Dear Hunter,
I can't believe you've been with us for almost 14 weeks. January marks the start of our journey with you and November marked two years on our journey to have you. You are such a lovable baby. You bring joy to our lives that we've not known until you came along. You've potentially completed our family and when I look at you and your brother, I find peace in knowing this may be the finished product. As I watch you grow and learn new things, each moment is marked with great happiness and also a small sense of sadness - it means you're growing up. Before I know it, just like with Cole, I will be taking you to your first day or kindergarten. I'll blink once more and you'll be driving, then prom, graduation, college and starting your own life. I know how fast these moments go. I know that before I know it, you won't be my cuddly little baby any more, so I hold tight to those moments when you wake in the night. I cherish the times when you want nothing more than to be held. I change every diaper, knowing that soon enough, you'll be inspecting every bathroom in Boone and Winnebago county on your own, as I call to you, "Wash your hands WITH SOAP!"
Today marked the end of that first stage - I packed away all of your newborn and 0-3 month clothing. As I folded those tiny clothes, that looked so small just months ago and so big once we started dressing you in them, I couldn't help but be sad at how fast you're growing. I couldn't stop my heart from hurting, knowing this may be the last time I box away those tiny outfits. But, I couldn't help but be overjoy that you're here and you're thriving - you're finally big enough to transition to the next size. You smile and you talk - and it's in those moments, when you smile at me and Daddy that we realize how excited we are to mark each new milestone with you. Even today, you started trying to lift yourself up, like you wanted to sit. You'll learn how to sit soon enough, then crawl and walk. Soon, you'll be able to form words and tell us your needs and wants.
You are a miracle. You are our miracle and we love you more and more every day. I questioned how I could love another child as much as I love Cole. I wondered if my love for him would diminish to make room for you. It didn't - my heart grew. And it grows every day as I love you both more. It grows when I watch daddy hold you and snuggle you. It grew tonight when you were so fussy all evening, then daddy got home and held you and suddenly, you were all smiles. You wanted the snuggle time with him you've come to love so much.
So, as we've marked your first Christmas with us, and you've learned new skills and brought us new joys, I want you to know how much I love you. And even though there may be moments that I cry, know that I am crying because my heart is so overwhelmingly full of love and happiness that only you and Cole can bring. Know that I am crying, not because I'm sad that you're growing, but because I am happy you are here to grow. Know every day of your life how much we love you. Know how much we prayed for you and wanted you and how worth every struggle, then, now and in the future, you are. Know that you may always be our baby, or you may become a middle child one day, but you will always be loved beyond your comprehension.
We love you, Hunter Lee.
Love,
Mommy
Monday, December 27, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
And on the 7th day...she couponed!
I love Sunday's. It's something about the day that screams family, snuggles and coupons! Every Sunday, I get my newspaper, sit down and plan my shopping for the week. I was extra excited about my two subscriptions to the Chicago Tribune, but it appears as though I did not receive either one today. So, I was left to the coupons in my Rockford Register Star. Still, I think I'll be able to get some pretty good deals. This week, Walgreen's has Huggie's wipes for $2.50. In the front of the store, there's a coupon booklet with a store coupon for $1 off, paired with a $0.75 off coupon I received from Huggies (not available in any publication), I'll be getting a container of wipes for $0.75!! This is a great deal, especially since we're almost out and Hunter's finally regulated his bowels! (I highly recommend going to the websites of your favorite products and signing up - you'll get high value coupons not available anywhere else, sent right to your mailbox!) The next awesome deal is diapers! Walgreen's has Huggies on sale 2/$18 this week. You get $3 back in Register Rewards (good for use off your next purchase) and I have two coupons that were mailed to me, one for $2.50 off, the other for $3.00 off. (See, as a new mom, everyone's vying for your hard earned money!) So, at the end of the day, I'll score two packages of name brand diapers for $4.75 each!
If you're interested in learning more about couponing and saving money, I encourage you to check out my dear friend, Deb Hallman's blog (savingmoney-101.blogspot.com)! She posts some really great deals and scenarios and is open to helping anyone figure out how to start couponing! She has been a valuable resource to me over the past few weeks and I'm grateful for all her help! She also links several other blogs on her site, so definitely check it out! (Plus, she has one of the cutest little guys EVER!)
