Nora turned nine months old on Saturday. I can't even begin to believe how fast time is moving now that I have a kid. It seems like once she got here, hours, minutes, and days suddenly changed their unit of measure. Sure, I thought time flew at times before Nora came, but there's something about a growing child that makes you really note the time passing. Maybe it's because you can actually see the kid grow—right in front of your very eyes. Maybe it's because there's so much growing that a child does in its first year. I don't know. All I know is: I'd better stop and look around once in awhile, or I might miss it (little nod to Ferris Beuller there).
She gave me a run for my money on Saturday. We had a serious poop-o-rama incident in her room when I went to change her that evening. She sat up, pooped on the changing table (while I was trying to locate some wet wipes), and then when I put her on the floor (naked—I was still trying to clean up the mess on the table, but I didn't have any place to put a diaper on her before I got the mess cleaned up), she proceeded to poop (diarrhrea) in three other areas on the floor in her room (within seconds, it seemed). It was NUTS! I spent a good half hour or 45 minutes cleaning up that wild mess after that incident. It's a good thing Willis was home to watch Nora for me while I cleaned it all up: I don't know what I'd have done there. In retrospect, I wish I had thought to just drop her naked butt into the empty bath tub. That way, if she had pooped or peed anymore, I'd just have to hose out the bathtub really well instead of cleaning a rug and the floor. Live and learn, I guess.
I'm actually posting this in stolen time: Nora flatly refused a morning nap today. So, I pulled her out of her crib, let her wander around the upstairs (while I vacuumed up here), and just when I started to feed her lunch, she passed out in her high chair. I immediately grabbed her up and plopped her in her bed. I'm interested to see how long she sleeps this afternoon. She's already been asleep for about 40 minutes. I actually have a video of her looking sleepy just moments before I took her down to her high chair for lunch (where she fell asleep). Check this out:
Monday, October 13, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
Three Things
Firstly, as we were going to bed last night (close to 10 p.m., which is pretty late for us), our doorbell rang. Willis was already fast asleep, and I had to practically shake him awake to let him know the doorbell rang (lucky punk). He was still speaking gibberish as I was slapping on some normal-looking pants to go to the door, and then, I finally turned to him and said, "You know what? I kind-of afraid to go answer the door by myself."
By that moment, he started regaining consciousness, and he said, "Want me to go with you?"
Then, he started to make even more sense, and he said, "No. Wait. You stay here."
I hung out in the stairwell while he answered the door (huge pansy that I am), and I listened to see if I could be of any assistance. It turns out: it was a Papa Johns pizza guy. He asked, "Did you guys order a pizza?"
Willis said, "No. We're going to bed."
"Oh! Sorry to bother you guys."
That's right, jerk. You're just lucky you didn't wake up our kid.
Willis said he felt kind-of bad for the guy. He apparently looked rather lost. Then, in retrospect, he finally said, "Did the guy not look at the address before he rang our doorbell at after 10 p.m.?"
I retorted with, "Seriously," and then I wasn't tired for, like, at least a half hour because my heart was racing madly.
Secondly, this guy is my brother. He looks like one of those styley Chicago people I see in myCommunication Arts magazines.
Thirdly, this video will surely make you smile.
By that moment, he started regaining consciousness, and he said, "Want me to go with you?"
Then, he started to make even more sense, and he said, "No. Wait. You stay here."
I hung out in the stairwell while he answered the door (huge pansy that I am), and I listened to see if I could be of any assistance. It turns out: it was a Papa Johns pizza guy. He asked, "Did you guys order a pizza?"
Willis said, "No. We're going to bed."
"Oh! Sorry to bother you guys."
That's right, jerk. You're just lucky you didn't wake up our kid.
Willis said he felt kind-of bad for the guy. He apparently looked rather lost. Then, in retrospect, he finally said, "Did the guy not look at the address before he rang our doorbell at after 10 p.m.?"
I retorted with, "Seriously," and then I wasn't tired for, like, at least a half hour because my heart was racing madly.
Secondly, this guy is my brother. He looks like one of those styley Chicago people I see in myCommunication Arts magazines.
