Tunnel Vision

I have a theory about pregnancy and childbirth. I believe that from the moment those two little pink lines show up, a lady comes down with a nasty case of tunnel vision.

It's true. It's as if before you got knocked up, you had a broad perspective of the world. Then, as your belly grows, your vision just gets narrower and narrower. By the time you hit your due date, your brain can't focus on anything but getting that baby out. Then, when you are pushing and grunting there isn't even a world outside of that hospital room. The world as you knew it before you had a baby ceases to exist.

After the baby arrives, it's as if the entire universe just suddenly landed in your arms. All of your time and energy goes into keeping that baby alive. The thought of leaving your house with the baby is terrifying and all you want to do is curl up into your bed and gaze at that baby all day long. You study every inch of that infant and let the machine pick up if the telephone rings. Who needs friends when you have this amazing new creature to love on? You are exhausted and hormonal and cry without even realizing that the tears are falling. Essentially, you are insane and holed up in your house with the sweats and leaky boobs. There is no world out there. All you can see is your new bundle of joy.

Then...as the baby thrives you start to wake up a little bit. You remember to take a shower. You might even change your clothes. While the baby naps, you start to return phone calls. Then, your vision broadens a little bit. It's as if you rub your eyes and see outside your window for the first time ever. Oh...there is a world out there. A world that you used to function in just fine before that sweet baby came along and gave you tunnel vision. You poke your head out cautiously and then retreat back to your safe haven.

I believe that you spend the next year getting a wider perspective of the world. Your vision slowly gets bigger and bigger. By the time your little booger is blowing out the candle at their first birthday party, you are right as rain. All tunnel vision corrects itself and you are good as new.

Maybe on a primitive level, tunnel vision happens to mothers so that they will focus on the baby until it shows signs that it is going to thrive. It's just crazy to feel so primal.

Well, I woke up the other day and realized that my tunnel vision was correcting itself a bit.

Everyday something new is ignited in me.

Dare I say, I'm almost feeling like myself again?

Rainy day

We camp out in the living room on rainy days sometimes.

Growth

the key to lasting happiness
is to stop looking for it,
and to know that you already have it.
-Deepak Chopra

Sweet Child o' Mine

I had a beautiful moment with Koen this evening.
He was laying on my bed next to the window
and the sun was shining on his face.

I swooped down and rubbed my nose on his cheeks, chin, neck, and belly.
As I nuzzled his belly, I could see him raise his head
and watch the trees outside blow in the wind through the window.
Then, he released the most glorious giggle.

It was such a sweet moment to witness,
my little baby enjoying life and taking in the world.
I swaddled him and took him in my arms.
As I rocked him back and forth to lull him to sleep
I sang Guns and Roses to him.

He really is such a sweet child of mine.

Pronto, listo, ya! (Ready, steady, go!)

Griffin's Spanish activity today. We learned shapes.

Griffin has been taking private Spanish lessons this summer. My Father-in-law is obsessed with his grandchildren being fluent and offered to pay for lessons. So, I tracked down Griffin's Spanish teacher from school, the lovely Ms. Elizabeth. She comes over to our house Tuesday and Thursday afternoons with all of these wonderful activities for Griffin to do to expose him to the language. It's really fun because I am learning it with him.

I took Spanish in high school but didn't learn it. I sat next to a very studious girl named Lauren that let me copy her homework and look over her shoulder during tests. The only phrase that I took with me was ¿Dónde está la casa de Pepe? (translation, where is the house of Pepe?) I find this phrase to be wildly entertaining. I said it all the time as a teenager and still say it to this day. You have to say it super fast and with much conviction. I also enjoy the word Miercoles, which means Wednesday. I like to say it out of context all the time.

Well, these phrases have been replaced. I can't believe it but I found something so fun to say that I've forgotten all about Pepe and the location of his house. I'll type it out for you in a fancy Mexican font just to make it seem more enticing to you.

Which means...HIGH FIVE! I say it all day long. If Griffin does something worthy of praise, I say " Choque los cinco!" with my hand raised and we slap five. It's so much fun to say.

