Gym Rat-a-Tat

One day I allowed my sister to convince me to go to a yoga class. While I was there, my husband sneakily signed me up for a gym membership. Being the cheapskate that I am, I have been using it. If I'm locked in for two years then I'm going to the gym for two years. If I have to frickin pay for it, then I am going to use the crap out of it..

And now I have become a gym rat...

I have gained some weight that I want to have magically fall off (like every body else) and I started doing cardio (cause I know what that means now) and lifting weights.

Unfortunately, my husband thought that I should be lifting weights as he does and I had to explain that I didn't want "man back" and to be overly muscular.

Like this:

This may be wonderful for some people (and wow if you can stick to it) but definitely not me. My suits already don't fit right, imagine over those shoulders? So while we both know I can curl 60 pounds with my biceps, I don't need to do it as part of my workout.

My sister goes with us and we're dedicated to keeping each other on track. All three of us (my sister, husband and I) slump over to the gym and gossip on the elliptical or track. People around us aren't always fond of our conversational direction but I've noticed more than a few listening intently.

At first, I would dread the one day a week we had to go. I already had zumba, why must I do more???? I would whine and find lame excuses as to why I couldn't go. Then I started looking forward to our gym days. I felt good after our workouts (and gossip fests) and I was more eager to go more often. Now we're up to three days a week (off and on depending on schedules) and I still have my zumba class. I love being able to spend time with my sister and having quirky gym dates with my husband.

I have my cute little gym bag, my own lock and even went out and bought new shoes. Apparently converse tennies aren't gym appropriate? Whatevs.

I haven't lost any weight. In fact I've gained. (*Enter sad face*) I was really upset about it but my muscles are toned and my biceps are huge. I am laying off the bicep curls and spending more time on the ab twisty machine (love that one!!!).

I know I am not going to have "those" abs... the ones we dream of and hate those who have them:

 

*Sigh*

But I am determined to get back to and stay in the 150's. I am happiest there and it's only just a couple of pounds away.
But if I don't, oh well.

I would cut out carbs and count my calories (again) and work out every day if I knew that within a month, maybe two, I could have that body but it ain't happening. Even when I was 117, it wasn't happening.

I'm just going to keep on swimming, swimming, swimming (sorry Finding Nemo is Chunko's latest obsession).

And hope that someday soon I can have this again...

*crunch, crunch, crunch*

I swear this is my last bag of potato chips... Today... Maybe


Ps, why do people get buck naked in the locker rooms??????? Did you really need to drop your towel and lotion your body in the center on the locker area? Did you really need to shower with the stall door open???? Did you need to have a towl on your head while you stand NAKED talking on your phone and itching your inner coot???????
WTH people???? Wrap a towel around you and shut the stall doors!!
I walk with my head down and eyes to the ground. I may run into walls and accidentally knock down signs but I am NOT seeing this stuff if I don't have to... Yikes

Pretending to Know

Lately, I seemed to have been consumed by the need for another baby. I don’t want more kids but my lady clock was still ticking and counting down until the next baby. I guess no one explained to her that I couldn’t get pregnant again. These past few weeks have put her in check and now I am in sync. I do not want another baby (No matter how cute I think it would be to name it Waffles or B.E.R.T.). We have our hands full and we are just now, after 2 ½ years, getting into a routine that we like. We can finally travel without the pack ‘n’ play, the 4 diaper bags, diapers and formula and extra bottles and rattles and teethers and… And all just so we can go grocery shopping. I know that some moms can accomplish the potty training while breast feeding (and I’m seriously in awe that you can) but I know that isn’t for us. I’m glad that I can spend quality time with Chunko and revel in his baby-ness.

I know that the last time I wrote I seemed a little out of control and in all honesty, I was. I was overwhelmed by the constant fighting and I was tired. I’ve gotten some amazing advice from my mommy group and friends and have been able to put it to practice and have succeeded! The first week was hard but I could already feel that we were on the right path and so it made me more determined to get it right.

I give one warning and the threat of timeout if he continues. Then (this is hard part #1) I follow through with timeout if he does it again. He has to stay in his time out corner, same corner every time, for 2 minutes. If he gets out, it’s starts over. I don’t give time off for good behavior or for making me laugh (hard part #2) and we learned that the “Timeout Chair” is a great idea for others but definitely not for ours. He thinks it’s fun to throw said chair and has the strength to cause serious damage. After his full two minutes we remind him why he is in timeout and go about our day.

Sounds super easy, right? Narf!

It was hard the first three days but now he actually stops doing his bad behavior when he receives a threat of timeout! We can’t seem to get him to stop picking of my China Doll niecey but we’re working on that.

In the mean time, I have stepped back and have done some serious thinking about our boys. I realized that they are growing and really fast and that nitpicking is only going to make it all go by faster. I am stopping and appreciating our days together. I am literally stopping to smell the roses with them and I am so much calmer (work is stressing me out but at home I am calm). I sit and build lego houses for Chunko to destroy and I am photographing Fart Bone’s latest alien warrior. I miss my chunky ball Michelin baby that Fart Bone used to be and if I keep freaking over spilled milk, I’m going to be stuck wondering where Chunko’s baby years went, too.

I’ve also decided that I am taking my camera with me everywhere (except work, nobody wants to see that). My loving husband went out and hunted a nice camera for me to practice and really enjoy shooting with and I have poorly abused it with neglect. I haven’t downloaded the pictures that are on it since June!!! That is the beginning of a horror story for me. My sister and I have both agreed to get out there and shoot! We have already scheduled a fun shoot for this weekend and another one for November. We have to get those creative juices flowing and create, create, create!

I feel more at peace than I have in while and it feels good to get back to me, who I am and what I want (other than shoes).

