Quick! 5-minute Speed Date!

In efforts to help ME (consider it an early Christmas gift, k?), I would like to know more about YOU!

Crazy, eh?

I'm doing a bit of research about those who visit my site and well, most of the work has been done by these kind people. And those kind people, in the course of one month, have given me a whole bunch of numbers. I usually hate numbers, but these are particularly interesting.

For instance:
I have 101 Absolute Unique Visitors (so far)
2:29 is the average amount of time you spend on my site (good for you).
56% of you use Internet Explorer and then nearly 22% of you are cooler use Safari. 3% use Chrome and I don't know what that is.
4% ACTUALLY USE DIAL-UP. Dang.
In these 4 weeks, I've had 432 page views (Yippee)
Viewers have come from 23 states.

I love facts. They make my tummy feel yummy.

But, the FACT is that numbers don't give me anything other than a Data High and a little headache. I'd like to know more about you, ESPECIALLY the LURKERS or people who come by on a whim.
Like when you googled:
"how to guarantee a failed VBAC" - Odd, I don't remember having one of those...
"did anyone wonder how Edward dealt with Bella's period?" & "Forks, WA"
"Christmas Party NICU Birmingham, AL 2008"
"Jenny Says Turn Off The Radio"
... and one of my favorites "It's ok. He can call me flower if he wants to"

So, by-chancers, lurkers, family, friends and Internets... lend me a few minutes. Fill out the following in any form you wish (sentence form, paragraph, bulletin points, a slideshow or powerpoint presentation, fling the message through your computer on a pile of dung - you pick!) and post it in the comments section. If you've got a blog that I don't know about, link it! (I'm a blog reading NERD). If you wish to remain anonymous, that's cool too... just leave any "personal info" blank. This should be exciting!

1. Do we have anything in common? Mommyhood? Two boys? Toddler and/or Screaming Banshee? SAHM? Freak of nature with a psychopathic tendency to leave the lines on the carpet when you vacuum only to swear WAR against the first person to ruin it? NICU baby?

2. Do you have a blog? Can I stalk it read it?

3. Do you leave comments? If no, why not? (It's ok, I'm bad about commenting too...)

4. Favorite post? You don't have to link it, just dig through your brains and give me a few highlights. Favorite post of YOURS (link it puh-lease)?

5. Anything you wish I'd write about more often? Anything I should shut my hole about?

6. Apple or grape jelly? Strawberry?

7. Do you use your kid's names on your blog/myspace/facebook/front door? Their real name? Should I stop using mine?

8. Favorite perfume, cologne, fragrance, smell? I heart pumpkin spice.

9. Wheresa aboutsa are yousa fromsa?

10. What's your blood type? You know, in case I you ever need a donor organ... (I'm B Negative I think...)

11. Any tips, suggestions, complaints, general love and internet hugs?

12. How'd you find my blog? If I know you in The Real World tell me how you get to it - facebook link, myspace link, direct (as in typing my URL), friend's blogroll, etc ?

Thanks gals (and maybe a guy or two). NOW GET TO WORK!

They Don't Sell Boobies at the Shop-A-Snack Kid

As Chase and I crashed into bed last night, and he let out the same giggle he does every single time he knows he’s about to get some one-on-one boobie action, I sighed and said, “You are going to be hard to wean, aren’t you?”

And I know the answer to that is unreservedly yes.

He already eats like a horse anyways, whatever we have, he wants. He gets “people food” at every meal, and seems especially not-full when I’m the most hungry.

He looks at me.
I look back at him.
I motion with my fork to my plate, half-full.
He grins.
I begin shoveling the rest of my food into his mouth, even though he’s already finished a small human portion himself.
Best. Diet. Ever


He eats more than Conner in the Real Food Department (sad, I know), still takes a few 3rd food purees, 2 small formula feedings a day, and of course… the breastfeeding.

But I wouldn’t call what he does “nursing”. I’m more of a Stop-N-Fill. Or Stop-N-Feel if you will…

He gets thirsty doing all that mad crawling and cruising along the furniture, right? I can read his mind: Oh but why have apple juice when Mom’s clearly not busy? I’ll just find her, yank down her tank top and have at it. She won’t mind.

I’ve tried the whole “Stick to your Guns” routine (Guns? Buns? Boobs? It’s tit-for-tat I’d say). I’ll tell him I’m NOT a 7-11 and insist that he get some juice out a cup like a civilized 1-year-old. But nope, he ‘aint having that.

Conner was breastfed till 14-months when the 3rd or 4th case of mastitis declared itself victorious. My original intentions were to stop Chase at the 1-year mark, which would be in about 2 weeks. I don’t see that happening. I’m hoping to have him cold turkey over the next few months. Sure to be interesting…

I guess this is like potty training. He can’t go to college still wanting to snuggle up to the nearest rack of voluminous boobies. Oh. Wait…

Hey Fat Man, BUTT OUT!

