Champagne Thursday

Chuck and I (and Mom) enjoyed Champagne Thursday yesterday--a tradition adopted from a movie. What fun! Can anyone identify the movie? We watched Mama Mia! while we sipped our champagne. Oh, and Mom actually enjoyed the champagne and the movie. And as over the top as the movie was, I really liked it. Chuck liked it even more than I did. My favorite part was the champagne!

Movie Quote:
Hey, Paula. Good news. It's Champagne Thursday.

What's your ring?

I love the ability to put distinctive ring tones on my cell phone for certain people. My friend Roger is obsessed with Star Wars so that is my ring tone for him. For a while, I had the Grinch song, "He's a mean one, Mr. Grinch . . . " as my ring tone for Bossman #3 (who is also a friend of mine), and Chuck always has something fun - right now it is a quote from Stewie Griffin from the Family Guy about writing a novel. It cracks me up when I hear it, but it totally confuses everyone around me when the phone "rings" because it is just someone talking. Right now, I really want Chuck's ring tone for me to be "Gold Digger." I don't know why I think this is so funny. And perhaps I will change Chuck's ring tone to "I'm Bringing Sexy Back" or "I'm Too Sexy." I also once had Disney ring tones so that the kids would be entertained, but it got a little embarrassing. Also, I had "If I was a Rich Girl" as my ring tone until it went off (at the loudest volume) in my office while I was in the restroom. So all the attorneys around my office heard my phone singing about me wanting to be a rich girl. I guess it is just another outlet for our personalities. Fun stuff.

Truly Unbelievable to Me

I am shocked and saddened to know that people like this still exist.

[I have removed the picture, because I couldn't stand to have it on my blog. To see the picture, click on the link to the article.]

I gasped when this picture appeared on the homepage for cnn.com. It truly takes my breath away to know that people are like this. The article on cnn.com reported that hate groups are on the rise. I don't often state my political or moral views in absolutes, but in this case, I pray that these people become enlightened and change their beliefs. I also pray for peace and protection for all those who are subjected to such hate.

Soccer again

I must proudly announce that Luke started back to soccer practice last night and was an old pro. No crying, no whining, no hesitation at all! He just ran out there and started practicing! I'm so proud of him and so happy that I don't have to go through the whole process of trying to convince him that he will like soccer! And, I'm even the cool soccer mom who started up a website for the team! I love it.

As for Evie, we're still working on her slow progression with dance class. Hopefully, this week will be better, but we'll see.

And finally, George is getting better at school. He's drinking 6 ounces at each meal and sleeping better. Last night he only woke up at 3:30 and then at 5:30. I wanted to hug his teacher Ms. Ida this morning!

So, all good news here. I just need to get back into the swing of things at work, and I will feel like I'm fully adjusted. Then maybe I can go back to paying attention to the rest of the crazy world that I'm living in.

For example, on Monday I asked Luke to take of his pajamas and put on his clothes for the day. I was busy bouncing George, putting Evie's clothes on and looking for Luke's shoes all at the same time while Luke was talking and pondering some questions about his bug book or spiderman or something equally inane. I just kept answering him with "Oh really? Get dressed." and "That's interesting. Now, get dressed." and "Oh, I don't know. Hope you're getting dressed." Finally, I said, "Are you getting dressed?" and I looked at him. He was just lounging against his bed holding a book with his pants pulled down and sitting around his ankles. He stood there completely relaxed with everything hanging out and I looked at him incredulously and said, "What are you doing? Put some pants on, boy!" He looked at me casually like I was overreacting. Truly, I was really reacting to the fact that he was not getting dressed when I had been repeatedly asking him to do so, but I was astonished to see that he had actually started getting undressed and never finished. I think I could understand it if he had taken his pants off all the way and decided to wander around like that, but instead he only had pulled his pants down and was just standing there. Odd. Boys are so different.

FIVE Hours Straight!