If you're interested in learning more about couponing and saving money, I encourage you to check out my dear friend, Deb Hallman's blog (savingmoney-101.blogspot.com)! She posts some really great deals and scenarios and is open to helping anyone figure out how to start couponing! She has been a valuable resource to me over the past few weeks and I'm grateful for all her help! She also links several other blogs on her site, so definitely check it out! (Plus, she has one of the cutest little guys EVER!)
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Obligatory Christmas Traditions
I love Christmas. I love this time of year in general, for the most part. There's something about the holidays that just makes my heart smile and my checking account cry in agony. But, there are certain things I dread. For instance, when my husband excitedly asked a couple of weeks ago, "When are we going to get our Christmas tree?"
Personally, if I didn't have children who deserved all of the festive holiday traditions, I probably wouldn't even have a tree. My husband, on the contrary, would like to have multiple trees. But, when I think of the Christmas tree, I panic. It's not just having a Christmas tree like it was when I was a child. It means going to the Boy Scout stand in 10 degree weather to pick out a tree that will never pan out to be as magnificent as a person would hope. The branches are too clumped together, or they aren't even, etc. You give them your $50 and haul away what you pray looks better than Charlie Brown's once you get it home. Then, I have to go to the basement and search for hours for the tree stand, all the while rationalizing how much easier it would be to just go buy a new one. Then comes the fun part - you get to spend the next four hours trying to get the tree to sit perfectly in the stand. "A little more to the left. No, now an inch back to the right. Okay, half an inch back to the left. Perfect." Doug tightens down the bolts. "No, now you tightened it and it's leaning to the left again..." At this point, we're both ready to throw the tree out the window and just have Santa leave the presents under the coffee table. I had no enthusiasm about this event to begin with and he's lost all of his child-like vigor. But, the tree is finally straight. Now, we wait. And we wait. And all the while we wait for the tree to "drop" (or whatever the correct term is), Cole repeatedly asks, "Is it time to put the lights on now?!?!" In all actuality, yes, we'd probably waited long enough to go ahead with the trimming of the tree, but I am just far too lazy to assume the task of finding and bringing up all the lights and decorations. Again...wouldn't it just be easier to buy new ones? But, inevitably, we decided that the tree needs to be decorated eventually, so I begin to haul up the boxes.
At this point, as we begin to put on the lights and garland and ornaments, no one else does it correctly. I don't put the hooks in the ornaments right, Doug doesn't space them out properly and we're both just praying Cole doesn't break them as Hunter sleeps soundly in his bouncer. Eventually, the boys are done and I can go in for damage control. I rearrange the ornaments and make sure everything is "perfect". Or, good enough to look like we actually tried. For two years running, we've had no tree topper, so this year, I bought a star. Doug places the star atop the tree and we are done. But, wait...we have no tree skirt. Again.
As many people know, I have some really great ideas. But, they're just that - ideas. I either try to make them happen and they don't pan out. Or, I just give up before even trying. Or, we just realize that it'll never work. But, this year, I determined to make my idea happen, and happen well. I want to buy a piece of material and red and green paint. I'd then like to start a tradition of doing the boys hand prints on this piece of fabric every year and using it as our tree skirt. I'm just not sure what kind of fabric I need, nor what kind of paint. I'm also concerned with how well Hunter's going to take to flattening his fists. Although, I suppose if that doesn't work, I could always do his foot this once. Any ideas?
So, in conclusion, my house is as Christmas-ready as it's going to get, less the tree skirt. Merry Christmas.
Oh, and did I mention that our tree will be up until the point that it's dead in its stand because we're equally as unenthusiastic about taking everything down?!?!