Ps, thank you MMMs, you guys are always there for me, no matter how crazy the questions get!!!!!!

Blessed With a Hellion

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother pretending that I am smarter than the 2 year old. I swear we should just quit our day jobs and dedicate our lives to fulfilling every single nutty demand Chunko can dream of. Just when I think we've managed to out maneuver him, he goes sprinting past us, laughing, to destroy our well thought out plans. We need to buy jester hats to complete our new persona.

Okay, so maybe I'm being a smidgen over-dramatic... likemaybethismuch

Chunko thought it was so great to take my car keys, unlock the doors and climb in the driver's seat. He would shut the door and give me a kiss goodbye. He learned how to turn the key so the battery would come on and he could listen to his jams. I thought it was super cute. Then he started my car and locked me out! Thankfully, he was more interested in the radio than the gear shift. Then I realized that with his height and new found skills, my 2 year old could probably steal my car! Needless to say, he's not allowed to touch my car keys anymore.

I know that I am incredibly lenient towards him but I find myself questioning every parental choice I've made. I had a firm set of parent guidelines that I believed in and chose to follow. I will spank my kids and smack their hands. I yell when I am mad and I use timeouts. I use more emotional and psychological tactics with my oldest because he psyches himself out more than I ever could spanking him.

I feel that lately, that isn't enough. Actually, I feel more that it's good for my oldest but that it's not right for Chunko. It's not the best way to approach our bull child. I spank him, he spanks my nephew. I take the toy from him and he takes a toy from my niece. I throw a snack pack for my husband (not at him, but for him) and Chunko thinks it's okay to throw everything across the room.

I am becoming frustrated with our lack of control of the situations and Chunko... We're trying to find our footing and I can't help but to feel unprepared.

We're finally, finally, finally getting into a great rhythm of getting him to go to sleep and stay asleep. We've had a month of only one wake up per night and we've had a week of no wake ups. We still have battles over when it's time for bed and if we don't read ALL of the right bedtime stories, then we get screaming nightmare child. Thankfully our nighttime battles rarely take longer than an hour and then he's down for the count. It's almost as if he hadn't used up all his energy for the day and had to expel it somehow.

Most restaurants have banned us from coming back. Even fast food ones. Okay, not really but we've personally banned eating out for a bit. If it doesn't have a play place, we smile sadly as we drive by. Chunko doesn't fit in highchairs anymore so we can't buckle him in with any hope of keeping him still.

Admittedly we realized that we have been smacking Chunko more often than not and we decided to try other forms of discipline...Some nights it ends up looking like a poor version of The Three Stooges. Chunko throws his lego at the TV, I smack Chunko, Chunko smacks me back, I smack Chunko, he smacks me back, I smack Chunko, he smacks his brother, his brother smacks him back and his dad smacks Chunko.... On and on until someone gets their eye poked out.

I was at the end of my rope on Friday and so instead of smacking him, I put him in the corner for a timeout. He walked out of the corner and laughed at me. I put him back into the corner and he kicks the wall and walks away. Rinse and repeat for 10 minutes. I get his chair and put him in the chair in the corner. He pushes the chair back and walks away. I pick him up and put him back in his chair. He gets up and walks away. Rinse and repeat for five minutes. I storm out to the garage, grab a bungee cord and bind him to the chair in the corner. He giggles and gets up and walks away. End scene with me saying that 20 minutes of fighting over him being in the corner counts as a timeout... It does, right?

Chunko goes and brings his chair to his sister, makes her sit down in it and straps her to the chair. Then he pushes her over to the corner and makes her sit in timeout.Then he does the same with Brother. That means he gets the point but not the idea. Or that he gets both but he knows who wears the pants in our family (actually he doesn't wear pants at all but not my point).

We're still trying to find the right balance between having a toddler that we have to warn people about before they come over and "accidentally" feeding my kid to the tigers at the Mirage (Those tigers are still there, right? They have dolphins, too, right? Those will work).

Raising Godzilla

You know that parent that is whispering poor judgements about your parenting as your child screams and thrashes about on the floor while you calmly sit at the table ignoring everything but the ice cream cone you are eating? That used to be me. I judged you and it wasn't kind. I expected your child to cry but then I expected you to discipline your child into calming down. Period. There was no reason for your child to scream or kick and if they did, then you were to remove them from the area. If you had the poor parenting audacity to actually offer the child a sweet treat or a bribe to quiet them, oh well then, you were Satan.

I understood tantrums, or at least I thought I did, and I understood that the best way to end them was to walk away. The child would see that you were no longer standing in fascination of their performance and come running after you, sniveling apologies for being a brat.

I wasn't inexperienced when I made these judgements of you. I had already had my first child and he was an angel. I didn't fully appreciate his angelic nature until I had Chunko... or Godzilla Baby as we like to call him while he destroys our house and surrounding areas.

I AM SO SO SO VERY SORRY!!!

I cannot even begin to apologize enough to those I judged. I know that a very small fraction of the people I judged deserved it and I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about the mom that hasn't slept 7 straight hours in 4 years and is trying to read a book and eat a hot meal for the first time since giving birth. I'm talking to the mom trying to finish the grocery shopping while dragging her screaming 2 year old behind her like a dust mop because it's the only way to keep them from running away. I'm talking to the mom at the mall who keeps offering the baby cookies to keep her in the stroller and out of the display cases.

Chunko lies down in the middle of the floor and refuses to move, not caring one bit if it's in the middle of a busy walkway. He tries to jump from the moving shopping cart and tries to scale the aisle shelves. He thinks clothing racks are fortresses to be stormed. Straps and leashes are a joke. I'm sure it must be a riot to see my 2 year old flip himself over in the stroller and then crawl off still strapped in the stroller. When I walk away from his floor pounding tantrums, he just gets up and follows me. His screams become more panicked and he starts grabbing for me, trying to climb up my leg.

