I never have time

I never have time to update this thing. Sometimes (all the time) I wish I could be a (part-time) stay-at-home mom. I wish I had more time to spend with my son. I wish I could just spend all hours of the day soaking in his awesomeness. I love that kid more than anything.

I read a lot of mom blogs and several of them are written by moms who have lost children (babies). I sat last night, exhausted, wanting to go to bed, but trying to organize ALL of my clothes and getting Jude's birthday party planned and figuring out Halloween, making sure all the grandparents get to see Jude, etc. My mind was swirling. I was tired. I wanted to go to bed. John was asleep on the couch for the second night in a row. I had asked him to put Jude down and he didn't budge. I sat down in the rocker with him and turned on his lullabies and tried so hard to get him to sleep. He wasn't having it. He kept grabbing my glasses, grabbing and twisting my nose with his sharp fingernails (which I basically got yelled at at day care for. Screw you guys. Have you tried to cut an almost 11 month old's nails? It sucks.) He was pulling my hair and kept going back to my glasses, which, if he breaks them, I have no back up and no money to get more. I kept gently saying no, and pulling his hand away. His face was so sweet while he was doing, but it hurt. I tried to stay calm with him. I was getting mad. Then I remembered all the baby-lost parents out there and I felt guilty for getting mad. I figured any of them would gladly trade me places and have a baby scratching their face and pulling their hair. So I started crying. I finally walked out to the living room, yelled at John and made him put Jude down. I still feel guilty for getting aggravated with Jude. Which is ridiculous. Just because I am one lucky person to have him in my life doesn't mean I need to be happy that he's scratching the hell out of me. I think I feel so much empathy for the baby-lost parents that I feel like I should enjoy every single minute and praise everything Jude does. It's unrealistic. As much as we want to believe, kids are not perfect. If I get aggravated with Jude it doesn't mean that I love him any less or don't appreciate every minute I have with him. I have high anxiety and I think with reading these other mom's blogs, I worry even more that something will happen to Jude or I will jinx him. I really need to relax and enjoy my time with him.

Which takes me back to wanting to be a stay-at-home mom. Or at least a part-time one. I remember reading a blurb in my HR class in college about two moms who filled one position at a company. One mom worked Mon, Tues and Wed morning, and the other one worked Wed afternoon, Thur and Fri. Any other moms out there want to split a full-time position with me? (I wish. Unfortunately, the mortgage, utilities, cable, insurance and wireless companies don't want me to be a part-time stay-at-home mom.)

Anyway, here's the half-weekly dose of pictures.

Confusing Angie by ringing the potty bell (a wind chime the dogs hit to tell us they need to go out. Yes, they're geniuses)

Mischief in the cabinets

Confusing Suzzy (our best door chime hitter)

All I have time to do is...

post (a lot of) pictures from this week.

Bright flash- dark car

Pumpkin butt!

Sisters in St. Louis

Cool funeral home sign in St. Louis

We were in St. Louis to see The Ladybirds (from Louisville) and the Martha Graham Dance Company

I highly recommend you check out both of these groups.

Creepster McCreepenstein

Whoever invented the baby monitor is a creepster mccreepenstein. I've always loathed baby monitors. The noise they pick up almost always sounds like white noise or demonic breathing. I could totally do without it. We had a video monitor that didn't pick up so much noise and if I woke up worrying about him, I just looked at the screen, saw his chest (or butt depending on the position) moving up and down and went back to bed. The video monitor broke.

I didn't have an extra $200 to replace it. So I got a $17 audio monitor. The dreaded. When I used to baby-sit, I was deathly terrified of it. My charges never went to sleep. I never understood it, but maybe like dogs, the kids can smell fear and decided to stay awake so I wouldn't be scared. (Baby-sitting always scared me anyways, because aren't they always the first to go in slasher movies?)

We had gotten along peacefully with the audio monitor for about, oh, a week. Then last night. Let me preface by saying that it didn't help that I watched six episodes of Ghost Whisperer before going to bed- not a scary show, but it puts things in your brain. Weird thoughts. All of a sudden, I'm Melinda Gordon on the look out for earthbound spirits that need to cross over.

So I have a very fragile mind state. I'm a wimp.

The Dude woke up SCREAMING at 3 am. I had just fallen asleep an hour earlier because I was working on his costume so I let John take that one. I heard him try to give him a bottle and come back to bed. The Dude was still screaming. I was told to ignore it. (Yeah, right) After 30 seconds (and hearing some mamas in there (which he's never said), I got up and picked up the screaming Dude. He had the most pitiful look on his face. I changed him and held him for a few minutes. He started pointing to the wall and waving. I thought it was weird, but he likes to wave to the sky, trees, cars, a multitude of inanimate objects- so it wasn't too alarming. I put him down, put the bottle in his mouth, stroked his head a few times and he was back on his way to peaceful slumber. I still felt a little uneasy leaving him there by himself (Ghost Whisperer syndrome).

Then, this morning around 6:00 am the monitor went off. It sounded like a pterodactyl raping a duck. This horrible screeching noise that went for a few seconds. It woke me and John up. It stopped. Jude was quiet. His Rock A Bye Baby was still playing. We asked each other what it was and went back to sleep. (It scared the crap out of me, but not enough (or too much?) to go and check to see if the ghost had done something to Jude. Mother of The Year.) An hour and a half later, we were treated to about 8 loud thumps on said monitor. Knowing John had heard this sound before, I wasn't too scared. Because it was The Dude slinging his bottle across the slats of the crib. Being a dutiful mother, I went to go get him and start the day. He was fast asleep. Creepster McCreepenstein.