Okay, the little man slept for 6 hours straight! And I slept for 5 hours straight!!!!! Yippeee! Also, I talked to the veteran teacher (Ms. Ida) in George's room this morning and she revealed that the other teacher in the room had been the assigned teacher for George. (The old teacher moved rooms last week). Anyway, the old teacher used to let George eat until he fell asleep (usually only getting a few ounces at a time) and then he would wake up hungry - always ready for a snack. Ms. Ida said she thinks that is why George couldn't seem to get on a schedule. Ms. Ida also said that since she is making him stay awake and eat his entire bottle in one sitting, he has been doing much better in the classroom and has been less fussy! Yay! I think the old teacher liked George so much that she spoiled him, because she used gush on and on about how she fell in love with George. Although it was great having a teacher that so clearly enjoyed taking care of my baby, I'm thrilled that the Ms. Ida has taken over and is getting my little boy on a schedule. Perhaps that is what led to the great sleeping last night! Whoohoo! I'm keeping my fingers crossed for another good night's sleep.

Movie Quote 12 (for Lent)

This is for my favorite vegetarian, Cheryl.

What do you mean he don't eat no meat?
Oh, that's okay. I make lamb.

Mr. Stinky Neck

One of our memories of having a baby is the phenomenon of "Stinky Neck". Those little ones squish their chins to their shoulders, effectively hiding their necks and catching milk and sweat in those little chubby folds. The result is a nasty odor emanating from the littlest body in the house and the need for daily baths even though the rest of the little baby remains clean and fresh. Yuck. I would have never guessed that a little baby could smell so ripe. Man, he's going to love this picture when he's older!

Where's my percoset?

George was awake last night and all I could think was that I wish I was back in the hospital like when he was first born. At least, at the hospital there were nurses who could take care of George while I rested. Plus, the nurses brought me drinks, food, and Percoset. Heaven, right?

Today is just a big haze at this point. George is still not sleeping through the night. No miracle for us from the Miracle Blanket, although George doesn't actually hate it like he used to. Chuck and I are in a constant state of dragging ass and it takes everything I have to wash and dry my hair, get dressed, and apply makeup each morning. I have nothing witty to post. My kids are dressed and fed and that is the extent of my accomplishments today - and really, it isn't an accomplishment to feed and clothe your children. Hell, Evie was the one who fed George this morning while I dried my hair. What has happened to me? I'm now relying on my three-year old to feed my 2 month old. Something is wrong with this picture.

Okay, I just read the paragraph above and I realize I've got to recapture my optimism. Surely I can pull myself together and make my family of 5 a functioning family of 5. I'll keep you posted.

Too much milk!!!

The girls hurt, hurt, hurt! Didn't bring pump. No way to ease the pain but to be close to George. Ugh, coming off the weekend is difficult! Counting the minutes until I can reasonably leave the office, pick up my kids, and try to pump off the painful excess milk.

Four Musketeers

Found this on my computer and had to share my Four Musketeers!

Luke, Evie, Savannah & Maddie. How blessed we are to have friends.

Living too long.

I never claimed to be bright, but I realized my dimwittedness (a word I made up) when I saw the headline "World's Oldest Man Dies" and thought to myself, "Didn't I just see that headline a few months ago?" Yes, yes, I probably shouldn't own up to such idiocy. Oh well.

But speaking of such a headline, I have to say that the title of "Oldest Living Person" is certainly not something I strive to attain because obviously then my death will be imminent. For example, Maria de Jesus held the title for only 37 days before dying on January 2, 2009, and passing the title to the current Oldest Living Person, Gertrude Baines. Seriously, you've got to wake up everyday and think, "Hmm, will I make it through today? Is today the day I kick it?" Okay, enough with Theresa's deep thoughts for the day. Bill, bill, bill.

Dance Class Update

Evie can do all the dance moves, but refuses to participate in her class. She sits at the side in her adorable dance outfit, and watches the class intently. She shows me at home if I ask her to do it, but I can't get her to admit that she can dance or that she could do the same "toe-heel" move at the dance studio. She also claims that she is scared of her teacher. Craziness. We're talking about the same teacher who held Evie through the class when Evie was crying. I think I've even posted a picture of it. We've asked her teacher to babysit this week so that perhaps Evie will get more comfortable.

Chuck took her to class this weekend and made Evie introduce herself to each little girl in the class. (He thinks her shyness is all about not knowing the other girls). So after he did that, which would make me feel more awkward if I was Evie, he took a picture of the girls lined up in class and wrote down their names so we could learn who is in the class. Can you say, "stalker?" Can you say, "creepy dad?" Unfortunately, I can't say that to Chuck because he honestly believes this will help Evie get comfortable with dance. And maybe he's right. He's such a sweetheart. Chuck also went to the store and picked up a copy of the song Evie's class is dancing to so we can practice at home. What a good dad.