Personally, if I didn't have children who deserved all of the festive holiday traditions, I probably wouldn't even have a tree. My husband, on the contrary, would like to have multiple trees. But, when I think of the Christmas tree, I panic. It's not just having a Christmas tree like it was when I was a child. It means going to the Boy Scout stand in 10 degree weather to pick out a tree that will never pan out to be as magnificent as a person would hope. The branches are too clumped together, or they aren't even, etc. You give them your $50 and haul away what you pray looks better than Charlie Brown's once you get it home. Then, I have to go to the basement and search for hours for the tree stand, all the while rationalizing how much easier it would be to just go buy a new one. Then comes the fun part - you get to spend the next four hours trying to get the tree to sit perfectly in the stand. "A little more to the left. No, now an inch back to the right. Okay, half an inch back to the left. Perfect." Doug tightens down the bolts. "No, now you tightened it and it's leaning to the left again..." At this point, we're both ready to throw the tree out the window and just have Santa leave the presents under the coffee table. I had no enthusiasm about this event to begin with and he's lost all of his child-like vigor. But, the tree is finally straight. Now, we wait. And we wait. And all the while we wait for the tree to "drop" (or whatever the correct term is), Cole repeatedly asks, "Is it time to put the lights on now?!?!" In all actuality, yes, we'd probably waited long enough to go ahead with the trimming of the tree, but I am just far too lazy to assume the task of finding and bringing up all the lights and decorations. Again...wouldn't it just be easier to buy new ones? But, inevitably, we decided that the tree needs to be decorated eventually, so I begin to haul up the boxes.
At this point, as we begin to put on the lights and garland and ornaments, no one else does it correctly. I don't put the hooks in the ornaments right, Doug doesn't space them out properly and we're both just praying Cole doesn't break them as Hunter sleeps soundly in his bouncer. Eventually, the boys are done and I can go in for damage control. I rearrange the ornaments and make sure everything is "perfect". Or, good enough to look like we actually tried. For two years running, we've had no tree topper, so this year, I bought a star. Doug places the star atop the tree and we are done. But, wait...we have no tree skirt. Again.
As many people know, I have some really great ideas. But, they're just that - ideas. I either try to make them happen and they don't pan out. Or, I just give up before even trying. Or, we just realize that it'll never work. But, this year, I determined to make my idea happen, and happen well. I want to buy a piece of material and red and green paint. I'd then like to start a tradition of doing the boys hand prints on this piece of fabric every year and using it as our tree skirt. I'm just not sure what kind of fabric I need, nor what kind of paint. I'm also concerned with how well Hunter's going to take to flattening his fists. Although, I suppose if that doesn't work, I could always do his foot this once. Any ideas?
So, in conclusion, my house is as Christmas-ready as it's going to get, less the tree skirt. Merry Christmas.
Oh, and did I mention that our tree will be up until the point that it's dead in its stand because we're equally as unenthusiastic about taking everything down?!?!
Friday, December 10, 2010
Viruses, Texting & Partying
So, yesterday was a pretty big day for me. No, it wasn't my birthday, nor was it time for me to "grow up" and get my own auto insurance. Nope, none of that. But, I did manage to get a virus, be placed under citizens arrest and realize my husband thinks he's a college frat boy - and all of this before my day concluded by Cole saying, "I left my shoes at Grandma's."
I'm sure you're all wondering how I was able to pack so much excitement into the 12 hours I was awake yesterday. Well, it all started with my morning internet browsing. Instead of spending mornings bonding over Frosted Flakes with Cole, he makes his own breakfast while I make sure nothing that would otherwise stop the world from turning happened on Facebook during my slumber. Okay, not every morning, but on the morning in question, yes, that's what happened. While surfing, I thought I'd check out something on MySpace. You know, the site that started all social networking but then got kicked in the groin by Facebook? Well, apparently it's become the preschool of the internet - a cesspool for viruses! Without even clicking anything, I managed to snag myself a good, 'ol fashioned trojan. This just doesn't happen to people who've worked in the technology field. So, it was with much embarrassment that I shut the lid to my precious pink laptop, wrapped up the cord and walked, head down, into my former place of employment to have it repaired. (See, the upside to all of this is that my father-in-law owns a high speed internet company with a really fabulous PC repair department.) Now, I get to use the half-broken, slow-as-could-be, boring black and gray HP that is my husbands until Pinky (my computer) comes home from the hospital.
