'tis the Season

You know it's almost Christmas when...

... the Spider-man figurine has new playmates, in the form of a Little People Joseph, a Veggie Tales BabyJesus/Carrot, and a an elf named Buddy.

... my immobile 6-month-old has glitter flecks all over his fuzzy head, and I have no idea where they came from.

... his older brother stomps around the house, singing We Wish You 'Another' Christmas at the top of his lungs for hours at a time.

... knocks on the door in the early evening prompt excited rushes to retrieve packages, rather than irritated grumblings at the imposter who dares to wake the baby.

... a fellow preschool mother laughingly tells me that she's hearing all about our elf, and that Parks has told her daughter not to worry, that an elf will come to her house soon, too.

... swords of different types -one for a soldier, and the other for a pirate- have been created out of two very festive rolls of wrapping paper.

... the highlight of the day comes not from being surprised by finding an episode of Curious George on PBS, but by finding one or more Christmas cards in the mailbox.

... the rare nighttime drive transforms usually tired, whiny kids into ones filled with wonder at the twinkling lights and glowing Santas from the formerly darkened yards of neighbors.

... a sweet, 3-year-old heart is near to bursting at the magic -currently at its finest- that fills the air, and...

... his mother's heart is near to bursting at the magic of watching it all, and being able to once more view the enchantment of the season through the eyes of a believing child.

desperation

I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon.

I am super excited.

It's nothing major, just an ol' eyesight check.

Perhaps my most irrational and shamefully selfish pet peeve of the moment is when Cal comes home from work after a long day (both mine and his) and says, casually, as he's walking straight to the bathroom from the door, "I'm gonna take a quick shower!"

I understand that he wants to wash the grime of the day off, and it makes perfect sense.

But, you see, on most of those afternoons, I haven't had a chance for a "quick shower" in two more more DAYS. Yes, folks. I admit it. My children's schedules don't always allow me to clean myself on a daily basis, unless, of course, I were to get up extra early (say, 5:30 instead of 6... or heck, why not just stay up after John's 4:15 am bottle?). And let's face it; I'm not gonna do that.

So back to my appointment.

I might take a book! Or just sit and relish the quiet! Or... gasp!... I might go relieve myself, BY myself. And without having to preface it with the ever-informative and sophisticated phrase, "I need to tee tee/go potty; I'll be right back!"

Ahhhh. T'will be a blissful vacation. Watch the mail for a postcard!

in short

• My sister, Beth, gave me her old iPhone, and, although I don't have any sort of data plan that goes along with it, I can use it with wi-fi or for games and other non-Internet apps. I have fast become addicted to some game that requires the player to get water to an alligator so that he can take a shower in the depths of some city sewer system or something. Ironically, Parks is addicted to it, too. Today's rest time found him lying next to me, very closely, on the bed, trying to instruct me on how to finish a particular level.
• Parks has also taken to getting up in the wee hours of the morning, traipsing into our room, and asking 1) is it time to get up?, 2) can I play your iPhone?, and finally 3) can I sleep with you? Usually we are so exhausted that anything involving a quick resolution sounds like the best option at the time. In other words, usually he ends up in our bed. A friend of mine wrote on her blog that "they won't want to sleep with you forever," and that has stuck with me. I'm trying to enjoy moments like these with the boys more, rather than worrying about what I should do, or what ramifications my actions (ie, letting the 3-year-old sleep in our bed without much protest) might have for the future. It's the same with John, and I'm learning to enjoy his middle-of-the-night cuddles much more than I ever did the first time around, when I was consumed with how my attention at that time of the night would affect Parks' future ability to sleep. Obviously, whatever I did then failed, so why bother?
• That said, Parks had a little cold earlier this week and had to miss Monday and Tuesday of school. I thought the days would never end. Maybe it was the time change? I don't know, but I could've sworn it was 4 in the afternoon and almost time for Cal to get home when I looked at my phone and it was barely 9 am. Sheesh.
• We watched a heck of a lot of PBS kids and played a heck of a lot of the alligator iPhone game those days. Judge away.
• The other night, in the middle of the night, Parks was in our bed and he said, out of the blue (and while we were dead asleep), "Mommy. Daddy. When can I get a nutcracker? Like one that we saw at the United States?" um, okay. How do you respond to that at 4:17 in the morning?
• We had had the nutcracker conversation earlier that day. "Mommy. What was that thing that Ninny had, that man that Ninny had, at Christmas? That man that Ninny had at Christmas that liked peanuts?" Credit to me, please, for knowing immediately what he was talking about.
• Last night, again in the middle of the night, Parks said, "Daddy. When is it going to snow?" Cal muttered something incoherent, and Parks responded, "I know! It will snow after December." I really wonder sometimes what is going on in that kid's head when he's supposed to be sleeping.
• John has gotten two teeth in the last month. Hard to believe that he'll be six months old on Wednesday. Seriously, where did the time go? P's first 6 months seemed more like 6 years.
• Cal tried to correct Parks the other day when he said "Lou" instead of "You." I glared at Cal and he stopped. Yet another something that I'm trying to enjoy while it's here rather than wish (or correct) it away. He won't go to college, still asking us, "Can I sleep with lou?" And that thought makes me kinda sad.
• My honey is a bit of a celebrity, these days! Read this, if you haven't already.
• I survived my snack-duty week at preschool. I brought my goods to the teacher that Monday, and she said "Bless your heart!" like I had done too much or something. How am I to know? Since Parks doesn't eat, I haven't a clue what a normal snack amount is for an average 3-year-old. And for an average of 10 kids per day for 5 days, that's 50 snacks! Oh well. It's done. Better to go overboard than not do enough, right?
• Add unfolded laundry to the un-emptied dishwasher phenomenon.
• I am SO TIRED. I think that if I had the opportunity, I could sleep for at least 72 hours straight without even rolling over. One of these days, Cal will come home from work and I'll have checked myself into a hotel down the street for the night. You think I'm kidding. I even briefly wondered last week if I could be pregnant again... but I'm not. Phew. 
• I haven't been alone in my house since May 12, when I was on an all-too-brief bout of bed rest right before John was born two days later. See point above, and nod your head as it all starts to come together.