Thirdly, this video will surely make you smile.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
My Little Destructa
I find it particularly pertinent that I posted the "SPORT'S GAL'S RANT" yesterday. Nora has been living up to the name, "Destructa."
This kid is killin' me. Three times today, I finger-swiped the wood floor filler (non-toxic, thank God) that we used to fill the cracks in our floors out of Nora's mouth. She's been actively digging her little fingers into the cracks and popping the stuff out to snack on it. I caught her doing it, and after the third time, I went into all the cracks, pulling all the loose stuff up and throwing it out before she could get to it. I never thought I'd be doing that when I was applying that stuff. I'm seriously lucky she didn't choke on it (nod to the Big Guy upstairs).
If she's not eating wood floor putty, she's busy trying (and succeeding) to eat the papers that I have lying in my "discarded paper basket," she's climbing under my desk to get to the power cords, power strips, and open outlets therein, or she's wandered into the bathroom to get herself tangled up in the plastic tubing that connects the minishower to the toilet (I try to keep that door shut, but out of habit, I accidentally leave it open sometimes). Toys? Schmoys: give her the dangerous stuff. That's what she wants. Criminey. How is it that so many people survive the Destructo stage? It has to be a miracle. Every. Single. Time.
After battling this little rascal all day long (and attempting to get some actual work done), I decided to bust out to the Garwood Orchard. I had hoped to get some cute photos of Nora in a pumpkin patch, but I guess when you go during the week, you can't really go out to the patch. So, we didn't get any cool shots of that. Instead, we got our stuff in the little shop that they have there. I got a couple of pumpkins, some Indian corn, a half a peck of apples for a pie, and a pot of mums (I have pictures of some of that below). When Nora's older (probably next year), I'll definitely want to get out there on a weekend. It's apparently pretty sweet. I guess they have some live music, food, and all kinds of cool stuff going on. It looked like it'd be a pretty happenin' place if it weren't the middle of the week. The prices are pretty fair, too, I might add.
Nora only napped this afternoon for about twenty minutes (she took a good nap this morning, mind you). The next couple of hours could be interesting. (The phrase, "Super Destructa Mode," comes to mind.)
Nora got her frog costume yesterday, and I tried it on her this morning. I have some photos of that below.
Without further ado, I'll share some photos from today.
Oops. Seeing those photos of Nora on the changing table reminds me that I need to wash a load of diapers. I'd better go get that going.
By the way, while I've been typing this, Nora's been sitting on my lap, gnawing on the remote control for my office TV (and occasionally smacking it against the keyboard, sabotaging my forward progress on this blog entry). She's also been chatting me up, which I don't mind. I'm just glad she's not trying to entangle herself in my power cords or partaking in any (or all simultaneously) of the aforementioned death wish activities.
Dilly out.
This kid is killin' me. Three times today, I finger-swiped the wood floor filler (non-toxic, thank God) that we used to fill the cracks in our floors out of Nora's mouth. She's been actively digging her little fingers into the cracks and popping the stuff out to snack on it. I caught her doing it, and after the third time, I went into all the cracks, pulling all the loose stuff up and throwing it out before she could get to it. I never thought I'd be doing that when I was applying that stuff. I'm seriously lucky she didn't choke on it (nod to the Big Guy upstairs).
If she's not eating wood floor putty, she's busy trying (and succeeding) to eat the papers that I have lying in my "discarded paper basket," she's climbing under my desk to get to the power cords, power strips, and open outlets therein, or she's wandered into the bathroom to get herself tangled up in the plastic tubing that connects the minishower to the toilet (I try to keep that door shut, but out of habit, I accidentally leave it open sometimes). Toys? Schmoys: give her the dangerous stuff. That's what she wants. Criminey. How is it that so many people survive the Destructo stage? It has to be a miracle. Every. Single. Time.
