Things I think I want for Mother's Day, but I really don't

1. Housecleaning service. We used to have a house cleaner and I worshipped the ground she walked on. She remade my bed, cleaned the detergent stains on the washer, got the hard water stains off the shower head, and she was cheeeaaap. I hearted her like nothing else. But then we broke up, she didn't return my calls. I was paranoid she saw something in my home that freaked her out or my toilet bowl stains offended her, but alas, she was on a very long vacation. The next couple house cleaners couldn't compare and made me feel like I was throwing my money down my dirty drain. Plus, I get some deep psychological pleasure putting my house in order, since I have very little control over the order of everything else in my life. Note, that last sentence was not to sound like a cry for help or anything. Promise.


2. Pedicure. Yes, these are a necessity at times, but sometimes I think, "I can scrape the dead skin off my my feet and paint my own nails just as good as the next Vietnamese lady. Do I need to throw $30 away on this? I mean, that money could get me..."


3. Shopping spree. On two occasions Jeff said, "I want to take you shopping for something. You can get whatever you want." When I was little I yearned for the days a man would say this to me. When it finally happened I felt, well, guilty. Then I felt stupid after I said, "No, let's buy something we could both enjoy." Jeff enjoys NASCAR, beer, and tools. I like books, shoes, and make-up. I don't see any common ground. The complex emotions that arose were enough to make me feel like a gold digger/prostitute/ungrateful. I told you it was complex.


4. Jewelry. I like jewelry and wear it, but I am a costume jewelry kind of person. It is against my religion to pay hundreds of dollars for a shiny piece of metal and lab-created jewels. Variety is the spice of life; costume jewelry allows me to rotate my bling without the guilt of not wearing the more pricey pieces.


5. (I am trying to think of one that doesn't make me sound like a complete miser.) Breakfast in bed. How is this relaxing? I am like Annette Bening in American Beauty, afraid of getting crumbs on my sheets. Plus, eating without a bra makes me envision Jabba the Hutt. (I'm really upset if you aren't laughing your ass off on that. That was comedic genius right thar.)

Sleeping Ugly

B didn't waste anytime hitting the terrible twos.

This past week he rose bright and early between 4-5am. Despite my alarm clocks best efforts, I rise around 6am. B trumps any alarm clock and this week I found myself fighting with him to go back to bed or at least play quietly while I struggled with 15 minutes of delicious sleep. It didn't work very well and I was consumed with resentment when my alarm would sound and I had already been up for over an hour. My students, husband, and bad drivers can attest to the resulting grumpy disposition. B, on the other hand, has been a gem for everyone (else). Just ask his lovely sitter, who provided glowing daily reports and a doubtful tone when I related how whiny he is when he gets home. Maybe he is picking it up from me?

We have tried putting him to bed later. His bedtime (don't hurt me) is usually 6-6:30pm, but we have been pushing it to 8pm hoping he will sleep until his previous rising time, around 6am. Not working, still up before the sun. Furthermore, with the later bedtime he gets pissy that he has to go to bed, which didn't use to be such a problem.

The 6am-6pm sleepy-time was nice while it lasted, but it appears our luck has run out. I can't tell you how much this saddens me, especially with summer vacation mercifully just around the corner. Any suggestions how to get B on a better schedule? When I say better, I mean, I need some effing sleep and I am about to dose my kid with Benadryl to get it.

On Friday, B turned 2.

One of my favorite parts of the day is going in to B's room in the morning. During the week we put the gate up on his door, and once I am showered and dressed I find him waiting patiently at his door for me. When he sees me his face lights up and he does his excited dance, squeal and all, then rushes back towards his bed for morning cuddle. We lay there while he fumbles with this thumb and blankie while I shower him with kisses. We talk about our plans for the day, discuss how much we will miss each other, and how we intend on being well-behaved citizens.

Another part of my day that I love is when I come home and I hear the same morning squeal and my boy comes running around the corner. I kneel down to feel the full weight of him crash in to me, his little arms go around me neck, and my ear is full of, "Mama, Mama."

My all-time favorite part of the day is when I put him to bed and we have our nighttime cuddle. I have to lie on my side so he can scrunch his back up against me. Sometimes we whisper to each other silly things, other times he will play with my hair or stick his finger in my nose. Whatever we do, our day is incomplete without this time. When I have class or another event that keeps me away from nighttime cuddle I still creep in to his room and watch him dream (secretly hoping he might wake up--it's happened). Tonight, while we were laying there, I wondered how long my little boy would expect this ritual. I would be okay with cuddling with him forever, but I think eventually his partner would mind.

The other day, Jeff and I were talking about when we would try for another baby. Jeff seemed tense about the whole thing and when I asked him to explain he couldn't. I asked him if it was harder knowing what he was getting himself in to and he said, "That's part of it." It's taken me a couple days, but while cuddling with B tonight after his birthday dinner, I began to understand Jeff's feelings. Being my son's mother is incredibly intense experience. In Cormac McCarthy's book, The Road, the mother says that the day her son was born her heart was ripped out of her body. Most people hate the mom for saying that because it seems so cold. I don't think so at all. I feel the same way. When that little boy came in to the world my heart was completely exposed, every cut lip, bruise, joyful discovery, loving cuddle, and frustrating disappointment I feel with acute sensation. This is just one little boy, can my heart handle another one?
(My grandfather once told my mom that having another child doesn't diminish
the love you have for your first child. He explained that it is like lighting
one candle off another--the flame does not diminish. That's a lot [more] love.)

