Oh, Crap!

Man oh man, another couple weeks slipped by without posting. I think that every blogger's biggest struggle is keeping up with the blog. Maybe I should switch to quantity over quality since I end up writing novels every few weeks instead of novellas every week. I say I have nothing to write about but who am I kidding? Banjo changes every day and the shenanigans of being a single mom with 2 dogs and a baby have to provide some beef. Just yesterday I had Walter flip his kennel...in the bed of the truck...while I was driving, Gus puked on my bedroom floor at 1am and Benji peed on the leg of my pants first thing in the a.m. (yes, i continued to wear the pants for the day), and I came home to a shredded used tampon (that wasn't mine). Talk about action. Maybe I just need to quit over-thinking whether or not its content people care about and just keep documenting my life. If you think I'm boring, or have heard enough about my dogs, or think Benji rolling, or sneezing, or looking cute is dull, peace out.

So, with that, let's talk about poop. Benji still does not sleep and the last 2 nights he has spent more time grunting and pushing than sleeping itself. By 2am this morning, Benji had woken up at least 10 times. Kill. Me. Now. 7 of those 10 times were cries/screams mixed with intense grunting. Kid, listen. Don't force it. You pooped 3 hours ago, you don't need to do it again. Quit trying so hard and it will work itself out! Rice cereal is a culprit for constipation, says google, since its low in fiber. Lucky for Benji, I just started taking a fiber supplement as part of my new heart health regime so maybe some will pass onto him.

Speaking of things passing, Benji had a diaper that looked like it had been splashed through mud, after I washed it. Of the millions of loads of laundry I have done, I have never had this problem and he has had plenty of #2's. I was racking my brain as to why this one was different considering he eats the same things every day, breast milk and cereal. The only solution I had was that possibly all of the green food coloring I consumed on St. Patty's Day may have passed to him and into his skid-marked diaper. How irrational. Sometimes the conclusions I draw and the path that leads me there, even amaze me.

In other poos, I spent over an hour scooping poop in our backyard this week. We are neglectful dog owners. Our yard looks horrible with patches of supergrass (coincidentally in the highest poo saturated areas), holes where Gus is working on China, and tracks where Wally chases bunnies. My 60+ minutes of hard labor just scraped the surface. Literally. You can still feel the lumps under your feet in spots. However, the ridiculous blister on my hand mixed with the 3 bucketfuls of 100lbs of crap I hauled, were enough for me. The last time Matt scooped was sometime last fall and the last time I scooped was never, so let's just say Walt's 100 pounds of  beef and bowels had some rage on our lawn.

Mix in a fuzzy Gus. Aside from the yard being neglected, Matt's absence also means the dogs in general are a little neglected. I don't do nail clipping, I don't do eye boogers, and I don't wipe jowls.  Poor little Gus was a fuzzy mess and Wally's dew claws were starting to curl. I made a groomer appointment and finally the day came, only to have the appointment cancelled because the groomer got bit by a naughty client. Ugghh, I had to wait another week. During that lapse, I let Gus in from outside one day and noticed a dark spot on his fanny. NNNOOOOOO. It was a poo pancake. Smashed and smeared through his overgrown butt furs. The things I'm forced to handle..... snippity snip, I had to cut poop out of Gus's butt. Thank God he got shaved yesterday. Unfortunately it was a little too late for my scissors, nostrils and gag reflex. Oh, poo.

a rare sight captured by instagram

You'd think dogs this cute would sh*t rainbows and sunshine.

In other dog news, Walter had a panic attack last night due to a little rain. Do you think they make thundershirts in his size? What a wimp. Actually, maybe I should get a Thundershirt for Benji. The kid sleeps like a log as long as you are with 6 inches of him but wakes up every 45 seconds if he's alone. They say it feels like a hug and Benji is a snuggler. Is a thundershirt on a kid child abuse?

What really needs to happen is Walter needs to recognize that if he would quit being a chicken and go within a foot of the baby, he would have someone constantly touching him. Then, he wouldn't bug me, he'd get petted, and Benji would have a living, breathing subject there to make him sleep. If only Walter could comprehend (and fit in the crib).

Things haven't all been poopy lately. Benji is a chatterbox and it cracks me up. He gets especially chatty first thing in the morning and right before he goes to bed. The past 2 days he has been obsessed with saying "dadada" (I think he figured out his tongue or something) and its a little bittersweet. Um, excuse me? Where is the mamamamama. I'm the one who you see every day. BUT, poor Matt is missing out on all of the awesome things Benji does and I feel guilty that I get to love him in person while Matt has to witness the milestones via the internet. So, I'll give him the dadada's (but we all know Benji doesn't really know what he's saying yet).

Check it out.

I'm obsessed with him.