To make my struggles even more difficult is his size. Wrestling an angry 40 pound 2 year old is the same as trying to rope a greased pig while wearing oily rubber gloves.

I ask now for what I could not give before. I ask for understanding. I don't ask for help and frankly, say what you will about my parenting. I ask that you keep your snide comments on mute until I am past you. I can hear you over the screaming child and if I don't, my older kids can. Then they ask me why you're such a witch and I have to find the proper words to nicely explain your rudeness.

I ask that you look beyond the situation and know that you don't know the circumstances. You may see me struggling with an ill tempered 4 year old, but I'm actually struggling with a just barely turned 2 year old. He's allowed a little leeway behaviorally, I would think. I shouldn't have to walk around explaining to every passerby that he's only 2.

I know that I am getting what I have given for years and that is why I don't say anything back to the looky-loos. I just smile and walk on by or smile as I give Chunko another cookie. That's right, look at my "terrible" 2 year old, go home, and thank the heavens your child "never would act like that."

I Never Get What I Want

I thought that my husband was my twin at heart.
I thought that he understood my level of thinking but now I'm wondering if I was horribly wrong.

We went out (alone with no kids!!!!!) to see Ted (<---- so very wrong, but so very very very funny) and as we were standing in line, I brought up my desire for a new acquisition....

Me: Honey, I want a taxidermied pony with wings like a Pegasus
My Love: What????
Me: *large dramatic sigh* I want a taxidermied pony with wings sewn on like a Pegasus
My Love: What the hell???
Me: I'm assuming it can't be more than $800
My Love: That's so much better but I don't understand
Me: The Bloggess bought a pony and it has wings like a Pegasus and I want one!
My Love: Hell no!
Me: But it's a pony...
My Love: You want to kill a pony and sew wings on it?
Me: No, I want an already dead pony with wings already sewn on it. It's dead and stuffed and we don't have to feed it or pick up it's poo. Fart Bone will love it!
My Love: No... No... No.... No
Me: What is the issue? I didn't get the giant metal rooster (like Beyonce) I asked for and I think this far more appealing than that and the HOA can't complain because it'll be in our house, not in the yard.
My Love: No.... No.... No.... No
Me: I want it and I think I deserve it
My Love: What on earth would you do with a dead pony?
Me: Well, actually I'd be totally creeped out by it and probably end up dancing around and poking it with a stick until it got a bald spot. Then I'd put it in the playroom so the kids could break it and I could blame them for the bald spot. I might even be able to use it to punish Fart Bone. You know? As in, be good or you'll have to touch the Pegasus...
My Love: No... .No... No... No.... No.... No....

Don't worry.
No animals were harmed in my quest for a Pegasus.
Cause my husband told me No and he doesn't understand me at all.

Annnd I didn't get the giant metal rooster either.

Boo

I mean, seriously, how can you possibly say No this this slice of awesomeness?!?!?!?



Ps, The Bloggess struggled to convince her husband, too and still was able to obtain one so there is still hope for me. I see it as an "Everybody Wins" kind of deal

Quitting Isn't Always Losing

I have made a few rather difficult confessions on this blog, but this... this has to be one of the hardest ones. My battle with being skinny nor the admittance of our bankruptcy is comparable to this.

After five years of trying, my love and I have decided to quit. We have tried all that we can imagine and now the only thing we can offer is time.

I'm talking about his oldest daughter, of course.

Five years of anger and aggression and five years of a father and a daughter not talking (or at least, not nicely) has worn us down. He has tried calling, texting, emailing and even snail mail letter writing in hopes of rebuilding something of what they used to have. I even tried a few times to reach out only to be slapped back with silence. The silence, I think, is far more brutal and harsh than a simple "Not ready" or a "No thank you" or even a "Frack off." It adds the element of hope that the answer will come soon and then it never does. No news is not always good news. The absolute lack of answer is much more hurtful than a rude one because it says that he's just not worth it to her.

It seems that about every six months one of us will get the itch to try again. Maybe there was a pleasant conversation or a good phone call. Maybe there's just a father worried about his daughter and wanting to let her know he's there for her. But we can't keep doing this to ourselves. There has to come a time to stop and say "When she is ready, she will call." If that is never, then we'll have to accept her wishes, even if we don't agree with them.

We talked about this for a very long time and we realized it has to end. We are torturing ourselves over this and it's just been far too much for way too long. He tried one last time and got the usual lack of acknowledgment.

Neither one of us wanted to accept that this is the path we have to take. It's upsetting, even a little infuriating, to have to decide this. We had to understand that it is our loss but it is hers, too. I hope someday it can be different and far better but until then we have to step back and move on.

And now we are done.

Cause I Made Myself Promises

At the beginning of 2011 I originally promised myself some easy things I thought I could follow through on. Then, a month later, I followed up on those promises... Then I dropped it. I kept the promises in the back of my mind but never really showed any progress.

So a year and a few months later, here it is and where I stand.

1. Get back down to 150 - I got down to a very happy 153 and then I shot back up to 163. I couldn't figure out how in the heck I was eating healthy and exercising (yeah, I gave in and started) and I gained weight! Then I did a few calculations and realized I was eating almost 3,000 calories a day. More than my husband when he was training for his triathlons. Oops. I go to Zumba once a week but they might cancel my classes. I am sad because I doubt I'll find another class as amazing as this one. The classes are small, we all laugh as we go and we can pick the songs we want to do for the day. If they do, my sister's will get gym memberships with me and we'll hold each other accountable, so either way, I'll benefit.