Try it. Next time you want someone to give you five just say "CHOKE-A-LOW-SINK-O!"
I promise you that it will be an instant party.

Simmering words.

"I feel like I still haven't become me.
I'm still starting .
I've got 50 years to open something in my head and try to get it out.
I've just done, like, 5 percent."-Bjork

This woman gets my brain excited.

She inspires me to jump around and dance all over my house with Griffin.
She inspires me to twist my hair up into 50 little buns all over my head.

She inspires me to expect more from myself.

I have a beautiful story that lives in my head.
It's stuck.
It's been stuck for 13 years.
I've written half of it and the other half is simmering.

I'm just waiting for the words to boil over.

Me and Bjork...were both just trying to let all of the creativity break free.

Country Western Love

Let me start this post by telling you that I am normally not a fan of country music. I like the classics, like Patsy Cline and Jonny Cash. Other than that, not such a fan.

When I was a little girl growing up in Texas, my grandparents lived in the Hill country. It was a 45 minute drive from San Antonio to Canyon Lake. Mammaw and Pappaw (as we lovingly called my grandparents) would pick my older brother and I up in their big red Cadillac Car and drive us out to their place often. As we drove, we would listen to the Oak Ridge Boys on their 8 track player. We would listen to Elvira and have burping contests as the Hill country rolled out around us.

Mammaw would get so excited when Pappaw would sing the Oak Ridge Boys. She would slap his knee as she drove and scream "SING THAT BASS VERNOR!" Then Pappaw would belt out in the lowest octave he could "Giddy Up Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow!" She would just smile and squeal as he sang. It was complete adoration over country western music.

These are fond memories of my childhood. So you can imagine my excitement when I discovered this song. The Oak Ridge Boys? I love em'! White Stripes? You gotta adore that Jack White!

This is a perfect union in my book. Every time I hear this song, I am in the back seat of that car again. With a Dr. Pepper in hand (purchased to help lube up the throat for the burping contest) and a grin on my face. It just doesn't get much better than that.

Enjoy!

A busy day

Koen was drooling
and
working very hard to hold his wobbly head up.

While he was flying through the living room.

Tonight...Griffin spends the night at Nana's house.

Which means that Roger and I have a "date night"
We have big plans.
A big ol chicken finger plate from Zaxby's drive thru
and a six pack of beer.
We'll laze about on our HUGE red couch
and try our hardest to stay awake later then 10 pm.

Vacation, time to get away!

I admit that I was a bit grumpy last week.
Sorry if I have been a bit of Debbie downer.

My lips have been pouty because we haven't been on a family vacation in 2 years!

Well, it looks like all of my fantasizing while on the toilet has paid off!
Roger was able to get off from work
and we are headed to St. George Island, Florida week after next.
WOO HOO!

We are able to preview the beach house
that my Father-in-law so kindly rented
for the whole family to go and chill together.

I will be dreaming of sandcastles here

and eating fresh seafood here

and having a glass of wine here

and reading Twilight here.


I am SO giddy just thinking about it.

all images via Collins Vacation Rentals

Dream

I want this bed!

Uncool mama...

I knew that it would happen eventually.
That my son would shift from thinking
I was the coolest person in the entire world
to thinking that I was the lamest mommy.

I anticipated it would happen
when he turned thirteen
but no, it had to happen at the ripe age of four.

It happened at the grocery store.
With a cart full of groceries while we were in line to pay
Griffin started doing the "I gotta pee dance".
I did what any Mom would do
with a kid who looked like he was about to
pee all over the place.
I quickly asked the man in front of us if we could
squeeze past him and get by.
"We have a potty emergency!"
I announced as my little crew swiftly
ran as fast as we could to the bathroom.

After Griffin did his business
and was washing his little bitty hands he told me
in a very serious manner
"Mom, don't tell everybody I have to go potty like that,
it's just so embarrassing."

With that honest reprimand I knew
instantly that it was the beginning of the end.
I had embarrassed my kid.
Next thing you know, he'll be telling me to drop him off
a block away from school because
he's ashamed to be seen with me.

