Peek-a-Boo! Here I am!

25 10 2011

Howdy Y’all!

I’m still banging around, things have just been CRAZY lately.

Since we last talked:
* Mr.C Turned 1
* Mr. C is an INTERNATIONAL MODEL on a Fisher-Price toy. He’s on Amazon.com right now, we’re waiting to see if he gets on the box.

Fisher-Price Push'n'See Monkey

(Yes, that really is MY KID. Those toes drive me insane with nibbles!)

* Mr. C has 8 teeth, including one molar.
* Mr. C got baptized. Which, if you know me, is a big freakin’ deal.
* We’re up to about 10 words, “Baywee” (Bailey), Kitty, Doggie, MOMMA!, Dada, Piggies (toes), Up, Yeah, Hi, Bye, Baby. He’ll imitate syllable noises too.
* I have not been committed to the nuthouse. yet.
* Steve and I celebrated our 7-year wedding anniversary.
* In late June, I had a “wacky” idea. Started working on it in July. Did a whole bunch of legal stuff. Found out on Mr. C’s birthday that I AM A SMALL BUSINESS OWNER.
You may say that my cloth diapering obsession has reached epic proportions.

freshandfluffyshop.com 





Wordless Wednesday: Wrinkles

6 07 2011

 

IMG_6999





(Belated) Wordless Wednesday: Summer Toes!

12 05 2011

 

IMG_6795





Wordless Wednesday: Unnecessary Roughness

23 03 2011


(trying not to make him look like something out of an antique medical book)
(And I was squishing his cheeks)


(extreme close-up!)





Variousness

9 02 2011

Think Local, Act Global:
For the LONGEST time, I was all poo-poo on chain restaurants (well, I’m still no Olive Garden fan… there was that one time when I was 7 months pregnant…) “Support the little local guys!”, I’d tout and wait an unreasonable 7 minutes for my chai latte at the tiny place rather than waiting 2 minutes at Starbucks; though this problem has been entirely eradicated since I fell in love with our Tassimo Brewbot. I digress.
I’m not quite sure what short-circuited in my brain recently, could be the addiction to amazon.com, but I realized something.
Who sorts my packages at the UPS hub? Who delivers my mail? Local People. Who runs the register at Wegmans when I buy Jamine Rice?  Who sorts shirts at the mall? Who opens the Smithwicks tap at the pub? Local People. Who serves my sushi? Immigrants, but (hopefully) legal, local ones.
I’ll be. So, even if I’m not totally supporting “the little guy” I’m still keeping some people in jobs.
Now, if I could find reasonably priced American made toys for a baby who like to stick EVERYTHING in his mouth, I’d be happy to have the Fed Ex guy deliver it.

Upgrade:
YOT is now, er, YOT.
Ye’Olde Trailblazer’s lease was up, so I had to get a new vehicle. Well, not HAD to, I could have chosen to pay off the balance… regardless, I ended up getting a GMC Terrain.
Ye’Olde Terrain.
The name reminds me of the Canyonero.

Stop Bitching About the Weather:
It’s winter people. It will be cold. It will snow. People will be stupid and drive when they’re not supposed to and get stuck in snowbanks.
Unless you’re in the Southern Hemisphere, in which case you’re complaining about the heat.

High on the list of  “Stupid Ideas”:
Reading “The Shining” during an epic snowfall winter.

No Way to Wake Up:
MiniMak’s monitor has a temperature gauge on it to alert us if it’s too hot or too cold. His monitor also measures motion (respiration and movements) and alarms if he stops moving about.
That being said, being startled out of sleep by a monitor alarming is bad, even it was for a “‘s chilly in here!” alarm.
Doubly upsetting when your childhood friend’s son passed the night before.





Thoughtful Thursday

2 12 2010





*tap tap* Is This Thing On?

9 08 2010

The way my brain is wired is pretty easy. Relevant [to this posting] nugget include:
If you’re going to take the time to ask someone a question, take the time to pay attention to their answer.

I tend to get frustrated when people bring things up that I presume they know are wrong, just to start a conversation.

I.E. #1
At last month’s 4th of July party, an uncle asked if we were finding out what we’re having.
I told him no.
Over the weekend, I saw said uncle again. He asked if we were going to find out what we’re having.

I.E. #2
4th of July: “Are you feeling the bbaaaaaabbbyyyy*?”
“Sure am!”
This weekend: “Are you feeling the bbaaaaaabbbyyyy*?”
(aside, I have 8-9 weeks to go. If I am not feeling the baby, we have MAJOR issues.)