Since this blog is a little racy (poo is not table talk), I think this would be an appropriate place to insert the following video that sends a lovely message to all of the little Banjo's out there. As mentioned in a blog post months ago, we do own this book (thanks A&M) and I am just starting to appreciate the value of its message. Who doesn't appreciate narration by Samuel L. Jackson? Viewer beware, this video may (does) contain adult language.

Sweet dreams :)

Miles of Miles

I am starting to forget what I've blogged about already. I think that's a sign that I need to stay more current on my posts. Sorry audience. Time flying by is a good thing right now since it means one day closer to Matt being back. Unfortunately, it also means one day further away from having a baby baby. Benji is getting so big! Aagghh!

Look what he can do now...

Milestone! A couple of weeks ago, I went to pick Benji up from my mom's and she said "You may want to keep your eye on Benji tonight, I think he might roll soon." I could tell from her voice he had done it, she just was afraid to tell me because she thought I'd be sad I missed it. She finally admitted he rolled tummy to back once over each side. Go Benji! I got home, got the camera, put Benji in tummy time and waited. I caught roll #3 with our video camera and this is roll #4 from the ipad. He doesn't quite realize he can do it and when he finally rolls, the applause and cheers startle him, then he laughs, grabs his toes, and does this...

I can't believe how jumbo he's going to seem when his cousin gets here in ONE month!! He's pumped to have a little friend and he even gave his cousin a matching mobile (which is actually a trick because we all know how well Benji sleeps- staring at the beauty of the mobile just makes him want to be awake ALL night).

Benji hit another milestone about a week ago (that I was hoping we had missed all together).

My first golden shower (unless you count the one where an 8 yr old me was peed on by a 4 yr old patrick while we played in the rain). Until about a week ago, Benji had peed while Matt changed him (although Matt was holding his legs in the air so the pee went all over his own face) but never on me. Then, wam bam pee pee mam! Twice in 2 days he peed. The above episode happened late at night in the dark and I screamed out loud, so startled by the fountain. The other one happened as I changed him on the floor and the stream hit my pants with such precision that it looked like I was the one who had peed. Benji 2, Mom 4,615 (I've changed a lot of diapers). We also had our first blowout Sunday that caused concern for the onesie removal. We've had a little poop juice leak out here or there but this one was the kind that required some MacGyver action to get his clothes off without smearing peanut butter poo all over his back and hair. I won that battle 2 (too/two/#2... get it?). By the way, its shocking the scent emitted from adding something as bland as rice cereal to his diet can be- even his farts stink. Gross.

Next Milestone... 5 months! Not much of a milestone but someone's Granny seems to think this is a feat deserving of a cake (who am I kidding, isn't waking up each day cause for a cake?).

Poor Benji just had to look while I enjoyed the fruits of his growing labor. Sorry dude. Breast milk, organic rice cereal, amoxicillin (which made me cry), and grape flavored tylenol (which also makes me sad) are the only tastes for your buds.

This past weekend, we went to a baby shower for Emily with her side of the family. Most of her relatives don't know Matt and a bunch of them thought Benji looked like Charlie. I guess their options based on my family members they know are blue-eyed Caucasian-looking Charlie, or brown-eyed, dark-haired (artificially tanned at Emily's wedding) me. No one has said that before, but I guess its possible for my kids to resemble my siblings. We all know Benji is Matt's twin but I hope Emily and Charlie are blessed with a little me. Wouldn't she just be precious? Speaking of siblings and looking alike, Patrick's roommate commented this week that he and I look the same in the following pictures.

No one has ever told me that we look alike before either. We have recently discovered that Patrick looks just like a younger, beardless version of my dad but we've never had the sibling comparison. I guess its another milestone. 28 years later, Patrick resembles me and my baby resembles Charlie.... in the eye of the beholder.

Before I wrap this up, I think its important for everyone to see my latest etching. The images below are burned into a mirror that rests above the porcelain throne at Patrick's house. I'm sure you can imagine the feelings his 3 female roommates had upon seeing it.

I am the etch master.

Anyone want a permanent this on their window?

Arts N' Crafts

Last year for my birthday, I was pumped to get a Silhouette to aid in all of my crafting needs. The main reason I got the thing was to etch glass, which one of the Stitch N' Bitches taught me (S&B is a very exclusive club my mom belongs too...hey B's!). Up until a few weeks ago, the only thing I had done with my Silhouette was to cut out wall art for Benji's room.

I'm sure you all thought that was the handy work of me and an x-acto knife, but you're wrong. Anyway, here we are nearly a year later and I finally got around to etching.... and I'm obsessed.

Note to self, don't buy orange dish soap. How fun is that though?

This was just a test to see if you could etch colored glass (and to give me a reason to consume a bottle of wine). Yes, colored glass works.

C O E * R * votives, $1 each... personalized to look way more expensive than $6.

Drinking pints got fun (as if it wasn't fun before)! Glass #3 would have been useful in college when "chug chug" was my game of choice. If you forget the rules, see your glass.