To add insult to injury,
Koen has his first cold and I had to squeegee
his nose and give him nose spray.
He was completely insulted
and disgusted with me.
After he stopped crying,
he fussed at me like an angry squirrel for about twenty minutes.
It's just not fun to be bitched out by a four month old.

Adventures in BBQ

Yesterday we went on a quest because I had a hankering for some bar-b-que. My dad had bragged to me about this amazing dining experience he had while eating at an all you can eat buffet at Fresh Air Bar-b-que. He told a tale of Ribs so tender that the meat just fell off the bone. He painted a picture of home made Mac n cheese, squash casserole, and banana pudding for desert. We packed up the kids and hopped on loop 10 for what would be the most unrelenting journey I've ever taken to get a plate of BBQ.

You see, we are admittedly still adjusting to having 2 children. We just aren't doing it with style at this point. We are like a three ring circus, the four of us, and even a twenty minute ride is a challenge for us.

Let me set the stage...

Our 4 year old Griffin refuses to eat anything but MacDonald's or Subway when eating out. We do exactly as my parents did when I was a child. Which was to simply pick it up at the drive thru on the way to where the grown ups wanted to eat. I ate many Happy Meals at various Chinese food restaurants as a child, so why shouldn't I do it for my spoiled kid?

Well, as we barreled down the road (because we were all starving) Griffin became very concerned that he was going to be forced to eat Bar-b-que even though we had told him a million times already that we were going to get him a Happy Meal. He asked over and over what the plan was, where the restaurant was located, how much longer it would take to get there. Then, Koen started screaming because he was hungry. Roger and I looked at each other like we were about to cave and eat at crappy McDonald's yet again.This is a new theme in our lives, we try so hard to eat an adult meal but don't even make it to the restaurant of choice because of poor time management and rumbling tummies. We need to leave twenty minutes earlier but don't because we are juggling our new routine with two kids.

I digress, we quickly made a new plan. He and Griffin would run into McDonald's and Griffin would eat his lunch while I breastfed Koen in the car. We both agreed that we could wait to eat because we really wanted to dine at the "amazing" all you can eat buffet. Half an hour later, we were back in the car with two fed children and two starving parents. I was proud of us for holding out and could amost taste the delicious meal we were on our way to partake in.

Upon arrival at Fresh Air BBQ, the first thing we saw was about fifteen rednecks having a family reunion on the front porch. I jumped out of the car and very rudely pushed my way through the door to beat this huge family to the buffet. Roger trailed behind with a car seat in one hand and Griffin in the other. I have no shame when it comes to BBQ, I'll take out any redneck that gets in my way.

When I finally made it inside the restaurant I discovered that the buffet was closed. It sat empty and dark in the corner as my heart sank. The buffet is only available for weekday lunch. I quickly ran over to read the menu that had been hand written on a dry erase board. There were no ribs, no mac-n-cheese, and no squash casserole. I had the choice of pulled pork sandwiches with potato chips or chicken tenders. I pathetically ordered the sand which and sat down to a mediocre meal. Roger and I ate in defeated silence as Griffin ran circles around our table. I was so beat down that I just let my kid run amok.

I thought for sure that the entire journey and meal would be worth it for some home made banana pudding. When I went to order it, the lovely elderly lady behind the cash registered uttered "We ain't got none today." I backed away slowly as to not make a scene.

This sent me into an existential crisis. Who am I? Why am I here? What does it take to get a decent plate of BBQ around here?

Simplicity

I decided to strip down this little Blog of mine.

She just felt too fussy and done up.

Lately I have been feeling
the need to simplify my life.

Who knows...
maybe in a few weeks
I'll feel like gussying up the place.

For now,
I like it a bit more quiet around here.

What do you think?

Look at these little hands

Koen sits with his hands folded like this all the time.
He sleeps with his hands clasped.
He nurses with those little fingers interlocked.
Griffin's Spanish teacher said today as she held him...

"He holds his hands like a gentleman
that doesn't do hard labor."

