Highs and Lows

Painting the Nursery
High: It's done! Well, we have yet to remove the tape to discover what touching up needs to be done, but it's very, very close to being done.

Low: My involvement here was limited, so there's not much to complain about. I'm sure the husband could offer up an earful. Mostly, I had to offer my acceptance of the color once on the wall, then keep the kid out of the way.

It's hard to tell here, but the color is exactly the pale pink I was hoping for. It's not obviously pink at all on the wall, which I love.



Potty Training
Highs: Few and far between. In all fairness, I think this is how it usually goes. The exception, of course, being those parents who tell you that their child trained themselves. I would like one of those children next time, please.

Lows: Too many to count. I think potty training may be even more stressful than the many, many months that Bub did not sleep through the night. And, judging by the entire shelf dedicated to baby and child sleep books, that was a very stressful time in this house. We hadn't initially intended to start potty training now, but we had some early success introducing the potty and we decided to capitalize on his interest. While he likes the occasional piece of candy in exchange for a quick pee before bathtime, he's not particularly interested in interrupting his daily schedule of Clifford and playing trains for running to the potty at regular intervals. I'm one pee on the floor away from putting him back in a diaper and calling it a day.

Grocery Shopping
High: Golden Oreos.

Low: None, obviously, see above.

Bubble Gum & Cotton Candy. No, Not What I Had for Breakfast.

I totally lied.

This weekend, the husband is painting the nursery pink.

A very, very pale pink. A pink that I hope is just this side of soothing and not at all Pepto-Bismol. A pink that may very well have driven the Home Depot employee crazy as I handed her the paint chip we had chosen, then proceeded to hem and haw about whether or not it was TOO pink.

Pink.

Pictures to follow.

Ready. Or Not.

I've been looking forward to the day Bub would start preschool for a while now. Particularly since I found out we're having another baby, I thought it would be nice for him to get out of the house for a little bit, to have something that's just his, and for me to have some alone time with the baby. I've been counting down the months until September. Many of my fears and anxieties about dealing with two children have been helped by the idea that at least two days per week for a few hours, there will just be one. Not that I think infants are easy, but there is the appeal of being in Target with someone who's not asking for a snack, or to get down or to go THAT WAY.

Husband took last Thursday morning off of work today so we could go check out our short list of preschools, since registration for some of them starts as early as next week. We're lucky that even the good preschools aren't super competitive provided you register early. This is not the case for friends who live just a few minutes away and have had to be on waiting lists since before their kids could crawl.

I was watching Bub play before we left and was suddenly struck with the feeling that I'm not ready! I'll miss all of this cuteness! He neeeeds me!

Granted, some of this is hormonal. My feelings about what this second baby will do for him run the gamut from He'll love being a big brother! to What have I DONE to him? We've ruined his life!

At one point, during one of the tours we were talking about ways to help him transition into school, including a few summer classes. Then she laughed and said, "Regardless, on the first day of school, all of the parents drop their kids off, then stand in the hallway crying together." Just the idea leaving him, regularly no less, had me pulling my sunglasses down from their perch on top of my head to cover my misty eyes.

This is just the beginning. Two days a week for a few hours. Then it's kindergarten daily, then school ALL DAY, then he'll be sixteen and I'll never see him unless he needs money or a ride, because let's face it, I certainly can't let him drive that weapon of mass destruction we call a car.

Hormonal or not, I'm having a hard time letting go of my baby. Although we keep verbalizing the fact that he's a Big Boy Now! I still want him to be my baby. I've spent much of the last two and a half years looking forward. Hoping for the next milestone, rushing him to walk and talk. I could kick myself for teaching him that fruit is not pronounced "schloop" and that big metal thing is called and elevator, not and "obeegaya."

Then, last night, we had a milestone. We dropped him off in the church nursery. Rather than the complete meltdown we've become accustomed to, he let a few tears fall, then looked straight at husband and I. With a trembling lip and a nod he announced, "Mommy and Daddy will come back to get you real soon." He then turned, slid down the slide into the playroom and was willingly led to the train table. That was it. No sobbing. No peeling him off of us. No waiting outside the room for him to calm down (usually within 60 seconds of our departure.) He was ready.

We were not.

Ch-Ch-Changes

I was only half-kidding when I made resolutions for my two year old. What I didn't realize, was that only 47-ish days into the year he would be two-thirds of the way through his goals for the year.

We've been talking about giving up the paci for a long, long time now. He knows that when he gives it up, there's a Thomas the Train backpack in his future. Personally, I am not a fan of things with licensed characters all over them, but our neighbor has the backpack and nothing will do but he has one too. Saturday night I asked him if he was ready to give up his paci and be a big boy. He said okay and handed it over. I'm thoroughly convinced he had no idea what he was signing on for, but I put the paci away and told husband to be strong.

