I need labels with A's name. Both to stick on things, and to sew into things. Any suggestions on where to order them?
I should have known though - Jack would suggest his precious label maker as THE solution. He's in love with it. Perhaps obsessed is the better word. I swear one day I'll wake up with a label "wife" on my forehead. The phone are all labelled with their location, so if you are wandering around with the phone you know where to bring it back to! Duh, doesn't everyone do that? The entire house is labelled. He's positively itching to label the spices. WHY? They....wait for it...already HAVE labels on them.
He must have run out of things to label - I found this on the BACK of the label maker. See what I'm dealing with here?
::blows dust off blog::
WTF? Last post was September?
What can I say. It's been hectic around here. But I have a good excuse. We sold our house out from under ourselves. Listed it in September thinking it would take a few months. Um, nope. It sold in a week. Possession December 18th. And we did not buy a new house until December 3rd. Crazy, I know.
It wasn't quite built, so we moved in our stuff (December 17th) then took off for Christmas vacation down east. We're back, they are almost finished (it's livable) and slowly, sorting out life.
Jack is in heaven. There's a lot to do around here, he's got a garage full of tools and thinks he's Mike Holmes. He likes to stand around with the trades that come and go shooting the shit about exciting things like wiring and drywall. I've pointed out they probably want to get on with it and get going, but he insists on chatting it up like they are standing around a bar. More on Jack and the tools later.
Anderson is nearly 16 months old. Right? I know. Here's the little man:
There's a war brewing here. And battle lines are drawn.
Let me first pose a question to you:
Do you feel you are the only person in your house who is apparently capable of changing a toilet paper roll?
Just me?
I CANNOT express my frustration at sitting on the toilet, only to realize too late that the roll is empty, or near empty. I insist on keeping a couple (just a couple) of rolls in the bathroom within reaching distance to try and avoid this problem.
So yesterday morning I sit down. No paper on the roll. Look to my right. No extras next to the toilet. A-G-A-I-N.
(Have you ever felt like pitching a fit whilst sitting on the toilet? It's a funny feeling). I yell out to Jack:
JACK! WHY IS THERE NO TOILET PAPER AGAIN!?
He brings me a roll, I give him the evil eye. And you know what he says to me?
Sorry. You know I mostly just the wipes on my bum exclusively, so sometimes I don't pay much attention to the toilet paper.
Whiskey.Tango.Foxtrot. I'll remember that the next time I notice that your precious wipes are running low. Because, you know, I mostly use toilet paper on my bum exclusively.
And so look what I came home to. Riiight. It's on.
We had a sleepover on Saturday night. Some friends with a 23 month old were super stuck for a sitter. So, over came Callum.
It went much better than I had anticipated. It gave me a (very unrealistic I am sure) view of 2 under 2. Mind you, no one really screamed, cried, refused to eat, or had trouble sleeping. So it was likely the sanitized view of what I can imagine the reality of 2 under 2 (or more) could be . Sort of like a commercial, where they use the super skinny, beautiful 18 year old to sell you a face cream that may not in fact, make you look like a super skinny, beautiful 18 year old.
Jack provided the highlight of the sleepover. He was changing Callum for the first time, when suddenly I hear:
Jack: Um, his foreskin is pulled back!!!
Me: What?
Jack: It's pulled back.
:: I go to look::
Me: Um, it's because he doesn't have one. Clearly you haven't seen many circumcised penises babe?
Jack: Oh. Sigh. I know you'll put this on the blog. And now perfect strangers will know something about MY penis.
Me: Yup. And, yup.
I generally try to keep my well informed (yes, well informed) opinions to myself when it comes to trying to conceive, unless I am directly asked for advice. But this sort of shit annoys the daylights out of me. At recent cocktail party:
Friend: It's been 5 months, so I think I'll go to the doctor.
Me: They say it can take a healthy couple with no known fertility issues up to a year to conceive. Maybe you could try charting, or OPKs to figure out when you ovulate.
Friend: That all just sounds like too much work.
Me (in my head): How much do you want to have a baby? Get off your fucking ass and figure out when you ovulate. Educate yourself, dumbass, before you go running to a doctor. And - if charting or peeing on a freaking stick sounds like work - how much work do you think looking after a BABY is?
Me (outside voice): Well, I guess you have to do whatever works for you.
Why do I not leap up on my soapbox on such occasions and impart the valuable wisdom I have from a long journey to conception?
Because I have learned in life, a) people don't want advice unless they are ready to hear it and b) people are going to do what they want anyway and....
c) the more you press the point, the more likely they are to turn up knocked up the very next month, allowing for the
"See? Didn't need to do all that work after all"
Which in turn makes you want to give them a sound smack.
Shame really. I'm sure some of you have felt this too. While knowledge is said to be power, sometimes well, too much can be a bad thing.
I think we're about ready to see if #2 kiddo is a possibility. Jack's been ready for a while I think.
I, on the other hand, have not been. Do I want another little one? Of course. Do I want to go through all of the trials and tribulations that will be involved with getting there? Not really.
I had a great pregnancy with A. For that, I am very thankful. I enjoyed being pregnant for the most part, and of course - the outcome was beyond amazing. But I can't be the only one that's heaved a small sigh at the "process" of doing it all again. Not just the pregnancy part. Not just "will we actually be able to get pregnant" but rolling those darn dice again.We got so lucky the first time (after all those fertility treatments and that miscarriage in the middle). It feels like tempting fate, you know?
That's life though. So...as I am so fond of saying: Onwards.
I am sometimes asked if we named Anderson after Anderson Cooper. I like Anderson Cooper fair enough, but certainly not enough to name a child in honor of him. Never occured to me. So I have a new line. Tried it out yesterday, works like a charm.
Person: Did you name him after Anderson Cooper?
Me: No. But if we have another child, we are for sure naming he
or she Cooper. ::completely straight face:
Person: ::doesn't know what to say::