All together now. I need more glass before I etch my windows.

This was a shower gift for a friend's "Monograms & Mimosas" bridal shower. Not quite a monogram but this 9x13 + a fun apron, oven mitt and recipes made a cute gift!

Who has things for me to etch? I decided my etching business will be called "Ketchy" (although it looks like Ketchup now that I type it out). But, get it? Katy's catchy, etchy... Ketchy! Yea. enough of that for one blog post.

Since this is an arts n' crafts inspired post~ let's bring it back to baby with some face in hole, made by the Rodfather.

You can be the judge of what's an art and what's a craft.

I'll tell you what is a craft... getting your baby to sleep through the night. I am admitting my first defeat as a parent. Benji will NOT sleep for any significant amount of time. A good night for us means I put him down about 8 or 8:30, he wakes up about every 30-40 minutes 3 or 4 times, about 10:30 or 11 he is out "for good" he wakes up around 2, 4, and then at 6:30 for good. I repeat, that is a GOOD night. I do not feed him each time he wakes up, I do not pick him up each time he wakes up... but he keeps waking up. The kid would sleep 8 hours in my arms if I'd let him but my neck can't take it (and who wants some mommy-issues 3 yr old?).

I have read ALL about different methods and tactics. Don't make eye contact, don't pick him up, pick him up until he stops crying, let him cry it out, feed him a ton before bed, make sure his daily schedule is consistent, don't worry about it until 6 months, he should sleep 12 hours by 4 months.... basically, the internet is full of at least one advocate for every theory you can think of. My theory? Every baby is different and mine prefers his mommy (can you blame him? Actually its any living, breathing human that will snuggle him but my pre-screening requirements nix quite a few out).

We've been doing the cereal thing so I know he's full at night, he breaks out of the swaddle and I tried to wrap his center, but no change, he's in sleep sacks... nothing. I think he wants to be on his tummy because he wedges up against the side of crib in an attempt to get over to his stomach but I'm not going there. Back is best, right?!? I decided to attempt the Super Nanny's version of ferberizing him last night and let me just tell you, it was awful. I have attempted to let him cry it out before and even got as far as 20 minutes but twice I could hear him gagging himself because he was so hysterical so I quit that. Last night was another attempt... at 20 weeks and 1 day.

I put him down, kissed him and left. There was a delayed reaction but he eventually started to cry.. sort of a fakey cry... testing me. 2 minutes and I went back in (instant stop to the crying), did not make eye contact, shushed him, patted his tummy, said goodnight and left. Wait for it, wait for it... boom. Cry for 5 minutes. Back in, pat the tummy, no eye contact, repeat goodnight and out. No delay. Instant scream. 10 minutes on the clock.... go. It subsided for a second around 8 min and I thought he may be spitting up then it came back with a vengeance. 10 minutes was up, and I walked into a nightmare. Vomit everywhere. This was no spit-up. It had the puke smell and I have never seen that much of anything come out of him, and he's had some serious diapers. His poor little head was sitting in a puddle, hair soaked, face soaked, arm soaked, pjs soaked,sheet and mattress pad soaked.... it was awful. He was sobbing, I started sobbing and I swooped him up and hugged him until he got it together. Puke in his hair, in his ear, in my hair, all over both of our clothes.... I repeat, it. was. awful.

I don't care what worked for your kid, this will not be how Benji learns to sleep. I had to wash the sheets, give him a bath, change both of our clothes and feel horrible that he could not comprehend my apology for doing that too him. And to top it off, he barfed up a day's worth of food so of course, he was hungry again. I'd rather put him to sleep my way and wake up every 2 hours than that puking nightmare. Maybe he's still too young, maybe eventually he'd learn but come on, in 3 timed attempts to "let him cry" he has make himself puke every time, with this being the most extreme. Forget it. I rock him until he's drowsy, put him into the crib (where he immediately wakes up), and stand there until he goes to sleep. This is what I signed up for, right?

Screaming Sleep Monster - looks sooo innocent

Matt is probably fearing the resentment with every word he reads. I don't resent him although I do think ferberizing may be a team sport. We will see how things go the next few months. I keep praying that after a month+ of the same routine, he will get tired enough to just fall into it (he doesn't really nap either) but so far, it hasn't happened. He definitely doesn't have my sleeping genes. I'm an 8 hours + kind of person. Matt is more like 5. Hmmm... mini-matt has another resemblance to dad.

The good news is, as tired as I am, I trudge into the nursery to find this...

Now that's my best arts n' craft work yet.