and again, oh dear.

It's my week for preschool snacks. Nice.

Our world's-worst-junk-drawer is finally about to lose one of its many, varied items. Shug pushed some spider cupcake papers on me about, um, three years ago? that have yet to be put to use. And my week very conveniently coincides with Halloween (also a perk because Wednesday's class party -not done by me- takes away one of my responsibilities), so we'll be digging those suckers out of the depths. Three of the fourteen over-ripe bananas in my fridge will be put to use for banana muffins (no nuts, of course).

Thankfully, also, I have the "Letter G" week. Grapes, Goldfish, Graham Crackers... can you think of anything else? Godiva chocolates? Oh wait. Those are for me.

oh dear.

This weekend, my mom, my dad, my sister, my brother-in-law, and my second cousin (first cousin once removed?) are coming to Macon for a wedding.

This, my friends, is what folks like me (ie, housewives who don't cook and rarely clean) call a serious crisis situation. It's why I live 150 miles from my nearest relatives and do my best not to make a whole lot of friends. Significantly cuts down on drop-ins, you know.

My amazing younger sisters would have breakfast casseroles, fruit salads, homemade cinnamon rolls and blueberry crumble spread out on every surface that wasn't already taken up by the fine china and sterling silver for Sunday morning. My amazing older sister would treat everyone to lunch at Macon's equivalent of the St. Pete Yacht Club on Saturday afternoon.

I just emailed my cousin and told her to pick up a sandwich before she comes to visit.

Oh, well. At least my kids are pretty cute, and at least one of them is well-behaved. That's all I got, people, and it'll have to do.

and so goes the whole day*

7:14 am -- Mommy! John smells like something yummy!

7:16 am -- Mommy! John still smells yummy! Like fruit!

7:22 am -- Mommy! Can I play in John's exersaucer?

7:24 am -- Mommy! Will you feed me my yogurt?

7:28 am -- Mommy! Why do my toes smell bad?

7:32 am -- Mommy! Why is Goliath so big? He must've eaten a lot lot lot lot lot lot lot of chicken.

7:34 am -- Mommy! Have you ever seen a green spider man?

7:42 am -- Mommy! Why do trains say "choo choo" and not "beep beep"?

7:48 am -- Mommy! When am I going to be like the real spider man?

7:51 am -- Mommy! When am I going to be able to shoot a web with my hands?

7:52 am -- Mommy! I can ask Daddy when he gets home! He'll know the answer.

Better start thinking, Cal.

*all of the above are actual conversations that Parks and I had within a one-hour span of time this morning, and these are merely the ones that I can recall offhand.

in an effort to practice what I post.

But seriously, isn't this what you really want to see?

