tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34543419116963893772024-03-14T02:07:56.704-05:00I sure do like pancakes.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-49556692268136891782011-11-21T06:58:00.000-06:002011-11-21T06:58:42.026-06:00An open letter to the mothers in the news who have lately been making up kidnapping stories..Hey assholes. STOP IT. For reals. <br />
<br />
To clarify, I'm not talking about what actually happened to each of your kids. That part is incredibly sad, but not why I'm here. I'm here about this whole "Oh, someone took my kid" thing. Yeah. STOP IT. <br />
<br />
Do you have any idea how much you are <i>freaking out</i> mothers across the country? At night, my house now gets a zombie lock-down equivalent to Will Smith's <i>I Am Legend</i>. As I parent, I realize it is logical to be careful in securing the safety of your child, and that there is nothing wrong with a locked door. But you guys KEEP REPORTING these scary fake stories about babies being stolen from cribs, which is giving us an irrational level of fear about <strike>zombies</strike> child thieves breaking into our houses. And also? We're going to be weird FOREVER about putting gas in our cars with our kids inside, even when we are <b>right next to the car. </b>Jerks.<b> </b><br />
<br />
In addition, I must say that you are giving me a very, very weird internet browsing history at work. The network guys are going to start wondering why I keep obsessively googling "missing 2 year old" over and over and OVER again. You are making me be WEIRD about this.<br />
<br />
And I have enough things to be weird about. There is that awful business at Penn State, where there were real life monsters who were actually <u>hurting</u> people. I am starting to attempt frantic "no one should be touching your penis unless they are changing your diaper... and you're poopy...and the poop is on your penis" conversations with my 2 year old, which totally does not accomplish anything other than causing him to say "This PENIS... THIS penis." <br />
<br />
On behalf of all mothers, I am begging you. Stop making that awful stuff up. I mean, stop doing the horrible stuff in the first place, obviously, but REALLY really, stop cooking up these horrible scenes with imaginary baby thieves coming in and taking your children away. I'm just trying to give my kid a normal, happy childhood. And it is really hard to have a normal, happy childhood when a kid's mother is afraid.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-72984696349238031472011-08-02T22:29:00.000-05:002011-08-02T22:29:38.387-05:00Potty over here, potty over there, wave your hands in the air, shake ya deriere.We've started thinking about potty training LJB. Okay, not really. But I needed some sort of opener. Shut up. Here goes..<br />
<br />
Due to the incorrect assumption that a toddler could use a toilet simply because he knew what the word "potty" meant, we recently had our first teensy tinsy potty training attempt with LJB. Wildly unsuccessful, of course, because he obviously needs... <i>something</i> else first. (To read a cute book about it? To be a girl? To not be two and a half feet tall? I guess I'll know it when I see it.) As a result, we had an unhappy and naked toddler fleeing the bathroom. <br />
<br />
The real fun began when he reached the kitchen, where he stopped, peed on the floor, and then slipped and fell backwards into his pee puddle. We whisked the unhappy boy away and plunked him into a warm bath.. where he promptly pooped.<br />
<br />
The moral to the story is: always have a cocktail before doing anything with your child, ever. <br />
<br />
The End.<br />
<br />
<br />
Kidding, <i>kidding </i>(kind of). Moral is now I have a sparkly bleached tub, and I earned me a blueberry pancake, which I ate today.<br />
<br />
And they all lived happily after. The End.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-16781731865493917042011-03-15T07:17:00.002-05:002011-03-15T07:56:01.187-05:00Like, SUUUUUPER happy.So, <a href="http://healthland.time.com/2011/03/04/why-having-kids-is-foolish/#ixzz1G0yoiBgk">this</a> article happened. Then, the internet exploded with comments from the two divided sides, summarized as follows...<br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Side One (or "I agree with the article. It's science."):</b><br />
"I am totally sick of all the mommy posts all over my facebook news feed. And stop telling me I want babies. I for-reals don't." <br />
<br />
<b>Side Two (or, "This article is stupid, the author is stupid, and I hate science"):</b><br />
"Oh, but you dooooooooo want babies. I can't remember what life was like before my daughter Dakota was born. And I am sooooooooo happy, and you should be this happy with me, stranger-I-have-never-met. Now. Here are 500 pictures of my child in her car seat."<br />
