A few months ago I wrote a little story about baby stuff that I love. Like, really love. Remember? Read here.

Like the monitor that I simply couldn’t live without, or the baby food maker that allowed me to make my Bitzy’s baby food with no fuss at all.  Soon, I’ll write another post about great baby stuff, because friends, there’s a lot of really amazing stuff out there.

And then, on the other hand, there’s a lot of baby stuff that isn’t awesome. It may be okay, pretty decent, or simply terrible. But in my humble opinion, the following items are NOT a necessity, and in this economy, do we really need to buy stuff that isn’t amazing?

I think not.

Hopefully, if some of you are in the market for some great baby stuff you’ll mark the following items off your list.

1. Fisher Price Rainforest Jumperoo: I looked high and low for a Jumperoo. Babies R Us didn’t carry one in stock, I searched eBay, all baby websites and finally Craigslist for the best price. Finally, I found one after searching for weeks. I paid $45 for one slightly used but in great shape, brought it home and cleaned it up waiting for my 5 month old sweetheart to jump her little heart out. However, that’s not exactly how it went. She just stood there. Then she discovered that she could pull down the leaves and try to eat them. Fail. Occasionally we would put her in just for fun to see if she miraculously liked it…but she never did.  A whole lotta hype if you ask Bitzy.

2. Rocking Chair: Ya know those times that you think that style should outweigh function? Like when those 3 inch heels look so cute and you wear them to pumpkin patch (not that I would know), instead of the sensible shoes? Or in the 80′s when it was cool to wear leotards to gymnastics class but you had to take off every stitch of clothes when you had to pee? Again, sometimes fashion over function isn’t worth it. Like my Rocking Chair for example.

Zach contends that yours truly is an obsesser, (such fabrication, imagine my shock). Although I admit that I tend to go a bit overboard with decorating. As I was planning Bitzy’s nursery everything had to be perfect for my sweet little love when she entered the world. So, when I found a cream microfiber rocker/glider that looked like a sitting chair I was thrilled.  When we tested it out in the store Zach hated it and said it was too close to the ground. But of course, being the submissive wife that I am, I told him that he didn’t know anything and that it was perfect for the nursery. After all, I would be the one spending lots of time in the chair (if I would have only known how much time, ahem). All this to say, the chair is terrible. It’s very low to the ground so I feel like a 90 year old when I get up. In fact, one night my mother in law was rocking my sweetheart while Zach and I went out for a much needed date and when she tried to get up to put my Bitzy in the crib she couldn’t…so she sat there for 3 hours until we got home. Major fail on this rocker.

3. Graco Infant Seat. Now I realize that my child was a bit, ummm…difficult as a newborn. She was uncomfortable everywhere, except in my arms….still sounds familiar doesn’t it? Anyway, even though she screamed bloody murder every time I put her in the seat I figured that she just had to get used to it, right? I mean, do 2 month olds really have an opinion about infant seats? Um yes, yes they do, in case you where wondering. And Bitzy’s opinion is that this seat is lame.

4. Bumbo. I know, I know. This one is gonna hurt a lot of mommy’s feelings. I know that it looks neato and you’ve seen lots of pictures of other people’s kiddos in them…but here’s the real truth- Bumbos are kind of cool for a whopping 15 seconds. The kid can’t actually sit in the seat until they can hold their little wobbly heads up and even then it’s a bit early. Then, when your sweetheart is strong enough to sit in the seat their yummy little chubby legs get stuck in it half the time, and then 15 seconds after that they are strong enough to kick and rock them backwards, trying very hard to land them their first concussion. So, it’s not really the product that’s the problem, it’s the amount of time that you actually get to use it…approximately 30 seconds.

For now, that’s all I’ve got…although, I’m sure there will be more- unfortunately.

I betcha you’re never gonna guess what that little blob is??? It’s my little baby silly! Can you believe that there’s a blob in my belly?

I can’t either.

With my Bitzy I was sick, as in barfing my brains out from 4 weeks-20 weeks. It wasn’t pretty people. In addition to being a human puke faucet (sorry for the visual, just keeping it real), I was exhausted 24 hours a day. I came home from work every day and collapsed on the couch and slept only to wake up to eat dinner (and the subsequent barfing) and then back to sleep again.  And also, I spotted from 5 weeks-9 weeks, making this kooky mama a real life basket case.

Not my favorite period of time in my life.

This time around, if I hadn’t seen that little blob swimming around on the ultrasound screen twice now I wouldn’t believe it. This pregnancy has been a dream. No sickness, no spotting, hardly any tiredness, I mean, if pregnancy was always this easy I’d have 20 kids.

But here’s the bad news. No symptoms = my crazy flag flying more wildly than usual…and as you know, that means that I’m way crazy. Like Jerry Springer style.

Let’s take a few weeks ago for example. I had a terrible, awful, no good, very bad dream about my baby (never to be repeated), so I woke up convinced that something was wrong.  Let me also add, that I have had several other complete meltdowns after bad dreams that never came true.

For example, one night when Zach and I were dating, I dreamed that we were at a bar and a guy was hitting on me and Zach didn’t protect me or stick up for me. I was furious in the dream and when I woke up I was still irate. I called him and told him about the dream and his “it’s only a dream” response wasn’t exactly what I was looking for. I wanted his heartfelt apologies for not being there for me in my dream and promises of protection in the future.

Imagine my disappointment!

So I did what any normal person would do, I was enraged and convinced myself that he hated my guts and would never love me.

Duh.

Shockingly Zach was not amused at my antics and he got mad right back at me. Needless to say, we had a terrible fight about my dream and his unsatisfactory response.

So, after my bad baby dream, I called the doctor and explained to the gal on the phone that I simply had to have an ultrasound (I left out the part about the dream- I’m not totally insane).  She asked why and I told her how different this pregnancy has been and how there is just no way that everything is OK when I feel so good.

Let me also interject that I’m 99% sure that I’m “red flagged” on their call system because I call so frequently. My number calls in and an alarm goes off…which I’m totally fine with, by the way. No shame people, no shame.

After I stated my case about how I simply must see the doctor, she said that she “would send a note back to the doctor and let him decide”…which is fine with me. My precious doctor knows that I’m a complete koo-koo hypochondriac, so I knew that he would have mercy on me.

And alas, he did. I got an appointment for that very afternoon. Score!

When I arrived at the office I waited for what seemed like forever and was finally called back. It was then that they told me that the doctor said to go ahead and give me an ultrasound and then he would see me in his office.

Yikes.

His office? It sounded cryptic.

Not shockingly my nervousness went up a notch or two.

Finally it was time for the ultrasound. My heart was pounding as she turned up the volume for me to hear the sweetest sound on earth, the familiar clip-clop of my sweetie’s heartbeat.  Then, that little blob gifted me with a little dance up and down just to let me know that he/she was just fine.

Life lesson? Sometimes being nuts is totally worth it. You should try it.

Afterwards the ultrasound tech led me back to my doctors personal office.

I patiently waited and when he walked in, that precious man gave me a hug and said, “Feel better now?”

He knows me well.

Then he sat down with the ultrasound pictures and pointed to the circle surrounding my little blob.  Then he said, “See this Molly? This is your uterus. It’s beautiful. Women would die for your uterus.”

Umm…OK. Good to know. I thought I wanted a perfect body, but a good uterus will do just fine thankyouverymuch.

Then he went on point out the umbilical cord, heart rate and other details of the scan and said that everything looked “great” and that I had absolutely nothing to worry about.  Then, he voiced magical words to my worried heart, “After 2 great ultrasounds your chance of miscarriage is less than 1%. Stop worrying and enjoy it! Only 20% of women do not have morning sickness, be thankful.”

Then he hugged me again and sent me on my way. I would like to think that he didn’t shake his head and roll his eyes as I left, but I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

But you, my friends know me. I’m crazy and I can’t help it!…maybe my “perfect” uterus is to blame. I mean, you gotta have a trade somewhere. Crazy head for a perfect uterus?

So blob baby is still doing great at 11 weeks pregnant.

How do I know? Well, duh, because I’m the proud owner of my very own Doppler.

That’s right. Every night that little blob baby and I have a chat as I listen to his/her heartbeat. It’s lovely really.

Ha! I always surprise you with my level of crazy don’t I?

Gotta keep you guessing!

It is no secret that my dog Daisy drives me completely bananas. Do you hear me Humane Society? B-A-N-A-N-A-S. Read more about it here.

She’s always been a bit on the wild side and at first, I must admit, she was charming in her unpredictability.  Daisy is, how you say, fearless, while Lily, her older sister is scared of everything.  If you look at Lily the wrong way she cowers, but Daisy, not so much.

We have tried spanking, solitary confinement (that basically means that she’s separated from Lily, the love of her life), a stern voice, taking toys away, you name it, we’ve tried it.

So we’ve determined that she isn’t a bad or mean dog, she’s just dumb.

Like really, really, really dumb.

As I said a few days ago, my sweetheart has been sick. Her poor little nose just pours with snot and now she has a tiny little baby cough. Needless to say, my child who already hates sleep, really hates it when she can’t breathe.

So, what did I do?  I have practically ruined every single sleepless night of her sleep training because I cannot, and I repeat, cannot let her cry when she’s a sicky.

So, she’s woken up several times a night for the past week and I have gladly gone in and rocked and loved and shushed her back, and on one occasion, I even brought her to bed with us (gasp).

What does this have to do with Daisy you ask?

Well, a few nights ago my Bitzy woke up at 2:30am wailing, so I go in and rock and nurse her back to sleep, when I put her back in the crib, I stumbled back to our bed. On my way to our room (which is a whopping 10 feet away) I distinctly smelled the stench of dog poop.

But I thought that I must be crazy. The dogs have never pooped in the house, why would they now?  I wrote it off as nothing as I laid back down in the bed.

Then, I heard the familiar sound of my Bitzy crying again, not 30 seconds after I put her down.  So here I go, back to rock and nurse some more.