On another note, we still have not located the original dance outfit that Evie hid or "lost" the week after her first class. I have no idea where it could be. At this point, I'm betting it somehow made it into the trash.

On yet another note, my husband has this weird compulsion to decorate our house and more specifically, hang window treatments. He has visited fabric stores, decorating stores, etc. He brought home fabric samples two weeks ago and picked out what he wanted for our dining room windows. He asked me to flip through hundreds of fabric samples to see if there was anything I liked. I looked at him, when he pulled out the samples (with the ones he liked all marked and ready to hold up in the dining room to check the color), and I said, "Seriously, where do you hide your vagina?" I swear he is more a chick about this stuff than I ever could be. So, he finally settled on a drape from Target, but he had to drive to four different Targets to get enough panels to dress all the windows. The man is insane, but our window dressings look good, so I guess I shouldn't complain.

Movie Quote No. 11

Since the last one was so easy, here's another:

Hey Ray, wouldn't it be funny if I went to Harvard, you went to Jail and we both ended up surrounded by crooks.

Movie Quote No. 10

Just keep swimming.

President Lincoln

Luke learned about President Lincoln this week and informed us that "He shaved the country."

Good to know.

Boy Bands, Here We Come!

Just some cute pics

George before bath last night. Super cute.

George during bath last night. Super, super cute! Notice his rolls!
George with my brother Mike and his sons, Tony and Nick. They visited last weekend and watched the kids while Chuck and I went out for Valentine's Day. Poor George is the only one not wearing his Aggie gear. Tony held George a ton and loved every minute. The only thing he wouldn't do was change a diaper.

George sleeping on Chuck.
George in is Valentine's Day gear on his 2 month birthday. He scratched the tar out of his face just before I took the picture so he wasn't a happy baby at the time.

I just adore that little man.

Dancin'

I will get a better video of this fabulous dancer. This was taken at a restaurant called the Purple Cow on Tuesday night. Obviously, he doesn't do any of his floor routine, which I was quite thankful for. I was just certain he was going to start rolling on the floor of the restaurant. Near the end of this short video, Luke's friend (who was having dinner there also) walks up, so he got distracted. I will try to capture him dancing to some music tonight. But for now, here's a little video for your entertainment.

A mother's nightmare . . .

This isn't my worst nightmare, but I know it ranks up there for a lot of moms: Luke wants to be a rock star. And that is exactly what he says. He's totally into rock and roll and loves dancing/headbanging. He loves Pink's hit "So What" which contains the lyrics "I'm a rock star, I've got my rock moves." He sings that every once in a while, and loves to hear it on the radio.

He asks to have the music turned up loud. He rocks out, dancing in a way that looks more like break dancing. I'm not sure who taught him that dancing includes rolling around on the floor, but he loves it. During Evie's last dance lesson, Chuck and Luke stayed home and when we came home the stereo was blasting. Apparently Luke said, "Dad, can we rock the house?" Don't know where he came up with the phrase "rock the house," but he knew what it meant. So, Chuck turned up the music and Luke proceeded to dance by rolling on the ground and bobbing his head to the beat.

He's adorable, and I love when he sings. If I catch him doing it and listen he gets real shy, smiles and stops singing. It is precious. This morning he was singing "I've got a pocket full of sunshine" because it is on his CD, Kids Bop 14. And he's ready for Kids Bop 15, which has "So What" on it. And when we went to a dance recital, a teenage boy was doing a dance like Justin Timberlake or some other hot boy band member and Luke was thrilled. He loved it. It really was pretty impressive. So, if Luke wants to be Justin Timberlake, that is fine with me. I just hope he turns out more like Timberlake than Michael Jackson or any other freak show out there.

I'll have to track down a video of him rocking out.

Baby Announcements

To family and friends: I swear George's baby announcement is coming. I addressed 150 in one sitting (causing an inflamed tendon in the center of my right hand - only an idiot can get injuries like this), but I still have to stuff them, buy postage, and put them in the mail. Trust me, they are worth the wait. Once I put them in the mail, I will post a copy on the blog.