This weekend, the Hubby relieved me of The Mom Job for a WHOLE hour so that I could escape to Target. I shopped under a pseudonym and most wouldn't recognize me in a big red suit, a long white beard and black boots. I also had the laugh down to an art.

I only spent an hour and some change sifting through all the toys and gadgets that the boys have absolutely no room for and will probably break in a week. I managed to get out under $200 too! But I couldn't help but wonder... why do the grandparents get credit for their gifts... the aunts and uncles ....and cousins and friends ...and teachers and neighbors... they all get to say "here you go kid, look what i got just for you!"

But when it comes down to the man who goes to work every day to pay for these peices of garbage lovely gifts and the woman who carried these children for 2 separate 10 month gestations, dealt with the agonizing heartburn, the sleepless nights, the swollen feet, then birthed them through a hole the size of .. well... you know an approximation of how big it is. Tack on the crying when things went wrong or when one particular child decided to stop breathing and seize and all (no blame, Chase, no blame) and then when that woman spent weeks bleeding her insides out, cramping away, nursing and cracking and becoming engorged... and all THOSE extra sleepless nights till they are... well.. 20-something that are sure to come... why is it that THAT person (or persons) has to throw away all the "Aww... baby... ALL THIS STUFF IS FOR YOU! FROM ME!" on some hocus pocus mumbo jumbo imaginary fat dude that broke in without setting off the alarm mom and dad promised would help protect you?

I know, I know. "It's not about the presents.. but the MAGIC and their faces... and who CARES about who the gifts came from when they are HAPPY and SURPRISED and loved..." BLAH. BLAH BLAH.

BAH HUMBUG!

I don't know how long these Pixie and Fairy dust years of Santa will last because I did NOT fight Saturday mid-Holiday Target Crazies for Conner to say "Momma! Look what SANTA got ME!"

Perks of the Mom Job

There are COUNTLESS reasons why being a SAHM is a slamming good time, but I decided to blog a few. In no order, here’s a list of why the mom job has it’s perks.


The Uniform
Oh man, how I’d love to of worked at Chili’s or Friday’s in my favorite jeans and a tank top. It got HOT in those thick cotton tees that were NEVER in my size (X-tiny) and BLACK JEANS. It’s so impossible to look good in black denim.
AND THE SHOES, UGH! Come on now.
Or to have worked at Copper Grill not resembling a penguin. That’d've been sweet, but probably would’ve dented my tips had I of shown up in soffe shorts and a Game Day shirt. The other jobs - Corolla, Sun & Soul, Skate Station.. all had pretty relaxed uniform policies. No skanky clothes (check-ish), cover your boobies in a modest fashion (check, sometimes), don't wear your pj's (um, check, sadly), do your hair... shower... blah.

But, as a Professional Mommy of Mr. Chase and Conner, LLC there is no required uniform. I have could do it naked (or at least close to it, I do have windows… and neighbors... and the desire to prevent my children from mental trauma). Typically, I shower in the mornings and change into a different pair of sweats, soffe's, or yoga pants and a new tank top or t-shirt. If errands need to be addressed, I fashion the latest item of clothing that doesn’t resemble the later years of high school AND doesn’t have poop or dog hair or baby dribble on it.



The Hours
I COULD complain about SOME of the hours being a mom, but it does have it perks. Like when the kids sleep in and I don’t have to wake them because the only place we have to be is Nowhere Land or His Clubhouse and those things, my lovelies, also exist in the time void that is Tivo. Woot.



Speaking of the Hours… NAP!
Oh. Nap Gods. Thank thee for thyest most specialest of gifts... ye olde Nap! I am an absolute SLAVE to the naptime. I schedule everything around it and for more than just The Selfish Reason (see #3).
1) Without nap in the morning, Chase goes to nap early in the afternoon, causing him to wake earlier in the afternoon than normal… resulting in him wanting to go to bed at 6:45 at night… which then yields an AWAKE and “happy” baby at approximately 4:45 A-FREAKING-M.
I know you stopped reading. Pick up here….
2) If Conner doesn’t take his one afternoon nap (oh so smartly of me to have them together… again Shout-Out to the Nap Gods), he is a Giant Grumpy Pain In My B-U-T-T. No getting around it. He’s there… lurking in the misty shadows of our living room. Waiting for someone to ALLOW a commercial to come on, or for his JU-JUICE to POSSIBLY be EMPTY or for his train to even THINK about RUNNING OUT OF BATTERIES or… you get my point. He’s a giant pansy without the nap.
Then there’s 3) I love having two-ish hours to blog… watch tv… read…. shave my legs…. prepare dinner… do NOTHING.... It’s just nice to have some time alone with me. I’m good company.