As I sat in the rocking chair I began obsessing about the dog poop smell. I thought, “Surely not. No way that they would go in the house. They are too scared that we would kill them.” And, “If Daisy pooped in the house will Zach kill her once and for all?”  After many more of these thoughts I declared that I totally imagined the smell.

Finally, I laid my Bitzy down and went back to bed. As I took the final step before crawling back in our sleep haven, I stepped in something wet and mushy.

Oh, no she didn’t.

My heart immediately began racing and I began shaking Zach, “Daisy pooped in the floor and I freaking stepped in it.  Oh my gosh, I can’t freaking believe this.”

When Zach finally came to, he actually had a smirk on his face. A smirk people. I said with fire blazing in my eyes, “Please tell me that you don’t think this is funny.” He replied, “Maybe just a little.” And then, we both began laughing.

With a half smile i ventured into the bathroom to scrub my tootsies free of Daisy’s disgusting feces. Nasty, I tell you.

When I went back to the bedroom we turned the light on and witnessed the hugest, most horrendous pile of dog crap I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a whole lot dog crap in my day.

My sweet Zach cleaned up every last bit of it and sprayed Lysol everywhere in order to disinfect the area, which is a good thing, because I would have added a pile of vomit to the mix just to make things interesting.

Never fear, Daisy’s life was spared as we didn’t catch her in the act…

Lucky Dog.

My darling love,

I’ve been dragging my feet on writing this…not sure why.

I’m 2 weeks late on professing my amazement at watching you, my sweetheart, grow and change every day.

I’m not sure if it’s because you’re 1st birthday is looming ever so closely and I’m in some kind of mourning of your babyhood, or that I’m so enthralled by your blooming toddlerhood that I don’t want to look backwards, but forward.

At any rate, forever and always I love you more today than yesterday.

It’s true.

The tragedy of being a child is that you’ll never understand how much I love you until you have a baby of your own. Because baby girl, your mama loves you more than words could ever express. I hope and pray that when you become a mother I will be holding your hand just as your Gammy was holding mine as you entered the world.

But, back to the magic of your 11th month.

You are talking more and more. You are still reluctant to walk, although you have taken a few steps here and there. I must confess to you that I’m in no hurry for you to conquer the world of walking. We’ve all become quite comfortable with you crawling, walking seems like a whole different ballgame.  But when you do, I’m sure it would be the most beautiful thing and you’ll be filled with joy as you are each and every day.

It’s true. You are a delight. When you were in my tummy Daddy and I prayed each night that God would fill you with joy and a lighthearted spirit. That you would find excitement in the small things in life and that you wouldn’t be bogged down by the worries of the world, but that you would first and foremost find your joy in Christ alone.

And honey, each time that you clap your little hands and laugh I am reminded of God’s unbelievable faithfulness. He has truly answered all of our prayers for you.

In only a few short weeks we’ll usher in a new year with you and I gotta say, I’m not sad. I’m thrilled that you’re mine and I can’t wait to spend another year with you by my side.

I love you sweet baby,

Mama

I love Sundays.

Love them.

Here are a few reasons that I’m a lover of Sundays…

Exodus 20:11
For in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day. Therefore the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.

Oh Mexico, how we miss you.

Today, is my darling husbands birthday.

As you have probably learned by now, I’m completely koo-coo crazy over my man.  He is quite wonderful and totally perfect for me.

Being the complete romantic that I am, I have always believed in soul mates. That God designs a man and woman for each other and that is that. They are bound…destined if you will.

But, Zach was late to the party on that theory.

When we first began dating, we talked about our favorite color and food for about 45 seconds before I launched into questions that would make or break the relationship.

Intense much?

For example, what was his stance on soul mates. I mean, it’s legitimate dinner conversation after you’ve been dating 2 weeks, right?

(I was a train wreck).

Anyway, my Zach did not believe in my “theory” on soul mates. This my friends, could have been a deal breaker, but never fear, I knew that he would change his mind after he fell for me. I just had a feeling….and guess what?

He did.

He is now 100% convinced that God handcrafted me for him and him for me.

Told ya I’d convince him.

So, to my soul mate, my man, my kind and good partner in this life…I love you.

In fact, I love you more than BB Bats.

And icing.

And cookie dough.

And cake batter.

And coconut cream pie.

And I even love you more than Milk Duds and we all know that that’s an awful lot.

And I promise that I will always be your girl.

But please never put my love to the test on the sugar thing.

OK?

Glad we cleared that up.

Love to all,

PS: What do you guys think about soul mates?  Any thoughts?

PPS: Remember to vote for my tiny itsy bitty blog every day by clicking here!!!!

Ah yes, the long awaited Weight Watcher post about my “Baby Weight Be Gone Campaign.”

I’ve been putting this one off you see.

I’ve had a “WW Part 5″ post in draft mode for awhile now. The trouble is that every week I think “I’ll lose a whole bunch of weight this week and then I’ll finish the post.” The bad news is that my days losing “a whole bunch” of weight in a week are way over friends.

Like, way over.

The last time I spilled my guts to you over my WW adventures I had lost 36 pounds. That was 7 weeks ago.  As of Thursday, I have lost a total of…wait for it…wait for it….

43 pounds.

I realize that it’s great, blah, blah, blah, but that means that I’ve only lost 1 pound per week since then.

(What a whiny baby, right? I annoy myself).

I’m not a mathematician by any means, (although, let the record show that I can rock some addition and subtraction), but if I started on March 1st, that was nearly 6 months ago, right?. Right. There are 52 weeks in year, so half of that is 26 weeks, right?

So 26 divided by 43 pounds, comes out to 1.65 pounds per week. Right?

I’m not breaking any records by any means, but the weight is ssssssllllllloooooowwwwwwlllllllyyyyyyy coming off.

And, guess what?!

Being the huge girly girl that I am, I tried on my wedding dress last week and IT FITS!

Let’s take a walk down my wedding memory lane, shall we?

And lastly, my love waiting for me at the end of a very long, tear filled aisle. My Love, My Zach.

Whew. Memory lane is apparently filled with a few teardrops tonight. I sure did love, love, LOVE my wedding day.

OK, I’m wiping my tears away and focusing on my amazing wedding dress…back to business.

Not only does it fit, it looks great if I do say so myself.

When Zach and I got married I told him that I didn’t want to preserve my dress because I wanted to be able to wear it whenever I wanted.

Ya know, like walk around the house, eat a sandwich, run to the post office, pretend to be a runway model, prance around, go on play dates, make dinner, whatever was on my agenda for the day. I mean, it is my dress and technically I’m still a bride, so why the heck not?

Plus, since I refuse to actually weigh myself because I’m such a scaredy cat, the dress is just as good as a scale.

So basically my “dress scale” told me today that I’m at my wedding weight which was around 10ish pounds less than “normal” Molly weight.

I will tell ya though, with all this WW point counting, etc., I’ve been eating like a maniac lately.

For example, here was my menu today.

Breakfast: Egg McMuffin from my friend and yours, McDonald’s. I could seriously eat them 3 times a day, so freaking good.

Breakfast Take 2: Nonfat, no-whip Peppermint Mocha from Starbucks. Ditto to the above statement.

Lunch: Glazed Chicken Lean Cuisine. Total opposite of the above statement. If I never saw one again, it would be fine by me.

Lunch Take 2/Dinner/Dinner Take 2/Snack: Big, Beautiful, Best thing ever of all time: A Banana Spilt from Brusters. The heavens opened and there was a party in my mouth when I took a bite of this glorious creature. I ate this at 2:00pm and I knew full well that my eating was way over for the day. Do I regret this?  I think you know the answer to this. Never, ever, ever, never do I regret my sugar escapades. Never.

Dinner Take 3: Bag of grapes. (yup, the whole bag. Don’t judge me).

Basically I’m on an “eat as many preservatives as possible” diet, along with counting all my WW points. It’s a great marriage of a low calorie/preservative filled lifestyle plan.

Ugh. Again, I annoy myself.

And yes, before you ask, I am still breastfeeding.

Thanks for rubbing it in.

In my defense, the only foods that go into my Bitzy’s mouth are organic foods that I make her. No sugar, hormones, additives, none of the yucky stuff.

I figure that she gets enough preservatives in my breast milk, the food I feed her should be au natural.

Anyway, how did we get off this tangent?

Back to my frenemy Weight Watchers.

The bottom line? It’s working and my pre-preg jeans are baggy.

Isn’t that a fabulous bottom line?

Well, and that if I eat one more Lean Cuisine I may explode, but let’s focus on the positive.

So there you have it.

Maybe this week I’ll jinx myself and lose 5 pounds…but just in case, I’m not holding my breath.

Love to all,

PS: All photos were taken by Tyler Pelan at Lighting His World Photography.

I’m a having a bit of writer’s block today. Not sure why.

It’s probably hormones. I like to blame everything on hormones.

Sad?  Hormones.

Happy? Hormones.

Crazy? Definitely hormones.

Anyway, me and my kooky coo hormones don’t know what to write about.

So, let’s have a bit of stream of consciousness, shall we? I think we’ve established that I’m a nutjob, so why not solidify that theory? Here’s what’s happening in my brain as I live and breathe at this moment.

I want a Diet Dr. Pepper. A big beautiful 32 ounces DDP. I woke up thinking about it and now over 13 hours later I’m still thinking about it.  I can’t cave now. This day 5 after all. I’m looking forward to my icing and show tune party that Chelsey is throwing me. If I drink one then I won’t get my vat of icing.

Icing always wins.

Daisy drives me bananas. She’s been trying to trick me into loving her by being so great with my Bitzy, but I’m on to her. She’s so sneaky…and stinky. Phew. When is Zach’s going to give her bath and find her a new place to live?

I wonder if Jon and Kate ever talk anymore?

I don’t wanna Shred tonight. I’ve been dreading it all day. Besides that fact that I may very well be allergic to working out, Jillian drives me completely nuts.