Yup...he's SO my baby!

Someone has a case of the crazies!

Reality Bites

"You're sorta stuck where you are

But, in your dreams you can buy expensive cars
Or live on Mars
And have it your way."
-The Flaming Lips

These lyrics speak to me. I sang them over and over
today because it was one of those days.
A day where the baby was screaming,
the four year old was whining,
and I considered having a glass of wine at 3:30 pm.

A day where I pouted
because I want to go to the beach
but I can't because Roger used all of his vacation time
to stay home with us the week after Koen was born.

A day where I was so immersed in motherhood
that the only moment I had to fantasize
about my dream vacation
was as I sat on the toilet (lid down, of course, I wouldn't share THAT with you)
and breast fed Koen while Griffin took a bath.

So, as Griffin played with his bath toys
I boarded a private plane
and sipped Champagne.

I strapped a teeny tiny bikini
onto my perfect body

and headed out to the beach for some cocktails
with little umbrellas slipped in them.

It was an amazing trip...

until Griffin sprayed water all over me
with a squirt toy
and I dodged it
and Koen latched off
and then he cried hysterically.

The end.

Happy Corn=domestic bliss.

Warning:I am about to babble about corn on the cob!

I'm not ashamed to admit that I don't have a green thumb but I really want to be the type of girl that has a vegetable garden in my back yard. I can just see myself with the big straw hat perched on my head and white gloves decorated with little red strawberries on my hands. That's about as far as the fantasy goes. I pretty much envision gardening accessories and then stop daydreaming before I have a chance to kill my pretend vegetables.

Those who know me also know that I am a self proclaimed disaster in the kitchen.
If given the choice between preparing a microwaved meal or a lasagna from scratch,
it's no mystery that I would have dinner rotating on a dirty turntable in the microwave
before you could say the words TV Dinner.

So I was shocked and surprised when my dad gave me a gift of corn on the cob still in the husk. He got it from a dude at the flea market who grew them in his backyard. It is the happiest corn I've ever tasted because he has a well and doesn't have to follow water restrictions like the rest of us in Georgia do. He can water that corn as much as his little heart desires and you can tell with each sweet bite that the corn feels loved and well taken care of.

Anyway, my dad got me some because I had enjoyed it so much when he prepared
it for us on the 4th of July. This is some special corn. He goes to the flea market every Saturday and I have a feeling that if this guy is there, I will receive a bag of corn. My dad is so pleased with himself that he can share this with me.

The thing is, I have never imagined that I would shuck corn in my lifetime. It's just not like me to handle locally grown foods. If it's in my kitchen, it's usually in a can. As nonsensical as it may seem, I must admit that I felt a little threatened by the corn when I went to prepare it this evening.

Yet, I mustered up all my courage as I started to peel back the husk over my kitchen sink. Suddenly, I felt very capable as I shucked the corn. Then, I started to feel really connected to the earth and less connected to the grocery store. It took all of 30 seconds to expose the cob beneath the husk but in that short time I had an awakening. The simple task of handling fresh vegetables invigorated me and now I feel a little less like a disaster. It's these almost elementary moments that boost my confidence in the kitchen. My father's gift of happy corn gave me a flash of domestic bliss.

Bittersweet Symphony

I have a kindred connection
with inanimate objects in my home.
I believe that my surroundings
are a direct reflection of what is happening within me.

For example,
our air conditioner is very needy.
I'll spare you the boring details
but basically, it takes constant maintenance
to keep the damn thing from dripping
through the ceiling onto the kitchen floor.

My husband is really handy
around the house
and has managed to keep our
crummy air conditioning alive.
He has fought a constant
battle with "the drip" as we have come to call it
for the last 3 years.

I am campaigning for a new one, trust me.

He insists on crawling up in
the attic and tinkering with it
until the drip stops.
Then, he swears that he will
climb up in the attic every weekend
to do some preventative maintenance
to keep us drip free.

A few weeks will go by
and all is well with the damn air conditioning.
So, we ease up on checking it
and pat ourselves on the back
that we defeated the leak.