I.E. #3/4
My parents have lived in Tucson for almost 6 years. Why do some people insist on asking me if they still live in Phoenix? They lived in Phoenix about 8 years ago.
Same goes for my maternal family who live in Small Town Michigan (2 hours south of Detroit)… Steve’s family still thinks they live in Detroit, despite my correcting them multiple times a year. Not that the geographic location matters, it’s more of, “They don’t live in Detroit, they live in Small Town, but (revert to whatever dribble was going on).”

Maybe it’s that whole can-we-talk-about-something-else but I am over being asked, “How are you feeling?” and “Are you excited?”
If you know someone who’s pregnant, stop asking them.
You don’t really want to know about hemorrhoids, bladder weakness, upset stomachs, acid reflux, back pain, midnight charlie horses etc. ** Everyone and their mothers (and fathers. And uncles. And Aunts. And various strangers) are asking them how they feel. Can we talk about the weather (but not related to pregnancy) or the local sports team or something?

Most people are excited to welcome a baby into their lives. If I answer with a dry, “No”, you look at me like I’m the one who is stupid. Why the hell wouldn’t I be excited? Thank you for not asking if I’m nervous or scared or prepared (for the record, “No, because it is what it is, why fret over how horrible it’s going to be?”, “Kind of, just because this is something I’ve never done before.” and “Hahahaha. No. Though, I do have a car seat, stroller, changing table and boppy.”) because I do not want to hear you trying to rationalize WHY I should be scared/nervous; “Oh, you know Family Member almost DIED when she gave birth!”

And to people who do rationalize people’s fear, there’s a monster living under your bed and that lunch meat you made your sandwich with is past  it’s best-by date and tomorrow you’ll find that the next piece of bread in the bag is moldy.

*Yes, that’s how you must refer to spawn. Especially if you’re over the age of 60. No offense to my decent 60+ readers, I know you’d never.
** This author is lucky and has not been plagued by may of this maladies. But you know that because we’ve discussed it.





Because Things Which Come Out of Your Body Aren’t Gross Enough to Begin With…

27 07 2010

It’s been a long standing joke between Steve and I about what we are going to do with the placenta after Mini arrives.
He’s got this unreasonable fascination with it, while I’m more KILL IT WITH FIRE.
Because it freaks people out, we’ve often, publicly, talked about having friends over and making it into salsa.*

Today, I was browsing the internets and came across something just as disturbing… I was going to just post the photo and link to it, but I don’t know if you’re eating or have eaten in the past say, 12-hours.
There’s a kit out which allows you to sew together a teddy-bear-looking thing from a placenta.
I so wish I was kidding.
So of course, I emailed it to Steve, “If we didn’t want to make salsa…”
“For some reason, I am extremely creeped out. EWWWWW, this will be a part of my new diet plan.  I would rather eat the salsa.”
“I think ‘creeped out’ is reasonable and valid response to this.” , I replied.

And of course I couldn’t let it be… so I texted him, “Placenta Bear wants your soul.”
“STOP IT. Get it away from me!”
“It just wants to sleep on your side of the bed…”

* OMG WTF,  NO!

(Yes, this is on ssmak.wordpress.com too, but I’ve got that linked/auto-posted to another site too)





Bridge Burning Prevention

18 06 2010

Hey Reader(s),

What is a good way to tell, or strongly allude to, someone that they’re being rude?
Telling them, “That was rude.” is going to cause some damage.
And ignoring the comment just bears the comment repeated.

I know I need a thicker skin, however, why do I always have to be the one to play defense, why can’t some people realize they’re being lint-lickers?
Why can’t I be the one to say, “WRONG” instead of acting like I’m not bothered by it, because I clearly am.

One example… “Whoa preggo! Look at you!” in a sing-song voice.
Reply: “Yes, I am pregnant, this is what happens.” is met with scoffs, however, I do not need everyone and their mother pointing out that I’ve got a belly.

Another example… “Pointing out the obvious!”
Reply: “What? Where?”

Natch, these are just two examples, but like, in general, any “nice” ways to tell people to STFU or GTFO?

HELP.

Update 6/19/10: Holy crap. I had a light-shining-down-revelation last night… the person who is giving me the most grief is passive-aggressive… let the research to the point of nausea begin!!!!





The Line… (Sticky Post, FYI)

6 04 2010

Let’s be real here folks… you come to stopbouncing for the snark, not the baby talk.
Thus, I am going to do my best to keep the two blogs separate… that way you can enjoy the lighter side of Stephanie (which technically I lost in February when my body decided that the best place for baby protection was my ass) here and the pregnant side over on ssmak.wordpress.com

Seem Fair?