And just for kicks...

opposites attract

We just got finished watching The Avengers. I'm all, "YEAH!!," pumped up, ready to take on the world (or other-world). Cal glances up from his computer: "Eh? I don't get it."

I suppose this as an upcoming date-night option is, therefore, completely out of the question. Durn.

photos of mommy

My dear friend and amazing writer, Rebecca, just sent me this link after reading my post about the dreaded "After" pictures of myself.

I literally sobbed through the whole thing. Maybe I should up my medication dosage...

breakfast with a superhero (or, it must be october)

You know you're in for an interesting day when you've checked "Watch Curious George with Spiderman" off your to-do list before your coffee has finished brewing.

painting, part two

One evening after Parks was in bed (and before John was even considered), the hubby and I were kicked back in our usual family-room spots: me on our not-so-lovely orange couch, and he on his not-lovely-at-all green recliner. Our routine of late is to get highly engrossed in a Netflix television series; so engrossed, in fact, that we tend to skip the "how was your day" shenanigans and jump straight to the episode of the night in the series of the month.

It was in the midst of one of our Mad Men obsessions (we've watched it twice) that I gained my own, personal fascination. It was this scene in particular that captured my interest:

Ahhhh. Heavenly. A feast for the eyes. I couldn't get enough, and would've watched the scene over and over again if only Cal would've let me. I was officially in love.

The color of Anna's living room was amazing! (What's that? You thought I was talking about Don Draper painting in his skivvies? Shame on you, Reader. I'm a married woman!) Here's another shot, in another light:

From that moment on, I knew what color I would next paint the room that we do our most living in. And, once again, the SW paint sale was the perfect opportunity. Let's jump to the befores and afters, shall we?

Above are the before shots. The color was a kind of yellow-y, sage green. Not bad, mind you. I didn't hate it. But the room doesn't get much light, and it always seemed a bit dingy and dreary to me. And it wasn't doing the not-so-lovely orange couch any favors, either, and -unfortunately- the not-so-lovely orange couch isn't going anywhere any time soon.

Now the after shots:

*Note the slender, young, innocent (and wrinkle-free) girl in the wedding gown in the middle. My, how times have changed. I thought about doing a before and after blog of myself... before and after kids, that is. But, really, no one wants to see those after shots. Trust me. Just envision those methamphetamine promotions that the cops show kids in high schools to scare them away from using. You know what I'm talking about? Except mine would be to scare fresh-faced young folks and blindly enamored newlyweds away from having kids too soon. Or at all. (Just kidding. kind of.)

Anyway, back to the room. The color is Benjamin Moore's "Yarmouth Blue." We have the shade darker, "Buxton Blue," in our bathroom. I love it. It's cheery, and -trust me- we need cheer around here on occasion (read: almost all of the time). And it just seems to fit us, and me, and our two full-of-life boys.

Speaking of whom, one (I'll let you guess which) is calling me now. It seems his superheroes need some help with the bad guys. Mommy to the rescue!

bliss

Cal has a football game at the school tonight, and he always gets this weird guilt thing going right before he leaves me to deal with the kids at bedtime by myself. I always tell him (and usually mean it) that if it's work, I'm cool. Still, though, he is who he is, and a big part of who he is has an issue with guilt. Sorry, babe, for the business of yours that I just put in the streets.

Anyway, this afternoon, right after he got home from work and about an hour before he had to leave again, he (read: his guilt complex) said to me, "You should go get something to eat and I'll stay here with the boys."

Mind you, I don't think he really meant it, nor did he think I'd agree, I'm sure.

He might have had time to look up from whatever he was doing before hearing my tires squealing out of the driveway. Then again, he might not've.

Ahhhhh.

To his immense credit, when I got home, both the babies were fed, bathed, and in pajamas. Now that's quite a guilt complex (read: man) that I married! 

yep.

my little september elf

Dear John,
Had I known when I bought them last January that you would be the size of a small monster, I wouldn't have even entertained the idea that you'd be able to fit into 6 mo Christmas pajamas during the appropriate season. Suddenly the $3.99 clearance price doesn't seem like such a great deal. Sorry! Glad you're happy, anyway.
Love,
Mommy

*Note that I can't even fasten the snaps between his legs. Nice.

allow me to introduce you

to Parks' Favorite Toys. They have a bin solely to themselves, a bin appropriately titled the "Favorite Toys Basket." The Favorite Toys Basket often masquerades as a place, such as a mountain, or a fort, or Academy Sports.