After battling this little rascal all day long (and attempting to get some actual work done), I decided to bust out to the Garwood Orchard. I had hoped to get some cute photos of Nora in a pumpkin patch, but I guess when you go during the week, you can't really go out to the patch. So, we didn't get any cool shots of that. Instead, we got our stuff in the little shop that they have there. I got a couple of pumpkins, some Indian corn, a half a peck of apples for a pie, and a pot of mums (I have pictures of some of that below). When Nora's older (probably next year), I'll definitely want to get out there on a weekend. It's apparently pretty sweet. I guess they have some live music, food, and all kinds of cool stuff going on. It looked like it'd be a pretty happenin' place if it weren't the middle of the week. The prices are pretty fair, too, I might add.
Nora only napped this afternoon for about twenty minutes (she took a good nap this morning, mind you). The next couple of hours could be interesting. (The phrase, "Super Destructa Mode," comes to mind.)
Nora got her frog costume yesterday, and I tried it on her this morning. I have some photos of that below.
Without further ado, I'll share some photos from today.
Oops. Seeing those photos of Nora on the changing table reminds me that I need to wash a load of diapers. I'd better go get that going.
By the way, while I've been typing this, Nora's been sitting on my lap, gnawing on the remote control for my office TV (and occasionally smacking it against the keyboard, sabotaging my forward progress on this blog entry). She's also been chatting me up, which I don't mind. I'm just glad she's not trying to entangle herself in my power cords or partaking in any (or all simultaneously) of the aforementioned death wish activities.
Dilly out.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Hilarious
I have to share this article that I just read from ESPN. It's from Bill Simmons' (the Sports Guy) column titled "Week 5 picks: More than just games."
It's actually his wife who wrote it. He designates a box on his page for his wife, and it's entitled, "SPORTS GAL'S RANT."
His wife uses said box to basically mock her husband (for the most part) or talk about whatever. One time (and she was pregnant at the same time I was, only she was a couple months ahead of me), she ranted about how mad she was at Bill for getting her pregnant at the perfect time for her to deliver during the World Series (he's a sports writer, so he's going to be busy a lot during that time). She mocked him so incessantly, I nearly peed my pants (and it was very likely that I could since I was pretty huge with child at the time).
She's hilarious. I always think she's hilarious, but this particular article struck me: hard. I think it's because I can relate to some of what she's saying. I was crying with laughter. You'll see what I mean. Read on.
There needs to be a word for babies that aren't really babies anymore: Nine to 12 months, when they can't walk or talk, but they can stay awake for hours, pull a shelf of books down on their heads and stick their finger in electric sockets. I vote for "Destructo." Our boy hit the Destructo phase six weeks ago. He used to be the easiest, happiest kid! He could play with the same toy for an hour. He could sleep in restaurants or be smuggled into movies. No more. Now he gets his kicks from sticking his face in a dog bowl, or opening a drawer, pulling out all the clothes, then opening and shutting it until he slams his finger.
You don't want to travel with Destructo. We flew cross-country two weeks ago and I am still drinking two glasses of wine every night to recover. OK, three. All right, it's a whole bottle. It was just me and him on the way back. Think about holding a 25-pound fish that's wiggling to get back into the ocean for six hours as the fish emits bloodcurdling screams and you're stressing that everyone hates you. Does that sound like fun? The one silver lining was the 12 different times we went to the bathroom. Destructo really liked the sound the toilet made when it flushed so I kept flushing it even though I was probably harming the atmosphere. When toilet flushing is the highlight of any trip, you know you're in trouble.
Some tips if you're ever on a plane with me and Destructo. First, don't empathize by telling me, "I know how it is, I just flew with our baby for 12 hours, although he slept the whole way." Great! I'm glad your perfect kid slept the whole way and mine didn't! UP YOURS! Second, don't say, "Don't worry about us, we're used to this." What does "this" mean? Being tortured? Just read your Vanity Fair and shut your piehole. Third, don't keep glancing back sadly like you feel bad for me! Just don't! Fourth, if he falls asleep, don't walk by me and say loudly, "He finally fell asleep, huh?" Unless you want a dirty diaper stuck in your carry-on bag. Fifth, if you're the pilot, don't interrupt us every few minutes because you're excited that we might get in four minutes early, or that we're flying over the Grand Canyon when it's pitch-black. You're lucky that door was locked. And sixth, when it's over, don't pretend that Destructo was good as I'm holding clumps of my own hair in my hands and staring into space like a mental patient.