Get Lo

So Matt is gone (just in time for a big snow that I had to shovel because I never learned how to start the snowblower)... BOOOOO. The military is sooooo... silly. I dropped Matt off on his base at like 5:15 am and the entire "send off" scenario was nothing like I imagined. In the movies, there is always a big hurrah with families lined up along a path to the airplane, or sitting on gym bleachers waving flags while the soldiers march in pretty formations saluting the flag. Not in real life. Maybe its because this is just the Air Guard or the deployment is just 3 months but regardless, I felt more like I was at the airport in the loading zone than the send-offs on tv. There were cones set up for cars to drive through to drop off their soldiers with pretty much a "keep moving" and "no parking" vibe. Insert awkward hug with Matt holding 5 million pounds of gear, me crying off the previous day's eye makeup and cars behind us eager to pull up to the door. Welp, see ya later.

I wasn't really mad there was no big parade, I'm not much for fun at 5:15 am (just ask Matt), especially with a drive back to Omaha looming, but had I known I had 3 seconds outside of the running car to say goodbye, I may have... I don't know what I would have done. Like ripping off a band-aid, it was quick and as painless as watching your husband leave for 90 days to go to the tumultuous Middle East where he carries around a loaded M-16 (says his handouts) can be.

Here's what we think about Matt being gone.

Since my Holiday binge, since I gave birth to Banjo, since I started growing with a banjo, since our honeymoon all-inclusive gluttony, since my "get skinny for your wedding" diet ended, I have been meaning to get "back" into shape. Unfortunately, there is always the start of a new week, or a new month, or another Monday, perfect for starting a new healthy regime right around the corner. Lately, Matt's departure seemed like a good starting point to get back on track.

When Matt went to Iraq, I ran 2 miles, religiously, every single day. I got kind of skinny, imagine that! For someone whose last workout was over a year ago, pre-baby, that seemed a little lofty so I set the strenuous goal of 1 mile each day (give a sister a break, its hard being a single mom, whose baby doesn't sleep and who hates mornings).

Pinterest

Whatever, Pinterest. Hey, 1 mile is 1 more than I was running. I'm not running marathons or body building over here (and Matt's insane to even utter the words 'Tough Mudder' to me), I'd just like a cookie now and again without a massive muffin top. Even better, I'd like more than 3 pairs of my jeans to fit again (chalk that up to baby... it obviously has nothing to do with my love of all things edible).

I am currently 10 for 10 on days and miles in Matt's absence. Go me! I have gone back and forth in my head about whether or not I should share the following information but hey, you've seen me in labor, know way to much about my baby parts, and maybe this will be motivation to get my sh** together (and attempt to save some face). Here it is... I have shaved 10 minutes off my mile. To you amateurs, that sounds great! To anyone remotely active, this is so shameful. I had 10 minutes to be shaved from a mile. TEN MINUTES from ONE MEASLY MILE. Ten minutes are GONE and I still have enough minutes left to RUN A MILE. Pathetic, shameful, disgraceful.... I know. You can just imagine what the initial run looked like. In my defense, it was literally, the first workout in over a year and this body did not stretch or warm-up (as if that would have helped). AND, I am not a runner in the first place. My best mile time ever in my life was probably in the mid-sevens. I was probably 10. But, day after day I keep trudging to the basement to run my stupid mile. Not only is it helping me (I hope), its also helping Benji learn to "self-soothe" (remember when I mentioned that he doesn't sleep? he conveniently likes to wake up on mile 0.2 which means my heart breaks a little bit each second it takes to get to my mile. If he's crying, he's breathing, right?).

Pinterest

So there!

Once its warm, I bet it takes about 1 mile to run to the brand-new Donut Professor (which is next door to Eileen's Cookies) and home. Haha! My 10 for 10 is improving though, slowly but surely. I got on the scale the other day and it said "lo". Unfortunately, I think it was referring to batteries, not my weight but hey, what you don't know can't hurt you (like the actual number) right?

Matt's 'getting healthy' involves me shipping $200 worth of protein to him... apparently the 'mess hall' and their sodium-packed fake meats aren't enough for him. PLUS, since he works the night shift, he thinks chicken fingers (which are the healthiest meat offered) for breakfast are weird. PLUS, his first day, the 12-hour shift turned into a 19 hour shift with no food breaks. Ridiulous (see Benji's message above). Tuna, 6 bajillion protein bars, protein shots, protein-infused crystal light thingys, and a few other treats are en route to the Middle East.

Benji says hi.

He has also taken on a new work-out regime in Daddy's absense. Aside from our "necksercises" which I have named some tummy-time, head-holding activities, Benji hit the work-out jackpot yesterday with some new equipment.

He LOVES bouncing (aside from his affinity to bright lights - disregard the slight distraction mid-bounce). His right leg is going to be jacked because he prefers a lopsided bounce but no matter how he makes it go, the point is, he's bouncin'!  (mute these to spare yourself my ridiculous commentary)

This kid is digging the jump-a-roo. Now if only he'd roll...

'Well wouldja look at that,' a family of skinnies! Stop laughing, at least one of us has socially acceptable chub.