The Good Guys

The Good Guys include (L to R) Little Buzz, Diego, Woody, Bullseye, Jessie, Big Buzz, Batman, and Spiderman (not pictured). Spiderman didn't make the cut, as he had just had surgery (read: hot glue gun treatment) and was in recovery (read: on top of the dresser while the glue was drying). Diego is on top of the Favorite Toys Basket. Just so ya know.

The Bad Guys

The Bad Guys are Mr. Potato Head, Electro, and Alien. Poor Mr. Potato Head.

The Family

The family includes Parks (played by "Parks' Parks"), Daddy (played by Joseph), John (played by Baby Jesus), and Mommy (played by the righteous Virgin Mary, of course.) Parks' Parks' name came about during a time when Parks refused to use personal pronouns (I, you, we, me, etc). Therefore, the figurine that he wanted to represent himself was not "Me" or "My Parks," it was "Parks' Parks." And it stuck and remains Parks' Parks today.

The family is SO important, that it has been assigned vehicles, complete with car seats for the kids. Awesome. Please note Nick the Cat on the hood of "Mommy's car."

So there we are, and now you know. 

In related news, in the trauma of Spidey's emergency surgery this morning, I forgot to feed Parks breakfast. He, of course, is never hungry, so he didn't think to remind me. In a panic I grabbed an applesauce pouch and Cheez-its on the way out the door for preschool. Filling? Yes. Nutritious? Not so much. The good news is that it was "REEEEEALLY froggy!!!!!!" outside, so that was exciting.

Keepin' it real, folks. Keepin' it real.

the life and times of a toddler bedroom, or what happens at our house when paint goes on sale.

Parks' bedroom is not original to our house, which was built in 1921. It was an addition made in the 70's or 80's, I would guess, due to the good ol' wood-paneled walls. Thank goodness that the guy who lived here before Cal thought to at least have the wood painted, so it's not like Parks has been living in a dark brown cave for the last 3 1/2 years.

Still, though, the room has never charmed me as the rest of the house did at first glance. Its ceiling is lower, its floors are lighter, and it has always felt just a little bit sterile, somehow. It has french doors that open up to our deck along with two other windows, so it gets a lot of light, which is nice. However, paired with the light walls and light floors, I could never really give it that cozy feel.

Almost four years later, enter Sherwin Williams and its nice, little 40% off sale. I've been getting the itch to do something new with our den (more on that later), so I popped by the paint store early last week to get some color samples. In the past, I've been "that lady" who I'm sure all true paint stores talk about later. You know, the one who gets the professional advice from the designers they have on-hand, asks for help in picking out colors and brushes, then says, "Thanks! I'll probably be by later this week!" as I hop in my car to head straight to Lowe's. I know, I know. Terrible. But I'm also frugal, and that's not a bad thing, right?

Anyway, the Sherwin Williams lady told me about the sale, so I spent the next few days poring over fan decks and Internet pictures. Cal, I'm sure, was not amused, but he didn't say much. And I figured, if such good paint is on sale, why not take advantage of it and do something with the add-on, as well?

Friday morning, as soon as I dropped Parks off at preschool, John and I headed across town to buy some paint.  I ended up with four gallons: two for the den, and two for P's room. I started with P's.

(Pause here to indulge the mother-side of my identity. This is John in Sherwin Williams. I think he liked it.)

I should've taken some pictures of what the room looked like just before I painted, as it had changed some from the last ones I took. I'll give you a glimpse of its metamorphosis over the last few years just to give you an idea. The first is what it looked like when Parks was a wee little guy, younger even than John is now. If you look closely, you can see those calf muscles that my husband is so very vain proud about.

Note the hideous Walmart curtains, and how they are, unfortunately, the constant over the next transformations. I hate them, but they were in our budget, and when we were new parents grasping at straws over how to get our precious little sleep-hater to scream for just a few minutes less each night (read: merely 54 minutes instead of 58), anything that made the room a little darker was fine with us.

Next is the original "Big Boy" room.

Prior to now, this set-up came the closest to making the room something I loved. What did the trick, though, was also its downfall: it was crowded. Cozy, yes. But, as a result, there wasn't any room for us to walk, let alone Parks to play. The picture above was taken from the door of the room, so you can see that it was packed full with furniture.

We decided to put one of the beds back up in the attic, where it will stay until 1) Parks gets old enough to have sleepover friends, 2) John moves in, or 3) I get bored. The final result was one bed pushed up against a wall, and lots of floor space and cheap rug on which Parks could play (read: destruct) to his heart's content. It was also one that I did NOT love. That's where we've been for the last six months or so.