Here's what you can do: If you're the flight attendant, keep bringing me wine like the nice lady did throughout our flight. I don't know where you are, honey, but thank you again! And thanks for not judging me as I stumbled off the plane like Heather Locklear. No jury would convict me.
Here are my Week 5 picks: Hou -3.5, Tenn -3, Mia +6.5, Phi -5, Atl +7, Det +3.5, NYG -7.5, KC +9.5, Den -3, NE -3.5, Zona -1, Cincy +17, Jax -4.5, NO -3.5.
Last Week: 6-7
Season: 30-29-1
I must now go chase after my own Destructo (or, rather, Destructa).
It's actually his wife who wrote it. He designates a box on his page for his wife, and it's entitled, "SPORTS GAL'S RANT."
His wife uses said box to basically mock her husband (for the most part) or talk about whatever. One time (and she was pregnant at the same time I was, only she was a couple months ahead of me), she ranted about how mad she was at Bill for getting her pregnant at the perfect time for her to deliver during the World Series (he's a sports writer, so he's going to be busy a lot during that time). She mocked him so incessantly, I nearly peed my pants (and it was very likely that I could since I was pretty huge with child at the time).
She's hilarious. I always think she's hilarious, but this particular article struck me: hard. I think it's because I can relate to some of what she's saying. I was crying with laughter. You'll see what I mean. Read on.
There needs to be a word for babies that aren't really babies anymore: Nine to 12 months, when they can't walk or talk, but they can stay awake for hours, pull a shelf of books down on their heads and stick their finger in electric sockets. I vote for "Destructo." Our boy hit the Destructo phase six weeks ago. He used to be the easiest, happiest kid! He could play with the same toy for an hour. He could sleep in restaurants or be smuggled into movies. No more. Now he gets his kicks from sticking his face in a dog bowl, or opening a drawer, pulling out all the clothes, then opening and shutting it until he slams his finger.
You don't want to travel with Destructo. We flew cross-country two weeks ago and I am still drinking two glasses of wine every night to recover. OK, three. All right, it's a whole bottle. It was just me and him on the way back. Think about holding a 25-pound fish that's wiggling to get back into the ocean for six hours as the fish emits bloodcurdling screams and you're stressing that everyone hates you. Does that sound like fun? The one silver lining was the 12 different times we went to the bathroom. Destructo really liked the sound the toilet made when it flushed so I kept flushing it even though I was probably harming the atmosphere. When toilet flushing is the highlight of any trip, you know you're in trouble.
Some tips if you're ever on a plane with me and Destructo. First, don't empathize by telling me, "I know how it is, I just flew with our baby for 12 hours, although he slept the whole way." Great! I'm glad your perfect kid slept the whole way and mine didn't! UP YOURS! Second, don't say, "Don't worry about us, we're used to this." What does "this" mean? Being tortured? Just read your Vanity Fair and shut your piehole. Third, don't keep glancing back sadly like you feel bad for me! Just don't! Fourth, if he falls asleep, don't walk by me and say loudly, "He finally fell asleep, huh?" Unless you want a dirty diaper stuck in your carry-on bag. Fifth, if you're the pilot, don't interrupt us every few minutes because you're excited that we might get in four minutes early, or that we're flying over the Grand Canyon when it's pitch-black. You're lucky that door was locked. And sixth, when it's over, don't pretend that Destructo was good as I'm holding clumps of my own hair in my hands and staring into space like a mental patient.
Here's what you can do: If you're the flight attendant, keep bringing me wine like the nice lady did throughout our flight. I don't know where you are, honey, but thank you again! And thanks for not judging me as I stumbled off the plane like Heather Locklear. No jury would convict me.
Here are my Week 5 picks: Hou -3.5, Tenn -3, Mia +6.5, Phi -5, Atl +7, Det +3.5, NYG -7.5, KC +9.5, Den -3, NE -3.5, Zona -1, Cincy +17, Jax -4.5, NO -3.5.