My next task for the day (well besides the laundry and Christmas decorating - neither of which got done), was to take my mother to the bank in Huntley. Now, as most people know, my mother is going to be eligible for sainthood upon death, as she has survived almost a quarter century of having me for a daughter. I often wondered as a child, why I didn't have a brother or sister. It wasn't until later in life that I realized half the problem was that I slept with my parents until I was ten, the other half of the problem was that I was as much work as sextuplets. So, I'm sure she was dreading the drive to Huntley as much as I was anticipating it. Namely because I knew it would make for a fascinating blog entry.
Most of the ride was uneventful. However, I have the really bad habit of texting/Facebooking and driving and it requires my mother to wear her Depends upon traveling with my any great distance (including to the end of the driveway). Knowing this, paired with the fact that I had Hunter in the car, I did really well at avoiding the keyboard of my phone. However, at one point, I did read a text message I was sent. "You know, that's against the law. Texting and driving," said my mother, as if she had written the law herself and as if there wasn't some multi-million dollar ad campaign already informing me of this. Not to mention, the fact that she reminds me every. single. day. "I know, mother, I'm just seeing what she said." It wasn't about twenty minutes later when I simply looked at the time on my phone that my mother proudly announced, "I'm performing a citizens arrest." Instantly, as if being held up by true law enforcement, I raised both hands and turned my grin into a look of defeat. "Ya got me, big hoss." My mother, proud of her first successful citizens arrest, or at least content that my hands were off the phone (and the steering wheel), blew the "smoke" from her finger gun and holstered that bad boy. She quickly changed the subject to "The Middle". It's one of our favorite TV shows, mainly because Brick, one of the characters, repeats much of what he says in a whisper. She hasn't informed me of my trial date, but I'm sure she'll be gathering a jury of my peers that will convict me. My punishment? Perhaps she'll attempt to ground me. I'll keep you updated.
As if that wasn't enough excitement, I got to join Doug on his intake appointment at Rockford Memorial. You see, my husband can't breathe. Upon visiting an ENT, he found that his adenoids are swollen and his septum is deviated. The doctor, therefore, recommended an adenoidectomy, tonsillectomy and rhinoplasty to fix these problems and on December 16th, my husband should be able to breathe again...though, his ability to swallow will be compromised for many days. While at RMH, he was asked a series of questions. One of which was, "Do you drink?" Now, I personally have issues with this question...I always never know how to answer it for myself and the person asking never accepts, "It depends on the week" as a valid answer. So, I've learned to simply say, "Socially". It sounds much more responsible than, "When my kids drive my crazy or my husband's PMS-ing." The latter answer makes me seem dependent on alcohol to deal with my day to day life and the looks of judgment when admitting that only make me want to drink more. "Nope, I wasn't going to drink today, but after that look...do you have a wine opener?" (I kid, I really drink very rarely. No, really...) Anyway, my husband says, "I party on the weekends." I'm not sure if I was more concerned with his statement, or the fact that until I erupted with laughter, he managed to say it with a straight face. After we returned to the privacy of the waiting room, I asked, "Are you serious right now?!?!" He looked confused. "You do not party on the weekends. You don't party ever. You sound like you're in college." I'm not sure if he was trying to impress the middle aged intake coordinator, or if he was vocalizing his inner most wishes. Maybe it just sounded more appealing than, "I have a beer or two a couple nights a week." In this moment, I realized I'm married to a college frat boy in a working man's body. I think he realized how boring his existence since high school has become. Either way, I'm glad my husband doesn't "party on the weekends" and instead is home with his wife and children on the weekends. This boring life we lead was only further confirmed when we went to Hooters and he ordered a Sierra Mist. This bad boy even held back on the caffeine...I was almost concerned he might ask the waitress for "mild" wing sauce. She, however, must've sensed my chaotic day, as I was given a complimentary mud slide. "No, intake coordinator, I can't drink, one parent has to stay sober and it's certainly not going to be Suzy Homemaker over here!"