Enter the paint. Same set-up, but -I think- much nicer.

Better, no? Sure, were I taking these pics for Better Homes and Gardens, I'd have turned the lamps on and removed the trashcan, sippy cup, and various Fisher Price paraphernalia. But you know what, people? I'm not Better Homes and Gardens. I'm a frazzled mom who just spent the past week painting a room during 45-minute infant naps. Cut me some slack.

The color is Valspar's "Royal Gray." It's not the least bit lavender, even though it might kinda look that way in these pictures if I squint at them out of the corner of my eye. Not that I'm doing that. Why would I do that? Anyway, it's not. I promise.

I picked up the chip one day when I was at Lowe's, then went home and googled it. Turns out, it was used by Nate Berkus' design team on a room makeover that he did for his show. And hey, if it's good enough for Nate, and Nate is good enough for Oprah, then it was good enough for me. Love how it turned out.

My next project for this room will be painting the nightstands and dressers (probably a navy) and perhaps attempting to make these. With my luck, however, instead of looking like this, they will turn out like this. Nice.* Oh, Melissa, professional-blogger-of-all-things-crafty, I really think Ford and John need a playdate. At Hancock Fabrics. Then back at my house. Yes?

And the next project for the house is, of course, the den! Stay tuned...

*I so hope that the blogger in the latter link doesn't get notified that she was tagged in another blog. If so, I'm sorry! Please forgive? But, really, I don't like your curtains.

Snippets

• I now have not one boy, but two. Had John been born first instead of second, we'd have had two long ago. Maybe it's good that he wasn't.
• Yesterday, in the ten minutes I had between getting Parks ready for school and John waking from his nap, I plucked my eyebrows in lieu of showering. Must prioritize. 
• My current favorite phrase of Parks' is when we walk outside on a misty morning and he says, "Mommy! It's froggy out here!" 
• I also love how he pronounces his "y" sounds like they are l's. "Lellow" or "Lou" instead of "yellow" or "you." Sometimes Cal and I will intentionally ask him what color the sun is just to hear him say it.
• I'm enjoying John's baby stage oh-so-much more than I was able to do Parks'. With Parks, I was clinically depressed, frazzled, sleep-deprived, and dealing with a serious identity crisis. Parks was colicky, reflux-y, sleep resistant, and incredibly needy.
• With John, I am on an antidepressant and he sleeps thirteen hours a night. Need I say more?
• I think it's cute when John drools. 
• I've quit my job at the college to stay at home full time with the boys. Surprisingly, I've loved the break. It's nice to be able to read a novel in the downtime that I do have without the guilt of 40-something ungraded papers hanging over my head. Feel free to pass on suggestions.
• I think that Parks will likely sleep in diapers the rest of his life.
• I get really sad when I think about the boys growing up. Like, crying sad. Pre-medication, I was not a bit this way. Then, I was counting the days until I could drop them off at their college of choice. You think I'm exaggerating.
• I am amazed on at least a weekly basis at the creativity of my husband and how good he is at his job.
• I am also resigned to the fact that he is going to tell his facebook friends entirely inappropriate information about our personal lives. Oh well. Whatcha gonna do?
• I miss my family and wish that they could see my boys more often, but not enough to move back to Thomasville. Sorry, Shug and Ninny.
• Parks adores school. I found out today that he invited "Mrs. Cherrie" over to our house to see his new blue bedroom. Must talk to him about how mommy isn't so fond of unannounced company.
• I've been trying to do better about keeping the house clean. Some days I do pretty well, and some days it's a disaster. I've noticed that it all depends on if I can get up the motivation to empty the dishwasher after I run it. If I can't, everything -not just the kitchen- goes downhill super fast.
• We are at a new church, and we love it.
• John is now the size that Parks was when he was almost a year old. John is four months.
• He's learned to flip from stomach to back, but not back to stomach. Not unusual, I know, but -since he sleeps on his stomach and he's a thrasher- it makes for some aggravating wake-ups in the middle-of-the-night, during which I'll have to go flip him back over. Had Parks done this, I would've panicked, called the doctor, surveyed my facebook friends, and done everything within my power to find a solution. My attitude now? Shrug. He'll figure it out in a month or so. No biggie. Love the wisdom that comes with a second child. 
• Also -have I mentioned?- I love my Zoloft.