Oh shit moment

Have you experienced the "oh shit moment" where you realize the economy is in the crapper? Despite the fact that it has been pounded into my head by the media, I have been in denial. I've maintained the belief that things will come around. Today, while reading an article, I realized that things will not turn around anytime soon, and it freaked me out. Here's the article that drove it home for me. Nonetheless, I try to repeat the words an old lawyer said to me last Tuesday, "I was a child during the depression and lived through two major recessions. The Union will survive. Don't worry." So, I will take a deep breath and repeat to myself that "This too shall pass."

The Battle of Lasagna

When Luke was about two, I took on the "Battle of the Green Bean" in which I told Luke he had to eat a green bean before he could get up from dinner. I was trying to teach him a lesson in accepting and trying new foods. In approximately a one hour period, I tried everything to get him to eat that bean. I tried to bribe him with candy, movies, activities. I threatened him with time out, early bedtime, no more food, and taking away toys. I refused to give in. It got so bad (and I was so tired of waiting) that when he was distracted by the tv I slipped a green bean into his mouth. Well, he acted like I had poured battery acid on his tongue. He screamed at the top of his lungs as he stuck out his tongue, the green bean perched precariously in his cavernous mouth. Thoroughly fed up with the "lesson", I rolled my eyes, said "Fine" and pulled the green bean out of his mouth. I dried his tears and told him he didn't have to eat the green bean, and he recovered after about a half hour. I had learned my lesson.

I never attempted to revisit the Battle of the Green Bean, and since then my children's diets have progressively deteriorated to a limited menu of hot dogs, chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, pretzels, chips, fish sticks, and pb&j. They'll eat other nasty kid food here and there: graham crackers, yogurt, cheese sticks, etc, but they refuse to eat most of what Chuck and I eat for our main meals, including spaghetti, chicken, vegetables of any kind, fruit (except apples), sandwiches, any type of mexican food, mashed potatoes, eggs, etc. It is very frustrating and rather disheartening with all the publicity regarding childhood obesity. And let's face it, Chuck and I are not predisposed to a healthy weight. I'm not proud of this picky appetite or the fact that I cannot figure out how to resolve it and have pretty much given up trying.

So, last night Chuck decided to take on the "Battle of Lasgna". He didn't tell me we were going to make this drastic change in our children's diets or method of operation, but we tried to do it and I stuck with Chuck's impromptu decision. All the kids had to do was take two bites of the lasagna and if they still didn't like it they could have something else. If they didn't try two bites then they went to bed without dinner. (Chuck's rules). They whined and cried through the whole dinner. I tried to convince them that it had meatballs and Luke likes meatballs. It has cheese and Evie loves cheese. We even tried to remind them that Garfield loves lasagna. And we made a huge show of how much we were enjoying the lasagna. They remained unconvinced and continued to protest in a most annoying fashion.

Luke: "I don't wa-hant it." Evie: "no." Luke sobbing: "Bu-hut, it's not my favorite." Evie: "I want pancakes." And it went on and on, with Luke being the most dramatic in his refusals and Evie rather unemotionally refusing to eat it.

Eventually, we convinced Evie that she could have pancakes if she took two bites of meatball. She did it. No crying, no complaining, no whining. She took two bites, chewed them up, and said, "Yummy." She even tried to convince Luke to eat his meatballs. Of course, she refused to eat any more, but at least she tried it. So, she earned her pancakes and the right to stay up until her normal bedtime and watch Dora the Explorer. Luke, on the other hand, continued his annoying whining, refused to eat any piece of the lasagna and was sent to bed without dinner or any tv. He seemed unphased by it. Children can be so bull-headed. Amazing. We'll see how it goes tonight.

Exploding Pizza

As you all know by now, George is not sleeping through the night. We had company this weekend so we didn't attempt to break him of his wakefulness, but we will soon. Friday night I was freakin' exhausted and we had a long day ahead of us with company arriving, dance lessons, and the all-important Valentine's Day celebrations. Chuck had spent Friday evening at Joe T's "networking" and drinking margaritas. Many margaritas later he arrived home where we retired at our normal 10:00 with a sleeping baby. At about 11:30 I was awakened by a frantic Chuck who pointed across the room to his dresser and urgently insisted that there were exploding pizzas that I had to take care of. Through my haze I looked at him and said, "What?" attempting to fully comprehend if I was hearing him correctly. He gave me an impatient, are-you-an-idiot look, pointed across the room and again insisted that the pizzas were exploding and I had to go take care of it - - right now. I narrowed my sleepy eyes and said, "Um, no, I don't. You're dreaming. Go back to sleep." He continued to sputter a bit, but I rolled over and went back to sleep, thoroughly annoyed.

