Archive | March, 2012

The sweetest sound… Apt for my Fave Things Friday

30 Mar

So, as you may have garnered from Ozgur’s first post, showering during the day when it’s just me and Baby A is difficult. (He prefers constant attention.)

I attempted it again today after a big feeding… and lo and behold, he sat calmly in his chair for the duration of my shower!

But by the time I got out, he was in need of some attention. Luckily, he finds over-exaggerated ear cleaning and squeaky clean sounds wildly entertaining.

Without further adieu, my favorite thing (view it in full screen to maximize the greatness that is his round head):

Introducing: Bambino Daddy

28 Mar

I’ve got a little surprise for you today. A guest post from the hubs! Who better to guest post on this blog about my life than someone in it? The best part – this is the first of many. Check back next week. He’ll have his own page here, posting on his very different perspective about our shared life. 

Bambino Daddy

Bambino Daddy

I had a dream…

After having a baby and us deciding to have Meaghan quit her job so she can take on the daunting but rewarding task of being a stay-at-home mom, I thought I was about to enter the sweet life.

What is the sweet life you ask? Meals ready when I get home, never having to worry about dishes, kissing grocery store runs goodbye, somebody laying out my clothes, packing my lunch, shining my shoes, and well you get the idea. I thought I was pretty much going to come home and the only thing I was going to have to do was pack my hookah bowl (not an illegal drug or anything) and sit on the couch and get fat (who did I have to look “cute” for anyways, my wife has baby puke all over herself).

Back to reality

I took five weeks off from work so that I could spend time at home with the baby and help Meaghan make the tough adjustment from daily meetings to hourly diaper changes. During this time, I realized my dream was… well… just a pipe dream. Not only did I see that I was not going to be able to come home, kick-off my shoes and sit lazily on the couch, I was barely going to have time to even catch up on the latest Sportscenter Tebowmania update.

The early days.

Baby Aidan (Kaan, as my parents call him—I’ll explain another time) was more demanding than a work-a-holic Deloitte manager. Needless to say, the lack of sleep, barely having time to shower, and eating like a duck (ducks don’t chew their food) is what my dream morphed into.

The outcome of this is not misery by any means. I love contributing to raising Aidan and helping Meaghan get some downtime so she can go shower (she thinks I’m doing this just for her but it’s more for everybody), or go blog about her latest adventures at her baby-mommy class. Let’s face it; Meaghan couldn’t shine my shoes the way I like them anyways.

—–O

Editor’s Note: He forgets about my Air Force basic training. I can shine shoes better than he ever could. I just elect not to. 

Pinterest THIS, friends.

23 Mar

Yes, it has been an entire week since I have written. But that’s only because my creativity was being channelled elsewhere.

This is a direct result of spring fever, pinspiration, more energy from working out, and a self-inflicted lack of sleep.

Enjoy.

Project #1: Give your deck some ambiance!
For this, this you need Mason jars, twine, 6″ plant hooks, and tea lights. Yay, lanterns.

Mason jar lantern on deckMason jar lantern on deckMason jar lantern on deckMason jar lantern on deck

Project #2: Make an outdoor space (a.k.a. a potting station) where you can easily, happily accomplish your creations.
Get an old table, chair, and something that inspires you. Mine was colorful glass bottles, a wind chime, and a bird feeder all hanging from the bottom of the deck above. I also plan on acquiring a large old shutter and old wooden ladder down the line… on which I will paint inspiring colors, mount hooks, hang things, etc.

Potting station small outdoor spacePotting station small outdoor spaceGlass bottles hanging from the ceiling

Project #3: Grow things.
In order to grow things, you need cheap pots. Cheap pots can get dressed up with a satin clear finish spray paint, masking tape, and chalk. And as a wannabe teacher… I love chalk.

Painted pots

My potting station is my new favorite space. Such an amazing creative outlet. So, as you can see, I’ll now be splitting my time between you and Zone: Out (the name of my new fave space… clever, I know).

P.S. Raise your hand if you hate allergies. You better be raising it. A friend of allergies is no friend of mine. I carried a snot rag around today. TMI?

Aidan and Irish Blessings

16 Mar

This is true ingenuity. Since getting up the stairs with a baby and a full hamper seemed impossible.

Baby in a laundry basket

Now go enjoy your Irish weekend! I have too much celebrating to do to write a blog. But I’ll leave you with this…

May the Irish hills caress you.
May her lakes and rivers bless you.
May the luck of the Irish enfold you.
May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.

Love,

Green BM

 

What’s really wrong with healthcare today…

13 Mar

I had a doctor’s appointment today. And I’m going to share it with you.

Not five minutes into our waiting room pit stop (of at least 30 minutes), the mother load of spit up came hurling my way. Baby A, unphased, was clean as a whistle. My shirt, on the other hand, was saturated. No biggy. I’m used to this kind of thing. Not to mention, I’m holding the excuse for my crazy appearance on my hip. A quick trip to the bathroom, and it’s like it never happened. Good as new…

doctors office spit up

Then he shits his britches. I probably shouldn’t be so vulgar. Or hickish. But I like the word britches, and shit is what he did. And I’m thinking to myself…

Self, any minute now, that nurse is going to come walking through that door, you’ll get back there, have a quick 1-2, and you’ll be out of here. You can change him in the car. Public diaper changing stations are gross anyway…

I was wrong. About when the nurse would come, about the quick 1-2 part, and I certainly underestimated the intensity of his odor.

