Balance

Wyatt woke up at 2:15 this morning with indiscernable issues, remedied by being held by his mommy. So my displeasure with being awake for 45 minutes was tempered by his sweetness of spirit that came shining through in the wee hours. After letting him fall asleep on my shoulder, I transferred him back to his crib only to have him start desperately calling for me again, which meant I spent the next 30 minutes trying to soothe him by rubbing his chest. It totally worked until I moved my hand and then he would grasp for it again, pushing it hard against his little sternum. And his little fingers intertwined with mine as he drifted back to sleep. And I felt indescribably needed and loved.



Our trip to Trader Joe's this morning was quite the opposite, with him wanting my hand nowhere near him or his balloon, thankyouverymuch, and announcing it in his loudest voice for all to hear. His bad attitude continued through all the aisles, into the parking lot and for the trip home where he got really extra mad when he let go of his balloon in the kitchen and I - STUPID MOMMY - encouraged him to reach up and get it himself since the string was long enough. What was I thinking?

But then I let him play outside with his new sand table while I fixed his lunch and his mood turned back again. He was, in fact, so happy that I was able to capture a little something for you:

I think I then made his day by taking him to the pool after his nap. He literally started cheering when we walked in. I guess maybe those HOA dues might be worth it after all! And he made my day by gracing me with unsolicited super-squeezy hugs and kisses on the cheek. I love my little boy along with all his ups, downs and in-betweens.

If These Walls Could Talk,

I'm not sure I'd want to hear what they had to say.

We've been discovering and uncovering things about this house and its previous occupants for a few months now - random paint colors, wonky wiring, weird stuff spilled in nooks and crannies, reports from neighbors that maybe as many as 12 people lived here at once (yep, in our four bedroom home) - but the incident from this morning got my heart pounding a little faster.

I heard a light knock on the door and looked out to see my local sheriff's deputy standing on the porch with his cruiser parked halfway across the driveway. My first thought was, "man! that was quick!" because I'd just taken the phone away from Wyatt and thought maybe he'd somehow dialed 911. But no, the nice man was serving some sort of court order for a previous occupant. I'm assuming it wasn't anything too drastic since he'd already stuck the paperwork in the door, but as soon as I told him she didn't live here anymore he grabbed it and didn't let me see what it said. He did take my name and told me that if I receive any other paperwork for her to please call the sheriff's office. And then he sat out there in his car for another 20 minutes or so. I imagined him calling in to make sure I wasn't some great liar and that he wasn't letting the bad lady go. Maybe I've watched a few too many Law & Orders?

And why is it that even though the man wasn't after me and I haven't (knowingly) broken any laws lately, it got my adrenaline running? And even though it wasn't for us, I still wonder what the neighbors were thinking. But maybe the previous tenants numbed them to the presence of the officials with guns. I guess we'll never know!

The other post

I've been furiously writing away about what the heck's going on over here and why I've been slack about posting when I realized all I need to say is this:

My non-computerized, very willful, very verbal, very everything child is challenging me to the utmost of my being. I feel beaten down by a not-yet-two-year old and am attempting to remain sane. That effort is sucking all energy from my soul and there is simply nothing left for the blog. When I have gotten this mildly under control, I'll try to be more prolific. Just trust me when I tell you that every fiber of my being is needed for the challenge at hand.

Don't worry, I'm still taking pictures every once in awhile because although he's a crazy barrel of psycho monkeys right now, he's still quite charming in his own way. I'll try to post them soon.

Who Gave Him a Laptop?

Apparently Wyatt lurks on this blog (as so many of you do. ahem. P.S. Lurking=reading without commenting. And also? I've yet to meet a blogger who doesn't appreciate a little comment love every now and then. But I digress) and doesn't want to be known as naughty naughty, short-fused or difficult because today he woke up in a fine mood. I realize it may only be a temporary reprieve (much like the olden infant days when he just. wouldn't. sleep. through. the. night. and would throw me a bone in the form of six straight hours of shuteye just as I hit my breaking point) and am probably jinxing myself by even mentioning it, but it's such a life improvement that I had to share.

So Wyatt, thank you son. Thanks for letting me be a better mommy by not having to be just below my boiling point all day. You're one in a million, kid.

Driven to Drink

My son - the joy that he is - seems to have heard that two-year olds are unreliable at best and incredibly difficult at worst. He wants to really live it up, so he's aiming for the incredibly difficult end of the spectrum. For whatever reason, his normal, jovial self has been replaced by a testy, hair-triggered, short-fused, naughty naughty difficult and challenging child. I love him. I really do. But there have been a lot of times over the last week or so that I don't particularly love his company.