I hate that my son is growing up. I hate that it has happened so fast. I know, I know, "before you know it...", please stop rubbing it in. It was incredibly difficult on Friday night thinking about how many different rituals we have had in his two years. It was absolutely awful to think that these cuddles that I love so much will someday be "kiddie stuff." After B was sufficiently cuddled and tucked away Friday, I trudged downstairs and told Jeff I was going back to school to finish some work. Ostrich meet sand.

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B @ Peter Piper Pizza with the 'rents. And we didn't even have to pay for tokens--he didn't know any better.

B @ his birthday dinner with the fam. He was overwhelmed by the singing and candles--see how he is gripping my hand? Being surprised by Nanners. Enjoying his new potty seat in his new tent.

my mamma bear

"My mother had a great deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it." -Mark Twain

Today is my mom's birthday. I don't know how to describe my mom in a concise fashion. Those of you who know her know that I am talking about. She can be incredibly over the top in an endearing way. She doesn't like going out in public without lipstick and earrings. She is late 97% of the time. She has a hard time hearing, but don't tell her that because she is one of the world's best pouters. It used to drive me crazy that she would figure out and then announce the killer in murder mystery TV shows--but now I do that. The sales people at some Chico's stores know her by name. She has a habit of buying tacky shoes and home decor, asking me what I think, and when I answer "horrible" she says, "I knew you would say that." She sings the best lullabies, makes perfect grilled cheese, and is a fantabulous back scratcher. KC Chiefs, bright red/pink nail polish, and her grandson are her obsessions. She used to pay me to tickle her feet and play with her eyebrows. My mom tells the same stories over and over again (which is a habit I picked up from her), and if you tell her "I remember this one," she keeps going.

My mom is a special person and I love her so much. Happy birthday, Mom! I hope you had as much fun as I did today shopping and getting your toes done! Don't forget, the day you become as crotchety as that old lady getting her pedicure, I will stop taking you out of the house.

Who wants to go with me?

I have always thought about taking one of the classes at Blissful Living Studio, but never really got into some of their kitschy stuff. This one strikes my fancy, especially the beginning sewing bit. I am definitely only a beginner. It's next Friday, April 24th, from 7-9:30pm.


Here is one of my recent projects. I made this for my favorite Miss Macie. It is a car seat cover that cools it down when not in use. If you live in Arizona you understand the brilliance of this, otherwise it looks silly to you.

There are little ice packs in the pockets.

You stick it in the freezer and then throw it over the car seat.

I think I have found my stupid human craft to make me Etsy-worthy. I bought one of these for $40 bucks when B was little, then I learned how to sew and felt really stupid when I figured out how easy it was.

The talented Mrs. Dilbeck

Ok, ignore the reference to the creepy movie and follow me.

My mother-in-law, Diane, owns Air-a-zona Flag, a custom banner and flag store in Mesa. She also does custom vinyl, which is incredibly popular right now. I wanted to give her a little plug since she is a fantabulous, talented person. If you are interested in custom vinyl decor, or know someone who is, you can email her at diane@azflag.com and tell her what you want and she will give you a quote--definitely cheaper than Etsy or Michaels. If you don't feel like driving to the shop at Broadway and the 101, she will even ship it to you. I told you she is special.

Here is some of the stuff she has done for me...

Baby not included.

B speak

(Can you tell I am making up for my lack of posting in the last week?)

I used to call BS on people who translated what their kids would say to me. "Gryistlemo" never sounded like juice to me, but I get it now. Kind of. I really don't understand half of what my kid says and when he mumbles something and I ask, "What?" He looks right back at me, wide-eyed, hands out, fingers splayed, and responds, "What?" Like what he said was absolutely clear.

He must get this from his dad, but B can't stand not being involved in the conversations around him. He is very nosy, chatty, and gets testy if he is ignored...see, just like Jeff. His new trick is to say, "Why?" in response to everything I say, just so he can get me to keep talking to him. As a teacher I am really good at ignoring ridiculous questions and getting dragged in to debates, yet I just can't help it with my child.

It grows back...eventually

We cut B's hari and it was a horrible experience for all of us. The clippers freaked him out and everyone was covered in hair by the time all was said and done. I miss his hair, especially the curls around his ears. Jeff also cut his hair, and I HATE it. I love my boys with longer hair. On a side note, the dog just got groomed. I am okay with sheared dogs in case you are wondering.


I have no idea how many haircuts B has had in his two years. His first one was at 4 months and it has been hell to keep up with since then...but oh so worth it for those curls.

O.M.G.

T-minus one week until my baby turns two.


He was just this...

And now he is this...

What a weekend...

And it's not even over yet.

Spent yesterday laying pavers at my parent's house as part of a project that has been talked about off and on for a couple months. Then, all of the sudden we were doing it. I wish we had pics, but I don't yet. I should take pictures of the hands--all scaly, cut up, and bruised--but, alas, I am too tired. You can tell I'm tired, can't you?

High point of the weekend: getting the dog groomed and the checkout guy telling me one of my coupons saved me $13. Don't judge, you would be psyched too.