Finally, my male nurse calls us back. Pleasantries are exchanged. Nothing breaks the ice like a baby that’s beginning to shriek out of sheer boredom and shit-stained britches. And by this point I’ve worked up some perspiration.

Self, this is no biggy. You’re always hot. We’ll be out of here soon. I mean we’re practically done.

Wrong again. ANOTHER 30 minutes of shrieking-baby-and-sweating-mom-madness-in-a-tiny-room later, and in waltzes Dr. I’m Way Smarter Than My Patients. ^_- (That’s a raised eyebrow, btw, for anyone out of the emoticon loop.)

If you’re so smart, why didn’t you talk about triglycerides at all? It is after all part of my overall cholesterol score.

… A thought I had post-appointment, of course, because it was difficult to think with Dr. IWSTMP and Baby A both going a mile a minute, each trying to see who could be louder.

What’s that? Oh, you want to do a breast exam on me? I mean my gyno does one yearly, but ok. Sure, I can hold my 20 pound baby with one arm while I’m laying on my back and he’s screaming at you for making us wait so damn long. Switch sides? Oh right, let me just fling him to the other side right quick…

(I’m not even going to try to MS Paint that image for you.)

By now, I’m no longer perspiring. I’m sweating. Thank goodness it’s not the kind that beads up and sits there and makes you look pathetic. It’s just the kind that makes you feel like you just got out of the shower during a physical exam in which you’re being fully exposed in all your sweating glory.

And after all that, Dr. IWSTMP wants to talk at me some more!

When do I get to ask the questions, lady? Do you think just because my son is doing all the talk-yelling that I don’t have anything to say?

Finally, we wrapped it up, she apologizes for the delay, and she’s out. And I’m one-handed changing, the other holding Sesame Street Bruno Mars music up for Baby A who’s all but lost it by this point.

I’m  dressed, I’ve got my papers, my baby, and his entertainment and we FINALLY get to roll out. To the truck (SUV equals truck in my world). So I can change his shitty britches in the open air, let the breeze cool off my sweat, and get away from the doctor.

Just another manic Monday…

An embarrassing but true admission

8 Mar

Maybe I’m just egotistical, but what I’m about to admit is embarrassing to me. Oh well, here goes. When you write a blog, that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Share more than most…

My cholesterol came back high after my last blood test. Not I’m-going-on-medication-at-26 high. Just higher than it should be.

Yeah, it runs in my family, but I know what the real culprit is here. I need to eat better, exercise more, and lose some weight.

I suppose that’s why it’s embarrassing. Everybody knows that how you eat and how much you exercise are directly correlated to your cholesterol.

So when I say “My cholesterol is higher than it should be,” I should really just say, “I have to eat better, exercise, and lose weight.” Which is a hard thing to admit.

Sure, I just had a baby. Kind of. Six months ago. Sure, I haven’t gotten back into a work out routine until last week. But still, it’s embarrassing. And there’s really just no excuse.

So I’m waging war against the numbers. An all out brawl.

Hello, fake vegetarianism. (Gotta keep fish and low-fat dairy products in the rotation.) Hello, Cheerios, Oatmeal, fish oil, legumes. Hello 30 minutes of physical activity daily. And goodbye, fried anything (tear). Goodbye, chocolate (sob).

There are absolutely no excuses. I refuse to let this be the beginning of an ongoing cholesterol problem. I’m a new mommy. I’ve got things to do.

Love,

War-waging BM

Let the commentary commence…

Does regularly turning to the internet for medical answers make me a hypochondriac? Nooooo…

7 Mar

My husband thinks I’m a hypochondriac. I just like to think I’m an avid reader.

Am I a hypochondriac?

It’s totally normal to turn to the internet in search of medical answers for non-life-threatening situations, right? You do it, too. Don’t judge me.

Yes, I absolutely believe I can find – after scouring the depths of the interwebs – a situation exactly like mine (or Aidan’s, as the case may be). Because on the internet, people write some random shit…

………….

And five years later, when I’m going through the same thing, I truly appreciate the fact that they took the time to talk about their two-year case of undetected Lyme disease. Because now I know I have it, too.

But what drives me CRAZY is Commenter Captain Obvious. The one who leaves a comment that says “you should call your doctor (or pediatrician).”

First of all, I probably already have. And he probably already told me everything is fine.

Second, I’m not looking for the B.S. call-your-doctor canned response. I’m looking for true stories! About other people experiencing the same thing! You wasted my time (and your own) typing that stupid, thoughtless comment.

And third, that’s probably not what borderline hypochondriacs, or even just avid readers, need to hear.

Hmph. I feel much better getting that off my chest. Thanks for listening, or reading.

Love,

Avid-reader BM

P.S. Yes, it’s true. I was once convinced I had Lyme disease. Believe it or not, a tic latched on to my butt cheek (TMI?). I guess I still very well could have it… I’ve just yet to be actually diagnosed with it…

Are you a hypochondriac? An avid reader? Or are you hardcore judging me right now? Tell me about it in the comments below.

 

 

Parenting Tip #179

1 Mar

O and I jump in the car after going through the three-ringed circus that is getting out the door with a babe. We’re on our way to visit his family (think My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and then replace the Greek part with Turkish). And I look at my jacket sleeve and say…

Shit, I keep forgetting this jacket has spit up all over it. And I keep wearing it in public, even though it’s pretty covered. With old spit up.

And Ozgur says…

It’s okay. I have baby pee all over my pants.

And I instantly felt better.

Parenting tip #179: accept the things which you cannot change – like spit up and pee.