So, when the 2:00 feeding rolled around that night, I jabbed Chuck to take care of George while I made a bottle. As Chuck was putting the finishing touches on George's new diaper, I handed him the bottle and muttered, "And I'm making you feed George since you woke me up to tell me about exploding pizzas." He had no response.

This sort of sleep talking is not new to us, but it doesn't happen very frequently. I blame the margaritas that night. On other occasions I have taken such an opportunity to ask questions so that he'll wake up and realize that he is not making any sense. It is so much fun to watch him try to rationalize whatever story he is trying to tell me about because there's a moment in the discussion where he begins to wake up and you can tell he's trying to gracefully back out of whatever story he's telling me. Sadly, it's only fun if I'm not bone tired. My favorite was when he woke me up and announced with deep appreciation, "There's nothing like being drunk in Santa's sleigh." I can quote that because I got up out of bed that night, wrote it on a piece of paper (word for word), and taped it to the bathroom mirror. It still makes me chuckle.

Pampering & Infomercials

I spent Saturday afternoon at the nail place getting a fill and the most sublimely wonderful pedicure. I haven't had a pedi since before George was born and it was one of my regrets since everyone sees your toes when you are in the hospital. Luckily, I think I avoided having them photographed at all. I digress. So I was getting my fill first and although I was child-free and drinking a glass of wine, I have to say it wasn't nearly as pleasant as the pedi mostly because the only thing on TV was an infomercial for Dual Colon Cleanse. No kidding. The infomercial started out with an authoritative sounding voice saying, "The key to good health is a clean colon. . . " I tried so hard not to bust a gut laughing at first and then I spent the next half hour (yes, thirty full minutes) listening to two men go on and on about bowel movements (healthy and unhealthy), including the look, size, and smell. So, while my trip to the spa was enjoyable during my pedi, the first half was humorous and disgusting. And my biggest question after all that was, why in the world did a spa full of pampered women have on an infomercial for Colon Cleanse?

Bloody Thursday

The economy reveals itself everywhere. Yesterday was termed "Bloody Thursday" in the legal community as seven major law firms in the country laid off nearly 700 people including attorneys. Keep your nose down and keep working. Bill, bill, bill. You can read the story here.

Two Months

Happy Birthday George! He got his first round of shots this morning and was a trooper about the whole thing! He weights 13 lbs 5 oz putting him in the 90th percentile for his age group. He is only in the 50th percentile in height. He's a big happy boy, except for the gas. We're still trying to find the right formula, but the doctor is helping us in our search. The doctor also said we can start letting George fuss during the night to try and break his cycle of waking up at 11:00, 2:00, 4:00, and 6:00. I'd be fine with just 11:00 and 6:00. We'll see how it goes. For the most part he is just such a sweetheart and we feel so bad that his little tummy is upset a lot of the time. We're doing our best to make him comfortable and happy. Hopefully the solution is just around the corner!

Valentine's Day Cards

I've never been one of those people who despises Valentine's Day or the industry's profit from Valentine's Day. I think it is fun and, as most of you know, I'm always up for a party. And when I was little, I just loved getting those cheap little paper cards with cartoon characters telling me "You're Tops! Be My Valentine!" from everyone in my class. Of course, there were those days before I met my wonderful husband when I was always a little sad when the day would roll around and all my friends received sweet gestures and gifts from their boyfriends and I was left with having to be content with, well, nothing much as far as I can remember. Nonetheless, I have embraced the holiday and I just love that there is a designated day where a couple can be all ooey gooey about one another and not be lambasted for it. (You can hear the big "HOWEVER" coming up, right?)