Whenever I blow up and ship Daisy off to a farm somewhere can Jillian go too? They would probably love eachother.

I want a piece of coconut cream pie. Wait, make that chocolate. No, make it banana cream. Never mind, I want banana pudding. Scratch it, can I have a sampler plate of everything?

I’m hungry.

I’m always hungry.

Why do I have a food obsession?

I miss my Bitzy.

Snap out it crazy0. The kid needs sleep. Leave her alone and stop creeping into her room to see if she’s breathing.

Do I need medication? Why I am so crazy?

I really need to organize my closets and drawers. I cannot find anything. Or, I could spend yet another Saturday playing with my sweet Bitzy and kissing on Zach..hmmm….family wins every.single.time.

I’ll reorganize when I’m pregnant again. Nesting is a real thing after all.

I dread football season. Wait. Football season means cheerleading uniforms for Bitzy Seeing this little bundle in a cheerleading uniform is seriously cute.  Fine, football season can last 2 weeks and then I want it to go away.

I wanna bring back all the old sayings from the 90′s. Like “da bomb”,”mac daddy”, “NOT”, “Word to yo mother brother”, “Psych” , “Take a chill pill” etc. I never stopped saying these phrases because I’m so cool, clearly. I wonder how I can start the revolution to bring them back.

Speaking of, I’m hungry.

I really, really, really want some brownie batter.  I’m sick of staring at a bowl of half eaten watermelon. Brownie batter sounds better more appetizing.

Pamela Anderson is ridiculous.

I really need to read Fox News to see what’s happening in the world.

Nah, what’s Sandy up to? People.com here we go.

I like water aerobios. I wonder if the old ladies and me can get fit in the pool.

Zach’s new video game is terrible.

At least he’s home being a big ole dork playing a game instead of at a bar drinking.

I love my Zach.

I’m sleepy. Why don’t I ever sleep anymore?

I’m hungry.

Sleepy.

Hungry.

Crazy.

PS: I would never ship Daisy off to a farm. Zach would never allow it….HA.

Hold the phone: Sabrina the Teenage Witch and Joey from Blossom are teaming up for a little rememberthe90sTVitwassoawesome TV show! While I wasn’t a huge Sabrina fan, my friend Megan was/is a bit obsessed, so I am excited by association. But Joey, ah Joey. What with his leather jacket and manicured hairdo. He was and is dreamy. My only question is, does he have some kind of strong distaste for going by character names?  Does he always have to be called “Joey?” It’s getting kinda weird with all the Joey characters, right?

Somedays I am so busy that I feel like my brain is going to explode. I get so overwhelmed that I doubt everything that I do, feeling as it I’m never going to complete all of my tasks. But then, I pick up my sweet Bitzy Boo and all the troubles of the world fade away. There is no task, none at all, that are more important than soaking in every single second of my baby’s life. No emails, phone calls, news, nothing. They all can wait.

I’m addicted to Weight Watchers Cookie Dough desserts. They are only 3 points apiece and I could eat 20 of them. Please don’t challenge me to an eating contest, I will win. But wouldn’t that be sweet irony to have an eating contest with WW products? Who’s with me?

The news stresses me out. It makes me sad and annoyed at our world today. So, I choose to not listen and focus on the real news: People.com.

Speaking of, Sandy and little Louis are doing great (Read about our friendship here and here). Thank goodness that grody ole Jesse is out of the picture. I do confess that he makes me wanna vomit.

The other day I had a frozen bag of breast milk from the deep freezer in my hands and I dropped it on our glass top coffee table. Accidentally of course, I am a true klutz. The poor table top shattered all over the carpet, but more annoyingly the breast milk bag got a hole in it. That’s right all 11 ounces of my precious liquid gold was pouring all over the glass ridden carpet. Believe it or not, I was much more upset about the wasted milk than the glass. As you know, I take my milk very seriously, it is Natures Nectar after all.

By the way, after I told you all about my idea for curing all the aliments of the world with Natures Necture, no lie I heard on the radio the next day that researchers are now conducting studies that isolate the proteins in breast milk to cure cancer. Seriously? Are they that in tune with this blog that they read about my life changing ideas and immediately begin research?  People, we are curing cancer up in here.

Zach and I got new cell phones and I hate them. They are supposedly “smart” but I think they’re dumb. I want a Jitterbug and pronto.

The crawdad count is up to 32.  Don’t they hear the cries of their little brothers and sisters on the Duct tape? Duh, you stupid crawdads, don’t step on the tape. Their stupidity is just another reason that they must die.

Lastly, I want you all to know how much I enjoy writing these little stories and the community that we’re forming here.  Thank you putting up with my whining about the Sleep Wars and my crazy escapades.  I cherish every single visitor and comment…keep ‘em coming.

When I was a little bitty kid, like 3 or 4, I was obsessed with the movie version of “Annie.”

Coincidentally, my Zach was too.

We were totally made for each other, this my friends is proof.

Anyway, I would sing all the songs to the top of my lungs and I would recite all the lines that Molly had. Clearly she was my favorite.

I figured that we were the only 2 people in the world named Molly, so we were destined to be best friends.

It was lost on me that she was a fictional character.

Turns out, I may still have a little issue with fiction vs. reality: Ahem Grey’s Anatomy.

What? Me? Never.

Anyway, I loved the movie, loved the songs, love my Molly and Annie. LOVED them.

So, when my mama had a little sister for me at the tender of 8 years old (I was 8, not my mama), I was thrilled. Albeit, a little confused about how it would work with a tiny little human in the house, but still excited.

And then, they named her Annie.

WhWhWhWhAT?

It was perfect, just like the movie. Annie and Molly, together forever.

Let the record show that she was named after our Nana, not the movie.  But still, the movie had to have had a tiny bit to do with it, right Mama?

So, we played dolls, beauty shop, and games, with a healthy amount of torture to be sure, but still sprinkled with lots-o-fun.

Over the years I just assumed she would be a kid forever, I mean, I am 8 years older than her after all. If she gets older then, (gasp) so do I, so clearly, she’ll stay a little kid in pig tails riding her bike endlessly. Here are a few “through the years with Annie” pictures.

Annie, 2 days old.

Annie, 2 months old.

Annie, 5 Months Old.

Annie, 1 Year.

Annie and Me. 1 year.

Luke, Me and Annie. She looks real thrilled doesn't she? 2 Years Old.

Annie, 3 Years Old. (BTW: She was OBSESSED with Minnie Mouse).

Annie and Me. 4 Years Old.

Notice no pictures of awkward adolescence.

You’re welcome, Annie.

Annie and Katie, 12 years old.

Annie, 18 Years Old. High School Graduation.

From Left, Annie, Luke, Me, Katie. My Sibs:). 2008.

Annie, Mama and Katie at UNC in 2009. PS: Annie was kind of a big deal there.

Annie, 2010, UNC Graduate!

After your year book view of her growing up, you guessed it. She did get older.

She even went to college.

And today, my little sister started law school.

Did that register?

Law School.

Like, school for smart people to understand the Constitution better.

I can’t even spell Constitution (thank goodness for spell check) and my little sissy is now a student.

Unbelievable.

So, I would like to shout out a big “I’m proud of you” over the World Wide Web.

I’m so proud of you Annie Bananny.

And remember…even on rough days, “The Sun’ll Come Out Tomorrow…”

As I type, I have to remind myself that this blog is G Rated. Not PG or even PG-13, it’s Rated G. Now and forever.

I try very hard both in my every day life and in my little stories, to be positive, upbeat, grateful and to hopefully put a smile on your faces, my darlings (or at least a grin).

That said, tonight I am filled with murderous rage. Therefore, for the first (and probably last) time ever, This little story is rated a solid R. Please forgive me.  Feel free to click the “X” on the top right of your screen.

For those of you still hanging around I want to be clear: I am not an animal lover. We all know this.  I abhor birds (remember?) and even my own dogs drive me bananas, not counting all of the other random animals out there. I mean, I don’t want to shoot them with a taser gun, but I don’t want them to lick my face either.

You know those crazy animal people (like one of my sisters), they love all of God’s creatures. They see a new dog and inevitably ramble on about said animals cuteness and preciousness. Blah, blah, blah. They can’t turn strays away and their dogs and cats sleep in their bed every night.

I assure you that if my child isn’t allowed in our bed, our dumb dogs aren’t. Ever.

Anyway, now that you have called the Humane Society to come and take my dogs away, I want you to know that I have never (nor would I ever) harm any animal.

Unless, said animal is a cricket.

My Enemies.

In that case, I’m a murderer in the first degree.

As much as animals are annoying to me, bugs make me crazy. I HATE them. I hate the way they look, the sounds they make, and for the sake of this little story how they have invaded our basement.

In our basement we have a finished  and an unfinished part. Our finished basement is where we have most of Bitzy’s toys, the big TV, the comfy couch and is where most of the action happens around here. The unfinished part is where the storage and laundry are…and where my enemies have invaded. Luckily they haven’t ventured out into our livable space, they are contained in the unfinished section.

All that to say, we spend a lot of time in the basement. So a few weeks ago when I was loading the laundry into the washer I see the mother of all crickets only inches from my foot.

So I did what all grown women should: I screamed bloody murder and ran.

You should know that I have non-affectionately called crickets, crawdads for some time now. It’s my pet name for those disgusting creatures.

As I’m running I’m screaming, “The crawdads are back, the crawdads are back.”

Zach leisurely looks up from his nerdy video game and says, “Yup, it’s about that time of year.”

This was not the response I was looking for.

I wanted my knight in shining armour to rescue me from the crawdads and kill them all. But that’s not what happened. The following is our exchange.

Zach: ”The Duct tape is in the drawer. Just set some out.”

Me: “You set some out. That’s totally a man thing, it’s not in my territory to kill bugs, plus, why are you talking about Duct tape when a crawdad almost ate me? You don’t even care about me at all.”

