It's Nothing to Brag About

I've learned a hard lesson this month. Never, ever, ever (even inadvertently) brag about your kid on the internet. A couple posts ago I wrote about how Henry is a great sleeper. Ever since then, he has either refused to go to bed without a fight, or has woken up 17 times every night. And each time he chants, "MOM, MOM, MOM, MOM...." until I want to go sleep outside by the inflatable turkey (because, yeah, he's still afraid of it so I know he'd leave me alone). It's like he sensed that I was talking him up online and decided there was no room for THAT in our lives. 

It's the Most Spendiest Time of the Year

Thanksgiving is less than two weeks away. That means we have around forty days left to shop for the holidays. I always have mixed feelings about Christmas shopping. Some years I'm all about it, and other years I get all bitter and just want it to be over. Either way, I feel like I've personified each of these types of holiday shoppers at some point:

10 Things I Hate (And Love) About You

Dear Henry,

You're adorable. And funny. And smart. But you can drive me crazy ten ways to Sunday. I love you more than anything, but there are some things about you that we need to work on together:

You've Got A Friend In Me...

So I'm pretty sure I could waste my life away on BuzzFeed. I'm not even going to say how much time I spent on there a few weeks ago when I came across this shared list about best friends. I loved it, obviously, but it got me thinking about BFFs....or at least best girl friends. I love my husband, and of course he's my best friend, but it's just not the same as having a fellow female with whom to gossip, swap clothes (okay fine, I wear Dan's clothes, but I draw the line at him wearing mine), or even complain about how I painted the kitchen yellow but it's just not quite the right yellow, you know?

cobwebs, leaves and potions, oh my!

I used to love the day when our mom would have us bring up the bins from the basement with the season's decorations. We obviously had the most for winter and Christmas, but there was still a large spread for Halloween and Thanksgiving, for Easter, even Valentine's Day and the Fourth of July had their own bins. In the five years since Dan and I have lived in our own house, I have slowly started filling my own bins. I still feel the same excitement carrying them up from our basement to transform our home for the holidays...whatever the holiday may be.

Give a Girl Some Warning

No one ever told me that after I had Henry, random physical characteristics would change. My hair got a little thinner, my shoes went up half a size, and my eyesight altered enough to merit getting a new prescription. I have a blown blood-vessel on my nose that looks like a eternally premature zit, and although the tummy stretch marks significantly faded (thank God), my stomach still looks pizza dough that's ready to be punched down after raising (it's like the sun; just don't look directly at it). For a while I felt a little betrayed by my body, but I eventually got over it.

This is NOT Okay.

Henry got a spa-quality oatmeal bath last night, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't steal the the mix to use for my evening shower. My wash was luxurious and totally relaxing; his, unfortunately, was necessary because he's got an awful case of diaper rash. Like, the blistered and bleeding kind of diaper rash. I feel terrible about it, and never worse than when he screams as I've been changing him lately because I'm sure it hurts like hell. I can't help but think that if I had maybe just changed one of his diapers sooner or something maybe he wouldn't be so uncomfortable. I have a point for sharing this, and believe it or not, it has to do with you.

Just Don't Call Us Cheap.

I always get a little excited when I see a news story teaser for budgeting friendly tips, or when the Parade newspaper insert headlines an article about how to save your family money. You could be pocketing hundreds of dollars more a year with these easy steps! When recent figures show that it costs more $225,00 to raise ONE child from birth to age 18, what's not to like about learning how to save as much cash as possible? Especially when those projections don't even include college costs. Woof.

Then I read or see those stories and I'm almost always let down - Dan and I usually are already doing 90%  of the things they mention. We always joke that if that's the best they've got, then WE should be writing the tips.

You Better Be Sticking the Landing Up There...

So did I ever tell you that I thought our house was haunted after Henry was born? Totally.

The Sweet Spot

Weekends at the cabin are wonderful and also a little bit awful. They're wonderful for the lake views, for how the night fires make your sweatshirts smell, and for watching Henry squeal when he throws rocks, swims, rides in the boat or basically does anything else near that lake. But they're awful for the disruption they cause in my little guy's routine; particularly sleeping. He woke up on Friday night (Saturday morning?) around 1am and flopped around in his Pack'n'Play which is adjacent to my side of the bed. He kicked the wall, talked to his Puppy and poked me in the eye. By three in the morning, and with Dan somehow still snoring next to me, I really wanted to lean over and yell at him, "GO BACK TO SLEEP!", but instead I shrugged on my zip-up, lifted him out of portable crib and dragged us both out to one of the rockers facing the lake in the living room.