However, my perspective has been altered now that I have children of my own and I have to put together those wicked little Valentine's Day cards for each of their classmates. Perhaps one set of cards wouldn't be too bad, but two sets is killing me. With my limited time in the evening after the kids go to bed, I've sat hunched over little valentines wedging markers and tattoos into the crudely constructed cards. And now that I have three beautiful children, I realize that I'm going to have to put together three sets next year. That is just ridiculous! And you know it isn't sufficient to just bring a little card with a tattoo or a pencil attached. Most little kids in the class bring a bag of goodies.

Plus, there are the teachers, parents, grandparents, and the kids that you have to buy for in addition to your loving spouse. So, how do you keep this under control? Well, first of all, I'm not buying for the grandparents. Sorry. Second, I refuse to purchase anything cheap for the teachers since most teachers are inundated with candles and lotion at every occasion. (I'm not sure what I'm going to do in the future, but this year I'm giving the teachers a bottle of Tylenol and hand sanitizer. I figure it is something they need and will use. I don't care if they think I'm strange. I know that is what I would want if I was surrounded by 20 precious but germy kids everyday.) Third, my kids are going to be packed full of candy by their friends so I'm just getting them a little tiny gift (read: cheap). And fourth, my spouse is receiving a nice enough gift from me, that I don't feel the need to duplicate efforts by getting a gift "from the kids".

With all that said, I still intend to live up Valentine's Day, act all ooey gooey with my spouse, kiss on my children all day long, and encourage them to celebrate such a fun occasion.

I had no idea

Must remember not to take the little things, like driving my own car, for granted:

http://www.abcnews.go.com/International/wireStory?id=6834793

Valentine

Here's my sweet Valentine from the kids. I just adore them even though they look like a couple of silly ragamuffins!

No Miracle

The Miracle Blanket did not provide the promised miracle for us. I received the Miracle Blanket last night and was so excited by the possibility of a long night of sleep that I decided to use it when George started to get a little fussy after eating. So, I wrapped George into the baby straight jacket and he screamed his head off until I finally unwrapped him. He immediately settled down, sighed, looked at me like I was crazy and closed his eyes to recover. Perhaps we'll try again sometime, but so far I'm obviously not convinced.

But Mom, I'm sick . . .

The kids have figured out that they don't have to go to school when they're sick. Luke wakes up every morning and says he's not feeling well so he can't go to school. Evie picked it up today. The problem with this is the very real possibility that they aren't crying wolf, but I have no way to tell. So, feeling only a little guilt, I send them off to school despite complaints of a tummy ache, sore throat, head aches, etc. Most days it is fine, but the worst feeling is getting a call from a teacher confirming that one of the kids is indeed sick. That is what happened last week with Luke's ear infection. The best way for us to tell if they are faking is to ask if they need to go see the doctor. Usually the fear of having to get a shot will tell us whether or not they are truly sick. Luke tends to answer honestly if he feels bad enough that he wants the doctor to fix it. It's not a fool-proof solution, but it is the best one I've got so far.

Tell me about your drawing

Thanks to my friend Emily and her daughter Maddie, I was able to have a hearty laugh this weekend when Emily showed me the following picture Maddie drew of her dad Ben. If you see what Emily and I see you will completely understand the laughter. The scary part is that it actually looks like Ben a little bit. I think Emily is going to frame this, as would I.
When Maddie described her picture to Emily, she said her dad has wings. And I said, "Ah ha."

So tired

I'm so tired that I just want to go home and sleep. It's that kind of tired where you have trouble holding your head up. Oh, and my milk just let down. I hope my body figures this stuff out pretty soon.

Wardrobe Malfunctions

I have too many of these to actually list completely. Some include wearing two different shoes, wearing two different earrings, having a child-sized hand print on the shoulder of my suit jacket, runs in my pantyhose, wearing my underwear inside out, and leaving my zipper unzipped (but it is on the side of my pants). Today, I add to the list wearing a shirt that shows my bra - no matter what I do - and reaches below my jacket. This is what happens when you are in such a rush that you don't have time to do a final check in the mirror before leaving the house. I guess I'll try to rectify the problem at lunch. It is too much trouble to try holding my jacket over my v-cut neckline where my bra peeks out. What frustrates me, is guys DO NOT have these problems (except for the zipper thing). Of course, most women probably do not have these problems either. I'm sure it is just me.