2. Make our wedding album - I am currently doing the final touches on our wedding albums. I am taking advantage of an amazing deal and am going to get free shipping and three $90 books for less than $30. Score!!!!

3. Make my sister's wedding album - If I finish in time, I'd like to do a similar deal for my sister's wedding albums, too. If not, then I will save up and get it done. She deserves to be able to flip through and see all her beautiful pictures. She looked mag that day and totally should be able to see it.

4. Scrapbook my loose pictures - Um... Yeah. It takes a lot of work and a lot of fighting with Chunko to pull out my scrap booking tubs and get started on it. I rarely have enough peace to shower, eat my own dinner or watch a TV show, so I'm not putting this on the top of my priority list. On top of that I realized I have to scan Fart Bone's baby pictures before I cut them up and glue them somewhere because I need to share those with others. Buuuutttt... I'm going to just claim I ran out of double sided sticky tape and I can't go forward until I remember to buy more. That's my story.

5. Showering my love with love - I am going to vote this as a fail. We've had a tough time adjusting to a very attention greedy and busy baby, along with all of our everyday chores and responsibilities. We've fought quite a bit because of short tempers and lack of sleep. It has really sucked but in it we have developed a new friendship with each other. We talk a lot and we are learning to talk out the issues before it grows into a fight. I've learned I am madly in love with my husband and have fallen in love with him as a good friend, too.

6. Working through our debt - We had an amazing plan that would have solved all the monetary problems within 3 years and then one of the debtors was a dick and made ridiculous demands (Um, no, you cannot have free access to our bank accounts). I am going to admit, painfully, that we have filed for bankruptcy and are in a five year plan to pay back our debts. It's hard to say to people and embarrassing to share but I feel better knowing we could have done it on our own before the debtor fought with us. We had no choice, we really didn't. We worked for three years to not have to choose this path but we were making no head way. We didn't even dent the interest accumulated. Now, we have a set goal and are actually better off than we were on our own. I have to say it was one of the better decisions we have ever made. We have 4 years, 5 months and 9 days before our final payment (there's an app for that!!).

7. Clean our garage - I have done this many, many times over. My love doesn't park in it and has no shown no real desire to do so in the future. Our garage isn't as neat as I would like it but is far neater than most garages and I can easily step out and find what I need. It will have to do until I can design the cabinets and shelves I want and buy the dream tool box. *Sigh* organizing is so hot.

8. Quit obsessing - I don't know what to call this. I'm not bombing but I'm not passing with flying colors. Something happened around Christmas time and things got awkward between us and the ex/ OSD. I don't know if it was stress or if we effed things up but it just felt... weird. We tried so many times to talk to OSD and we have tried to be accommodating for his ex but we can't seem to please anybody over there. I really wish things could be completely opposite of how it is. I do over think it and I tend to look through rose tinted glasses but it is so frickin aggravating!!! So yeah, fine, it's a fail. I am still obsessing. I want things to be nice and fair and I am not getting ANY cooperation.

9. Mending broken fences - I have tried to move on from the past with certain people in my life and I have extended my hand to others. Both haven't worked. It's all just being ignored. I've realized that I cannot control other people and that as long as I live considerately and in peace with myself, then that's all I can do. I am always open to be nice to anybody who wants to talk but I am going to step back and try to let them live as they choose. I may think they are miserable without me in their life (cause I'm awesome) but they very well maybe be happy without me, my husband or my kids. I cannot make them talk to me, so I will just be open if they change their mind.

10. Sending special occasion cards - Yup, I suck. I'm going to set this aside for some time. I was sending them late and then not at all. I really want to be that person that remembers to send cards for everything but I really suck. I barely remember what I wore yesterday. I did find this great daily planner/ journal book. I suck so far (we already went over this) but I am making it my goal to write at least 2 sentences for every day. We did a service for a woman who had a daily journal entry for every day for 76 years!!! She recorded her wedding day and all of her children's births. It was awe-inspiring. See? My ADD took over and I've already forgotten what I was writing.

We'll see where this year takes us and where we're at in another year...

He Thinks He Can Pee in His Legos

OMG, I'm about to blog about pee... Turn away now

We are in the midst of potty training Chunko...
Or at least I think we are.
We may just be in the middle of teaching him that he can pee in cups, or outside, or in his Legos, or, if he aims just right, on Sister.

This kid never wears clothes anymore. It's a battle to keep his pants on when we go to the water park. It's a war to keep his pants on at the grocery store. We have started using secret catch phrases when he's around because if you say  "Pee, P or Toilet" He's naked and pointing his tinker toy at something.

That's progress, right? We're on the right track, aren't we??????

The nudity I can handle. Fart Bone used to strip down naked and spend hours rubbing his wanker-doodle on the sliding glass door and waving at passerby... Yep, we were That house that no one walked by. He also pulled his pants and undies down while we were at Universal Studios (Yep, not letting him live that one down). So, this is nothing in comparison. Yet.

He follows me every time I try to use the bathroom... Only me. If I mention I'm using the restroom, he will follow me screaming and pushing me, so I can't close the door without him there. I don't remember when peeing became a doubles sport but I have no choice. If I dare close and lock the door on him or sneak away (which is even harder cause he watches me like a hawk), he will bang and kick the door until I open it.

So usually he follows me in...

Then he watches me. Stares at me and waits. He stands there staring at me with a wad of toilet paper, waiting. I know it sounds creepy but that's only because it is. Then when I am done, he'll check the potty and then praise me. Yep, I get "Good, Momma" when I make the pee-pees now. Yaaaaaaaaayyyyy me!

