Monthly Archives: November 2011


Ah… Thanksgiving. It’s one of my favorite times of the year. Family, friends, turkey, what more do you really need? I’m proud to report that this year’s meal went off without a hitch. It was potentially the smoothest Thanksgiving in the history of the world. The turkey was finished right on schedule, unlike last year when the dang bird took an extra two hours over our estimated time. I remembered to buy milk this year, unlike two years ago when I had to run to the store as we were supposed to be sitting down for dinner because we didn’t have milk to make gravy with. Everything came together perfectly, and Gertrude (what, don’t you name your turkey each year?) was delicious.

Dinner ended, leftovers were put away, a quick slice of pie was eaten, and then I settled in for a relaxing evening of… shopping. Okay, not so relaxing. I do enjoy my Black Friday shopping, but it seems to start earlier and earlier each year. Two years ago stores opened at 5am, last year stores opened at 4am, and this year I was standing in line at Toys ‘R Us at 6:30 in the evening on Thanksgiving, waiting for the 9pm open time. Seriously, Gertrude wasn’t even digested yet and I was waiting in line. And to top it off, I forgot my Chemistry flash cards. My plans to study were thwarted (although I’m not sure how much I would have retained anyway).

So my shopping went well. I left my house at 6pm on Thursday and returned at about 8am of Friday. I felt like some sort of wild college coed, except I think wild college coeds are probably waiting in lines to get into clubs, rather than waiting in lines to purchase discounted train tables and Legos. Even so I felt pretty wild, staying out all night. And by wild I mean exhausted. Because seriously, I got up early, cooked a giant meal, and then spent the whole night on my feet, waiting in lines, trying not to get trampled, and doing a few sprints (yes, I may have actually full-out ran through Target to the electronics department to get my Kindle. What? I stood in the freezing cold line outside for over two hours. I certainly wasn’t going to give up that close to the finish line, so I broke the rules and ran inside – just don’t tell my kids.)

Anyway, the point is I was tired. And I fully attest that Black Friday needs to actually start on Friday. Starbucks wasn’t even open until 3am, and that’s just not okay. And complain as I might, I can pretty much guarantee that I’ll be doing the same thing next year. Even if the retailers go crazy and have sales starting at noon on Thanksgiving, I’ll still be there. I just hope my family won’t mind having a nice Thanksgiving dinner at 7am.


Posted by on November 28, 2011 in Holidays, NaBloPoMo


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Love Song to the Pediatric Urologist

So I’ve been slacking off big time this week. It is my 2nd NaBoPoMo Fail. My first was forgetting to start on the 1st of November. My second was forgetting (or not having time to) continue. Uh oh. Do you think I’m going to get kicked out of the club? On the upside, all the time off gave me a ton of material to write about as opposed to my usual choice between writing about my trip to the grocery store or about what I made for breakfast. This week we had family pictures, dentist appointments, several hilarious conversations, a chemistry test, a church potluck, a girls night out. All of these included some awesome moments for your reading pleasure, but I think I saved the best for last. And the topic today is:


Come on. You know you’re excited.

So Logan (my 3-year-old monster) has been having some peepee related issues. About two months ago I picked him up from the childcare in the gym to find him peeing blood. Lots and lots of blood. So, yeah, we hightailed it to the ER where after having a cath and some other horrible things done to him, we were told to go home and call if the bleeding didn’t stop in a few days. It didn’t. A long story short(er), we went through many medical procedures and so many doctors appointments that anytime we went in to a building that even vaguely resembled an office, Logan would kick off his shoes and start looking for the scale. About two and a half weeks after the original incident, we landed at the pediatric urologist.

Now, urology is one of those speciality I’ve always wondered about. OB/GYNs get to help babies come into the world, and surgeons save lives, and general practitioners keep people well, but seriously who chooses urology? Were they absent on the day that careers were handed out in medical school? Anyway we went to the urologist and I was irritated because I COULD. NOT. FIND. THE. BUILDING. And I was running late. Logan was stoked because the said building not only had an elevator, but we actually got to ride it because we were running too late, and I didn’t want to waste time on the stairs.

Pediatric Urology offices as it turns out are a medical utopia. There are awesome toys, and no pesky sick kids to get their sick kid germs on the toys. Logan, having never been allowed to play with Dr.’s office toys was already in love. I met the urologist and I feel in love. Seriously, I couldn’t have asked for a nicer man to fix my little boys’ pee pee parts. As it turned out Logan needed surgery for his issue. Nothing major, but seriously who wants to have surgery on their pee pee parts?

So Logan had his surgery yesterday, and everything went perfectly. And now, for the first time in months, my little guy not only pees without crying, he pees like it’s no big deal. It’s no longer a screaming, crying, begging, pleading, banging my head against the wall event every time we head to the bathroom.

So back to my question of who choses to be a pediatric urologist. Someone who is awesome, and amazing, and who wants to use their years of medical school and training to make sure my little boy can pee without crying. In case you can’t tell:


In my opinion, this week, they are the best people in the world.