So, in a nut shell, that was my day. Or, I thought it was. Until, as we walked in the house, Cole informed me that he left his street shoes at Grandma's. "Great, Cole. Now you get to wear your snow boots all day tomorrow and further confirm any suspicion your teacher may have had about my inability to keep it together. Thanks for that." Just wait until today's over and I get to post about how all my kid had for lunch today was milk. Don't worry, I have a bottle of wine hidden for when she calls DCFS on us...
I'm sure you're all wondering how I was able to pack so much excitement into the 12 hours I was awake yesterday. Well, it all started with my morning internet browsing. Instead of spending mornings bonding over Frosted Flakes with Cole, he makes his own breakfast while I make sure nothing that would otherwise stop the world from turning happened on Facebook during my slumber. Okay, not every morning, but on the morning in question, yes, that's what happened. While surfing, I thought I'd check out something on MySpace. You know, the site that started all social networking but then got kicked in the groin by Facebook? Well, apparently it's become the preschool of the internet - a cesspool for viruses! Without even clicking anything, I managed to snag myself a good, 'ol fashioned trojan. This just doesn't happen to people who've worked in the technology field. So, it was with much embarrassment that I shut the lid to my precious pink laptop, wrapped up the cord and walked, head down, into my former place of employment to have it repaired. (See, the upside to all of this is that my father-in-law owns a high speed internet company with a really fabulous PC repair department.) Now, I get to use the half-broken, slow-as-could-be, boring black and gray HP that is my husbands until Pinky (my computer) comes home from the hospital.
My next task for the day (well besides the laundry and Christmas decorating - neither of which got done), was to take my mother to the bank in Huntley. Now, as most people know, my mother is going to be eligible for sainthood upon death, as she has survived almost a quarter century of having me for a daughter. I often wondered as a child, why I didn't have a brother or sister. It wasn't until later in life that I realized half the problem was that I slept with my parents until I was ten, the other half of the problem was that I was as much work as sextuplets. So, I'm sure she was dreading the drive to Huntley as much as I was anticipating it. Namely because I knew it would make for a fascinating blog entry.
Most of the ride was uneventful. However, I have the really bad habit of texting/Facebooking and driving and it requires my mother to wear her Depends upon traveling with my any great distance (including to the end of the driveway). Knowing this, paired with the fact that I had Hunter in the car, I did really well at avoiding the keyboard of my phone. However, at one point, I did read a text message I was sent. "You know, that's against the law. Texting and driving," said my mother, as if she had written the law herself and as if there wasn't some multi-million dollar ad campaign already informing me of this. Not to mention, the fact that she reminds me every. single. day. "I know, mother, I'm just seeing what she said." It wasn't about twenty minutes later when I simply looked at the time on my phone that my mother proudly announced, "I'm performing a citizens arrest." Instantly, as if being held up by true law enforcement, I raised both hands and turned my grin into a look of defeat. "Ya got me, big hoss." My mother, proud of her first successful citizens arrest, or at least content that my hands were off the phone (and the steering wheel), blew the "smoke" from her finger gun and holstered that bad boy. She quickly changed the subject to "The Middle". It's one of our favorite TV shows, mainly because Brick, one of the characters, repeats much of what he says in a whisper. She hasn't informed me of my trial date, but I'm sure she'll be gathering a jury of my peers that will convict me. My punishment? Perhaps she'll attempt to ground me. I'll keep you updated.