He pees in the potty and has even pooped a couple of times. He's doing a great job, we're just working on his consistency. He really likes to be naked so he doesn't mind the peeing part. He likes to try to stick his tinker toy into his toys (he's a boy, of course he does) but now he's trying to see what he can pee on or in. He lined up five of his Legos, upside down and then took the stance. Thankfully, we caught him but he went right to the Legos bag and tried to pee in there. I don't know if this is a territory thing or if this is a boy thing. Fart Bone never went this far (or I blocked it out... either way).

All weekend I spent chasing him as he tried to pee on his sister and he even tried to cross streams while his brother was peeing. I am NOT dealing with that! No way, no how!

All I know is that if we don't get him trained soon, he's going to be wearing adult diapers. He's already in the last pull-ups size... Not that we have a deadline or anything. No pressure, yeesh.

If They Would Just Stop Growing

Both of my crazy boys are growing so very fast. I keep getting emotional as I watch them become their own person and develop their insane personalities.

Fart Bone is crazy. Period.

Hello, he agreed to be named Fart Bone!

He volunteered to let us name his first born child Waffles (boo-ya!) and he's an avid reader. His vocabulary is outstanding. He got his golden sight words tag (998/ 1000 words pronounced correctly) and he graduated the third grade with straight A's!!

Jamma took him this weekend and spoiled him ROTTEN to celebrate. It's amazing how much spoiling can be done in 24 hours.

For the summer, he'll be practicing both his 3rd and 4th grade exercise books and participating in the library reading programs with his cousins. I'm desperately trying to find a pool we can go to that isn't the YMCA (they use far too much chlorine and their rules plain suck) so he can practice his swimming again.. In the meantime we have our mini backyard pool that the kids adore.

We're also looking for a new bike for him. His last one died from total lack of attention but he's begging to get one again, so we'll see.

He is 63lbs and 58 inches. He's lean and strong. His ab muscles are out of control and he asks us to knock on them a lot.

He's still an attention whore and a total comedian and I can't stand that he's going to be 10 in less than 6 months! *Wah!!!!!!!!!*

Then there's Chunko, who I swear forgets that he's just barely 2 years old. He's decided that anything any of us can do, he can do... better.

Great.

He strolls around the house. He climbs on counters. He opens both the front door and the door leading to the garage. He locks our bedroom door in the morning in the hopes that it will keep us snuggled up to him longer. He brings me my tennis shoes on Wednesdays when I go to Zumba without my even asking for them. He knows which shoes are for which days.

The other night my love and I were talking about how one of us had to go downstairs to get Chunko a diaper for after his bath. Chunko wandered off to be naked as he usually does ( this kid rarely wears clothes anymore) and we kept arguing. A few moments later Chunko came back with not only a diaper but also his selection of pajamas for the night.

When he wants a drink, he'll bring us his choice of drink and his preferred sippy cup. I think he tries to separate his drinks by cup style. He likes apple juice in his Cars cups but powerade in his green jungle cups... Hmmm...

He's currently potty training himself. He woke one morning and peed in his potty. We rewarded him with candy and he looked at us as if to ask "Well, why didn't you tell me??? I could have been getting candy this whole time!"
He pees on both his baby potty and the normal toilet, just depends on his mood. He barely fits his potty chair and is too tall to stand and pee in it. He practices using the bigger toilet but doesn't like how far away it is. He hasn't completely stopped using a diaper but he's so much closer. He asks to use the potty when we're out running errands and he's woken twice in the middle of the night to pee. We haven't had a thing to do with it. He goes in the bathroom, sits on the potty, wipes, flushes and washes his hands. It's insane to watch him do it. Now that he knows he can get candy sometimes he'll pee just a bit, get his candy and then pee again so he can get more.
Stinker.

He also got his first haircut... I feel like he went from 2 years to 10 years in one snip of the scissors. I keep staring at him. I can't figure out who this kid is that looks so much like my baby but isn't. I wish I could glue his hair back on. I hate it. I'm adjusting but it still makes me so very sad.

He isn't much of a talker still. He is saying so many new words though. He calls his binky his "baby" and he says "No" all the time (in proper context, of course). He doesn't just say "No" to everything, but if he doesn't want to do it, he's gonna let you know.
He is saying more words on a regular basis but not as much as some other kids his age (like his cousin who's a mini parrot).

His tantrums are not as bad as I think they could be but we tend to let him do as he wishes. Actually, I do, my love is still trying to argue over who's more stubborn.
The baby's winning, fyi.
He's so much easier to deal with if you explain to him what's going on and if you let him do the same as the big kids.
If Brother isn't holding your hand and neither is Sister... then why should I? If Brother gets 6 chicken nuggets... where's mine? If Sister can do her own ketchup, then so can I. If Brother is running screaming through the store, then guess where I'll be... yada, yada, yada.

He's quite the music critic. He demands the station be changed if he doesn't like the song and if I dare change it from a song he likes, then he will scream until it's back. He loves to sing and is actually pretty good. He favors the TV show tunes (like Two and a Half Men or Big Bang or Family Guy) because they are brief but he likes music in general.

We're finally getting into a pleasant groove with sleep time and play times. He is getting better about being able to play by himself even though he prefers not to. We're in the middle of night time sleep battles but it's an on and off thing we've grown accustomed to.

He's hitting the brink of 39lbs (38.9lbs... Are you kidding me!?!?!) and still about 37 1/4inches.
I miss my wee lil chunky baby guy. I might have to start calling him JJ soon cause Chunko he is not.

Enough About You

I don't even know how to start.

I have been obsessing over my weight for so long, it's odd to realize that at some point I just suddenly stopped.