Last Week: 6-7
Season: 30-29-1
I must now go chase after my own Destructo (or, rather, Destructa).
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Vedding and Sunday Mornin'
Here are some photos from Maggie and Justin's wedding.
Last, but not least, in my marathon posting spree, here are some photos of Nora from Sunday morning. Willis had gotten up with her, dressed her, and taken her to the grocery. Later in the morning, when I was trying to get her to nap, I stuck her in her swing to relax her. It occurred to me that her days in the swing are numbered, so I got some shots.
She's a good kid—even though I'm chasing her constantly right now.
I somehow managed to corrupt two images when I uploaded these. That never happens, and I was pretty bummed about it. They were photos of Nora sitting by herself in her dress. I think they were the only photos I got of her in her outfit. I was rotating those photos, and my computer locked up. After I restarted, I couldn't open those photos with anything. Of course, I had deleted them from the camera already: they were uploaded. Bah.
You can basically see, though, that Nora was a sweetheart at the wedding. She tried lots of food that evening (french fries, cheesy puffs, and some other kind of puffs that another mom had for her munchkin). We ended up scoring a sweet corner in the courthouse ballroom, and we were able to keep her corralled in there. She ended up going to sleep in that little corner, too. We didn't stay long after that, though. We knew the music was going to get loud, and she wouldn't be able to sleep through that. It was a beautiful, fun wedding regardless!
You can basically see, though, that Nora was a sweetheart at the wedding. She tried lots of food that evening (french fries, cheesy puffs, and some other kind of puffs that another mom had for her munchkin). We ended up scoring a sweet corner in the courthouse ballroom, and we were able to keep her corralled in there. She ended up going to sleep in that little corner, too. We didn't stay long after that, though. We knew the music was going to get loud, and she wouldn't be able to sleep through that. It was a beautiful, fun wedding regardless!
Last, but not least, in my marathon posting spree, here are some photos of Nora from Sunday morning. Willis had gotten up with her, dressed her, and taken her to the grocery. Later in the morning, when I was trying to get her to nap, I stuck her in her swing to relax her. It occurred to me that her days in the swing are numbered, so I got some shots.
She's a good kid—even though I'm chasing her constantly right now.
Surveillance and Nora Go Boom-Boom
Here are some sweet videos from yesterday.
I think those are pretty much self-explanatory.
Nora got her first fat lip yesterday. It was sad. What's more: I took photos of her mere moments before her wipe out. So, I'm feeling pretty bad about that. Here's Nora pre-wipe out:
I think those are pretty much self-explanatory.
Nora got her first fat lip yesterday. It was sad. What's more: I took photos of her mere moments before her wipe out. So, I'm feeling pretty bad about that. Here's Nora pre-wipe out:
One can pretty much guess what happened next. She definitely fell sideways and bonked her face on the door. She cut her lip, and she bled. It was sad.
There's Nora post-wipe out. See how puffy her lip is? It actually looks better today. Poor kid.
It's no wonder she wiped out, though. This is what she's been up to of late:
She's a cruiser. It's official. Oi.
It's no wonder she wiped out, though. This is what she's been up to of late:
She's a cruiser. It's official. Oi.
Dressers
I'm sorry, everybody, but I'm about to do a triple post, I think. It's better to break it up like this than it is to post it all in one, giant mass. Here goes.
I recently (within the last couple of weeks) painted an old dresser that I bought from Walmart several years ago (2003, I believe) while I was living with my sister for a summer. I added new hardware to it, too, and it looks fabulous. Check it out.
Here's the dresser that we scored from Freecycle. It needs some serious TLC as I mentioned before.
Oh. You know how I love projects.
I recently (within the last couple of weeks) painted an old dresser that I bought from Walmart several years ago (2003, I believe) while I was living with my sister for a summer. I added new hardware to it, too, and it looks fabulous. Check it out.
Here's the dresser that we scored from Freecycle. It needs some serious TLC as I mentioned before.
Oh. You know how I love projects.
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