I know that trouble is brewing
when I hear
drip
drip
drip
coming from the kitchen.

I grab pot after pot after pot
to catch the water
and it sounds like a symphony
as each droplet plops into the pot.
It's the music of neglect.
Our stupid air conditioning leak
is a perfect udometer
to let me know when I've lost momentum in my life.

The drip returns when we
become complacent.
You can bet that if the kitchen has pots on the floor
that I also have an unpaid water bill somewhere.
When I can't cook dinner
because every pot I own
is on the floor collecting water,
it's a bad sign.

"The Drip" is me and I am "The Drip".

Hold me day.

Today was what I like to call a "hold me day".
Koen insisted that I hold him almost every minute.
So, I said to my baby,
"Okay Koen, today is your day!"
I hiked up my hip and floated through my house
with my little one perched on my left arm.

I decided to ignore
all the parenting books
that stress the importance of
not over-indulging your baby.

I put the housework on hold to hold my baby
and discovered in the process
that I can do just about anything that a 4 year old
could possibly request
with one available hand.

Fancy Housewife

We ventured out to Reed's Odds and Ends
out on Macon Highway.
It's always fun to rummage through all of their junk.
I found a vintage apron and decided to take it home.

Which I'm so thrilled to have because I like to pretend
that I look like this lady.
She is dazzling with her pumps and her lipstick
and her perfectly coiffed hair.
She loves her home
and probably is great at keeping up with laundry.

I am my own version of a woman who is proud of her home.

I load the dishwasher in bare feet.
I haven't showered since Saturday.
I can't even find my lipstick.

Yet, I'm one step closer to being a fancy housewife.
Me and my apron are really adding some class to the place!

I decided to play with my Holga

Watermelons at the Watkinsville 4th of July Celebration

Backyard pool fun

4th of July Parade

My little cowboy!

Addict

It's all my fault, I know it is. My son is officially addicted to video games. I knew in my heart that I was creating this monster and I did nothing to stop it. It's easy to justify, I mean, I played video games like crazy when I was kid and I turned out okay, right? Don't answer that!

It's in his genes, video games really could be part of his DNA. Roger owns every play system from Atari to Wii. As a matter of fact, it was our love of video games that united us as a couple. It's rare to find a lady that digs playing Grand Theft Auto as much as I do. It keeps the spice in our marriage. So, we let Griffin play anything that is rated "E for Everyone". You should see him, he plays better than some 13 year olds. It's amazing.

At the end of my pregnancy I was as big as a house and pretty much went limp when it came to video games and TV. I shamelessly let him watch hour after hour of the horrid television while I laid on the couch and moaned. I was in survival mode and the TV was our life line-and the baby sitter! Same thing after I gave birth. There's no one more fun than "Uncle Spongebob" to watch the kid while I take care of our new baby.

This decision has officially bitten me in the ass. He begs ALL the time to play video games or watch Nickelodeon. In the car, driving home from an errand, he'll lay down the groundwork.

It goes something like this...

G: "Mom?"
Me: "Yeah Honey?"
G: "Can I play video games when we get home?"
Me: "No, you're gonna play with a toy and use your imagination."
G: (Yelling) "NO, THAT"S STUPID!"
Me: "Don't yell at me please, it's not smart to yell at the person who can let you play video games!"
G:" Sorry Mom."

Pause

G:"Mom?"
Me: "Yes?"
G: "Can we get a TV for the car? I'm bored!"
Me: "No way, look out the window...make shapes out of the clouds."
(then I make a pathetic attempt to engage him in this activity).
"Oh, look up there, that cloud looks like Mickey Mouse!"
G:"No it doesn't, that's dumb. Spongebob is cool!"

Silence (I've gone limp)

G:"Mom?"
Me: "NO YOU CAN'T WATCH SPONGEBOB WHEN WE GET HOME!"

Then he cries all the way home. I'm determined to break this addiction. I feel like I was the gateway to this. By sheer laziness and survival, I enabled him to get to this point. Well, no more. This Mom is engaging with her kid from here on out. I mean, I can breast feed and build with Lego's, right? I can change a diaper and pretend to be the red Power Ranger at the same time.