<br />
And then everyone just yelled at each other, with accusations from each side about how the other will never understand what it means to be happy.<br />
<br />
So. There's that. <br />
<br />
I'd like to offer an objective commentary on this whole thing. I am an educated woman with a child, husband, and walgreens.com account, and I pride myself in my ability to analyze tricky issues in a fair and unbiased manner. With that said, I firmly believe that I have managed avoid this whole "delusion" of which the article is implying. With that, I can safely say, without lying to myself or to you, that I am 100% happy. The article has a valid point, but I do not believe that it applies specifically to me.<br />
<br />
So, I'll just wrap this up right about now, and just reach on up here to close this lap top riiiiiiiight about....<reaches close="" laptop="" to="" up=""></reaches><br />
<br />
...What's that? Oh, you want to know if that is still true after I cleaned poop out of my tub for the THIRD time this past week? Shh, I say. Shhh...<br />
<br />
<br />
Did I hear someone ask about the second ear infection within a 14 day stretch? La la la la... can't hear you.<br />
<br />
<br />
Oh, this crusty layer of boogers all over my shirts? It's fashions. FASHIONS!!<br />
<br />
I like my house this messy, I totally don't miss my friends, and I <i>prefer</i> to only have sex during the kid's naptime on the weekends. <br />
<br />
<br />
See? No need for delusion, and I'll just wrap this up riiiight abooooout now--OKAY OKAY FINE. Quit yellin', geez! Of <i>course </i>I am delusional in my happiness! Does this shit sound like FUN to you?? Granted, there are a whole lot of cute and lovely things that really do make the kid worth it. But all of those are totally lame to the outside world without some embellishment. <br />
<br />
<u>Non-Exaggerated Example:</u><br />
So the baby farted the other day, and I was all "Oh boy, Levi." <i> :chuckles to self.:</i><br />
<br />
<u>Exaggerated Example:</u><br />
Levi brings new joys to our lives all the time, and the days are just packed with baby giggles and chubby toddler feet. He's also super ahead developmentally, and I think we are going to sign him up for music lessons soon...<br />
<br />
See what I mean? <br />
<br />
So, to be completely honest...Would I really recommend this whole "mom" gig? If you're so inclined to take it, yes I do. Do it, do it, DO it. But do I blame or judge other people who opt out of this whole deal? Of course not. We're all fine just the way we are. And plus, I still need all you non-parents to take your fabulous vacations so I can live vicariously through you.. <br />
<br />
Now. On to finish uploading these pics of Levi onto facebook.<br />
<br />
...497....498...499...Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-77635712099105797172011-02-18T06:29:00.005-06:002011-02-18T06:40:04.989-06:00Hands FreeMy days of nursing and pumping are long behind me, so I cannot decide if I am bummed or relieved to have missed out on this functionality. Behold.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIWkwZkynfExYYzES8aciH7K9dcZXrQHkq_G4XPfGI5fAbEF_juVIHLGjW-nVU9VGWQaBy3lUj31SC7LQuIWK9HgnEZAAre4XQ8yEQkpigEd9qwZTeLeLeAox_vGLH4uQWQUMEJgnhflI/s1600/pump+bra.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIWkwZkynfExYYzES8aciH7K9dcZXrQHkq_G4XPfGI5fAbEF_juVIHLGjW-nVU9VGWQaBy3lUj31SC7LQuIWK9HgnEZAAre4XQ8yEQkpigEd9qwZTeLeLeAox_vGLH4uQWQUMEJgnhflI/s320/pump+bra.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575006000563033826" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOu9x8-xSaOVpKB6X5Q7WrBQocUoTLsi8XocZSVyz3moZG00gCMq-dsFZEC_WxpN4-MG79Z5uq4bibIrsTqKkW5u4pTP7_cmU3HX9EzWtLtOx7TvYoXJ2QavR0RyHJXqeOOBQgPrC-6s/s1600/pump+bra+2.jpeg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOu9x8-xSaOVpKB6X5Q7WrBQocUoTLsi8XocZSVyz3moZG00gCMq-dsFZEC_WxpN4-MG79Z5uq4bibIrsTqKkW5u4pTP7_cmU3HX9EzWtLtOx7TvYoXJ2QavR0RyHJXqeOOBQgPrC-6s/s320/pump+bra+2.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575007546249051538" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDzTw009RhX-P7K1eP5qH2up0KSw5l9aVHvB5d5v9s9e0wNV6BLdeRnHqKEce_bf8k3_Acddn4VGd7UIeoGrQiq1YhmjpWfuPet5BSxY0id37uGBacVW0Ad5_AT6j6XOLoPW6Wu7z6Y0/s1600/pump+bra+3.jpeg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDzTw009RhX-P7K1eP5qH2up0KSw5l9aVHvB5d5v9s9e0wNV6BLdeRnHqKEce_bf8k3_Acddn4VGd7UIeoGrQiq1YhmjpWfuPet5BSxY0id37uGBacVW0Ad5_AT6j6XOLoPW6Wu7z6Y0/s320/pump+bra+3.