His quest for autonomy-my quest for serenity

So I've been taking a lot of deep breaths lately. I've also been listening to a lot of Enya and Coldplay... and when that isn't doing it, I've been strapping him in the stroller (sometimes, ok, most times against his will) and walking until the endorphins kick in.

Ah yes... toddlerhood.

Toddlers have an amazing way of keeping your ego in check. You never feel smug when he sits happily in the cart while you stroll past a kid on the floor kicking and screaming below their crimson faced parent, because you know that it will be you tomorrow.

Trying to navigate around tantrums is kind of an exhausting job. I think of it as calculated risks (a million a day). Say for example you are at the store. You come back from grabbing the laundry detergent to find that your significant other has let the child hold on to a bag of golf tees that said significant other claims the child "just had to have." Then you notice that in the amount of time it took you to whine about sticking to the list, he has chewed a hole in the bag, and is drooling all over it. You quickly calculate the risk of taking the chewed on merchandise away.

You must factor in:
- the amount of sleep the child has had
- the percent chance that there will soon be golf tees all down the aisle
- the percent chance that those very tees just got off of a boat from a foreign
land, and lets face it, are probably just sticks dipped in lead paint
- what is on hand that might distract the child from the golf tees
- the alignment of the planets
- how many people are in line at the checkout
- how fast you think you could get a screaming toddler out of the store

So you calculate, and decide to take the tees, resulting in the tantrum of the century. Was it the right answer? You'll never know.

But hey, at least you provided some birth control to the teens who were walking behind you. You are pretty sure you even saw the couple stop holding hands.

Holy crap, where did my baby go?

So,

The burp cloths have made the transition into dusting rags
The crib seems too small
The diaper bag is scaled down to just diapers
Bottles have been donated and long gone
Formula- what's that?
The clothes are lasting longer
Sesame Street is getting undivided attention
The morning nap is gone
Sleep is easy to come by
Verbal communication- need I say more?

Things definitely seem to be heading in the right direction. And yet, Sean and I are feeling the itch. Especially since we found this video today...

Someone better give us a reality check- and quick. The nostalgia is clouding our judgement!

It's been awhile

But no news is good news!

(Except in the world of realty... apparently in realty, no news is bad news.)

Anyway, here are some pics- Happy June!

I can almost taste the Ramen...

When I was eighteen, sacrificing a week of actual sustenance for a week of Kraft mac and cheese and a new outfit was exciting. At twenty five, the prospect of having to make choices like that (only with diapers and a mortgage thrown in the mix) is far too exciting for me.

Sean and I have known for a few months that Kimberly-Clark will be letting a significant percentage of their workforce go after July. I've been through the gamut of emotions. After a few weeks of nail biting, tossing and turning, and the opposite of stress eating, I have settled into (and have started to enjoy) blissful ignorance.

Last week we got word that July 15th is the official date - when we finally get closer to answering questions like, how long I will be driving around a car that was made the year I graduated from elementary school?... and, how old will Kelan be when he finally has a sibling?...

The truth is, despite all of my unnecessary worrying - we'll be fine. The whole situation makes me appreciate what we have. As excruciatingly cliche as it sounds, right now we have our health- and we're happy.

So, we'll hope for a new car and a brother for Kelan, but we'll be OK with a clunker and some free playdates. Just don't expect me to have any fingernails come June 30th.

My first refrigerator art!

This came home from the Y with Kelan yesterday.

There is something about fingerpaint that just melts my heart.

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.