At one point I had to restrict how often I was weighing myself because I was that obsessed with the numbers. I was counting calories and with every bite I took I was thinking "This is going to make you fat."

Then it slowly died down. I had hit about 165-170lbs. It wasn't where I wanted to be but it was better than 200lbs. I wanted 150 but just couldn't seem to get there.

I started taking Zumba once a week and making myself do more around the house. Instead of coming home from work and plopping on the couch, it was time to clean the garage. Instead of flipping on the TV, it was time to play outside with the boys.

It has been a very difficult road and I know it's been hard on everyone and not just me.

Today I am proud to say that not only am I at 153 (or 158 on my higher days) but that I am now in between sizes 10/ 11 clothes! When I had my wisdom teeth pulled I got down to 143lbs and I loved it, not going to lie, but I was so weak that it was pointless for me to allow myself to stay that small.

Two years ago, when I gave birth, I was about 210lbs. During that time I never once thought that I would ever go back to my pre-pregnancy weight or size. I thought that I would be one of those women who just gain a little bit more after having a baby. I was okay with it, not happy, but okay.

Now, I not only weigh less than when I started but I also wear a smaller clothing size. I actually bought a medium shirt!!!! I haven't been able to wear a medium shirt since I was anorexic. And I bought new work pants... and they are size 10! Whoop Whoop!!!

My rings fit perfectly and better than they did before I got pregnant. I feel so energized. I am slowly getting back my energy but that has more to do with lack of sleep than lack of eating right. (Which is also so much better now).

I can't even complain about my mommy pouch anymore. I still have a mild overhang but with each month that passes, it gets smaller.

My stretch marks have gone from "Hideous Car Accident meets Tiger Attack" to "Normal Stretch Marks that blend in." Those will be forever. I'm not trying to get rid of them anyways. I've had some stretch marks since I was 14 or 15, so I know they aren't magically disappearing. I went through the small phase of trying all those miracle creams to reduce them but the only thing that helps is time.

Currently I am eating healthier simply because I like to. I don't obsess over carbs or calories. I go to Zumba purely for fun. I haven't used my Wii as much but we're debating on keeping or upgrading it so we'll see. I walk a lot and I play with my boys so much more than I did before.

I also took the time to think and accept that when I had my oldest I allowed myself to get sick, not skinny. I saw some old shirts I used to wear (you know, the ones too small for my bony 9 year old to wear... Eep) and I saw some old pictures and I fought to not do that to myself again.

This weight loss battle has been the shits, to be honest, but I feel that I can now safely claim that I have conquered it and I have won.

Yay me!!

 From 185 to 165 to 153!!

Steve Vs. Nemo

I was talking with a really good friend and we somehow ended up on the topic of our pets.
I knew she had cats (kind of) and two very precious doggies (they're just so awesome you have to use the baby voice) but then she told me she has a lizard...

Me: You have a lizard?

Friend: How do you not know about our lizard, Steve?

Me: I have no idea. Did you know about our pet fish, Nemo?

Friend: You have a fish? What? Where?

Me: He's plastic and fake but he's in a fishbowl in the boys' room, so it counts.

Friend: Um, no. I actually have to feed live crickets to Steve. It's gross.
Me: We can feed crickets to Nemo, too. He won't eat them though. He doesn't eat very much. I think he's anorexic. Then we'll have crickets hopping all over the bedroom and I'm pretty sure Chunko will end up eating one.
Friend: Dude, you're weird.

Tell me my logic is wrong, I dare you... 

My Husband = Awesome

I have always dreamed of having a cute little shed converted into a playhouse in my back yard. When we lived in an apartment and we didn't even have a backyard, I wanted one on the balcony. When we lived in a house with a huge backyard, I wanted one. I even tried to save up money so that I could build my own but those suckers are expensive and I wanted Doritos more.

When I was about 7 years old, my mom converted our storage room next to the apartment into a grocery store for me, complete with groceries to buy. I blame that for starting the obsession. It was too darn cute and I wanted more.

The other day my husband and I were traveling somewhere (probably work but it was a long drive) and I mentioned this undying need to him.

This is kind of how the conversation went:

Me: I want a tool shed in the backyard.
My Husband: We don't have room for it right now.
Me: When we move, I want a big huge backyard and I want a tool shed back there.
My Hubs: Yeah, okay. Sure.
Me: I want to convert it into a cute little play house for me... er... the kids to play in
My Hubs: Okay.
 

^ This is what I am picturing

 
 

^ This is what he's picturing

Me: Actually, I want to make it into a little apartment.
My Hubs: For your dad?
Me: No! For my pink flamingo statues.
My Hubs: Oh?
Me: Yeah, I'm going to dress them up and stage them like they live there and then every week I'll change their clothes. The neighbors will think they're coming to life.

My Hubs: That doesn't make any sense. When we're truck drivers, you won't be able to change their clothes every week (<---- we've decided to become truck drivers when we retire. We can travel the states and see all the tacky little USA things we've always wanted to. We're going to be awesome old people).
Me: Oh. Then I guess I can only change them seasonally. We'll have to be sure to be home for the holidays. You know, for the kids and my flamingos.... And the ferrets.
My Hubs: What ferrets?
Me: You know, the ferrets we're going to start collecting when the kids move out and I start suffering empty nest syndrome?
My Hubs: Are the ferrets going to live in the tool shed?
Me: Pssshhh, no.
My Hubs: How are we going to have ferrets if we're truck drivers?
Me: Um....
My Hubs: Oh, I know. They'll stay in the back of the truck, right? They'll help us keep track of our deliveries.
Me: Yeah, exactly what I was thinking! And then we can trade which ferret will visit us in the cab for the day's drive.
My Hubs: Okay, makes sense.