Maybe just a little TV? PBS is educational, right?

This is going to be hard but it has to be done!

Words to meditate on

I'm all into playing silly Blog games
with my friends these days.
It makes me feel like
I'm part of a "Blogging community."

So here is my latest dip into trying to be cool.

Reply to this post using words, and I’ll give you 5 words that remind me of you,Then post to your own blog with your meditations on those words, inviting others to ask you for words.

Supergirl Saves the World gave me this assignment:

Mother. Self-reflective. Witty. Nostalgia. Selflessness

The kids are in bed and the hubby tucked in early too. I have a moment to myself. Whew.

What better way to use my well earned free time to not only complete this task but to also post images by my absolute favorite artist of all time Nikki Mcclure ? Yeah...cause I'm just that creative.

Mother

I've always wanted to be a Mom. When my husband and I were dating, I told him that I knew that it sounded crazy but I really wanted to be a stay at home mom. His mom stayed home with him and he was thrilled that I wanted to do it too. I think that we both knew at that moment that we were going to get married and raise a family together. It was exciting! Two kids later I am so glad that I made that decision. I have a heart that was made to love my children. Some people are brought into your life to challenge you, while others swoop in and teach you what it means to truly love someone unconditionally. My son's teach me everyday just as much as I teach them. It's overwhelming and humbling to have so much respect and love go back and forth each day.

Self-reflective

Self-reflection is a gift and a curse. When I was a teenager and I had some sort of issue, my mother would suggest that I go in my room and write about it in my journal. Then, after I had figured out a solution, she would take me out to dinner and we would discuss my reflections and discoveries. What a gift she gave me in that. I learned to look within at an early age. If I experienced heartache or embarrassment my mom would say "What have you learned from this experience?" It made me fearless because every horrible moment would be followed by a lesson that I carry with me to this day. It's those moments when you look within and discover strength and dignity. On the other hand, too much reflection can make a girl crazy. It's a very delicate balance.

Witty

When I was growing up, my dad was a clown. He was even Ronald Mcdonald for a while. He was also a magician, mime, and a puppeteer. He did birthday parties and often times, I was his handy assistant. I think that this gave me a leg up in the witty department. I also think that it's important to be able to find the humor in life. This is a strong part of my marriage. When things get really hard, it's crucial that my man and I can just look at each other and laugh.

Nostalgia

I have a strange thought sometimes. I think about myself as a child, my little legs and curly hair. My freckles and silly teeth and I miss that little girl. I mean, I'm still the same person but that little girl is physically not on this earth anymore. That is nostalgia to me. It's an ache for once was and a yearning to see that little girl just one more time when I look in the mirror.

Selflessness

This is a hard pill for me to swallow because I am not a selfless person by nature. I mean, if I have two slices of cake left and one slice is the corner piece that has all the frosting, you can bet your sweet ass that I'm taking the piece with that yummy frosting. I'll find no shame in handing you the crummy slice with just a little bit of icing on it. Trust me, just ask my husband, the poor guy hasn't eaten a decent bite of cake since the moment I walked into his life! My children have taught me what it means to be selfless and I have to fight to do it everyday. The tricky part is to pull it off without becoming a martyr. Nobody likes a martyr. If dinner is on the table and my baby starts to cry because he's hungry, I put down my fork and feed my son. No questions asked. Then, I have to try real hard to not return to the table and feel sorry for myself that my food is cold and I'm too damn hungry to heat it up. Isn't is amazing that I just managed to associate the word selflessness with food? Hmmm...perhaps I should reflect on that!

A gift

Griffin gave me a handmade gift this morning.
To an adult it may just look like a wad of Play-doh
but to a 4 year old it is a treasure.
He gently extended his hand to me and said

"I found a star that's awake during the day
and I grabbed it for you."

Then, my heart melted.

Makeover

My little Blog needed a change.
We had a makeover today.
Now she feels pretty!