I was fully prepared to give in the event of tears or hysterics, but a few minutes later husband turned off Bub's light and closed his door. Other than a few minutes of whimpering eased by an extra goodnight hug, he was down for the night. He has asked for it a few times, but accepts the you're a big boy now explanation and moves on.

And, he's now the proud owner of a Thomas backpack.

Monday afternoon his new bed was delivered. We spent the morning dissembling and reassembling his furniture in what will be the nursery. He ran back and forth from room to room thoroughly confused and we emphasized what a Big Boy he is now! What a nice brother to give his crib to his sister! We even promised him dinner in a restaurant that night which to him means grilled cheese and apple juice and possibly french fries if the only kids meal alternative to fries is broccoli (Seriously Cheesecake Factory? Broccoli? What kid has EVER ordered that? How about some fruit or even carrots if it must be a veggie?)

Naptime was rough, but naptime has been rough for a while. Since he still eventually falls asleep, takes a decent nap and goes to bed at night without a problem I refuse to consider the possibility that naptime is coming to an end. REFUSE. Don't even mention it. He did eventually fall asleep even after asking for his bed. We are in your bed, buddy. No, I want MY bed. This is YOUR bed, friend.

Bedtime was a snap and we've continued with the nap struggle/easy bedtime routine since then. He's even learning how to help make his bed, if by help you mean saying, Mommy needs to make the bed now as soon as we're up for the day.

Still, I think he likes it.


And, he's growing up too fast.

They're baaaack

We've been experiencing some glorious weather lately. I know, I know, the worst day in Southern California would be preferable to a "nice winter day" most places, but it's all relative. On Sunday afternoon we were sitting outside and Bub wanted go inside and we said NO because it was so nice outside we didn't want to leave.

There appear to be some unfortunate side effects to this change.



Do you see him (her?) In the summer we're overrun with these bad boys. They sun themselves on my patio furniture and then, when they've had enough, they settle in for a nap right behind the pillows only to make an appearance right when you least expect it. One jumped into my husband's lap last summer and I've never sat on that chair since. And if you startle them? They JUMP.

This is not fair. It's only February. Shouldn't these bastards still be hibernating, or slithering south or doing whatever it is they do when it gets cold? Have they been fooled into a false Spring? Forecast calls for rain this weekend guys, run, RUN!

A word to the wise: Should you find yourself in the same predicament, Do. Not. Google. You will be met with up close photos. Also? It would appear that many people are trying to remove lizards FROM THEIR HOMES. Mark my words, should a lizard ever find it's way into my home I will burn this place to the ground.

My Funny Valentine: The Best Laid Plans

We've never really celebrated Valentine's Day in a big way. We were already engaged by the time we spent our first Valentine's Day together and we went to one of those paint your own pottery places. SHUT UP. It was fun. I made something that has since broken and husband made a piggy bank that now sits in Bub's room. As far as I can remember that was the last time we made date-y plans for Valentine's Day.

Last year we decided to take Bub to Build-A-Bear.

This picture is all kinds of misleading. Looks like he loved it, right?


Wrong. He hated it. I finally sent husband off to entertain him and I finished the bear on my own, without tears.

I had been wanting to take him to Goofy's Kitchen for his birthday, but given that there's a baby due within days of his birthday we had to bump things up a bit. It would appear that we've started a tradition of doing something fun with the kid(s) for Valentine's Day and that's just fine with me.

Except I should probably learn from the past.

He couldn't have been happier about the idea of Goofy visiting him.


He could, however, have done without some of the other characters.



But finally, his wish was granted.


I mean, come ON. Who needs an overpriced prix fixe menu when there's that? Not to mention the Mickey Mouse pancakes.

Mmmm, pancakes.

Of Fat Fingers and Fake Rings

Last night I was messing around with my engagement ring and realize it was a bit tight. I immediately relocated it from my finger to an upstairs drawer, lest we find the fire department removing it in the next several months.

If my last pregnancy is any indication, my wedding ring, which for some reason is a half size larger than the engagement ring, will cease to fit shortly. Last time around I picked up various cheapie rings, changing them out when my finger turned green or when the fake stones fell out in the shower. This time, I'm hoping to find one, nice-ish ring to last me until the end and for a few months beyond until my fingers return no their non-sausage like status.

I'm kind of leaning toward this one, from Banana Republic.


This one is a little more fun, but I'm not sure if I'll love it enough to make it a daily staple. I'm terrible about changing jewelry out. I wear the same pair of earring for weeks on end.