By the way, I got some eye cream to alleviate the ridiculous lines and exhaustion showing on my face. I've got four evening meetings this week. I'm really giving this cream a run for its money since I'm sure to be worn ragged by the end of the week.

Sing a Song

Evie's doll (George) was singing songs for us. It was cracking me up, so I asked if I could record it for Grandma. Here is a clip of her sweet singing. I have no idea what she is saying, but every once in a while you can make out a phrase like "eating bugs."

8 weeks ago today

George was born 8 weeks ago today. Here's what he looks like today.

Evie vs. Dance Class: Part 2

Things are not getting better. This week, she barely went in and even watched. WE never found the clothes she hid, so I had to buy new stuff. Here are the pics from this week. The biggest problem is trying to extricate myself from her tentacle-like arms. Once she's in there she doesn't cry, so she is still doing better than Luke did with soccer.

Here she is in her dance clothes (and her croc boots that she wore outside).

And here she is huddled against the wall while everyone else skipped across the floor.

And here she is being held by her very cool teacher, Jules. We're hoping to get Jules to babysit the kids so that Evie will be more comfortable going into the class.

Obtuse Man

Chuck expressed to me this morning that he does not think he is obtuse. I guess we're all entitled to our opinions.

To be fair, he really wasn't being a jackass. I was just upset and frustrated. I think obtuse was an appropriate description and now he is aware that the expected answer in a conversation like that is to express sympathy, although he sent me the following Man Rules in an email this morning (probably to prove his point - notice the rule in bold):

The Man Rules

At last a guy has taken the time to write this all down

Finally, the guys' side of the story.

We always hear 'the rules' from the female side. Now here are the rules from the male side.

These are our rules! Please note these are all numbered '1 ' ON PURPOSE!


1. Men are NOT mind readers.

1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.

1. Sunday sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.

1. Crying is blackmail.

1. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!

1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.

1. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.

1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.

1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us.

1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.

1. You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.

1. Whenever possible, Please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

1. Christopher Columbus did NOT need directions and neither do we.

1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

1. If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.

1. If we ask what is wrong and you say 'nothing', we will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.

1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.

1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine. Really.

1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as baseball or golf.

1. You have enough clothes.

1. You have too many shoes.

1. I am in shape. Round is a shape!

Getting Used to It

So, when I started work on Monday, I told Bossman #2 that it was a guarantee that someone in the family would end up sick or hurt this week. He gave me a little grin and we went on with work. True to my word, yesterday I got a phone call from the school telling me that Luke had a fever and I had to go pick him up. So, I picked up all three kids around 3:00 and headed home. Luke got into the doctor at 6:45 and was diagnosed with an ear infection. He's now on antibiotics and should make a full recovery. Poor kid.

So, I would call the first week a dismal failure, but at least I got out of the house, put on business clothes (even if they don't zip all the way up), and billed at least 20 hours. Hopefully, next week will improve.

The miracle blanket????

Tell me what you know about the miracle blanket.

http://www.miracleblanket.com/

George

George had a bad day yesterday. He was great the first day of school, but he has been getting progressively worse. Yesterday was pretty bad apparently. Also, I've mentioned that he has an excessive amount of gas which is making him miserable so last night I decided to switch his formula. It makes me feel so guilty for not nursing him anymore. We'll see if his stomach reacts well to the new formula. If it does not, I will have to talk to the doctor because this is ridiculous. Furthermore, after only three days at daycare, he is officially congested and had to sleep in his carrier last night just so he could breathe. This is the part of being a working parent that makes me so sad. I'm sure it will be alright because it was with the other two. I guess I just forgot how hard this can me on the little angel.

The obtuse man that I married.

Seriously, I don't think the man understands that I am stuck here, trying to be a full-time attorney, with three children under the age of 5 (one of which is not fully weened), and trying to arrange our lives.

It has been madness since he left for a work conference out of town. With the man out of town I had to pick up all three children on my own last night, but I had a meeting scheduled for the same time. So, I tried to have a conference call on the phone last night as I drove the three wailing children home. I was more harm than good as the meeting was drowned out by the screams and pestering questions of my children. Then I woke up throughout the night to feed my wimpering infant. I tried to raise myself from the dead this morning so that I could dress and feed three children, get them all off to two different schools, and then get myself to work before 8:45 (I got there at 8:30).