Zach: (never looking up from his dorky game) “All you have to do is get pieces of Duct tape and lay them out on the floor, it’s not like I’m asking you to cut down a tree.”

Me: “Maybe if you cared about my life and how it was almost ended by a large creature, you would fight for my honor and kill them instead of playing your stupid game.”

It’s true folks, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

Zach: “Fine. I’ll do it. I know that cutting pieces of Duct tape and putting it on the floor is a really manly thing to do, so I’ll take care of it.” (Do you sense his sarcasm?)

Molly: “Oh goody. You do love me after all, kill those nasty animals. Let them burn! You’re my hero!!!”

I have never had hate in my heart before, but I can truly say that now not only is hate in my heart for crawdads, but it’s buried in there. It’s alive and burning and wants to see them all die.

Now, my nightly ritual is to go in and count the dead corpses of the crawdads.  It’s so rewarding.

But as I tell the crawdads every night, “Go back outside, you’re safe from my wrath in your habitat, but the second you come into my house, you signed your death warrant. So get ready to DIE. Tell all of your little friends to stay out or they will die right along side of you.”

It’s true. I talk to the crawdads. I feel that it’s only fair to give them a warning.

So, tonight the count is up to 17 dead overall.

Impressive, don’t you think?

The more the merrier as far as I’m concerned. So in my creepiest Wicked Witch of the West voice I sing, “Come here little crawdads, I have a little treat for you…”

I’m hoping the death toll will be up to 25 by the weekend.

Told ya this was R Rated.

Happy Friday friends:).

<a href=”http://littlestorieseverywhere.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/signature.jpg”><img title=”Stories Everywhere Siggy2″ src=”http://littlestorieseverywhere.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/signature.jpg” alt=”" width=”160″ height=”105″ /></a>

You’re never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVAH gonna believe it?

My ihatesleepyou’llnevermakeme child slept from 8:45pm-6:15am.

That is 9.5 hours straight.

She woke up once around 5:00am and cried for approximately 15 seconds and promptly fell back asleep.

Honestly, I just can’t believe it.

I keep thinking that I must be dreaming, that I slept through the endless screams, but then I remember that I still didn’t sleep last night because I was so nervous that she would wake up any minute.

I’m telling ya, watching that video monitor is way better than any reality TV show.

I mean, I haven’t slept for nearly a year, why start now?

Right?

I feel like I’ve been handed an Oscar. “I’d like to thank the Academy…”

But honestly, I’m so thankful for all of you for your support, for my amazing husband,  and for God and his graciousness through this extremely tough process.

I know that we’re not out of the woods yet, that there may still be some screams, but at least now I know that she can do it.

So, thank you, thank you, thank you and Praise be to our patient and faithful God.

YAY!

Today I’m guest blogging over at Real Life With Kids with my bloggin’ buddy, Cate.  Head on over and check out my little story and her awesome blog!

Enjoy!

____________________________________

In other news, Zach and I are so exhausted from our Sleep Wars (Wanna catch up? Check out Schedule 1, Schedule 2, Schedule 3 and Schedule 4), that we have vowed to go to bed at 10:00pm. This, my friends, has never happened. We are night people. We cuddle and watch Netflix and inevitably when the clock strikes 11:00pm, it occurs to me that I still have a million things to do.

Let’s take last night for example.

We’re currently addicted to Prison Break. We’re halfway through Season 2 and I’m WAY into it. So, after several episodes Zach declared that he was tired and going to bed.

After my failed attempts at trying to talk him to watch one more, it dawned on me that I hadn’t done any of my chores.

I still had to pack Zach’s lunch, get Bitzy’s food and bottles together for her Lolly’s house, water the flowers, fold laundry, and I still needed to do The Shred video.

Bet ya can’t guess which one of those things went out the window?

Shockingly, it was The Shred.

I know that you’re just as shocked as I was.

(I annoy myself).

This, my friends, wouldn’t be completely insane except for the fact that I have gotten a combined 2 or 3 hours of sleep for several nights in a row. Turns out that clutching a video monitor while trying to sleep in an empty bed without my husband, while listening to my child scream bloody murder aren’t the greatest conditions for sleep.

Weird huh?

So, that said, I’m going to bed yo.

(Which I think you and I both know that “bed” entails me obsessing over my girl sleeping on the video monitor, but at least I’m laying down, right?).

See ya on the flip side.

PS: Don’t forget to visit my guest blog at Real Life With Kids!

Cutest.Kid.Ever.

It’s no secret that although I gave birth to the world’s happiest baby, she hates sleep. Well, that’s not really true, she hates sleep if she’s not in my arms.

Apparently my arms are magical.

To be perfectly honest if it were up to me, sweet Bitzy would sleep in my arms all night, every night.  We would be one big co-sleeping family.  It is very natural to me to have her sleep with me, both for naps and for bed.

We’re peas in a pod my girly and me.

But there one major caveat in my perfect plan for co-sleeping heaven- Zach hates co-sleeping and is scared to death to have our precious one in bed with us.  He also wants our bed to be, well, our bed. And I do agree with him until it’s 2:00am and she’s screaming her brains out and my arms ache to hold my sweet angel.

Then, I turn to mush, begin sweating, crying and declare that if I don’t go get her I’ll just DIE (dramatic much?).

So for the past few months during The Sleep Wars, Zach has been begging me to give him a go at sleep training her, which I have adamantly refused. Why? Because his method is the old fashion, straight forward, cry it out method.

That’s right folks.

Cry it out.

For this cuddly and doting mama, it goes against every single fiber in my nature to leave my Bitzy to her own devices and let her cry.  So for months I have bargained with Zach.  ”Let me try this and that and this and that and this and that and then you can try” or “She just so little, give me one more month” or “You are the meanest person that have ever lived and you will NEVER let MY baby cry it out.”

That’s right. A submissive wife, I am not.

So on Friday our sweet baby turned 9 months old. She is a master crawler, a pulling up maniac and can charm a stranger will her sweet smile. Toddler hood is coming quick.

In honor of her 9 month birthday we celebrated by going to the doctor and getting shots.

Aren’t I a fun mama?

The doctor asked about her sleep. Such a simple question with such a complicated answer.  I fumbled around, making excuses about colic and reflux and breastfeeding. I went round and round the bush about how much I love her and how I just can’t let her cry.

Then he looked me in the eye and started talking in his I went to school for a million years and I know stuff voice. Here’s the Reader’s Digest version of our conversation:

Doctor: “It’s time.”

Me: “Time for what?”

Doctor: “You’ve gotta let her cry it out. You have to deal with this now rather than when she’s 2. I promise that she will be fine.”

Me: “No she won’t. She needs me and I need her.”

Doctor: “She has to learn to fall asleep on her own.”

Me: “But she’s hungry and I have to feed her. Do you want her to starve?”

Doctor: “She doesn’t need to eat during the night. She is perfectly capable of not eating for 12 hours during the night. It has become habit, not need. You have to let her cry.”

Me: “I can’t.”

Doctor: “You can.”

Insert Tears.

Me: “But what if she feels abandoned and that I don’t love her.”

Doctor: “She will not feel that way. She loves you and knows that you love her and she will never even remember the crying. Ever.”

Me: “What if she does? What is she becomes an ax murderer because I let her cry? Or a thief? Or a mean and bitter woman because of me and my terrible abuse of letting her cry.” (Now the tears become sobs) “She will wonder why I don’t love her anymore and I just can’t stand the thought, I cannot do it.”

Doctor: “Molly, you aren’t doing her any favors. She has got to learn to sleep on her own. What happens when you have a new baby and you have a 2 year old who can’t sleep in her bed? I know that it’s hard, but you can do it. Give her the gift of sleep.”

Give her the freaking gift of sleep?  Come on.  That was a good line I must admit.

So when I left the doctor I thought about it all day and tried to make sense of it in my mind. I just couldn’t logically work it out. Baby cries = Mama picks you up. It seems so rudimentary to me. But then I had a revelation.

I have asked countless people for advice, blogged about our sleep plight, cried on the phone to my Mama, prayed that my girl would just give in and sleep for goodness sake…but I have failed to listen to my husband.

Over and over again he has begged me to hand over the reigns to him. To let him give it a go. I realized that I have not only been disrespectful to him, but I had hurt him by ignoring him and seeking advice from anyone who would give it.

Total wife fail.

It was then that I knew what had to be done.  We had tried every method and gone back and forth but we had never been consistent (or rather I had never been consistent) and after I realized the error of my ways, I have officially handed over the reigns to my darling husband.

I’m working on the whole submission = respect aspect of marriage. It’s a process.

Our deal is that if she isn’t sleeping through the night (from 9pm-6am) in 2 weeks then she can sleep in our bed until she’s one. Pretty good deal, huh?!

So for the past 3 nights I have laid her down around 9pm and haven’t gone back in until 6am.  That’s right. No nursing, no rocking, no singing, nada.

Instead I have been clutching the video monitor under the sheets watching my darling child scream for hours on end.

The first night she cried off and on (mostly on) from 12:30am-6:00am.  Zach was practically laying on top of me to keep me from going in to rescue her. It was by far and away the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life. I would rather walk on glass and have my toenails ripped off than ever go through that horror again.

The second night Zach slept on her floor from the time she woke up at 2:00am until 6:00am and that seemed to help a bit.  She still cried off and on but it was a little better.

The third night is woke up at 2:30am and with Zach on the floor she would sleep for an hour and then scream for an hour. Of course he slept right through it as I’m watching her every move on the blessed video monitor (a gift from God I tell ya). But was a little better.

Tonight is night #4. I have high hopes that every night will get better, but I’m secretly scared that she’ll be scarred for life and end up being on death row someday all because of me. Or at the very least this new adventure will take weeks and weeks, rather than days.

I’m just not sure how much more my heart can take.  But, a deal is a deal.