This one I think I like the best, but it's the most expensive and I don't see myself wearing it once my rings fit again. Would it look ridiculous on my right hand?


Votes?

Games, Redux

He has a new favorite game.

Catch.

Because my kid is awesome, he insists that I sit on the couch while we play. He also insists that the small beach ball is the ball that must be used for this game. That ball couldn't break anything even at close range. Even if the thing were being beaten with that ball, it probably wouldn't break. Even if that thing were a lightbulb.

If there's a wild throw (usually mine, occasionally his) he takes off after it, every time. Myturnmyturnmyturn!

Motherhood is awesome.

Kind of like nesting, but with a deadline

Last week Bub climbed/fell out of his crib. I'm not entirely sure if he was attempting to climb out or if he just leaned too far over the edge, but he landed on the floor in a heap. While this answers the when question about moving him to a bed, I'm still not entirely ready for this change.

Nonetheless, we went bed shopping last weekend and while they could have delivered the bed that day, we decided that we needed a week to get things in order.

See, we can't move the bed into his room without moving the crib out. We can't move the crib out of his room into the office/someday nursery, until the desk and bookshelves are out. We can't relocate the desk and bookshelves until, well, you get the picture.

So we have seven days left in which to get ready for this delivery. Seven days of downsizing and tossing sentimentality out the window in favor of making space.

Since we had to consolidate from three bookshelves to two, I had to make Sophie's Choice-like decision about which books got to stay. Over 100 books have been loaded into husband's car on their way to library donations and teacher's lounge giveaways. He suggested we just toss them in the recycling bin. but the look of horror on my face brought about a quick retraction.

I also downsized our bulky filing cabinet into two small filing boxes that fit nicely wherever I want them too. We have kept everything since moving into this house. Every paid bill, every owner's manual, every invoice. Everything. Piles of paper went to the shredder. Keep the pets' vaccinations records, toss the grooming receipts. Keep recent statements from accounts that are currently open, toss bills from a cable company that we haven't used in three years.

I boxed up all of my scrapbooking supplies for a friend who will use them and made the pleasant discovery that I had abandoned Bub's scrapbook at the one year mark. Almost as if it were intentional!

Fortunately, I had cleaned out our desk drawers weeks ago in a fit of nesting, because I can become particularly attached to my variety of Post-it notes.

A few big projects remain along with a LOT of organizing. We've bribed a few friends into coming over next weekend to help move the big items up and downstairs. The good news is that once all of the big moving is done, I can get down to the fun part of decorating the nursery and single-handedly supporting Etsy businesses.

Mental Spending

We finished and filed our taxes over the weekend, most definitely the earliest we've ever completed them.

While we were on our little Vegas trip a few weeks ago, we sat at lunch and made a list of all of the things we would like to do with our taxes. For three out of the past four years, we've used that money to go on vacation (2006: Maui, 2007: newborn, 2008: Alaska, 2009: New York.) 2010 is another newborn year, so we're staying home, which is good since we've got big plans.

Here's the entire list.

Repairs to husband's car. Not urgent, but necessary within the next several months.

Bed for Bub. Even though his crib converts to a toddler bed, we'll need the crib for the baby, so our plan is to go straight to the twin bed. Since he climbed/fell out of his crib this morning, this is more of an urgent need than we originally thought.

Bub's birthday party Even though his birthday isn't until June, we've already chosen a date for the party and a theme. (Clifford, naturally.) Since baby girl no-name is due ten days before his birthday, we're having his party a month before his actual birthday.

New Couch We bought a new couch for our family room last year, but the living room couch has a smell. A smell suspiciously like cat pee. Our cats were very, very upset with the house/pet sitters we left them with once and they peed all over their luggage, which happened to be on the couch. Despite our best efforts, the smell remains. This item is non-negotiable for me.

Baby Stuff: This includes clothes, nursery decor, and everything else a baby could possibly need. We saved all of the big stuff from Bub, but there's still plenty we need. This is one area where I'm going to have to make some serious decisions between need and want.

Carpet for the kids' bedrooms This is at the bottom of my list but the top of my husband's list. Currently the two smaller bedrooms have hardwood flooring that I like, and he hates.

Replace backyard fence Blah. Boring. Necessary. Fortunately, we can split the cost with our neighbor.

Thanks to the power of direct deposit, we'll have our money soon. Even though I trust that it's actually going to arrive in my account, husband has strictly forbid me from spending until we actually have the money. There's probably a good reason to have one responsible partner in the relationship. Until then, I'm taking suggestions on any an all cute baby items I should squee over.