As if that wasn't enough excitement, I got to join Doug on his intake appointment at Rockford Memorial. You see, my husband can't breathe. Upon visiting an ENT, he found that his adenoids are swollen and his septum is deviated. The doctor, therefore, recommended an adenoidectomy, tonsillectomy and rhinoplasty to fix these problems and on December 16th, my husband should be able to breathe again...though, his ability to swallow will be compromised for many days. While at RMH, he was asked a series of questions. One of which was, "Do you drink?" Now, I personally have issues with this question...I always never know how to answer it for myself and the person asking never accepts, "It depends on the week" as a valid answer. So, I've learned to simply say, "Socially". It sounds much more responsible than, "When my kids drive my crazy or my husband's PMS-ing." The latter answer makes me seem dependent on alcohol to deal with my day to day life and the looks of judgment when admitting that only make me want to drink more. "Nope, I wasn't going to drink today, but after that look...do you have a wine opener?" (I kid, I really drink very rarely. No, really...) Anyway, my husband says, "I party on the weekends." I'm not sure if I was more concerned with his statement, or the fact that until I erupted with laughter, he managed to say it with a straight face. After we returned to the privacy of the waiting room, I asked, "Are you serious right now?!?!" He looked confused. "You do not party on the weekends. You don't party ever. You sound like you're in college." I'm not sure if he was trying to impress the middle aged intake coordinator, or if he was vocalizing his inner most wishes. Maybe it just sounded more appealing than, "I have a beer or two a couple nights a week." In this moment, I realized I'm married to a college frat boy in a working man's body. I think he realized how boring his existence since high school has become. Either way, I'm glad my husband doesn't "party on the weekends" and instead is home with his wife and children on the weekends. This boring life we lead was only further confirmed when we went to Hooters and he ordered a Sierra Mist. This bad boy even held back on the caffeine...I was almost concerned he might ask the waitress for "mild" wing sauce. She, however, must've sensed my chaotic day, as I was given a complimentary mud slide. "No, intake coordinator, I can't drink, one parent has to stay sober and it's certainly not going to be Suzy Homemaker over here!"
So, in a nut shell, that was my day. Or, I thought it was. Until, as we walked in the house, Cole informed me that he left his street shoes at Grandma's. "Great, Cole. Now you get to wear your snow boots all day tomorrow and further confirm any suspicion your teacher may have had about my inability to keep it together. Thanks for that." Just wait until today's over and I get to post about how all my kid had for lunch today was milk. Don't worry, I have a bottle of wine hidden for when she calls DCFS on us...
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
So, I've Moved...
I realize "Happy for Hunter" was a fabulous blog. It chronicled the worst and best of times on our journey to our precious, sweet baby boy. But, lest we forget, he is not an only child (though I do believe he might think he is). He has an older brother. Allow me to introduce you to Cole.
I got to thinking, as I was cleaning Cole's room today (and likely throwing out all of his most valuable possessions that I find completely worthless). Hold on...
Sorry, I'm back, my mother came over to dig through the trash to salvage those possessions. No, I'm not kidding. I will have a phone lecture within five minutes of this blog going live about how I am damaging my child for life by throwing out his empty Diet Coke bottle and broken Hot Wheels.
...Back to how this blog happened, though. I realized that one day, my five year old child would do a Google search on his mother. Though he will not suffer the same harsh reality that Jenna Jameson's children will, he will happen upon Hunter's blog, no doubt. It is, after all, hosted by Google. It is then, and only then, that Cole will have his "I'm adopted" melt down because upon continued search, he will realize he has no blog. He never had a blog. And that, my friends, will give him a complex far greater than any trashed two liter.
So, I decided instead of having one blog dedicated to one child, I would have one blog dedicated to the misadventures of my life as a stay at home mom. Sometimes it will be about Hunter, sometimes about Cole, sometimes about Doug and sometimes about how in our house we play "Jenga" with trash.
What is trash Jenga? People keep piling stuff on top of the trash can in the kitchen until finally, something is placed that causes an avalanche of all previously stacked-beyond-the-brim-of-the-can trash. Even then, the person who loses still tries to place blame on the person before them to pass the buck, or at least enlist assistance. What sucks is when you lose the game in the manner I did just moments ago. The only person to pass the buck to is sleeping in his car seat. I side eyed him and thought, 'Yeah, if you would have just changed it after that diaper you had this morning...' He continued to sleep, so I was left to my own devices to pick up the garbage volcano that had erupted on my kitchen floor. But, of course, someone overflowed the recyclables, so in the midst of trying to deal with the garbage, a bag of aluminum came tumbling down. Then and only then did Hunter wake from his precious slumber. He still declined to help, informing me that formula, nor bottles or drop-ins, nor diapers or wipes or any of his other expendables go into the recycling, so I was on my own. I think he mumbled something about me drinking too much Diet Coke under his breath, but I'm not sure.