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575008054860910706" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFkP1OKqxsjAyLzLmmS1FtW_L-c1XOLZYVXvip3CijW31Kn-GVGE3yW1kivUj1aY7JdvXV_AH_0n3CsiNyYz4yyN-fiQIM61iFbgjP694cA3KH1LcGyFc5cEaC1WRBRkx0pMRDCxRu_bI/s1600/pump+bra+4.jpeg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 205px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFkP1OKqxsjAyLzLmmS1FtW_L-c1XOLZYVXvip3CijW31Kn-GVGE3yW1kivUj1aY7JdvXV_AH_0n3CsiNyYz4yyN-fiQIM61iFbgjP694cA3KH1LcGyFc5cEaC1WRBRkx0pMRDCxRu_bI/s320/pump+bra+4.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575008060059844098" border="0" /></a>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-51870651613635598712011-01-12T21:39:00.004-06:002011-01-12T21:49:55.875-06:00'I've Been Krogering' is delicious.Lesson learned, Linda. <br /><br />LJB was fussing at grocery store, so the checkout dude gave him some stickers to occupy his attention while I fumbled with the credit card signy-thing. Out in the parking lot, as I was putting him in the carseat, I gave him a big talk about how we do NOT eat stickers. You may HOLD the stickers, Levi, but do not EAT them. Not in your mouth, Levi, blah blah, etc.<br /><br />I looked into those big blue eyes staring up at me and became 100% certain that my brilliant child understood me and would listen. No stickers getting eaten today, no way. To be safe, I talked to him all the way home, hoping to keep him engaged enough to prevent him from getting bored to the point of becoming inclined to, say, eat a sticker. He babbled all the way home; no problem. <br /><br />Fast forward 15 minutes to when I go to take him out of his seat. <br /><br />No trace of stickers. None... except for <span style="font-style: italic;">one </span>tiny wet glob of something papery (and perhaps, formerly "stickery") on his chin. Oh well.... Fiber, right?Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-49469285825390326182010-12-18T12:05:00.009-06:002010-12-19T08:26:25.279-06:00La LiberaciónLast night was our department Christmas party. It went well and all had a good time, but that's not why I called you here today.<br /><br />As I was getting ready, I thought back to this same party last year, when I had a 6 week old baby. I was a liberated woman. We left Levi with my parents for the evening (first time), and I left house in a NON nursing bra (another first). I allowed myself one tiny glass of wine, and ended the night with full boobs. Freedoms all around! Right? <holds up="" hand="" to="" evan="" for="" high="" five=""> <span style="font-style: italic;">Right???! </span><span style="font-style: italic;">(holds hand up to Evan for high five)</span><br /><br /><br />Fast forward to this year. I have a 13 month old. I wear whatever bra I want. LJB actually SPENDS THE NIGHT with my parents. I have more wine and less boobs. We pick the kid up in the morning, and within an hour he is snuggling and ready for his nap. <span style="font-style: italic;"> (actually receives high five from Evan)</span><actually receives="" high="" five="" from="" evan="" at="" this="" point=""><br /><br />I want 2009 Linda and 2010 Linda to hang out together for a couple of hours.<br /><br />2009 Linda simply has no idea how much change happens within 1 year. I want to tell 2009 Linda that it only totally sucks (which it totally did) for so long, and that it gets DRASTICALLY better with this child. 2010 Linda can buy 2009 Linda a drink (just one, mind you), fix her a sandwich, and then fold mountains of laundry in the 2009 laundry room. All the while, reminding her that real freedom is just 1 tiny year away.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></actually></holds>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-79091192188517790922010-12-09T08:03:00.003-06:002010-12-10T17:40:48.692-06:00Back Atcha<p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Would you like to know one of my pet peeves?<br /></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Dormant blogs.<br /></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">If I’ve invested the time and energy into becoming obsessed with your writing, the very least you can do is write something awesome. On every single day of your life. Preferably with picture and/or video accompaniment. And a cool background so I don’t get bored. </span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Can’t do it? Well, as it turns out, neither can I.</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Here are some things I've wanted to write about in the past 10 months since I peed my pants in February. (Side note - you will be happy to know that has all stopped.)</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Baby cows<br /></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Pancakes</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Poopy pants (Levi’s, not mine.)