I'll leave you with some sweet dreams of Kandahar, as highlighted in Matt's info packet that he tossed to me on his way out.

"We are in a year round malaria risk-zone" sounds inviting
"In order to prevent malaria, sleeves will be rolled down at all times" fashionable
"Bored in Kandahar? So is everyone else" I know, make them work 19 hours straight!
"No members of the opposite sex are allowed in your room" Thanks Uncle Sam
"Due to lack of sleep, constant contact with people and not eating right, many people develop cold or flu symptoms soon after arriving. To avoid the "Kandahar Crud" make sure you're physically fit before you travel and wash your hands often." Keep the crud in Kandahar
"Do not attempt to catch, kill or harass spiders, snakes, scorpions, cats, dogs or any other animals on base." Here kitty, kitty.
"Consider all bugs and snakes to be venomous. Shake out your boots. Keep your fingers in sight. Do not feed any rodents or stray animals. Take your malaria pills. Food scraps attract rodents and rodents attract snakes." See previous blog post 
Benji's thoughts....

 
*Look who figured out a)how to use her ipad for videos b)how to put videos on her blog c)how annoying her voice sounds (sorry Matt~ and youtube)

Things are Getting Hairy...

One year ago today was the big day.... the positive pregnancy test. What a difference a year makes... from this

 to this...

I wish you could grow babies in less time than that, a year is a long time! SOOOO well worth it though! My 28th Birthday was yesterday and Matt foofed my present beautifully (I should have taken a picture). The gift was a purse but the wrapping was tied with a blue zip tie and a pink zip tie. Blog audience as my witnesses, Matt said that represented my real gift. He claimed they represented a baby but I'm going literal on this one and saying I get a boy AND a girl... and how ever many else it takes to get 1 of each! I'm going to go ahead and ignore the fact that he used zip ties instead of pretty bows. Was it some subtle message about being bound? Restricted? Tied down? Disregard. Don't get too antsy though, that gift will be redeemed at a later time.... Matt is leaving for 3 months, remember?

Since I don't have weekly baby growth updates anymore, my own observations are going to have to be vivid and entertaining enough for blog content. My most recent observation/annoyance has to do with HAIR. "Oh look at me, I'm pregnant and my hair is so thick and wonderful." Pregnant people do not grow thicker hair, their jacked up hormones just keep their hair from falling out so much. Fine, I admit, it was nice to not shed for a few months but let me tell you, that benefit of pregnancy is short-lived. My hair is back to falling out with a vengeance. I read somewhere that for the normal person's 100 strands/day, new baby momma's shed 500. I'm pretty sure 5,000 is the more accurate figure on my head. Ask Matt.

Matt asking google (daddy daycare at its finest)

I pull it out by the fist-full in the shower. It's disgusting. It's my own hair and even I am repulsed. Matt has had to snake the drain before in our old house thanks to my mop (although if HE had fixed the broken drain cover, some of that hair may have been prevented from going down). I didn't have to see the hairball that caused the clog but the thought of it makes me puke in my mouth. Hair balls = vom.com. My issue in the shower is that its the easiest place to pull out the clumps (that will otherwise fall out all over my universe) BUT then what do you do with it? I like to let the water take it but Matt and our plumbing disagree. The worst is pulling out the clump from the hair catcher (aka drain cover) after the shower is over. Whats worse than a hair ball? A cold wet hairball! Again, vom.com. I know its not fair; my hair, my problem but it really is the worst... especially the clump that always seems to rinse down the back and stick onto the back of the thigh, waiting to get caught in the razor (on the rare occasion I decide to shave).

Speaking of shaving, that's another hair issue. I had the privilege of not shaving my legs except for weekends and special occasions in high school. Yea yea, every Marian girl says it, "it's so great, we never shaved our legs and everything was rainbows and sunshine!" I lived that dream. Seriously, shaving is a pain and I avoided doing it. I'm a big fan of the 'shave the visible parts' school of thought (I do keep current on the pits though). Thank God mini-skirts are unacceptable for mid to late twenty-somethings. Anyway, years went by, I met Matt, tried to woo Matt, and shaved regularly. I locked him down, let my hair go and lucky me got preggo which bought me some solid months of not shaving (hey, in my defense it was physically impossible in places). Matt does not like this fact but he fails to fix the issue that has bought me even more no-shave excuses. Hot water. Our flipping water heater will not let my shower exceed 15 minutes (and that's only if I'm not doing laundry or running the dishwasher). Lame. For an all-over smooth shave, I need a solid 25 or so. Get on that Matt. Oh wait, Afghanistan? Look who just score 3 more months. This guy! The only reasons to shave now will be when my sweats get itchy or we thaw out for spring and I want to wear a dress. I have to embrace the positives in Matt's absence, no matter how ridiculous.

