The Ultimate Cheese

I feel like if you admit something you do is cheesy, it becomes less cheesy, and therefore cool again.  Whether this is true or not, it's what I'm telling myself and it makes me feel better. So this is my confession...

There comes a point in my day, after saying goodbye to the little ones I watch, where I'm just done. I've changed all the diapers I can change, fed all the kids I can feed, and stopped as many tears as I can without crying myself.  It's usually at this point in the day when Karter is his fussiest.  He just has this sixth sense about him, as I am sure most kids do, and he knows when I am most drained and decides to turn on the water works.  At this point, I realize we've played with the trucks 50x that day, tasted every book once and moved the bar stool to carpeted ground so it can longer move.  I find myself with limited options to make my fussy boy happy enough to last until bed time.

This is where the cheese comes in.  Not real cheese, mind you.  I pack up a bag, put on his hat and grab the blanket and head out the front door to wait underneath one of our trees by the driveway until Mark gets home. There's something magical for Karter about going outside and knowing that "dada" (though he still refuses to say it) is on his way.  For some reason, this time with Karter is pretty 'magical' for me as well, and I get a little caught up in my obsession for him and his cuteness.  We giggle, we play and sometimes  we he eats sticks.  I sometimes forget that we are on display for the neighbors to see, and the 938670 cars passing by on their way home, and I don't care. 

Mark soon joins us as he rolls in the drive and Karter excitedly kicks his feet.  There we all sit on the blanket laughing, talking and enjoying each other.  This is probably when the neighbors start throwing up a little in their mouths thinking "why can't they just take this inside?"  I feel as though it appears that we are fake enjoying each other, putting on a show to reassure the neighbors that we really are happy.  But it's not a show.  We really are happy.  It's cheesy and probably annoying to some who look out the window.  But I don't care.  It sure beats staying inside wiping pieces of paperback book off Karter's chin for the hundredth time that day....

Boy Genius

I've said it once and I'll say it again...I've got a baby genius on my hands.  Sure, he may never find a cure for cancer or win the National Spelling Bee, but he can take the lid off the puffs container with his teeth, so that will do for now.  Perhaps it's just because I am his mom (not likely), but I find him to be exceptionally smart...like street smart, well, the baby version of street smarts.  He outsmarts me a lot of the time, so that should say something. 

You may be shaking your head thinking "impossible...he can't possibly be a baby genius", which is why I shall provide you with some examples.  Let's start with the what sparked this blog post.

The toy box.  My child loves the toy box. Already, at almost 10 months, he knows the toy box to be a mecca for babies.  When he hears the creak of the lid, he sprints for it (ok, it's more of a crawl sprint.)  He can be anywhere, but as soon as that lid is lifted, he is summoned to the play room to strain for toys he can't quite reach for.  Today, he kept trying to play with the electrical outlet, but the boy I watch during the day kept opening the lid to the toy box to distract him and he would come crawling over.  As I was watching him today get to the toy box as fast as baby-ly possible, I was just amazed by his recognition of the sound of the creak!

We got him a toothbrush several weeks ago and brushing his teeth has become the highlight of his day.   After he is taken out of the bath for standing up after he has been told 'no', to get him to lay still to get dressed, we bribe him with the toothbrush.  I used to think that he loved the taste of the toothpaste, but usually he sticks the end of the brush in his mouth to chew on, so who knows.   Anyway, he has figured out that the routine is he brushes, we rinse the brush and then he 'rinses' his teeth.  So now, after he has sucked off the toothpaste and chewed the end, he hands us his brush to rinse off for him.  It's pretty cute.

I wish that I could continue to convince you of how smart he is, but alas he has figured out all the good tv is on at 9 and decided to get up.  Too smart for his own good, I tell you.

Our first vacation

So we embarked on our first family of 3 vacation this past week/weekend.  I'm not going to lie, I had many worries that the drive was going to be 6 hours of Karter crying, me crying, and Mark cursing the day he agreed to this.  Luckily, this did not occur, but I did learn a few things this week...

