Is it because I'm ugly?

The process of selling your house is like asking someone that you're pretty sure is out of your league to a dance. And being rejected. A couple times a week.

So here's what it has been like for me: I clean and scrub and dust and arrange (and Febreze). I hide things that the realtor warned us people might not like to see (which for some reason includes loofahs and highchairs -but whatever, I'll play your game finicky buyer) and sometimes even remember to put fresh fruit in the bowl (or at least turn the apples so that the yucky side is facing down). It all feels so desperate; Like I am putting on every ounce of make up I own and wearing my best outfit, getting ready to ask my friend to ask that guy to the dance for me.

For that hour or so... I am thinking things like- Oh my gosh, they are probably in my house right now. Did I remember to pick up that Cheerio I saw peeking out from under the couch? I hope they can't see that small stain in the carpet. Oh and let's not forget... Please let them buy my house, who needs a garage when you have an amazing leaky shed?

Then we get home, and if there isn't a sad little note on the table, there is an email from the realtor letting us down easy... writing things like, At least they didn't think the price was bad! Which to me is just like your best friend coming back with the bad news and then saying "Well at least he didn't say you were smelly like that Ashley girl!"

Ugh, I could use some Ben and Jerry's after all this rejection.

Willy Wonka is going to blow this kid's mind someday

So, we took Kelan to the Children's museum today and he took the whole baby garden thing a bit too literally.

Yeah, he's trying to eat the "fruit,"and no, this is not the only decoration he tried to eat. I probably should have been embarrassed, but it was just too funny.

Confessions of a desperate housewife

Not desperate as in "I lust after the FedEx man" desperate, more like "It's probably time for a hobby" desperate.

Ah - Independence, sanity, identity... I vaguely remember these things. I'm pretty sure they disappeared right around the time the epidural kicked in.

Want to hear an embarrassing confession? Sure you do. A couple weeks ago, when I was brushing my teeth before bed, I came to the shocking realization that I hadn't left the house. In. Three. Days. Oh god, my cheeks are red. Now, this really isn't the norm for me, but I have to say it was a wake up call.

As they say, drastic times call for drastic measures. So off to the YMCA I went. I signed myself up for 2 free exercise classes and 1 knitting class. I'm pretty sure the embarrassment of sweating and stumbling over cardio moves in front of a mirror and several fellow classmates can come nowhere close to the humiliation I felt upon realizing that I spent roughly 20 minutes a day for three days in a row flat ironing my hair so that I could neurotically clean my house and teach Kelan to eat with a fork.

I've always marveled at the moms who can call a nurse and say "He's got it again, send the prescription to Walgreens."

It seems like every kid has that one illness that they are super-prone to. I have a friend that can recognize an ear infection in her daughter by the sound of her cry. For me, it has never been that simple. It's mostly just a lot of calling nurse direct and feeling like a bumbling idiot. (Wait, I was supposed to keep track of wet diapers?)

In any event, 104.0 is not what you like to see on your thermometer a half hour before the clinic opens.

Sunday's fever was a bit worrisome as it kept coming back just a bit higher each time the Tylenol wore off. On Monday morning we woke up to a listless, furnace of a kid and I was officially freaked.


It was strange since the only symptom he had was a fever, but on a hunch the doctor ordered a chest x-ray and announced that he has Pneumonia. So, Kelan and I spent most of the day on the couch. He slept like a newborn, and I cleaned out the DVR.


Sadly, I think chest infections are what he's prone to. Maybe this is how it happens, it's just a pattern that you notice. I sincerely hope that we get better at catching on to the signs though, because Pneumonia does not mess around.

Yesterday was fun. Today - not so much

Kelan is feverish, restless, and just plain miserable today. Poor guy.

Here are some pics of yesterday.

All I need now are the pants with the hula hoop waist and a really tiny car...

It starts out small.

The minute your child is born, you find yourself constantly smiling at them and making those faces with the really dramatic eyebrow raise. As soon as they start to smile back at you, you kick it up a notch with the wild gestures... which for me included a lot of flailing arms and exaggerated peek-a-boo motions.

Then the kid starts laughing and you pretty much go nuts. I have been known to do some pretty ridiculous things to get that much sought after giggle... lets just say I would probably drop dead if my high school crush ever walked in on our "90 second dance parties" - enough said.

At some point though, when the tantrum stage hits, a certain desperation creeps into the entertaining routine. You realize another reason for this impromptu gesticulating, loud excited happy voice using, and funny noise making--distraction. This is especially true in public places. Take this evening, for example. Sean and I decided to take Kelan to a sit down restaurant for a late dinner. In retrospect it was ill-advised as Kelan missed a nap and is cutting his canines.

At some point between rolling up the kids menu and using it as a telescope, and driving a matchbox car down a make-shift coaster ramp, I looked around at all of our fellow diners casually eating over adult conversation (not wolfing down food at a mach 8) and thought to myself- at what point did I turn into a clown?

Toy du jour