But ya know what I’ve learned? That my relationship with Zach has to be stronger than the one I have with my Bitzy. If not, she will suffer because of our confusing parenting. When I said, “I do” I committed to allow Zach to lead our family, so I have to let him, even when it’s hard. When I submit to Zach, I am submitting to God.

Tough stuff my friends. Some lessons are hard fought I tell ya.

So that’s the latest and greatest of our Sleep Wars mixed with a little life lesson. Keep us in your prayers…it’s tough times up in here.

Love to all and sleep well.

Sleep? Who needs sleep?

First of all, a BIG thank you to each and every person who has commented, emailed, Facebooked and called during what will now be called, “The Sleep Wars.” All of your support and advice has been so wonderful and I am truly grateful for all of you.  So, thank you.

Lost?  Read Schedule Part 1 and Schedule Part 2 to catch up.

I’m telling ya, this sleep training stuff is not for the faint of heart. And I’m here to tell you, that I am, in fact, faint of heart.

Here’s the Readers Digest version of our plight….

But first, a little background.

As of late, we have been skipping nap #3 and have moved bedtime up a bit. So rather than her going to sleep at 8:00-8:30, now it’s more like 7:00-7:30. Which means that by 6:30 she is rubbing her eyes, yawning and whiny.

Needless to say, by the time we do our bedtime routine, she is ready to go to sleep.  So bedtime has never been our issue. Even in the throws of terrible colic and reflux, bedtime has been the easiest part of the night.

OK, now that you have information, let’s move on.

Normally my girl goes down without a fight, but over the past few weeks she has learned that bath time equals bed time (she’s a genius) so she begins screaming the second we get her out of the bath until she’s dressed and in my arms. Poor little thing. Since she’s clearly traumatized by the evil monster called “sleep”, so she won’t give in to dreamland (deep, sound sleep anyway) in my arms before bed. She knows what’s coming (again, she’s clearly a genius). So, I nurse and rock and shhhhhhh until she’s cool, calm and collected. After 20 minutes or so I lay her down.  She screams and acts like she’s being stabbed for a few minutes (anywhere from 1 minute-20 minutes) but finally gives it up and sleep for several hours.

So, last night signalled day 14 of  The Sleep Wars and it was much better. After we did bath time, story time, medicine around 7:00pm, I rocked and nursed her until she was almost asleep.  Then, I laid her down and walked out.

She cried (not the wailing and gnashing of teeth that comes in the middle of the night, but crying all the same), for 17 minutes and then went to sleep without a whimper until 1:30am.

Major improvement.

In fact, I think that is the longest that she’s slept on her own since she was a tiny baby.  So, let the record show that things are improving.

But then, 1:30am rolls around. She’s screaming her brains out so I go in and (gasp) pick her up and feed her, because friends I’m just not comfortable with going totally cold turkey on comforting her during the night thing.

The child is wide awake. Like, “Hey Mama!  Wanna go play, crawl, discover, sing, read? I love you. I missed you. You’re my favorite mama! Please don’t leave me in that awful crib. I’m lonely and I love you.” Basically she was trying to butter me up.

But never fear, I was on to her.  That’s the good news.  The bad news is that if I laid her back down she would cry for hours and hours.  If I stayed up with her it would be disastrous.  The only option is our bed.

Well, I’m sure there are other options, but hey, it was the middle of the night and I made an executive decision.

She’s tough and not like other babies from what I’ve heard.  All this, “In a week she’ll be sleeping through the night” is insane. It’s just not happening friends. In fact, I can tell by the cries when she or will not go back to sleep. When she’s really tired and will go back to sleep it’s more like groaning and whining, not the full blown, “If you don’t get me outta here I’m going to jump out of this crib and break my own leg.” If the crying becomes the wailing for too long then she’ll cry and cry forever.

For example, one night it was around 3:00am when she began crying.  I went in and fed her (I could tell she was wide awake as I fed her), laid her down, and she went off the deep end bananas for 45 minutes. Finally, I went in and soothed her. Poor thing was shaking, sobbing and terrified. It was heartbreaking to say the least. But, I was determined to stay strong! So I laid her back down and walked out. This time, she cried off and on for 90 minutes.  Needless to say, I almost turned in my mommy card to the authorities because I felt so guilty.

But ya know what?  In a combined 2 hours and 15 minutes of sobbing the kid never fell asleep. She never got tired, she was energized. Ready to continue to fight the fight of bedtime.

I think I may have a little pistol on my hands.

Another important point is that when she’s going crazy if I go in and soothe her she calms down, but if I lay her back down and walk out she goes ten times crazier than before. I don’t think she’s a candidate for the whole rubbing her back, singing and patting her every 10 minutes.

All this to say, things are improving.  But honestly, sososososososososososo many people said that kids would cry for 10 or 20 minutes for 2 nights and WALA! they slept through the night from then on. That’s the most frustrating thing for me I think.  Trying to celebrate that she is learning to self soothe day by day, it’s just not quite as simple as I had hoped.

So there you have it, an update. I know you’ve been waiting with baited breath.

Go ahead and breathe now.

Love to all…and sleep well, cause Lord knows that I won’t.

My girly.

Just for the record, I’m not being paid or coerced or threatened to write this little story. It’s because I love this stuff and I think you should love it too!

Let me also add that I HATE clutter, with a capital H. So, the stuff I have, I really love or I would throw them in a bag and drive ‘em right over to my good friends at Goodwill. They love me there.

All that to say, here’s some stuff that you need. Because I said so.

One more thing, I looked online for the cheapest price of these items and linked them to the product. My searches weren’t totally extensive, so try your hand at beating the prices listed…I’m always up for a good bargain!

1. Angel Care Baby Monitor: Let me be the first to say that I am a complete crazy-o about SIDS, so we purchased this beautiful piece of technology so that I could sleep at night rather than standing over my Bitzy in her crib watching to see if she was breathing.  And sleep I did…for about 2 nights until my beautiful girl decided that sleep was for the birds. But, those 2 nights were fabulous. But seriously, I love this monitor. Get one.
   

   Bjorn was a lifesaver on our Colorado vacation in April.

2. Baby Bjorn: For some weird reason I thought that you couldn’t use the Bjorn until your baby was 4 months old.  Silly me. I lost 4 months of awesomeness. I think the Bjorn would’ve have helped Bitzy’s tummy had I carried her while she was screaming.  Oh well. Ya live, ya learn. I love this amazing contraption for many reasons.  For one thing, my Bitzy LOVES it. Secondly, it exhausts her.  So if she is having a hard time winding down for nap time, it’s the perfect way to entertain her while making her tired. Thirdly, it makes my waist look small from the back when she’s in it. Just sayin’. It’s an important factoid.
3. Beaba Cook: I love, love, love making my darlings baby food. It is much healthier for her and it’s fun for me! Granted, with this amazing baby food maker it’s super easy. (I’m planning to write a little story soon about my baby food making adventures- stay tuned). I got this for Christmas and I’m crazy about it.  You need it.  If you have doubts, look at fresh homemade baby peas and compare them with the grocery stores packaged baby food. Yuck-o! Then, you’ll be a believer.
   

   7 Months Old.

4. Fisher Price Little Lamb Infant Swing: Oh the millions of miles that we’ve put on this swing. During “the crying months” when my sweetie had terrible colic and reflux she spent many a day (and night) in this swing.  She still plays in it occasionally, although now she looks like she’s on a ride at Disney World rather than being soothed by the gentle music.
5. Dr. Seuss Nursery Collection: I am thrilled to say that my little one LOVES to read. It’s her favorite thing to do, well except for nursing, crawling and terrorizing the puppies. Her favorite books are all by Dr. Seuss. As you may know, Dr. Seuss has amazing books, but they are far too long and complicated for a tiny baby…so you can buy the nursery collection.  They are board books that are much shorter, colorful and much easier for a little one to hold on to.  Bitzy told me to tell you that “Red Fish, Blue Fish” is her favorite.
   

   My sweetie at 1 day old.

6. Sozo Swaddle Blanket: Look at the picture above. Do you need anymore convincing? Cutest swaddle blanket ever (and baby if I do say so myself). Although my Bitzy is almost 9 months old we still swaddle her right before I nurse her.  It helps calm her down and gets her in the zone for sleep. When I lay her down she breaks out of it in 3.2 seconds, so she uses it to soothe herself while she wails, “MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA.” I love this blanket so much that I just ordered 2 more for a friend having twins. It’s super lightweight, soft and precious.
   

   She was only 10 weeks old here...so sweet!

7. Lovee: The above picture says it all. This Lovee is so awesome. From the time she was itty bitty to now she will clutch her lovee when it’s time for night night. It’s small, soft, silky and perfect to comfort little bittys.  I kinda wish that I had one for myself.
8. Medela Freestyle Breast Pump: As you well know by now, I’m a nursing fanatic…which is a good thing since my child would be attached to my breast all day long if I’d let her (we’re having a little separation anxiety presently). When I’m not with her I “pump it up.” Ya know, like the song “Pump Up The Jam,” from the 90′s. Was that the 90′s? Anyway, now that you have the song in your head you can tell me when it’s from. PS:  Please don’t picture me pumping as you sing that song all day in your head.  Too late, right?  Great, just great.  Anyway, I love this breast pump.  It’s extremely convenient and portable. I pump in the car about 80% of the time because it’s so easy. Hands free and everything! Granted, it’s expensive, but it’s totally worth it if you’re going to pump a few times a day.
9. My Brest Friend:  I know, I know. To some it may seem like that’s the worst never EVAH for a product, until you have a baby and you’re nursing and WaLa! You’ve got a new “breast” friend. HA. I crack myself up.  Seriously, this is an amazing product to help mommy’s breastfeed their tiny little humans.  I personally never used my Boppy, but I wore out MBF. Some gals use it the entire time they nurse.  I think I used it for about 3 or 4 months solid and then I felt comfortable enough to nurse my Bitzy without the help of MBF. It’s a great tool to get you started!
10. Video Monitor: This is a very recent purchase. Through all of our cry it out shenanigans with my Ihatesleepyou’llnevermakeme beautiful Bitzy, her Angel Care monitor kept going off because she was standing up in her crib or sitting on her knees or would fall asleep with her hands under her face and tush straight up in the air: hence her tiny little belly or chest wasn’t on the mattress, so the fantastic blaring alarm would sound.  A lot. Needless to say, the alarm sounding did nothing to aid in her falling asleep. I wonder why? Ugh.  So, we had to turn the monitor off as I sat wringing my hands convinced that simply turning the monitor off meant that she would die from SIDS. After 2 nights of this I asked my darling Zach if we could buy a video monitor to see what in the world my gorgeous child was doing in her crib (other than screaming bloody murder of course). Off I went to Babies R Us when I was having a particular terrible “I’m the worst mommy ever for letting my baby scream” day.  Never fear, a little retail therapy did the trick. Turns out that buying a video monitor was exactly what I needed in order to see what was happening with my girly. She’ll stand up and look toward the door and holler for a few minutes. Then, she’ll sit down and look at the door.  Then she’ll stand up and scream some more. Then, she’ll lay down for a few and back up again.  Finally after a few minutes she’ll lay down and sleep.  The power of the video monitor has worked wonders for me during our “Please, For the Love, Sleep Through the Night Campaign.”  We have the brand Summer, but I’m not in love with the brand, just the concept in general.
    