I love that at no point did he question my sanity and why I felt the need to have really well dressed flamingos in a tool shed in our backyard.
And i love the fact that he thinks it all makes sense.

We are so made for each other.

Ps, we're going to get those damn gnomes next time....

Birth Control

This past weekend we went out to eat at a restaurant. It was late, so it was fairly empty, so we figured we were safe to try to gulp down food with a slightly crabby Chunko....

~BuZZZ~ Wrong!!!
Chunko, my very precious, heart melting baby has become birth control.

I heard uterus's and cervix's closing tightly shut. Women who were currently pregnant were googling adoption as my baby screamed for his food, screamed for some soda, screamed because we tried to give him food, screamed because he liked hearing his own voice and screamed just to scream and keep us on our toes. He threw crayons and straws. He ate sugar packets, paper packet included. He knocked over a soda and then tried to suck it up off the table. He threw salt over his shoulder, followed by pepper, onto the people behind us. He squirted ketchup and it missed another diner's white shirt by thismuch. 

He settled down for 5 seconds when I let him watch "Elmo and I know it" on my phone for the billionth time but then Daddy doesn't know how to work my phone and it was gone all too quickly.

I think at one point, Chunko swung from the lighting fixtures but I was hiding under the table in embarrassment and can't confirm that.

Chunko has decided that since he is now big enough to sit at the table, he should be allowed to. We wouldn't have reason to argue with this, except when he decides he is done eating and it is time to leave, he can now slide out and leave. We really don't like that so much.

So as we rush through our food, Chunko is done. He is flopping around on the bench, back to his screaming and is trying to slide under the table. As he's sliding, he smacks his head uber hard on the table. My love grabs Chunko and goes to the front to try to pay and get us the heck out of there. Chunko is fighting him and screaming louder because we have to do the thing... You know the thing.

Oh you don't know? It's where we smack and yell at the thing that hurt Chunko so that he will stop crying. He knows only Mommy or Daddy (or only Mommy) can do it and it's been a helpful way to get him over whatever crazy injury he's incurred.

However, it sucks when the entire restaurant is watching you walk the screaming baby back to the table. It sucks when you smile at the busboy and say, "I am so very sorry. I'm not crazy, I promise." Then you smack the table, lightly, and dishes rattle, the cheap ass table jumps up and almost topples over and you have to yell, "Bad table! Don't hurt my baby!"

Chunko, of course, has to yell, "Bad! Bad!" over and over but at least he's clapping. I slink out of the restaurant as all of the other diners stare in horrified shock and the bus boy is crying from laughing so hard.

Yeah the whole restaurant erupted into applause when the door shut behind us and yeah, the manager, waiter and busboy all clearly remembered us when we came back the next weekend.

They did sit us at a much sturdier table this time...

He Walks The Walk

... And now he's talking the talk!

Whoop, Whoop!

Chunko has finally decided to share with us his speech skills and I am so very excited!

He's starting to add a new word or sound almost every other day. Right now, his animal noises include: Pig (*grunt*), Kitty (*Moooowwww and hiss), Puppy (Bark and *panting*), Duck (cack, cack, cack), and now a Cow (Mooooooooooo).

It was so cute because my (super awesomely amazing) Mother-In-Law was upset because he rarely talks to her, if ever. We tried explaining to her that he doesn't really talk to us either but she still wanted to hear something or anything. So one day, during her weekly visit with him, he goes and grabs his animal flashcards and hands them to her. He says "Cow" and she smiles and asks, "What does the cow say?" and he answers, "Mooooooooooooooo." She was very excited but not overly. When we got home, she told us what happened and we freaked out! We explained that he has never said "Cow" or "Mooed" before and then we all flipped out!

He's been watching us quietly, and waiting until he's perfected it before he shares it with us.

He's been using hand signals for the things he can't quite express to us and has become quite animated and eager to communicate with us.

His new vocabulary includes:

His animal noises

Up

Ball

Move

PopPop

Jamma

Mama

Dada

Hannah

NaeNae

Uhoh

Brodo

Bath

Butt

Butt crack

Down

More

I'm sure there are plenty more but I am just so overly excited that my silent baby has finally chosen to share with us!!!!

On top of that, he can now easily open our fridge door and will peruse our fridge foods. He constantly goes into our pantry or fridge, selects his food, will get a bowl or cup, sit at the table and eat it. He strongly refuses to sit in his highchair anymore and is rejecting most "baby" foods. He eats what his brother eats or nothing. If brother dips it in ketchup, he has to, too. If brother gets a cupcake, then he better get one, too. He demands his daily gummy bear vitamin because brother gets one.

Last week, our sitter stepped out to her car to grab something. He took that time to put our trash bag in the fridge, take out the Parmesan cheese and dump it on the table, and get out the veggie fries and sit and eat those. When she came back in, he was sitting there, looking at her as if asking "I don't know who did it, but I've been sitting here eating my fries the whole time." Her car was right outside the door! This was less than 3 minutes, at most!

He likes to take out the trash and the recycling. No one can take either out without him there, waiting with open arms. He is the only person allowed to put in a new trash bag and put the lid back on. He can't stretch it out nicely to fit, but he thinks he can, so we have to go behind him later on and fix it.

He refuses to be babied and is slowly, albeit reluctantly, giving up his binky. He is Not the baby and will not allow anyone to call him one.

I swear, our baby is an 18 year old trapped in a baby's body (lol, or actually in a 3 year  old's body).

I don't really have any new videos of his cute animal noises, so I'll just with you a picture of him with his new favorite toy... My sanitary pads... Oiy

Why Won't My Baby Sleep

 It crept up on us and we had no idea until it smacked us in our sleep deprived faces...

