruises.
On christmas morning he pulled a wooden stool over on top of himself leaving him with a giant, bruised, goose-egg on his forehead. Later that day he was at my parents house and walked straight into the the piano, which left another prominent bruise on his face. A few days before he had fallen and busted his lip while playing at my parents house.
All of these incidents happened under the care and careful watch of his parents and grandparents. All who love him and take excellent care of him, and felt terrible about the situation. Sam... if he cried about each of these incidences was over it within seconds and on to his next battle no worse for the wear. But here I am, his loving mother--on Christmas, no less!--carting around my bruised and battered child.
We were at a resturaunt ordering some food, and Sam was waving and being friendly and our server asked how old he was.
"A year," I answered.
"Is he walking yet?" the server asked.
"Not, yet. He's trying... thats why he has all these bruises... " His face really was sad and pathetic looking. Poor battered child.
"Oh," said the server. "I just assumed you beat him."
And my heart dropped... because that server just confirmed my worst fears-- that people were looking on my child and judging me and assuming I was at best negligent, but maybe worse-- abusive. And I started to go into a full terror/rage/panic when I looked up at that server who chuckled and winked at me.
"I have an 18 month old at home. Walking is tough. He looks great." He said and left our table with a smile.
Deep breaths. He was joking.
Sometimes I forget that I am not the only one who has ever done this. Tons of parents have felt guilty about accidental bumps and bruises on their kids, and it doesn't make them a bad parent. It doesn't make me a bad parent. It makes me a parent. One of many out there who understand.