If I had a penny for every hair I shed, I would be rich. Maybe I could use my $$ for this. (Watch this video... and tune into Oddities). Gag me. Matt could weave a flipping living room set as a tribute to me with the amount I'm giving out. Haha, as my hair tribute to him, I made a heart on the shower wall out of my hair (remember, I avoid the cold, post-shower drain clump at all costs) which did not go over well. White shower tiles + large black hairy heart? Who wouldn't love that hello from their loving wife?

I just puked in my mouth again remembering another hairy tale. Read This (or at least scroll down and look at the pictures). Word to the wise, change your earrings regularly. What a sicko. Omg, I just gagged looking at those pictures again.

There is such thing as pretty hair. I wish I had it. I'm growing mine out in an attempt to look like the Pinterest people (braids are BLOWING UP my feed) but somehow, my attempts to be stylish don't come out quite right. The sock roll trick did not make beautiful waves and neither did the stretchy headband. I have learned some fancy braids but the girth of my braids is always off. Coming from a girl with thick hair (even with the shedding issues), I think those braids are a)extensions b)hair pieces or c)wondrous.

pinterest

Let's bring this post full circle and get back to Banjo (which is seriously how I got thinking about hair in the first place). I took him to the doctor last week because I suspected he had an ear infection and while examining Benji, the doc told his med student that in males that age, you have to check for a hair tourniquet which is often the culprit for fussy babes. What? Oh yes, a hair wrapped around baby's pee-pee causing pain and anguish. Thankfully Benji was cleared but his fleece-lined cloth diapers are magnets for my loose hairs. I will definitely be paying attention to that in the future. Yikes.

*Side note -  the ear infection I mentioned resulted in an anti-biotic... Banjo's first consumable besides the boob. I almost cried thinking about his 'pure' insides being forever altered. #smotheringmomproblems

I'm hoping this ridiculous shedding thing is just about over. Hopefully this post didn't make you puke, and instead, educated any pregnant readers about what they're in for. Had I not been warned, I would be sure I was on a one-way path to a hairline similar to Matt and Benji. Now that's way scarier than grizzly legs or a little heart on the shower wall.

Meet n' Greet

Our good friends Wes and Ashley finally had their baby so Benji finally has a friend. Emma Grace was born January 9^th. My initial thoughts were that she looked like Wes but Matt argued that the only person she looked like was Benji because all newborns resemble each other. The old me may have agreed but the new mommy me begs to differ. Whatevs. She has dark eyes, a full head of thick hair, long fingernails that came out like a perfect manicure, and a tan! Yay for Emma being here!

We had dinner with the new fam this week and it was Banjo and Emma’s first official date. Holy Cow, when did I get a 4 yr old? That’s what I felt like after seeing the 2 side by side. Benji looked enormous and Emma looked teeny tiny. She’s a solid 8 lbs. but she looks a lot leaner than Benji ever was. We propped them up for a photoshoot and even though I took 49 pictures, the very first one cracks me up.

Benji looks a combo of terrified/repulsed/confused/shocked/scared/curious. Emma (who does have a neck and does not have a hunchback) is thinking “let me get my 8 hours of sleep” (like Wes). That or that she has to poop (which they both did about 10 minutes later – Emma and Benji, not Emma and Wes). Here is a montage of shots from the over-zealous camera bearing mommy.

‘WTF is that’   *   Full body scan   *   ‘She looks alright’

Elbow jab   *   'Eeek' (one of my faves)   *   ‘I don’t think shes moving’

‘Is she alive? Can someone check?’   *   Yawn- this is boring   *   G-rated 'F your pictures, Mom'

First date jitters   *   If we put our heads together…. *   Okay Emma’s waking up

Pinky out, so proper   *   Benji needs a place to rest his massive head   *   Emma says, 'not on me'

Just making sure we have the wedding video covered…. In case we need pictures for one, one day.

This baby picture explosion made me think about people saying babies are cute. Telling me Benji is cute is a much appreciated compliment. Thanks! I agree! But when people phrase it as “You make cute babies!” I feel a twinge of discomfort. People who say that are usually older and my mind immediately hones in on the “make” portion of the statement. I think of the act that made the baby. This is uncomfortable when it’s an uncle, or neighbor, or weird co-worker, or complete stranger telling you that. Are they thinking of me and Matt making the baby too? Even worse is “You did good.” It sounds so blunt. When I type the words, in my head they are in a gruff, pat on the back with affirmation, man to man thumbs up kind of voice. Awkward, American Pie kind of stuff.  I feel like an old man is snickering, giving Matt a high-five saying, ‘done did good, boy’ in reference to successfully impregnating me with some super sperm to ensure the legacy of his seed.  Creepy. Please stick to the plain old “cutes.”

Back to the babies. Emma again, reaffirms the fact that my baby is not a baby anymore, and I need to make plans for another one. I sound like a baby hoarder. I don’t always need a baby, or need 10 of them, Benji just needs another baby to play with – 24/7 (see Matt, its all for Benji!).  