    Dual purpose: it's a carseat and a bed:).

11. In conclusion, The Chicco KeyFit Car Seat. This car seat has the highest safety rating, it’s slender, lightweight (until you’re toting around a 20 pound baby of course) and easy to get in and out of the car.  Being a crazy first time mama I researched and researched a car seat that would protect my precious cargo while in the car. While it’s pricey, it’s priceless to feel like your baby is safe while travelling.

So there ya have it!  There’s my Top 11 Baby Must Haves!

You’re Welcome.

Love to all!

Although I’ve lived away from my hometown for almost 8 years (which doesn’t seem possible), I still refer to my “home” as my sleepy itty bitty town in the mountains of North Carolina.  I suppose that I always will.

My father-in-law always says that the shortest way to a woman’s heart is through her Mama’s house, and I can’t really argue.  My heart is safe and happy at my Mama’s house.  It’s the house where I have a zillion memories of learning to fix my hair with a purple curling iron and burning myself countless times (I’ve still got the scars to prove it).  Nights that I spent talking on the phone to my random “boyfriends” about absolutely nothing for hours on end. Times when my brother and me would play Nintendo and he would treat me like his minion and I would hit, kick and holler at him but I secretly loved just being near him. All the days that my little sisters and me played with make-up and beauty shop.  So many memories and growing up has happened in my home sweet home.

It’s funny though, you know on commercials and movies when kids come home for the holidays or for visits and Folgers in brewing in the coffee pot and banana bread is baking in the oven?  The Mother is wearing an apron and vacuuming when her children pull up in a fancy SUV wearing North Face jackets and toboggans while snowing is pouring down.  She beams as her family trudges through the snow to meet her on the steps of their million dollar colonial mansion.  You know those commercials, right?

Well, that’s not how it is at my Mama’s house.  Nope, not at all.

For one thing, who drinks coffee in the middle of the day?  And more importantly, do some women just wear aprons around the house all day and night?  Is this 1953?  Also, in commercial land, do families ever get together when it’s not Christmas time?  And lastly, where is the Daddy and where does he work in order to pay for the mansion? I bet he’s a workaholic.

At my Mama’s house you have to fight 2 very hyper dogs to make it into the house.  When you finally make it in, you don’t see a museum filled with priceless antiques and oil paintings on every wall, and it’s surely not a mansion.  Bedrooms are traded and people are stashed in different bedrooms with old baby dolls and toys of the past, it’s certainly not like the movies or commercials.

It’s better.  Way better.

It’s a Mama who is your biggest fan who greets you with arms open wide and a smile that lights up her whole face.

It’s a house that holds secrets that will never be told.

It’s the smell of childhood and memories and love.

It’s the joy of family.

It’s home.

Nearly every day for the past four years I have I made my darling husbands lunch.  Even when we were dating, his neatly packed lunch was ready for him in the fridge every day when he left for work.

I’m not really sure how we began this tradition, but somewhere along the way it has become habit.

Before you go thinking I’m a totally awesome wife, hold your horses.

While I do make his lunches, I do have a few rules.

No ooey gooey things like sauces or mayo. Grody.

No lettuce or tomatoes on the sandwiches, way too much work.

No pickles ever. Totally and completely disgusting.

Just a note: mayonnaise grosses me out to such a severe degree that I can barely look at it, much less put it on a sandwich.  So although Zach has begged for it for all these years, I just can’t bare it.  It’s a small miracle that mustard makes in, as it grosses me out as well. Luckily, for Zach, the mustard is a squeeze bottle so I never actually have to touch anything.

Yes, I’m a huge girly girl.  What of it?

Anyhow, every day when Zach gets home from work he is ravenous.  I try to have his dinner ready when he gets home, but let’s face it, often it just doesn’t happen.

So one day in particular he comes home starving and I have chicken stir fry made for dinner (which he normally loves).

When he sees dinner on the stove I can sense his disappointment.  So I say in my 1950′s southern housewife voice, “Oh no honey! Would you like something besides stir fry?  I’ll make you whatever you’d like. How about a scotch to hold you over?”

Yeah right.

I confess that it was more like, “What, you don’t like it?  I worked really hard to have it done when you got home and the baby is clingy and I’m tired and, sniff sniff, you hate it and you hate me.”

Because I’m whiny and annoying and insecure.

Then, being the best husband EVAH, he comes over and hugs and kisses me and says that he loves it and appreciates me and how hard I work for our family.

If I were a 50′s housewife I would have let it go, instead, my annoyingly insecure self continues to ask why he hates stir fry and how long exactly has he hated me?

He should have shook me and told me to get ahold of myself, but instead he continued to encourage me and tell me how wonderful I was.

Told ya he’s a saint.

Finally, after he goes on and on about how much he loves me, I forget all about his hatred of all things stir fry and our dinner was wonderful.

After dinner he says, “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’m still hungry.”

I said, “Why are you still hungry? I made you 2 sandwiches for lunch today and stir fry for dinner.  You shouldn’t still be hungry.”

Then, in the sweetest most gentle voice my sweet soul-mate says, “Ya know, when you make my sandwiches, sometimes you get in a hurry and only put one piece of deli meat between the bread and throw in a granola bar. One time it wasn’t even a whole piece, it was half of a piece. No mayo, mustard, lettuce, tomato, anything.  That’s really not enough food for me to eat from 6am-5pm.  I get really hungry.”

Then, he practically closed his eyes and waited for my ultimate wrath to befall him.

Instead, much to his enjoyment, I began dying laughing.

“I only put one piece of deli meat in your sandwich? For real? What was I thinking?”

When he realized that I wasn’t going to fall all to pieces he continued to tell me about how my good deed of making his lunches are sometimes more like a small snack.

We laughed and laughed and laughed some more. He endlessly made fun of me of not putting mayo on the sandwiches and barely giving him any meat at all and I made fun of him for not telling me sooner.  As it turns out, my quest to make him lunch every day is more like me making lunch for a kindergartner. Silly me.

So much for my quest to get a #1 wife of the year t-shirt with a matching airbrushed license plate.

Maybe next year.

Now that it’s all out in the open I’m trying to put at least 2 slices of meat per sandwich:).

Ha! Makes me laugh.

Life is fun.

After 3 long days of  letting my girly cry it out and even longer nights of putting a pillow over my head while my precious child screamed her ever loving brains out, I am tired.

No, exhausted.

No, drained.

No, depressed.

No…THIRSTY.

All I want is a big huge mega size 44 ounce iced cold glass of chocolate milk.

Not the homemade stuff either.

I want Nesquik Chocolate Milk.

Ya know, the one with the little bunny.

When I was a kid I had a Nestle Quick bunny cup.  I’m assuming I had this rare treasure because my mama saved UPC codes or something…she’s that kind of mama.

In fact, I’m sorry that she’s not your mama.

Too bad, she’s mine all mine (well, and my brother and sisters too, but we all know that I’m her favorite).

Anyway, I digress, back to chocolate milk.

I just did a quick search to find out how many Weight Watcher points a 44 oz. glass of Nesquik Chocolate Milk would be, just for fun.

Holy freaking cow.

NOTE: The above nutrition facts are for one 8 ounce cup.  I want 5.5 cups to equal my 44 ouncer. That means that I would consume 1,100 calories, 27.5 grams of fat,  and only 5 grams of fiber.  In Nesquik’s defense, after drinking 44 ounces of milk I would be totally cool on my calcium consumption for the day.

That means that in the land of WW, I would drink 23 points in chocolate milk.

Ahem.  That’s more points than I would normally get in a day (except now that I’m breastfeeding I get 10 more than usual. Breastfeeding is da bomb).

Has anyone said “da bomb” since 1997?

Clearly I’m not going to drink 44 ounces of Nesquik. Let’s face it, I’m not going to drink 3 ounces of Nesquik.

Why?

1. Way, way, way too many points for a beverage.  I want my points to be actual food.

2. We don’t have any and it’s too late to go anywhere.  Nothing good happens after midnight after all….especially at the affectionately named “Ghetto Kroger” down the street from our house.  It’s not exactly fancy. It frequents a weird mix of hippies, rappers and rich women who may have killed their husbands for the money.  Needless to say, I’d rather not make an appearance after midnight.

3. I would rather drink my chocolate milk in my Nesquik bunny cup and it’s not here, it’s at my mama’s house…so I’ll wait and simply obsess about how much I want Nesquik ’til I can drink it ice cold from my bunny cup.

Yes, I just said, “My bunny cup.”