Logan summed it up best in the car on the way to the grocery store this morning, as he played his keyboard and sang:

“The docta fixed my pee pee my pee pee my peeeeee peeeee. Now it’s all better all better all better. I like the doctor. He fixed my pee pee. My pee pee no hurt more. It all better. Then I get juice.”

Me too, Logan. Me too.

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Posted by on November 15, 2011 in NaBloPoMo, Parenting, Potty Training


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When I only post a couple of times a week, I can keep most of my commentary light and funny. However this posting everyday thing is letting some of the harder things seep in too. So, with that disclaimer, I will try to be lighter and funnier tomorrow. But on my mind today:

I’ve been doing very well in my Chemistry class, which makes me feel good. I feel good when I do well on assignments, I feel even better when I actually understand things and am able to memorize them, and I feel amazing when I get a 100% on a test. I know that school is important to me, and that it’s important that I do well because that is what I’m there to do. However, I feel like I’m getting this satisfaction from succeeding at something that in the broad scheme of things isn’t really important. What I want to succeed at is my real job, being a mom. I would give anything to be given a 100% at parenting for a day. Honestly, lately, if parenting was graded I’m not sure I’d even pass.

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Posted by on November 9, 2011 in NaBloPoMo, Parenting



Today I tried to have a perfect day. I really did. I wanted a day without stress and without incident.

When my kids woke up at 7 instead of 8 because of freaking Daylight Savings Time, did I convince them it was still night-time, and that they needed to go back to sleep? (And I know that some parents out there are thinking that I’m lucky that my kids sleep until 8 regularly, and I shouldn’t be complaining. However, I. AM. NOT. A. MORNING. PERSON. Not even a little bit. So yep, a 7am wake up scream does not make me happy.) No, I did not. I mustered all of my energy and got the little rats up and got breakfast started (toaster paynk-paynks? you ask, why certainly.)

Liam settled into shoveling food into his face, while Logan spent the whole breakfast time in the bathroom. He did not want to go potty, a fact that he established by screaming it at the top of his lungs. “I DON’T WANNA GO POTTY! NOOOOOOO! I WANNA PUT MY UNNIES ON! UNNIES! UNNNNIIIIEEESSSS!” I calmly explained that his undies and breakfast were all ready for him, and he could have both as soon as we peed. After a good half hour in the bathroom he relented.

I had given Logan oranges along with his pancake, because Liam was having bananas and Logan doesn’t like bananas. Immediately upon sitting down he demanded a banana. Knowing that there is no arguing with him, I gave him a half of a banana. Which he ate exactly 2 bites of before feeding the remainder to the dog.

I decided that I would get some mileage out of the new membership that we purchased to Mobius, a children’s museum. After breakfast, we proceeded to get dressed and ready. I put Liam’s shoes on. He took them off. I put them back on. He took them back off. I put them back on. He took them off, and tried to feed them to the dog. I wondered if I could make my millions by inventing some sort of shoe suspenders that attached to a belt or something so that babies could not remove their own shoes. I gave up on Liam wearing shoes. I tried to convince Logan to pick matching socks, an idea he wanted nothing to do with, and we all finally ended my mostly dressed and ready.

We arrived downtown and went to a parking lot that is about 10 blocks away from the children’s museum because my mom works in the building and lets us use a parking pass whenever we go downtown. I can’t say no to free parking. We go up and visit my mom in her office for a bit, and I try to get Logan to go the bathroom while we are there. This results in another big stand-off until I am lamenting that the bathroom walls are cinderblock so it’s unlikely that I would be able to smash my head through one. I finally tell Logan that he doesn’t have to go right now, but if he pees his pants, we’re going straight home, and going to nap before lunch. And suddenly someone is ready to potty. That’s right: threatening children with malnourishment works!

We proceed to the children’s museum many blocks away. On the way there Liam pulls off his socks no less than 25 times. For those of you who aren’t so good at math that’s 2.5 times per block. If it wasn’t so cold, I wouldn’t push it, but I’m actually afraid his feet might fall off from the cold. We arrive at the children’s museum just minutes after a large preschool field trip does. What was supposed to be a quiet morning is now a zoo. We actually have a lot of fun at the museum, despite the baby almost getting destroyed by a crazy preschooler on a push car. Logan whines when we have to leave.

We get home, eat lunch, and the kids go down for nap. I listen to a message from my mother in law about home school curriculum accreditation that sends me into a stress frenzy. Which is why I spent the last 2 hours researching homeschooling laws etc. online. I’ve also just remembered that I need to schedule dentist appointments and Christmas pictures. I seriously don’t even want to know what my blood pressure is today.

So today wasn’t anywhere near perfect, but several parts of it have been very fun. I feel like maybe I’m setting my expectations too high for having a 1 and a 3 year old. Instead of a perfect day tomorrow, I think we’ll shoot for a fun and messy day where my blood pressure can stay within normal limits (mostly).