1.)  My husband must really love me. Seriously.  There's no other way to explain why he still loves me after hearing me sing "The Wheels on the Bus", "Old McDonald" and songs made up by yours truly for what seemed like hours on end.  Fortunately he found it more amusing than annoying.  I've got a keeper.
2.)  Karter is a gangsta.  Should you meet him in a dark alley at night, watch out.  He's badass.  He has started doing this thing where he points out his pointer finger and shakes his hand up and down.  It inspired many a gangster dance from everyone there. I'm 81% this came from the numerous times I sang "5 Little Monkeys" and pointed my finger when the doctor said no more monkeys jumping on the bed.
3.)  Karter hates brooms.  After putting out his bottom lip at the Taco Bell worker when she walked near his high chair today, the lady brought him over a board book that they put in the kid's meals, which was super nice. I thought this would me that perhaps she and Karter were now BFF's, but I was wrong.  As soon as she walked out with a broom he burst into tears.  Poor lady felt bad and said she would wait to clean until we left.  In case you were eating at a Berea, KY area Taco Bell today and it was dirty, that would be why.
4.)  Bathrooms make amazing bedrooms.  Judge me if you want, but after hearing that a friend puts her baby in a pac n play in the bathroom on vacations, I thought it was worth a shot.  It was the darkest and quietest place in the cabin (it was three floors filled with 10 adults and 4 kids.)  He slept like a dream, perhaps better than when he does at home.  He may have even gotten up quietly and showered in the middle of the night, I'll never really know.
5.) Time with family is fantastic.  Karter's aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents are now scattered everywhere, so it was nice to get everyone together and be in the same place at the same time.  By the end of our time there, I think he was even smiling at others and considering letting them get near him!

I feel like it's a huge milestone to get through our first family vacation.  If I can travel 6 hours in a car with my 9 month old, then I can do anything.  Well, except for the laundry that's now piled up in our laundry room...and unpack...and the dishes that are waiting for me...

Walking Contradiction

Yesterday, as I was rocking Karter for his nap, and sweating off any ate-too-much-ice-cream-this-week weight off while doing so, I came to the realization that I am a walking contradiction.  I found myself sitting up there longing for the days of fall, with it's crisp hoodie weather...but then I remembered in fall sitting up there longing for the long, warm days of spring.  I long for vacations, and then when I am there, I long to be home.  Am I ever satisfied?  Though I try to be content in every situation, my human nature (that's what I am choosing to blame it on) causes discontent in me.

Since having a child, I've noticed that this character trait has made itself more noticeable within myself.  For the first few weeks, months even, I longed for the days when my baby would be an independent, mobile little boy, not needing me within 5 feet of him at all times.  Now, here I find myself with a more mobile boy (though, I still have to be within 5 feet of him at all times) and I long for the days when I could put him in the swing and go to the bathroom, without him crawl-running to the door and banging on it (yes, it's already started.)  My brother and I were looking at pics of Karter when he was just a wee little lad and I couldn't believe how much he had changed already.  Though those sleepless nights and days with a colicky baby were so tough, I shouldn't have been so quick to wish them away.

I guess what I have learned is that I will always be wishing for something else, something that I think is 'better.'  My job as a mom, though, is to acknowledge that fact, but learn to enjoy the current moment I have with my child.  I know now, that I even though I am wishing for the day when he can walk on his own, without me being there to catch his fall, I will look back on these days and wish for them again.  And when I do, I'll know that I did my best to enjoy every second of catching his little bottom before it hit the ground, chasing him up the stairs, and peeing faster, because goodness knows, that 30 seconds I'm gone is traumatic for him.

Are You Crunchy Enough?

No, I'm not talking about peanut butter (though that does sound delicious right now.) Everyone seems to be abuzz over the Time Magazine cover with a woman breastfeeding her 3 year old child (seriously, when you need to use a step stool, it's probably time to stop.) I'm not here to weigh in on the cover itself, but more so on this parenting trend that seems to support. Those crunchy parents.

I have been wanting to blog about this for awhile, but not wanting to offend anyone, I have held back my thoughts. But like I've said before, it's my blog so I think I can say what I think, whether it be right or not (though, I'm usually right, just ask my husband;)  There just seems to be a lot of talk on crunchy matters as of late, and it just irks me. 