Yes, I’m 30 years old.

And yes, in case you’re wondering, I will probably sleep with my girl tonight when she wakes up hollering because I cannot take one more night of letting her cry, and I’m fine with that. My heart needs a break from the endless screaming like she is being flogged publicly.

To be honest, I wouldn’t mind cuddling up with my mama after the trauma of the past few days.

Some things never change.

Here’s to sweet Mama’s and bunny cups!!!

How can I let this precious little person cry it out??? How, I ask?

My dear readers I have a confession: as it turns out,  I’m a push over.

I know that you are shocked.

I can’t handle the crying, the sobbing, the screaming, the soul altering terrifying shrills that come out of my tiny little perfect offspring.

I just can’t.

See, told ya I’m a push over.

After reading and re-reading all the comments you kind people wrote on my last schedule blog (read it here), and having many, many conversations and pep talks with my darling husband and being obsessed with reading different articles and blogs about how to make a child who’s greatest enemy is sleep, to well, sleep…I think I’m ready(ish) to really give sleep training a fair shot.

Let’s face it, I haven’t exactly been committed to the cause.

I just can’t stand to see my baby crying, sad, or upset. It makes me cry and breaks my heart.  The mental picture of her standing at the edge of her crib screaming, “MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA” makes me want to vomit and then run in and swoop her up and promise to never let her whimper again.

Okay, forget it. No sleeping training for us.  I can’t handle it.

This is what happens in my brain on and off every day. It’s a battle that I’m not winning.

But, here’s the thing- she’s not sleeping well and I’m not either.  It’s not good for Bitzy or Mama.  Granted, we are both extremely attached to each other.  She wants me all the time, and let’s face it, I want her right back. During the day time hours, it works beautifully.  We play, crawl, go for walks and sleep together and it’s pure bliss. But at night, she’s sleeping in 3 hour increments (8:00pm-11:00pm and 11:00pm-2:00am) the first part of the night (take note that I nurse her at 11:00pm when she wakes up and rock her back to sleep with little problem), but then at 2:00am the battle begins. If I get her back to sleep (after nursing and rocking) and lay her down she’s normally up by 3:30am and then I almost always can’t get her back to sleep in her crib without her screaming.  However, when I bring her bed with us and hold her she’s falls back to sleep with no problem until 7:30-8:00am.

This system works much better than her waking up every 30 minutes throughout the night, which was so 3 months ago. Although 6 months ago she was sleeping much better than she is now (hmmm…I wonder why?).

So, I suppose progress has been made (sort of).

Our current system is fine, except that Zach really doesn’t like her in our bed and neither Bitzy or I sleep very well.  Sure, we are cozy and comfy and in love, but I’m a wreck that she’s going to suffocate and she likes to waller me to death, hence, sleeping after 2:00am is at a minimum.

Basically: it’s time for a change.

But I have some questions for you, my expert readers…please advise me.

1. We have a bedtime routine that we’ve done since she was 6 weeks old. Reading, Bath, Nursing/Rocking to sleep. 5 out of 7 nights (estimation) she falls asleep as I’m nursing her. So, I normally don’t lay her down when she’s awake.  You say to lay her down awake…how?  Is that a big issue that we have?

2. When she wakes up in the middle of the night I’m going in, picking her up and then nursing/rocking her back to sleep. Do I still do that? If so, when I lay her down and she cries do I not pick her up then?  This middle of the night stuff is very confusing to me.

3. Since I’m breastfeeding and she’s waking up every 3 hours (almost on the dot), do you think she’s hungry?  She’s not eating solid food very well and is basically exclusively breastfed, could our sleep issues be hunger issues?

4. Would it be better for me or Zach to handle her crying?  Does it matter?  Can we both do it?

5. If I don’t do anything at all and just wait it out, will she ever sleep all night?

6. Can I have a piece of coconut pie?  All this sleep talk is stressful.

7. She’s teething and generally uncomfortable. Should I wait to do this training nonsense ’til she cuts more teeth?

8. Can I hire a professional to come and do this for me? (just kidding- sort of).

9. Zach made me promise that if she cries between 8:00pm-11:00pm that I would “let him take care of it,” basically meaning that I sit in the basement crying with a pillow over my head while he lets her scream bloody murder for her mama.  Anyway, we made this deal 2 nights ago and last night she made it to 11:04pm (Hooray!), but tonight she only made it to 8:34pm.  I lose, Zach wins.  Needless to say, he’s upstairs “taking care of it.” (note: she only screamed for 4 minutes and then went back to sleep. Zach feels like this is “proof” that she’s ready). Is she ready? Am I?

10. I need pie. Pronto.

Please let me know your thoughts.  I know that I’m probably doing everything wrong, so please have mercy on me.  I’m basically a basket case and ultra sensitive about it (me? never), so take it easy on me.

PS: I’m not even thinking about naps, bedtime is about all I can handle right now.  Plus, the thoughts of our night-times snuggles being taken away makes our naps together all the more precious.

PPS: I’ve read several books. Babywise, 90 Minute Nap Solutions, Good Night Sleep Tight, Happiest Baby on the Block…etc, etc. The books are full of stories of successes and lots of information, but they haven’t really made an impact on me. I want personal stories, from real life people- YOU.  I wanna know what worked for you!!!

PPS: Who’s bringing me a pie?

We had a great family day today, full with the zoo, a community bluegrass festival and picnic and lots and lots of playtime.  It wasn’t even scorching hot, it was only blazing hot…there is, in fact, a difference.

It was just what we needed, a good old fashion day-o-fun.

Ya know what’s included in a day of fun?  Sunscreen, water bottles, sweaty clothes, basically a big fat mess. Not that I mind, but it’s the simple truth, fun=mess.  Or at least it does in this family.

So, after we gave our precious one a bath, Zach, being the most darling husband in the whole wide world, went to get me a kitchen full of fruit and I put her to sleep.  After she went down, I went on a mission to finish my daily chores and clean up our day-o-fun.

Here’s the rundown…

1. Water the flowers in the front and back of house.

2. Wash dishes/toys.

3. Put leftovers away (“leftovers” would insinuate that I actually cooked, which would mean that I went to the grocery store. No you silly’s, we ordered pizza, so the leftovers included me putting the box in the refrigerator. I can’t seem to drag myself to the store, which means that our choices for dinner were either peanut butter or a can of corn…therefore, Papa Johns to the rescue).

4. Laundry.

5. Pick up toys.

6. Straighten up house.

7. Take out trash.

So, after my list was completed, I breathed a sigh of relief (I literally sighed an “Ahhhhhh” out loud as I sat down to write this little story), and no kidding, my darling child began crying on the monitor.

Really??????

So, here I go, to rock, soothe and love (since I am simply not ready for the whole sleep training thing. I was for about 10 seconds and now I’m over it.  More to come on that I’m sure).

Finally, she’s back asleep.

So, I go back downstairs and sit down yet again.  I let out another “Ahhhhhh” and, you guessed it, she starts crying again.

It’s like she knows that I’m having fun without her and she just can’t stand it.

Here I go again, I rock, kiss, shhhhh and cuddle, and finally, she sleeps.

And then, I hear it.

Fireworks.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the 4th of July.  I’m as patriotic as they come, I cry just thinking about Lee Greenwood singing, “God Bless The USA,” but I’ve never cared that much about fireworks.

Ya know what can take my “I’ve never cared that much about fireworks” and turn it into “Fireworks are my mortal enemy and I want to personally wring the neck of every person that is firing off a bottle rocket in a 10 mile radius”???

An 8 month old baby that is the lightest sleeper in the history of the world.

And she’s crying again…

StupidgoodfornothingIhateyourgutsalwayshavefireworks.

In the land of Mommy Blogs it’s the cool thing to do to write your babies a letter every month.

I am not nearly cool enough to do this, as I am constantly a day late and a dollar short, but I figure it’s better late than never, right?

So here I go…

My Sweetheart,

You are 8 months old and I can’t even believe it. In some ways it feels as if I just found out that you were blossoming in my womb, and in others I feel as if you have been in my arms forever…that you were always with me, even before you were born.  That God put me on this earth to marry your daddy and to be your mama and to do my very best to glorify Him with each precious day.  And ya know what?  That is enough for me.  The joy that I experience each day by living life with your daddy and you is more than I deserve.  I am so grateful for you both.

With each passing day, our bond grows stronger baby.  You are certainly a mama’s girl and I couldn’t be happier about that.  I will never grow tired of you reaching for me, wrapping your little arms around my neck and holding on for dear life, and when I put you down, you cry until I pick you up again.  I am thrilled to be “your person.”  I hope that I can always be a safe place for you to come and allow me to hold you when you are scared, tired and feeling insecure.

We are having a few sleep issues these days, aren’t we?  I confess that if it were up to me, you would sleep in bed with your daddy and me ’til you turn 45 (but that’s were we draw the line.  At 45 years old you need to sleep on a mattress on the floor beside our bed).  But unfortunately, at some point you are going to have to learn to sleep in your crib without me picking you up all night long and eventually bringing you in bed and snuggling with you all night…but not yet.  We’re not ready yet are we baby?  Maybe soon…maybe not.  We’ll see. For now we are both loving our snuggles throughout the night.  I’m treasuring every morning with you as you wake up to brave the day.  You wake up slowly and gently. You bury your fluffy blond hair into my chest and kiss me.  You smile as you look into my eyes and I smile right back.

You are growing and developing so rapidly that it’s overwhelming.  You are a master crawler now.  You’ve been at it for a month and you are fast and efficient about getting what you want.  You’re also pulling up, which just about gives me a heart attack.  With each tumble I try and catch you, I’m not ready to let you fall and learn on your own.  I want to buy you a helmet and pads like a football player but your daddy won’t let me!  I just want to bundle you up and protect you from this world, but I know that isn’t what I’m called to do as your mommy….but again, I’m just not ready for you to grow so quickly. I’m hoping that together we can figure out a way for you to thrive and we can teach my heart how to catch up.  It will be an adventure for us both.