</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Skinny jeans</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Consignment stores</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Baby food</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Levi crawling</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Levi standing</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Lots of mentioninings of Levi doing something cute</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Amy Grant’s <i>Home for Christmas </i>album. (more of a thanks to all who remained friends with me in the early 90’s in spite of aforementioned album)</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Hair removal creams</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Scandalous toe polish color names</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Post-nursing boobs</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">Superheroes</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"><br /></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">So. Let's just forget about these past 10 months of silence, and instead pretend that I wrote a killer set of blog entries on the above subjects, chock-full of witticisms and JUST the right amount of word plays. So you'll all be thinking stuff like...</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i><span style="font-size:12;">"You're right, Linda! That WAS a cute story about Levi!" </span></i><i><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></i></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i><span style="font-size:12;">"Pink Fornicarnation?! That IS a silly nail polish color! You so crazy." </span></i><i><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></i></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><i><span style="font-size:12;">"So does the cream remove ALL the hair from your belly button?"</span></i><i><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></i></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">And so on. Don't you feel refreshed? I know I do.</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">While we're here, I should note that another pet peeve of mine is when people put up their "I'M BACK!" blog post proclamation, and then proceed to immediately disappear again for another number of months. </span></span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"><br /></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span style="font-size:12;">I will do my best not to do this. I will do my best to say interesting things, and do so on a somewhat regular basis. Thanks for sticking with me.</span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman','serif';font-size:12;"></span></p>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-16952863776514758932010-02-21T09:36:00.003-06:002010-02-21T09:43:25.880-06:00Working GirlWell, I have now completed 3 weeks as a Working Mom. How is it going, you ask?<br /><br />You tell me...<br /><br />This week, I was so tired that in the middle of the night, I forgot that I was NOT going commando before I sat down to pee.<br /><br />Motherhood has either reverted me back to a toddler, or shot me straight to my 80's. Either way.. I'm accidentally peeing my pants in the middle of the night.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-76033698243052405532010-01-28T19:18:00.004-06:002010-01-28T19:30:13.924-06:00RalphMy baby pukes on me every time we are getting ready to go out the door. <div><br /></div><div>Every. Single. Time. </div><div><br /></div><div>At first I thought maybe I was rushing around too fast, that he was sensing my urgency and was stress puking as a result. So, I moved veeeeerrrrry slooooooowly while getting ready to go out the door. Slooowly, slooowly so as not to stress the baby.</div><div><br /></div><div>The result? I was ultimately late to a lot of appointments, but the pukes still came. All over him; all over me. </div><div><div><br /></div><div>I had to analyze. What was the difference between everyday normal activity and when we leave the house? </div><div><br /></div><div>And then I realized. </div><div><br /></div><div>When we leave the house... I put on deodorant.</div></div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-56900670292203550372009-12-19T11:46:00.004-06:002011-02-18T06:33:05.597-06:00Pooh Bear mobiles sure are fun.<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dycnTDWYptete7vLD6dBfekn02gv3yi7WauspEKd5Ssi7XLFroyA4myn0c_yUb5_HvOS1CgwcKzZqj6I2CV-Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-19507480309889621802009-12-13T13:45:00.002-06:002009-12-13T13:48:03.740-06:00When you make rolled out cookies..It is normal to form & bake that little bit of extra dough into a dirty shape, right?Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-6083851944790526622009-12-03T21:45:00.002-06:002009-12-04T06:30:03.881-06:00By The Numbers This Week..8 bags frozen breast milk in the freezer,<br />22 3/4 inch long baby,<br />3 trips to my mom & dad's house,<br />1 mega pot of chicken noodle soup,<br />0 thank you notes written,<br />1:30 average time of day I brush my teeth,<br />5 weeks of being a mom without messing up the kid TOO badly,<br />6 "playing" stations set up throughout my house,<br />4 cardigan sweaters in rotation to be worn over my "billowy" early preg tops,<br />and 2 times I have noticed that my underwear is on inside out.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-65637510507805717372009-12-01T20:59:00.000-06:002009-12-01T21:01:18.563-06:00So this just about sums up motherhood so far.."Oh this on my shirt? It's either pee or breastmilk."Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-76250172239536028712009-11-17T00:07:00.002-06:002009-11-17T00:12:12.529-06:00Hard sleeps + sweaty-sticky-uppy-hair + chubby arms = bliss.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5JwL8bwpCA7U2v8M1Er1tIw4oXTPPiQDGzg4Q9P_GHxj8JBUn9feGH1CgPxqwQXqe_W8cdQSO_kfZ6iZHbnXaSIB-0oQDnSfPWufDKHamOk1yt8VyphIbYeCGGWiXBjO8LqmwpmGwIM/s1600/LJB+November+004.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5JwL8bwpCA7U2v8M1Er1tIw4oXTPPiQDGzg4Q9P_GHxj8JBUn9feGH1CgPxqwQXqe_W8cdQSO_kfZ6iZHbnXaSIB-0oQDnSfPWufDKHamOk1yt8VyphIbYeCGGWiXBjO8LqmwpmGwIM/s320/LJB+November+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404950391365946066" border="0" /></a>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-41572097886830419352009-11-10T16:25:00.002-06:002009-11-10T16:39:54.209-06:00"I realize it is a little too soon to be talking about this, but..."This was what Evan started to say to me on our walk last night. At which point my uterus gave a yelp, ran, and hid.<br /><br />Then he finished his thought, which was only about childcare options. Or something. <br /><br />Not about more kids. Not like I thought that's where he was going or anything..Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-53649846613942484932009-11-04T14:23:00.003-06:002009-11-04T14:29:16.700-06:00Mah Hero!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIZvf_CkzTqVxyuJOY-Jnw-S_tJn04E6TMMa6t-odyeqnpnZNA5oCM95rMFkwsexVMqAWtPrBffRtI4E3iQ15P8h5qu3FMbr0ZfnJldXqz04gk4VjVWZnTItpXoajkWI47olxCu0fF7E/s1600-h/supergirl.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIZvf_CkzTqVxyuJOY-Jnw-S_tJn04E6TMMa6t-odyeqnpnZNA5oCM95rMFkwsexVMqAWtPrBffRtI4E3iQ15P8h5qu3FMbr0ZfnJldXqz04gk4VjVWZnTItpXoajkWI47olxCu0fF7E/s320/supergirl.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400347569749485218" border="0" /></a><br />BIG shout-out to Supergirl (aka "Bibi", "Chocolatey Claire", "Mom") for getting LJB to take not one but TWO naps in his crib today!!!<br /><br />(and believe it or not, this is the <span style="font-style: italic;">least </span>slutty image of Supergirl that I could find on Google...)Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-43864522257419481182009-10-31T14:17:00.001-05:002009-10-31T14:20:00.954-05:00here we go...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4veTlQvazc1PNwuLn77WxDmwuht98i5xt0McM8sP5pkyT9q7gaBTEBRLghUzpYb0HxOW0zy4yHYXPoAqtzjgm6z85FKhsHYrIMBNxuOPw0iw_WsQr6qYJGuj1yPW_kwMLeOC97GaQaA/s1600-h/Family+Portrait.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 272px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4veTlQvazc1PNwuLn77WxDmwuht98i5xt0McM8sP5pkyT9q7gaBTEBRLghUzpYb0HxOW0zy4yHYXPoAqtzjgm6z85FKhsHYrIMBNxuOPw0iw_WsQr6qYJGuj1yPW_kwMLeOC97GaQaA/s320/Family+Portrait.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398845860986859426" border="0" /></a><br />Well, my kid sure is cute. One question though... should I have been required to pass a written exam or do a baby internship or something? Because right now I do not think I would not have passed that class...<br /><br />Sorry little Levi.. we'll learn together!Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-5767948638965479332009-10-21T09:48:00.003-05:002009-10-21T11:43:12.562-05:00So. An update.Due date has come and gone, I am puffy and crabby with a ton of amniotic fluid, and am subsequently working from home, anticipating a water break gush by sitting on a pee pad like an unhousebroken chihuahua.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42SPFrdF6Gyyek7QCcK7qi9kLVGXSJqWtjIEnXnlG19bQlmlFQ-SgkcVHem34q0qc_MWKpbxbx4FH5iAo8YN7X2hVJ5u2I4Uyreir-79OkPPozaGk17GCLg0sjZjo-I_l7qg7g0lyvec/s1600-h/underpads.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42SPFrdF6Gyyek7QCcK7qi9kLVGXSJqWtjIEnXnlG19bQlmlFQ-SgkcVHem34q0qc_MWKpbxbx4FH5iAo8YN7X2hVJ5u2I4Uyreir-79OkPPozaGk17GCLg0sjZjo-I_l7qg7g0lyvec/s320/underpads.