So, after dealing with this whole trash fiasco, I sat down to start this blog. In a nutshell - I thought being a SAHM (stay at home mom) would be easy. I thought I'd take naps, watch TV, have play dates and lunch dates and shop all day long. This is not the life I imagined. Every day, I'm met with a new task and usually, new comedy. Since Hunter doesn't yet appreciate the irony of all of these situations, nor my best laid plans that inevitably backfire, and since Cole's not home half of the day when I do my best work - you all get to enjoy my mishaps and misadventures. Some days might be sweet. Some days might be funny. Some days I might just vent about how I hate that I live with three males (four counting the dog...) and not one of them have the strength, ability or desire to lift a toilet seat. (I'm jealous of all of you ladies who have to put the toilet seat down to go to the bathroom! I want, just once, to get up in the middle of the night, stumble to the bathroom and sit down to find that my soundly sleeping husband didn't put down the toilet seat AGAIN!)
(And please note, I love my children, husband and even my dog with all my heart, the primary purpose of this blog is entertainment.)
Sorry, I'm back, my mother came over to dig through the trash to salvage those possessions. No, I'm not kidding. I will have a phone lecture within five minutes of this blog going live about how I am damaging my child for life by throwing out his empty Diet Coke bottle and broken Hot Wheels.
...Back to how this blog happened, though. I realized that one day, my five year old child would do a Google search on his mother. Though he will not suffer the same harsh reality that Jenna Jameson's children will, he will happen upon Hunter's blog, no doubt. It is, after all, hosted by Google. It is then, and only then, that Cole will have his "I'm adopted" melt down because upon continued search, he will realize he has no blog. He never had a blog. And that, my friends, will give him a complex far greater than any trashed two liter.
So, I decided instead of having one blog dedicated to one child, I would have one blog dedicated to the misadventures of my life as a stay at home mom. Sometimes it will be about Hunter, sometimes about Cole, sometimes about Doug and sometimes about how in our house we play "Jenga" with trash.
What is trash Jenga? People keep piling stuff on top of the trash can in the kitchen until finally, something is placed that causes an avalanche of all previously stacked-beyond-the-brim-of-the-can trash. Even then, the person who loses still tries to place blame on the person before them to pass the buck, or at least enlist assistance. What sucks is when you lose the game in the manner I did just moments ago. The only person to pass the buck to is sleeping in his car seat. I side eyed him and thought, 'Yeah, if you would have just changed it after that diaper you had this morning...' He continued to sleep, so I was left to my own devices to pick up the garbage volcano that had erupted on my kitchen floor. But, of course, someone overflowed the recyclables, so in the midst of trying to deal with the garbage, a bag of aluminum came tumbling down. Then and only then did Hunter wake from his precious slumber. He still declined to help, informing me that formula, nor bottles or drop-ins, nor diapers or wipes or any of his other expendables go into the recycling, so I was on my own. I think he mumbled something about me drinking too much Diet Coke under his breath, but I'm not sure.
So, after dealing with this whole trash fiasco, I sat down to start this blog. In a nutshell - I thought being a SAHM (stay at home mom) would be easy. I thought I'd take naps, watch TV, have play dates and lunch dates and shop all day long. This is not the life I imagined. Every day, I'm met with a new task and usually, new comedy. Since Hunter doesn't yet appreciate the irony of all of these situations, nor my best laid plans that inevitably backfire, and since Cole's not home half of the day when I do my best work - you all get to enjoy my mishaps and misadventures. Some days might be sweet. Some days might be funny. Some days I might just vent about how I hate that I live with three males (four counting the dog...) and not one of them have the strength, ability or desire to lift a toilet seat. (I'm jealous of all of you ladies who have to put the toilet seat down to go to the bathroom! I want, just once, to get up in the middle of the night, stumble to the bathroom and sit down to find that my soundly sleeping husband didn't put down the toilet seat AGAIN!)
(And please note, I love my children, husband and even my dog with all my heart, the primary purpose of this blog is entertainment.)
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