Now, I talk to the obtuse man on the phone while he is "networking" (read partying, drinking, gambling, and sleeping through the night) in Vegas. And all he can say when I explain that (1) I'm whipped, (2) three is a lot of children, and (3) I feel sorry for my baby who toots so much they should consider using his rear end as an alternative fuel, is "It will all be alright."

Me (out loud): Yes, I know.
Me (in my head): What? That's it? "It will all be alright?" I bet the jackass couldn't hack it for one morning if I was gone, and here he is living it up in Vegas as he tells me from the casino floor "It will all be alright." as he sips from his umpteenth beer of the day and prepares himself for an evening of fine food, drinks, and bullshiting. Yeah, whatever.

And then I told myself to get off the phone. Now, I'm sipping my own adult beverage and wishing I had a conference to escape to just so he can experience this. I adore my children, but one of the benefits of being married is that you don't have to do it all on your own . . . or so I thought.

This concludes my rant for the evening. Thanks for listening.

Tingle, tingle, drip, drip

Awe crap, my breast milk just let down. I should probably keep all pictures of George inaccessible from work.

Hunger makes the ordinary extraordinary!

I'm trying to shed those last baby pounds so that I can comfortably fit into my work clothes. The problem with dieting is that simply knowing I can't eat the food makes me want it all the more! There are saltine crackers in my desk calling my name. How pathetic is that?!

Crows feet

I noticed my crows feet have turned into octopus tentacles in length and number! I guess I will need to get some heavy duty anti-aging cream. Any suggestions?

Work post

Wahoo! I got to post from work. We'll see if it actually takes!

Sleep is fleeting

Sorry for the delayed posts. For some reason my work computer won't allow me to post comments or new posts. I'm sure management must have somehow figured out that I spend at least two tenths of an hour on my blog each day while I'm at work. So, until I figure out what has put a snafu in my system, I will have to satisfy myself with bloging from home in the spare minutes when I find myself without sweet George in my arms.

He's asleep right now. Another good day at school. I should be sleeping too. Last night he was up every two hours. Surely, things will improve soon. Until then, I will cherish each moment of the difficult times which I'm sure I will relish holding over his head when he is older.

Until tomorrow night, I'll be thinking of you all and trying to recall something clever to post through my haze of exhaustion.

three is a big number

i hope this gets easier. three sure seems like a lot.

Rodeo

We went to the Rodeo on Saturday night and ate at a restaurant club at the top of the arena. The kids got to watch the rodeo from the top of the stairs leading into the restaurant where a man named Smitty watched them. Luke, Evie, and their friend Elizabeth are sitting there so precious! Luke has a straw colored hat, Evie has a pink hat, and Elizabeth is wearing a black hat. The kids had a great time and were exhausted by the end. Sadly, Evie is afraid of cows - no kidding. I guess that means they are city kids.

We did it!

First day was GREAT! Loved being back at work. Only felt a little guilty leaving George with strangers. We checked on him at lunch and he was doing great. Such a sweetie! I left work early to get George because my boobs were about to explode. Unfortunately, he already ate. Got the darling in my arms now. . . . reunited and it feels so goood . . . Will blog more later!

Pimple pleasure

I truly believe that people who give facials must derive some sort of crazy pleasure out of popping pimples. Freaks. I had a facial yesterday and told the technician (or whatever you call a person who gives facials) that I was more interested in having a relaxing facial as opposed to her cleaning out my pores.

If you know me, you know that more often than not, my face is unfortunately in bloom with pimples. I hate it and despise it, but I've come to accept it as my fate. So, I hate the thought of creating more pimples than necessary; therefore, I didn't want to suffer from the breakout that so commonly occurs after a facial. Well, the woman said, "I'll just clean out the pores a little." Not wanting to contradict the woman who held my relaxation in her hands, I said okay.

Well, I've never had anyone work over my face like that. She seemed determined to find every possible clogged pore on my face! Thank God I didn't ask her to give my face a full pore cleaning. She poked, pushed, pricked, etc. until I thought she was going to bruise me and that I would come out with red dots all over my face. As it is, I'm afraid that a huge breakout is in my future, and just in time for my return to work. Luckily, I'm not bruised and she made up for the pain with a fabulous massage. Still, I think I will stay away from a full pore treatment in the future. Ouch.