The Paycheck
Ok so I don’t get PAID as in BANK. But, I do get an endless supply of kisses, hugs and unexpected-from-behind-full-on tackles by a 3 ½ pound monster and his side kick of practically equal weight WHENEVER THEY PLEASE throughout the day. I also don’t have to miss out on anything in The Land of Conner and Chase. Which rocks. It makes me warm and fuzzy on the inside AND gives me blogging material. An obvious win-win.



The Lunch Break
In the Professional World, people get lunch for an hour, maybe 30 minutes, and they brown bag. Some people have access to a microwave and fridge. I, on the other hand, have my whole freaking kitchen! Gas stove, gas oven, full range of utensils, access to my HUGE pantry… etc. I can have whatever I want as long as I’ve shopped for it. If you brown bag your lunch, you are eating that whether you change your mind or not. If you can leave and grab something… well… you’d better make it snappy. I’ve been known to think about lunch since breakfast and can figure some way to get What I Want before the clock strikes 12 (pm…) and my Little Princes turn to pumpkins. It’s definitely a plus in my book. But what can I say… I’m such a Food Whore.


Key points here, obviously, but I love being a Working from Home Without Monetary Benefit Momma *snort*

ShareYourStory.org

A few things spark The Dark Place Inside that dealt with Chase's NICU experience seeing as it was this time last year.

Putting up our Christmas tree made me cry, I know... pitiful. It was remembering not having our home on Christmas, spending it differently than originally planned, without Chase, without Conner half the day.... in the NICU. It felt like I was being punished or robbed... either way it didn't feel like anything needed to be celebrated. After we finally came home, and Christmas had passed, I left the tree and all the decorations out till the end of January and not because I'm lazy (which I am) but because my family didn't get to enjoy them the way they should've.

All-in-all, it's going to be a tid bit bumpy this holiday season.

Then, I received an email yesterday from the March of Dimes. As most of you know, Chase was full-term and the March of Dimes mostly deals with raising awareness of premature births and birth defects but they also provide a whole community for parents dealing with the horror that is the NICU experience.

Share Your Story is a way for those of us who've had to go through the motions of being in the NICU, dealing with the stress that becomes your companion and everything afterwards - from doctors appointments to getting past it and getting on with life.

I am eternally grateful that Chase is doing so well and that I am not in the shoes of many of these parents. But, I did share some time with many of them and those like them, and will forever feel strong connections to those touched by the experience both similar and not.

I've shared my story through the March of Dimes and if you happen upon this blog for similar reasons, I encourage you to do the same. It's a step in healing that can't be matched.

Give a little

In the interest of all that is product reviews/tips/mommy-related mayhem and all that jazz associated with being a mom who "works from home without pay" or WFHWP (seriously), here's a yummy lemon-scented tip for clean-up time!

Using a large microwavable bowl (I prefer my 1 quart Pyrex glass measuring cup), place 3-4 cups of hot water and at least 1 cup of lemon juice (I buy in bulk, so I have tons to spare) in the microwave for 5-6 minutes (a little longer for those really dirty appliances, like moi). After it does it's biznas, allow the container to sit in the microwave for at least a minute. Remove (CAREFULLY AS IT WILL BE PIPPING HOT) and immediately use a damp sponge or paper towel to wipe out the microwave. The years... months?... weeks worth of caked on spaghetti and reheated leftovers come off without an ounce of perspiration!

Yay to that!

Plus, it leaves your microwave smelling of fresh lemon-ey goodness! I prefer to keep the door open for a bit to let the smell waft through my kitchen and I also leave the used lemon-water out for fragrance purposes too! I also like to pour the leftovers into the toilet as it does freshen the potty room a bit too. That might be a little odd, but who cares!??

Go forth and clean thy kitchen!

Is this thing on?

I'd apologize to my readers, but since I only have 10 and you guys NEVER LEAVE ME COMMENT LOVE I'll just forego the comforting snugglies and fork over the excuse for neglecting my blog.

I. Am. Obsessed. With. Twilight.

I'm on the 4th book now and if Mike doesn't hurry the heck up, I'm considering shipping him to Forks, WA just to tease the baby vamps. Once he's finished, I'll get the Whole Book To Myself!! Battle lines have been drawn. He has 24 hours to surrender The Goods.

I haven't watched tv in 10 days. I know! Right? Except for House and the Iron Bowl. (I mean, don't hate the legacy.... Got twelve?? 36-0 BABY!.. etc etc).

I'm also in a writing rock/hard place. I want MORE from blogging but that means TIME and MONEY. Oh, and a GAMEPLAN. And a computer that worked would help... (and a chance and a prayer and... [indistinct grumbling])

Blah blah yadda yadda etc etc. The end.