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395094663861411714" border="0" /></a>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-7970167585950555632009-10-18T08:49:00.004-05:002009-10-18T08:56:57.499-05:00So we'll go ahead and create a "TMI" label now, as I'm sure it will be used again very soon...I would like to thank the masses for telling me that I am "all baby" and that the 50+ pounds I've gained are only in my belly.<br /><br />Therefore, it is with deep regret that I inform you that I have just discovered my first stretch marks. Massive angry streaks... on my butt. <br /><br />So maybe I have been "sure do liking" pancakes a little <span style="font-style: italic;">too </span>much...Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-18472473821161691542009-10-14T07:44:00.000-05:002009-10-15T20:58:37.320-05:00Dear Kid:Ready when you are. Really. I'm tired of running to google every time I may have a "pre labor" symptom. Who knew a loose poop could make me so excited?Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-10576958118663046782009-10-04T13:02:00.001-05:002009-10-04T13:03:35.799-05:00huh.Today I thought my water broke. Turns out I had just peed my pants a little..Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-78879661321121682432009-10-01T07:23:00.000-05:002009-10-01T07:35:52.173-05:00October!So kid... about this due date you have coming up this month. You're going to NOT take after your mama in the area of puncutality, and actually show up on time (dare I ask it.. even early!), right? <br /><br />I don't mind carrying you around all the time. I really don't. Yes, you are pretty darn heavy. And I do look like a crazy person in the grocery store parking lot when I make that "world's strongest man" grunt every time I get out of the car before I realize there are people around. <br /><br />But let's get down to the serious issue here: <br /><br />It is now fall. And none of my closed-toe shoes fit.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-19435811339651790472009-09-15T08:00:00.000-05:002009-09-15T08:09:01.984-05:00Dear Kid:You'll be here in 5 weeks. Well, technically, according to the range of "normal" births with respect to due dates, you'll be here in 2-7 weeks. (<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">two??!!</span> oy.)<br /><br />What do you look like? Do you have dark eyes and an ample bottom like both of your parents? <br /><br />And do you like it when I tickle what I can only assume is your little butt, or is that little kick that follows a display of "my mom is so embarrassing" annoyance?<br /><br />Also, did you know that your momma looks like a crazy person when she talks to you while she is driving?Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-9445516183146837882009-09-06T13:44:00.001-05:002009-09-06T15:09:04.523-05:00"Nice" it forward (part II)...So some mysterious stranger paid for the Daewoo's repairs last week. Out of nowhere. 100% paid. Yep, apparently that really happens sometimes. In Brentwood, no less!<br /><br />(Nubira, it seems, was leaking/spilling/emitting something that was spilling/leaking/emitting onto something else, and creating a lovely mixture of carbon monoxide to be breathed in by the passengers. Don't ignore when your car smells "hot", folks.)<br /><br />Evan was the one to call me with the news. After my initial "YAY!!", what was my reaction?<br /><br />Was it "<span style="font-style: italic;">God has blessed us with a gift, which we should use to help others</span>"? Sadly, no, although my good husband brought that to my attention later that day. (I swear... I so married up.)<br /><br />Was it "<span style="font-style: italic;">ooooh! I has a secret admirer!!</span>"? Hee hee... no. Although I do have this nice rack these days..<br /><br />It was "<span style="font-style: italic;">Good heavens! What on EARTH was I wearing where I looked so poor and pitiful that some well-meaning stranger mistook me for a ragamuffin??</span>"<br /><br />I brought brownies and a thank-you note to the car shop the next day, and thanked my lucky stars that the kind stranger would never know the extent of my ridiculous paranoia.<br /><br />Now, what to do with the extra $300 that didn't go to Rhea Little's Auto Shop. There is this village in Kenya that does need a water well...Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3454341911696389377.post-84533929862291438122009-09-01T19:43:00.000-05:002009-09-01T19:46:07.804-05:00Dear Kid:I sure do love you.<br /><br />See you next month.<br /><br />love,<br />MomLindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06875069813726530953noreply@blogger.com1