You also waved “Hi” last night.  You may as well have won the Noble Peace Prize we all went so bananas.  Daddy, Me, Gammy and Pa were there to see it and we all cheered and waved and clapped our hands.  We will always cheer you on little one.  You are so loved by so many. In fact, I think you are the most loved little person in the whole wide world.

But ya know what?  No one, and I mean no one in this whole wide big beautiful world, except God loves you more than me.  Nobody.  You are my sweet baby girl and you’ve got me wrapped around your perfect little finger.

Love you forever and ever,

Mama

This is my girl at 4:00am. Being all cute and precious.

Ya know how some mommy’s are die hard schedulers?   They have perfect little tiny humans who know exactly when they are supposed to take a nap and when mommy lays them down and they smile, lay on their backs (NOT the dreaded belly), and drift off to dreamland where they sleep peacefully for 2 hours without a peep.

Bedtime is equally pleasant.  They are laid down in their cribs awake and they put themselves to sleep and stay there sleeping for 12 hours straight.

Ya know those people, right?

Well, I’m not one of ‘em.

Nope, not all.

As it turns out, I’ve never been much for schedules. I’m a bit too free spirited for that.  So, when 7 million people told me that babies love schedules I gave it a shot with my Bitzy when she was around 3 months old.

It went a little something like this…

Mama: “Okay honey bunny, it’s time for a nap. I’m going to lay you down and you’re going to sleep for 2 hours straight.”

Baby: “WWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWAAA” (screams that made all my hair stand on end and made tears burn my eyes).

Mama: “Come on baby, let’s give it a shot. Everyone says that schedules are best.  Work with me here.”

Baby: “WWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWAAA” (louder screams that totally cracked the Great Wall of China).

Mama: “Please baby, it’s for the best.  Don’t make me pick you up, everyone said not to pick you up, but just to stand here and let you cry. Be easy on me, I can’t let you cry, so please oh please just go to sleep.”

Baby: “WWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWAAA” (the loudest screams that have ever come out of a baby in the history of the world, I think they actually shook the core of the earth).

Mama:  ”Okey Dokey.  The end.  We’re done.”

So, I picked her up and declared that she was much too young for to cry it out and I held her tight and cried right along with her.  Then we both collapsed in the corner of the couch and sleep peacefully for (you guessed it) 2 hours.

Since then, she naps in my arms about 99% of the time, and I love it.  I absolutely do not regret spending endless hours cuddled up with my girly, but I do know that all good things must come to an end.

I want to work toward her napping in the crib at least part of the time and not waking up 2, 3, 4, or 5 times a night.

The tricky thing about this is that she has never ever been a good sleeper. Not ever. So it’s tough to consider that there may be a few tears before she learns to sleep through the night.

So, the past 2 nights Zach has been in charge of letting her cry a little…not me.  Never, never, me. I just can’t hack it.  In fact, last night at 4:00am she woke up, wide awake and ready to party. After all of Zach’s work with letting her cry, what did I do? I picked her up, feed, her, and rocked her.  Finally after 45 minutes of her just staring in my eyes as if to say, “You know I’m not going back to sleep right?” I caved and brought her in the bed with us…and miraculously she went right to sleep in my arms.

I’m so torn on this because I know that she has to learn to sleep on her own, but yet, she’s only little a little while.  I cherish our nighttime snuggles.

So I suppose this is to be continued as there is absolutely no end in sight, however, I would love to know your little stories about how to sleep train a child who is the sweetest most adorable little person in the world to you.

Teach me!!!!

If you missed Part One click here to catch up…

So, as you’ll remember I signed up for Birdwatching as an “easy out” for a science credit my last semester of college.  The funny thing about “easy outs” is there aren’t any. Ever.

I bet that the kid that cheated on his finals would agree.  Or the athlete that took steroids and got caught.  Or the girl that almost failed a class because she assumed it was easy…

Oh wait, that’s me.

I know this will come as a shock to you, but I wasn’t exactly the model Birdwatching student. Getting up at 7:30am 3 days a week to go look and listen to birds seemed terribly lame and frankly, I had better things to do.  Things like, laying on the couch watching 7th Heaven with my roommates.

I was really busy.

So, when the first test rolled around and we had to answer about the anatomy of little Tweetie and be able to name all of his little songs, I was, ahem, screwed.  Really screwed.

So, I guessed and guessed and guessed.

As an expert guesser in college, I wasn’t at all nervous to get the test back.  After all, this was the easiest class ever, right?

58.

I got a freaking 58 on the test.  Unbelievable.

Looking back, it’s actually unbelievable that I got 58% right.  But at the time, I was appalled.

Did this professor not realize that this class was supposed to be easy?  Hello?

So, after my 58, I started going to class more and attempted to learn about my little forest friends.

But, honestly, I just don’t care about birds.  I didn’t then and I don’t know.

So, I wasn’t exactly “into it.”

(An interesting note to remember is that my final semester in college is when I met the love of my life and husband.  It’s possible that I was a wee bit distracted).

Fast forward to the end of the semester, I was gearing up to graduate, interviewing for jobs, taking road trips with friends, cementing myself on the couch with my roomies to soak in every last second, and falling in love.

Ah, sweet bliss.

The fine print is that I wasn’t studying.  I couldn’t really fit it in.  I was much too busy socializing to study.

Duh.

So, when finals came around I leisurely took them and was happy to close the door on my semester of my math and science nightmares.  But then, my Birdwatching professor sent me a note to come and see him.

I assumed that he wanted to thank me for making his class so much fun. While I wasn’t an expert birdwatcher, I did keep everyone entertained (or so I thought, I was probably extremely annoying if we’re honest with ourselves).

So I pranced down to the science building to bid goodbye to my good old professor.

I bounced in his office with a big smile and said, “Hey Coach!” (My antics didn’t end in high school.  If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it).

He smiled and asked me to sit down.  Then he proceeded to tell me that he was going to fail me because my final grade was too low.

Whwhwhaaaaaaaattttttttt?????????   NoNONoNONoNO!

I calmly said, “Oh, there must be some mistake.  I already have a job (which I did not, just for the record) for the summer.  I simply can’t fail.”

Just like that.  I basically told a 65 year old man with 40 years teaching experience that he was wrong and that I wouldn’t allow him to fail me.

Unfortunately he didn’t buy it.

He proceeded to say that he was sorry but he had never passed anyone with a final grade as low as mine and that he just couldn’t do it.

This my friends, is when the actress is me reared her Academy Award winning head.

“But, Professor, you have no idea what’s it’s like to really, really, really want something and not be able to do it.  I want to understand Birdwatching, I LOVE birds, but I just can’t.  I can’t learn about them, they are too beautiful.  Too complex. They are beyond what I can grasp.”  Then, I ashamedly got on my hands and knees and said, “Please sir, please don’t fail me.  I have a bright future that needs to begin now.  Not in a few months.  Please give me this gift.  Please.”

I would like to thank the Academy.

Then, you’ll never believe what happened.

He bought it. I fully expected him to laugh in my face and banish me to summer school.  But instead, he smiled and said, “I understand honey. I understand.”

He told me to visit an all day seminar about wildflowers and birds at a near by state park and then he would pass me with a C.  A big beautiful C.

That is the most beautiful C that has ever been given.

So, that’s the little story about Birds. It could have ended much worse.  Although, my only recurring nightmare is that I forgot to take my math and science credits in college so I can’t graduate.

I guess in the end, the Birds are still after me.

Zach and me in beautiful Mexico!

Ya know the song, My Funny Valentine?  I think it’s weird and a    little bit of a downer.  Who writes a love song in a minor key  anyway?  It sounds like a Halloween song…and I HATE  Halloween.

Anyway, despite the song, I have my very own funny Valentine.

I love Zach for a zillion reasons.  But for time and space purposes  here are ten reasons that my man is better than yours!!!

PS:  These are in no particular order…

1. He is seriously the funniest person that I’ve ever met.  Ever. Sure he has a healthy dose of cheesy in his humor (he is John Nelson’s son after all), but no matter how you slice it, he’s a funny dude.

2.  He is completely in love with me.  Does that make me vain that I love him because he loves me?  Obviously that’s not the only reason that I love him, but it is kind of a miracle to love someone who loves you back, right?

3. He tells me several times a day, every day- that I am the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.  Is he a liar?  Of course!  But I love him for it and I never tire of hearing it.

4.  He is a strong leader for our family.  He is encouraging and kind, but yet he doesn’t let me get away with being nuts either.  As you know, I’m a little cuckoo.  He helps to settle me down and lead our family in the right direction.

5. He loves God and strives to serve Him every day and He encourages me with my walk with Jesus as well.

6. He really loves his parents.  This may seem like a lame reason to love my man, but I think it’s important to appreciate your roots.  He admires them so much and has made it a priority in our marriage to spend time with them and learn a thing or two from their commitment of 35 years.

7. He is absolutely precious with Bitzy.  We spend a great deal of time just staring at her in disbelief that we made her.  He is just as amazed at her as I am.

8. He loves every single meal that I’ve ever made for him.  Granted, I’m not ashamed to say that I’m a decent cook.  Definitely not the greatest, but I can hold my own in the kitchen, but sometimes I stray from recipes.  OK fine, I’ve never actually followed a recipe and sometimes that leads to interesting concoctions…but he has never once complained.

Mexico again...best.time.ever.

9. He is a fantastic artist.  He can create anything and make it beautiful. I love that he is strong and strapping, but can also pull out a pencil and draw something incredible.

10.  He is famous for being amazingly strong.  He is the “go-to” guy when people are moving.  Maybe it’s because he once carried a couch up a flight of stairs…by himself.  He’s like Superman…

My Superman.

11. (OK, fine, I can’t stop)- He is 100% my soul mate and I am his…

Happy Valentines Day my love…you’re my favorite.