Speaking of all for Benji, he’s had a hankering for sweets lately (breastfeeding allows me to justify indulgences, blame it on the baby!) and dinner at the Peterson’s gave me an excuse to try out a recipe (now there is something I do hoard). I whipped up a little Coconut Cake with Triple Berry filling and Coconut Buttercream. I had been wanting to try out the ombré layered cake craze all over the baking blogs (and Pinterest) and it turned out pretty snazzy if I do say so myself.

would look much cooler without the fruit filling

 

Feel free to call me to make you a baby gender reveal cake. This would be the cutest for one of those!

I can’t believe all the changes 3 short months have brought and in 3 short more (2 ½), we will have Baby Krebs here too (making Emma look like a 4 yr old and Benji look like a 5^th grader). It’s always exciting to think of the next baby milestones and I’m so excited for Benji to scoot, say mama, reach for me… but seeing a newborn really reminded me to savor the days now because they will be gone in a flash. My days of snuggling a little ball of baby scented squish are numbered!

this is already outdated!

Here On My Tuffet

Remember last summer when my dogs, who had only killed one thing EVER (when matt was out of town) killed 2 birds in 24 hours (when matt was out of town)??? It still blows my mind that of all the days in the year, all 3 massacres happened when I was home alone. Its like the universe just knows (or maybe dead animals are just all in the family…)

To the body count, I can now add 3 spiders. I am not talking about measly little daddy long legs, I’m talking about giant spiders. With fangs. And spiky legs. I’m getting itchy just writing this. Gross. I’m starting to think that I’m cursed or something. It all started… I don’t remember when, but in the past few months. I woke up for work, walked into the bathroom, past the bathtub and BAM! I was hit with a horrid sight. 

 

Giant. Spider. In. Tub. I can kill bugs here and there without being too much of a girl (although once in high school I was freaking out about a moth in my room…my dad’s form of rescue was a simple, monotone “turn off your light, open your door and turn on the hall light.” Thanks for nothing, Dad) but my issue is reproduction. Bugs lay eggs. Eggs hatch. 1 bug just became 45, even if it’s just a moth. 

Another issue with bugs and their eggs is that I have heard 1 too many horror stories about people stepping on a spider or squishing a spider that was carrying said eggs on its back. POP. A million tiny spiders running around, possibly on you. I just s.o.l.-ed (shivered out loud, but silently. It was an action). Disgusting. Now, when I see a spider, I hesitate smashing its guts out for fear of the egg sack, that I don’t even know really exists. But not smashing it means it can scurry into some dark corner to lay more eggs and make more spiders. Aagghh! 

The first response to killing a bug is toilet paper, or some sort of napkin/paper towel variety. I killed a cricket once with TP (those little buggers are hard to find and when you finally do, they must die. It’s them and the chirping, or something valuable getting thrown at the wall). Killing it with TP required far too much force. It was thick and crunchy and its guts looked like chunky applesauce. I can’t handle the warmth or the moisture of the freshly dead bug that you can feel through the wad of paper. TP is too absorbent and fingers are not protected, computer paper doesn’t envelop the suspect enough to do damage, and my shoe would mean I have bug guts that I then track all over my house. The real problem is that when you spot a bug, the panicky feeling takes over and you are forced to grab anything within reach. (I refuse to resort to me shoe though. I would rather smash it with a soap dispenser or some other random object that I would then throw away, rather then use my shoe, which goes in my closet with my clothes, and walks on floors in my house that I eat off of, and walks through carpet that Banjo lays on).

Back to the spider in my tub. I’m not kidding, it was huge. Like a 2 inch leg span. My initial reaction to all spiders of any size or shape is that it is a brown recluse. I read about them being in Omaha a few summers ago and I am convinced one will find me, or Matt, or Gus (fine, or Walter). Spider in the tub was before Benji’s day so he was not on my mind but our skin shriveling off from a spider bite was. I saw the spider and had to act quickly. The worst thing that could happen in this type of situation would be to see the spider, go retrieve a killing device, and return to no more spider. Now that’s a situation. The possibilities of where it could have gone would be awful. Anyway, I had to act fast so as to not lose sight of the devil. I quickly evaluated the situation~ TP was not heavy duty enough for a job this size and shoes were out of the question, so I went with my preferred method, aerosol. I grabbed my hairspray (which has worked in the past – it glues the victim in its place) and smothered the crap out of the giant. This stunned him enough for me to go pillage for something stronger. Scrub N Bubbles. Boom. The spider appeared to shrivel and wasn’t moving. 