Our baby wasn't sleeping through the night... again.

I don't know when it happened or even how but suddenly he started waking more often and not going back to sleep as easily.

We were so excited when he started sleeping all the way through the night! We would stumble into our bed and lie there, pretending to watch TV but secretly listening to the monitor for the signs of Chunko climbing out of his bed, ready to rumble.

For a few months, it went like a dream, mostly because we were able to sleep long enough to dream.
Once a week, he might wake up but he would go right back to bed when we told him to.

Then it became a few nights, but we excused it saying that he was just overly tired, or overly excited, or just confused. 

Then it became almost every single night. We kept excusing it with explanations of how it was just a bad week...
Then we realized... EVERY week was a bad week.
We were back into the sleepless rut.

At first he would wake up about 5am and snuggle in with us and we didn't think that was too bad. Then it became a 4am snuggle, which then became a 3am snuggle... And I started waking up with a new baby scarf:

We started sleeping less and less and suddenly we're back to zombies and Chunko is back in our bed for half of the night.
When we put our foot down and said no more snuggles until 5am, he threw a fit. Which means he screamed for an hour while trying to escape his room. Which also means he would pretend to go back to bed, wait for ten minutes (long enough to lure us into a false sense of sleepiness) and start his screaming fit again.

We are trying new tactics but so far duct taping him to the bed hasn't worked and neither has stringing him from the ceiling fan... Any ideas would be very very very very very much appreciated....


I NEED SLEEEEEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why Abe Lincoln Makes Me Cringe

Fart Bone had a school report due on Friday. We've known about it for about a month but of course he decided not to remind us about it until the Sunday before (which is way better than the night before like he did with his science project).

Did I mention this was the same Sunday my love left for a week? Yup, not to return until Friday.
*Insert insane scream here, k?*

He was given a "packet" (which I didn't know was a packet until Friday but we'll discuss that later) and told to follow the guidelines to write a report and a visual aid.

His subject was our 16th president, Abraham Lincoln.

*cringe*

Being the crazy person that I am, I insisted that he not only provide the usual facts but he also include something unusual... I had no idea what I was asking for.

So we researched him and Fart Bone found the usual "Civil war" and "Freeing the slaves" spiel.
I asked a co-worker and she mentioned that he was a victim of spousal abuse and became a well known advocate against spousal abuse...

Say what?????

So you know I had to include it all in there.

I happen to be a huge Civil War buff and have done quite a bit research on Lincoln and his efforts of freeing the slaves. I must commend the fact that he never seemed to have cared what color anybody was and had several conversations with Frederick Douglas. But besides his indifference to race, I can't write that he freed the slaves. His Emanicpation Proclomation was based off of the Confederacy's constitution and it was never his intention to free the slaves. It was a political move that just worked out for him. I wasn't comfortable teaching my son the wrong answers because that's what is accepted as historical fact.

Listen to me yammering on about it... It's like word vomit now.

So we spent a week studying Lincoln, writing the perfect (and interesting report) and thinking on the best visual aid.

Our first thought was to do a diorama of Lincoln's assassination but after doing a sample, I was already bored and wanted to do something... different... more... better.

So my next thought was to do a comical diorama of Lincoln being hit with a broom. If you pull the tab on the side, his wife would swing and hit him.
That idea was vetoed, though.

Then I thought that we should do an Operation game style visual, showing all of his injuries over the years. I really wanted to make a playable game but all the Lincoln facts were eating my brain by then.

So Fart Bone picked out his favorite injuries and illnesses and we made this:

Then we put together his report (it asked for three paragraphs... we gave them 5) and made it look like this:

 

We busted butt for four nights, working until late putting it all together but we finished it and it was ready to be turned in Friday morning (*and the crowd goes wild, cheering*)

Fart Bone practiced his speech, he knew these facts by heart, and when I picked him up Friday afternoon, he told me.... that he didn't get to present because he didn't have his packet.

What the heck is a packet?
We did the report
We did the visual aid
What the heck is a packet?????

I was so mad. I found out that what I thought was a template to help kids write their reports (you know for the kids whose parents aren't crazy and didn't have to write regulated reports every single week in perfect "CD, Com, Com" format (<---- I know some of the Academy kids just totally cringed when I said that)) was actually a "packet"

I ranted the whole weekend. If that evil teacher deducted 1 point from my baby's report I was going to skin her alive (I still might).

The weekend passed, Monday came and he got to present (the packet was torn, written all over and stapled weird but she got it back). Everyone laughed when he pulled out his creative visual aid and was very proud of how well he spoke (that would be my dad, the ultimate public speaker).

He got a 98/100 and lost 2 points from sloppy handwriting.

That could be because he finished the packet within 2 minutes once we knew that it was supposed to be turned in, too but whatever...

I am so happy that this report non sense is over.

Now, who wants to help us write a report on Mary Cassatt, it's due in a week?????????

School Pictures (Updated)

We got Fart Bone's pictures back (remember School Picture Training post?) and I opened the envelope containing his 8x10 photo with great trepidation but.... It wasn't anywhere near as scary as I thought

I cannot stand his shirt being tucked in but if I crop it just right, you can't see it.
I just adore his beautiful smile!
Gosh, I love my handsome baby bug!!

DIY Done (finally)

So remember when I asked this question about a year ago?
I'm sure you do...
We had this table and I was looking to re-vamp it.

 It's only taken me fooooooooooorevvvvvveerrr but I finally finished and I am in love with it!
I didn't want to bring it into the house because I was worried it would get scratched.
Yeah, I was worried about my $3 table.
But look how awesome it is!!!

So happy!!!

I love how it adds a little spark to the area and emphasizes the color of the diaper box and cooler.