Posted by on November 8, 2011 in Uncategorized


Peanut Butter to Paynk-Paynks

I am not a morning person. I loathe the first half hour that I am out of bed everyday. I just want to be left alone. My kids do not seem to care that Mommy does not actually become a person until she’s had a shower. They do not leave me alone. Moments after waking they are demanding things from me: namely breakfast.

My husband used to do the breakfast thing every morning with the kids back when he worked evenings. Now that he leaves for work at 6 in the morning, breakfast falls under my purview. Everything was fine until my three year-old ratted my out to my husband about feeding the boys peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast everyday.

“I eat peenbutter sanwich for breakbast!” My husband tried to convince him that he had a “peenbutter sandwich for lunch, not breakfast. He said, “No Daddy! I eat chick chicks and bwacolli for lunch. I eat peenbutter sanwich for BREAK-BAST!” Little man had it right. Mama was smearing some peanut butter on a slice of bread, folding it in half and calling it “breakbast.”

My husband has always been the get-up-in-the-morning-and-cook-the-kids-pancakes-and-eggs sort of guy. He shamed me over my feeding the children sandwiches for breakfast. So I bought a big box of toaster waffles from Costco and we worked with that for the next several weeks. As it turns out I can throw frozen waffles in the toaster in the morning. And Logan loves “rockles.” One day when I was pulling some rockles out of the big freezer to bring inside, I noticed the ingredients. Holy preservatives, Batman! I wanted a healthier option. I tried doing instant oatmeal for a while, but I had no patience waiting for the teakettle of water to boil, plus I had to get the brown sugar out, and after breakfast, I had to clean oatmeal out of the baby’s ears. It was a no-win situation. I finally devised a reasonable solution. I make about 75 pancakes in advance, freeze them in freezer bags, and toast them as needed. It was a bit of a trail and error process, and the first couple pancakes were served partially frozen before I realized that they needed a double toasting.

But now we have hit our stride. We have toaster pancakes with whatever fruit I have in the house for breakfast. It meets the expectations of “breakfast food” by my husband, it’s healthy, and most importantly I can prepare it while mostly still asleep. One thing that was really disappointing for me though, was how much I enjoyed Logan calling his waffles “rockles.” I knew I would miss this when we switched to pancakes. It ended up better than I could have imagined. He calls them “paynk-paynks.”

So if you ever want to come to our house for breakfast, head on over. We will all be in our pajamas, munching on some paynk-paynks.

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Posted by on November 7, 2011 in NaBloPoMo, Parenting


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Pulling a Joelle

So my husband and I have fallen in love with the Biggest Loser. It was a surprising romance for us, as we traditionally do not enjoy “reality” TV. However, as we are on our own weight-loss journeys, the Biggest Loser has captured our attention. We watched it on Netflix one night and the rest is history. We are currently watching season seven, so no one spoil the end for me.

Anyway, with our new interest in the Biggest Loser, we discuss different merits of the players while we watch. We hate (in the following order):

1. Game Players (people who don’t care about losing weight, they just want the prize money).

2. Lazy People (come on, you’re there to work out).

3. People Who Lie (‘nough said)

4. Drama Creators

5. Whiners

Not in the list however, are criers. As long as they are not whining while they cry, we tend to have a soft spot for the criers.

A few weeks ago, my husband’s dad called him and told him he had something serious to talk about with him. They decided to meet downtown for coffee before my husband went to work. We speculated what this important conversation could be about. The day arrived, and my husband met up with his dad. A few hour later I received an email from my husband detailing what his dad had wanted to tell him. He said that his dad had felt so guilty about some stuff that had happened when Matt was a child that he had to get it off of his chest (and for the record it wasn’t any big deal –  my husband was not miffed in the least). Anyways, closing his email to me, Matt told me that “Dad cried like Mark on the Biggest Loser.” I spent the next three hours giggling. Not because my father in law had cried, (because he is truly a sweet guy, and was carrying around guilt that he didn’t need to) but because of the comparison. Matt and I had been laughing about a big tough guy on Biggest Loser Season 5, who got to the ranch and turned into a big crier. Now when anyone in our house cries about something that is not a big deal we accuse them of “crying like Mark”

So fast forward to last night when we had a family drama blow-up at my baby’s birthday party. I hate drama. I hate yelling, and I really hate it when people do it in my home. I was still ticked about it today, and was talking about it to my husband about my frustration with what had transpired. (Don’t worry, I didn’t cry like Mark.) Matt thought for a moment, and said, “yeah, she really pulled a Joelle.” Season 7 of the Biggest Loser features Joelle, who was nothing but drama. So now, when people have drama, they “pull a Joelle.”

I really like our new way of describing situations based off of Biggest Loser contestants. I can’t wait for all of the new personality descriptions in the seasons to come.

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Posted by on November 6, 2011 in General, NaBloPoMo


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Liam is One!


Yep, that’s all you get on my son’s 1st Birthday. Happy Weekend!

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Posted by on November 5, 2011 in NaBloPoMo