I think that my parenting style is kind of middle of the road. I'm by no means crunchy, but I'm also not totally not crunchy.  I will breastfeed Karter for a year, maybe longer, I make my own baby food and I cloth diaper.  He's gone to the chiropractor a few times.  Add those things up and I at least get one crunchy badge, at least I think so.  But there are things I do that probably brings those in the crunchy community to tears...I vaccinate my child and firmly believe in doing so, I don't whip out my boob in public and not cover up, I do not co sleep (though there was that month that we had to in order to get any sleep), Karter's eaten his fair share of value brand graham crackers, and I fully believe that one of God's greatest gifts (ok, maybe greatest is a bit extreme) was to give someone knowledge on how to make epidurals.  Also, I don't chew my food and then feed Karter mouth to mouth, bird style.  I know, terrible mom right here (though he will thank me in a few years when he isn't in therapy in his 20's because pictures of me feeding him mouth to mouth have surfaced on the web.)

I guess it's not so much the crunchy lifestyle that really bothers me, it's the opinionated moms who live it.  While advice from other moms is to be expected, I have found that those that are "crunchy" provide the harshest kind of advice with a criticizing undertone.  We all mother differently and no one way is right, so I wish people would stop making it seem like there is one magic way to mother your child.  To me, a step stool for a 3 year old is created to reach things like the bathroom sink, not my boob.

Well, I could go on for hours, but my child has been fussing for the last few minutes because he wants out of his crib (gasp! He will probably have brain damage one day because I let him cry!), so I should probably attend to him.  Like I said, this isn't to offend anyone, but just to provide my own two cents. 

A Mother's Day Wish

Dear my little Karter bug,

It's been splendid being your mother the last 9 months.  I am so excited that tomorrow I will get to experience my first "real" Mother's Day tomorrow with you.  Not that you would be anything but perfect tomorrow, but just in case, here are a few requests I have for you for tomorrow:

-Please don't expect me up before 10.  I am sure you and your dad will have a great time playing trucks, building block walls and watching for tractors.  Just do it quietly, please.  There are only a few days out of the year when my whines of "I need to sleep in" will work on your father, and tomorrow is one of them.
-If you think of it, maybe you could let me go to the bathroom on my own tomorrow, without crawling in to play with the door stop, unravel the toilet paper, or to bang on the door if I shut it.  Just a thought.
-Perhaps, if you are going to knock off the items of the first shelf of the pantry, you could just reorganize while you are at it?  Putting back the potatoes and the boxes of cheerios you knock down  would be great too.  Don't over do it though.
-Maybe, if you feel like it, you could allow me to change your diaper without it being a 10 minute ordeal of wrestling you back so that you aren't crawling around on my off white carpet without me wiping you first.  I know, I know, you think it's hilarious and sit there triumphantly as though you have outsmarted me, and perhaps you have, but let's just give it a break for tomorrow, ok?  Better yet, make sure that all your dirty diapers occur in your dad's presence.
-This may be a stretch, but perhaps you could consider not laughing at me every time I say "no."  Need an example?  "No Karter, get the lamp cord out of your mouth." "No Karter, books aren't for eating." (and you can pretend that you aren't doing this, but when I look over and see paper on your chin, I know what you've been up to, fyi.)

These are just a few suggestions, feel free to come up with more on your own.  I will also take as many giggles, kisses, and joyful screams as you are willing to give out.  Thanks for giving me a reason to celebrate the day tomorrow.

All my love,
Your tired momma

Swimming Trunks

Sometimes it's the little things that are the greatest reminder of how blessed we really are.  Today, for me, it was a pair of swimming trunks.  As I went to get them off the porch tonight, as they had dried out from today's festivities, I was reminded of how very blessed I am that I have a little boy to fill those trunks up. 

It's funny how much life has changed by that little bottom that fills those trunks.  Sunday's used to be the perfect time for Mark and I to complete the tasks around the house that had been piling up all week.  Now, we have to tag team it, as one person plays with Karter and the other person takes care of the never-ending to do list.  It's hard not to take for granted the time we have with Karter when we're busy thinking about the grass that needs mowed, the dog hair that needs swept up and the dishes that won't stop piling up.

While Mark mowed the grass today, I got to play with Karter in the baby pool, which was his first experience in water, besides the bathtub.  He was adorable, as to be expected, and seemed to love it.  I was busy snapping up every picture I could of the moment because I didn't want to forget it.

At the end of the day, I may not have gotten all of my to-do's done, but I brought in those little swimming trunks, and I realized that I got the most important "to do" crossed off today.  Now that's a good day.