At that point I patted myself on the back, and turned on the tub to ‘wash the spider out.’ That’s when it got ugly. The water swooshed the spider up the side of the tub, where it stuck, and resurrected. Are you kidding me? This was way too big to smash, even dead, let alone pissed off, sticky and smelling fresh. I repeated my spray attack, and ran to the other bathroom to get something with Clorox. Bleach 1 Spider 0. I was going to leave the body for Matt to clean up but having witnessed the first resurrection, I couldn’t take any chances. I had to shovel the thing onto a magazine and throw the whole lot away. Now that the spider was gone, I was left to deal with the thoughts of the spider being near me while I had been sleeping. I convinced myself since it was in the tub, it had crawled up the drain and therefore, had just entered our house (no time to lay eggs or bite us). Its only one spider, its only one spider, its only one spider. Thank God I have the attention span of a kid at Tilt. I soon forgot the 8-legged terror and moved on with my life.  

Then, Itsy Bitsy’s BFF came seeking revenge. Groggy and dazed, I rolled out of bed a couple of weeks later, strolled into my closet and hit the lights.

A little hard to focus on anything.

Tell me this is a nightmare.

Are you kidding me?!? Another one? HUGE? In my closet?!?

Thank God I saw this one, I don’t even know how I did back in that corner. But it was big, and thick and black (TWSS) and again I just got the heebie jeebies typing this. The panic set in and I had to act. This sucker couldn’t stay with my clothes! I kept envisioning putting on a shoe and spiders running out, or reaching onto a shelf and getting fangs in my fingers. FML. No time to wake Matt up, I couldn’t risk losing sight of this f-er. I knew I needed to remove the pig from the vicinity because there were way too many places for him to escape (um, my undies are in a basket next to him). I psyched myself up and on 3, I yanked piggy off of the shelf and into the middle of the floor. The spider scurried to the piggy ear and I patted myself on the back for saving my wardrobe, and keeping the spider in sight.

My initial thought was to resort to my bleach bottle, soak the piggy/spider to death, and throw them both away. That’s when the SOB took off. Hairspray paralyzer, check. Now for the tricky part, this guy was on carpet and I didn’t want to make a big bleach mark on the floor. With time running out and little else to grab, I was forced to go with the TP. Uggh, I cringe thinking about it. Luckily I had the plastic that the TP rolls come in so I held the wad through the plastic and spidey was toast. Force of the nubbins 1 Spider 0. My joy of victory lasted about 3 seconds until I started thinking about where the heck that one came from. No drains in the closet so I settled on it falling from the vent in the ceiling~ thankfully not 12 inches to the right into my panty pile.

Since the closeted spider came out, I’ve lived in a bug free bubble. Arachnid anxiety was replaced with baby love and I didn’t think twice about bugs or critters (ha! Emily has a funny critter story with some ground squirrels) until last night. Sometimes when I’m getting ready, I lay out a blanket on the bathroom floor (our bathroom is carpeted so its okay to have a baby there and I know carpet in bathrooms is gross~ it came with the house and its at the top on the ‘renovate’ list). Anyway, one of the blankets had been ‘put away’ (tossed in a pile off to the side) for a few days and last night, a little something caught my eye. Son of a….

I have to admit, this spider was the smallest of the 3 I’ve seen (like ¼ of the size) BUT it was also the brownest. Remember my knowledge of the recluse? Again, I was forced into action for fear of losing sight of the stupid thing. Not wanting to poison my baby’s stuff with my aerosol attack (my all natural melaleuca products are on order), I went with the shake and squeeze. Shake the blanket, squeeze the spider with TP (the smaller the spider, the less chance of goo or anything else soaking through my 500 TP squares). The whole incident was over and done in a flash but unfortunately, I was left to my own wild imagination and fears. We’ve thrown a baby into the mix and all I could picture was Benji confined to the bars of his crib prison, covered in spiders. Sound asleep, like a perfect little angel, with spiders coming freely in and out of his nose, mouth and ear orifices. 

Stupid spiders. I have tried to convince myself that they are the kind that eat the other bugs, you know, the kind you want in your house? But its doubtful. In almost a year in our house, I have seen 3 spiders, all within like 100 sq. ft, all within close proximity to where we sleep, all when I’m alone and forced to deal on my own. Matt leaves in a few weeks and I don’t even want to know what critters I’ll be dealing with then. With my track record, it’ll be like the ‘Hangover’ and I’ll wake up to a tiger in my bathroom. Lord, help us all.

I think I deserve some gifts to myself to make life easier while he’s gone (to compensate for any other crap I’ll have to deal with). 1. A regular exterminator visit (a preventative measure) 2. A landscaper to clear our lawn of debris and stray wood piles where recluses dwell (save the puppies, plus I don't know how to mow) and 3. A cleaning lady (hey why not). The military should give me these things while Matt’s gone since essentially I’m asking for a highly productive version of my husband that they’re sending away. Hey, a girl can dream, right? Anything to get my mind off of all of the horrible creepy crawlies lurking in the shadows of my house, just waiting for Matt to leave.