Goals

I'm on a quest right now to return my body to not only my "pre-baby" body, but also to my "pre-marriage" body. I don't know what happened but the last 6 months before my wedding I slowly started gaining weight. I had to get my wedding dress completely altered (take the zipper out, put in a corset back so I would have wiggle room to stuff my body in it.) I don't think there's anything quite so embarrassing. I don't have willpower. If you dangle good food in front of me, I will eat it. Without a second thought. After Jude, I stayed huge. I didn't lose a pound of baby weight. I blame it on: lack of willpower, putting my son first, quitting dance, eating like crap, not getting any sleep, etc. I really thought I had a thyroid problem. I really wanted it to be a thyroid problem. Why would I wish a medical condition on myself? It takes the blame off of me. It's not my fault I'm enormous. It's my body, it's Jude's, it's blah blah blah. I threw out excuse after excuse. I tried to reconcile my eating habits in my head.

I was lazy. After having a small health scare, I decided it was finally time to do something about. I own my problem. It is my fault, and my fault alone, that I am in plus-sized clothing. And I am the only person who can do something about it. I need to lose 95 pounds. Everybody kept saying "don't say that. Do small goals. Otherwise, it seems impossible." But that's not the way I work. If I set intermittent goals, once I reach those, I'll be pleased enough to stop trying. Then I'll get "Cute Girl Syndrome". You know, where you finally reach your goal weight and decide that you now have it under control, and you can eat that. It's fine. Then you cheat on more and more. Then you no longer are afflicted with CGS. You're just fat.

The Dude's 1st birthday is in a month and a half. I did set one short-term goal of losing 20 pounds by his birthday. Even 20 pounds lighter I will still look bad, but I won't look as bad. I'll be able to step in front of the camera and take pictures with my (beautiful) son and my (hot) husband. Maybe I won't look like I completely don't belong in this family unit. I try to keep up appearances in other ways. My hair and makeup are pretty much the only thing I can do. "Cute" clothes don't really come in a size 22. Or they are cute. But they don't look cute on me.

I want to be thin for so many reasons. For my self-esteem. For my husband. For my son. I don't want him growing up unhealthy. He's so beautiful, and I want to keep his body in the best shape it can. Life can throw enough curve balls at you; I want to control as much as I can and keep him as healthy as I can. I want him to have a better life.

I'm on track. I will do this.

In the meantime, here's life in the past week (I really need to start updating more than once a week so I don't have to post 25 pictures every time.)

Layla might have a home after this weekend!

Autumn (The Dude's cousin) was so excited to "hold" him

Store-bought Halloween costume- Jude the Dragon

Not his favorite- he had trouble maneuvering with it on. The headpiece kept pulling his head down and he would faceplant. 

The look of joy- when he got to the zoo he went into a catatonic state. I think he was pissed.

We introduced the girls. Friends at last!

Even Ang likes her

Homemade skunk costume for The Dude. This one shouldn't bother him nearly as much.

The Bash Brothers in (not so) rare moment of sweetness

Awww

Layla and John- I think he's going to miss her

What I did this week...

In pictures!

He fell asleep on the changing table with his little butt in the air. It was cute. I tried to take a picture. He sat up and I got this.

New jewelry

Our foster Layla. Anybody want a dog?

How is this comfortable?

While waiting for my extremely slow McDonalds order, I got to watch fire dancers across the street.

10 months and a few days ago...

The Dude was born. What a crazy 10 months it's been. His official first word was "dada". His second word(s) is "a dog". It started out as "a doh" and he has now been able to say "a dog." He also replied "a yeah" once when I asked him if "a doh" means "a dog". He loves saying dog. In the morning, when I pull him into bed with us so we don't have to start the day right away, he will so dramatically throw himself back, arms out and just babble and say "a dog" 15 times in a row. Then he'll lay on John's back, put one arm firmly on him, look at me and say "dada?" Then he'll throw himself so his head touches the dogs, and repeat the dramatic layout while chanting "a dog."

We're in the process of redecorating the house. We're getting pretty much every square foot of floor redone (1450ish from a house that's 1600ish square feet). It's going to be beautiful, smooth, flat (but probably still slanted cause our house is 115 years old) laminate floors that look like wood. The nasty carpet will be gone. The uneven floors with screws popping up will be gone. We are also going to repaint pretty much every room, except for Jude's room. My inspiration came from http://blog.alicelanehome.com/uncategorized/inspiration-in-unusual-places-back-to-school-2/. That cerulean blue will be gracing our kitchen and back entryway's walls. That green will be gracing our front room. That salmon will be covering our formerly bright orange sitting room's walls. Our purple great room will be an "ancient pewter". The window seat will have the same cerulean blue with black accent. The boarded up fireplace will change to black. The mantle in the front room will have it's outdated stone painted white. We're getting rid of furniture and bringing awesome furniture in. I don't really know money-wise how we're going to pull this off, but it will be done by the end of 2012.

We took The Dude to St. James Art Fair and UnFair on Sunday, which was his 10 month celebration. At the last minute, I put his skunk hat on (part of his Halloween costume). I swear, the kid got 15 million comments. People stopped to take his picture. No joke. It probably helped that he is adorable anyway, and he was strapped to the most handsome dude there. Cute baby wearing a skunk hat, hanging off the chest of a stud. I'd stop and take a picture too. I was usually off shopping and buying art for the redecoration, so John had women (and gay men) flocking to him. I'm very grateful I have a husband who is so amazing and insists on carrying that kid everywhere in the Baby Bjorn. He loves it. And I love that he loves it.

How do you resist that?

Better yet- how do you resist that?

The past week and a half in pictures:

Slobber Bubble on a sunny afternoon