My sister kindly reminded me this is all part of the toddler credo - if it's open it must be closed, if it's down it must be up, if it's full it must be emptied, etc. - but this new Attitude (it deserves a capital letter because obviously it is its own being) is making me C.R.A.Z.Y. Yes, there are still glimpses of the sweet child I once knew, but man! I am earning that rare time. I get frustrated with the whining for milk only to have it dumped on the table when he gets it; the crying to be "up peeze" for him to then hit me or pull my hair; the begging to eat followed by shoving away the food he asked for and launching into an all-out fit; the wriggling to get down but then acting as if his legs are Jello and not standing up. I kid you not, he cried for about an hour this morning because for some reason his oatmeal was offending. Yet even as he was blubbering, he was still asking for his "omeeelt" that he had just rejected. It his hard to please a person in that condition.

The rational part of me realizes that he is trying to assert his independence, is only going through a phase and that this, too, shall pass, but the childish part of me wants to join in with him and pout and cry and also throw something (I might as well, since he does that, too) or maybe just pay someone else to take him for the next week or month. But no, I suck it up, speak calmly and rationally, issue timeouts when appropriate and, in really desperate moments, resort to doing shots of espresso courtesy of my local Starbucks and a very timely mother's day gift from Jeff. So if you talk to me and I tell you that I had a latte in hand before 8:00 am, you know it's a little rough over here. Please take it easy on me.

Scratch That

I realized that I have nothing to worry about with the neighbors; I mean, I'm not the one walking my cats every day at 4:00 (showings at 8 am and noon on the weekends, folks.) I kid you not, the 17-year old behind us has to/gets to/wants to walk his cats every day. You could almost set your watch by it. One cat gets a leash, one has free reign, but both get carried one way and then run the other. Repeat twice and back into the house. It's crazy, I tell you. I managed to catch a little video of it the other day (please ignore Jeff's chatter - it's as if he thinks life should just proceed as scheduled when I'm doing all this sneaky, super-important blogger documentation):

Wyatt loves cat-run time and it often coincides with his afternoon snack. He likes to commentate the run with a few screechy meows that always makes me laugh. I have to watch how I respond now that we have the windows open - our yards just aren't that big and I'm sure this kid can hear Wyatt howling as he runs by.

Also, our neighbors are about to love us because we're having REAL LIVE SOD put in our front yard tomorrow morning. We found a connection to turf on the cheap and are, therefore, getting to forego the agony of tearing out and reseeding our weed pit come fall. I love me some instant gratification - and this was instanty instant! we had our friend look at it yesterday morning, his guys came by yesterday afternoon and the great tilling starts at 8:30 am tomorrow - yessireebob. I'll have to take a few before and after pics because I can only imagine that the results will be astounding. I mean, we're going from about 15 blades of grass to 15 gajillion in one day!

The kitchen remains a different story (thank you very much to my loyal and faithful friends who commented and/or emailed and/or called; a lot of lurkers out there missed an opportunity to tell me what to do!) despite our evening with the Home Depot kitchen lady last night. Maybe we'll just keep doing other projects first so that the kitchen funds get used somewhere else. That's one way to settle it, right?

Lastly, and totally off topic, Wyatt has a few new tricks:

1. He calls himself Wy-wyt instead of Wy-wy.

2. He says, "own!" over and over and over. It means, "I want to do this on my own and do not need your assistance mom-lady!" Another phrase with the same meaning is, "wy-wyt!, wy-wyt!"

3. He's started hiding (hmmmm, wonder where he learned that, Jeff!), usually at incredibly inopportune times, like when I ask him to put on his shoes as we're about to leave the house. Today I found him between a tall cabinet and a window and under the console table in the living room. Sneaky!

4. He can spy playgrounds from seven miles away and starts calling out, "bark! bark!" because the 'p' sound is, apparently, somewhat challenging for him. I have to tell him approximately eighty two times every day that we're not going to the park.

5. He randomly calls for "IYAAAAAX!" in his loudest voice when he wants someone to play with. He's now done this at the park multiple times, in furniture stores, at Michael's, in Home Depot and every time we leave our subdivision (handy how Isaac lives right across the street).

6. He recognizes Lowe's by sight (even one in North Carolina last weekend) and asks to go there a few times a day. We told the Home Depot lady last night in hopes she'd try to earn his allegiance, but no luck.

What Will the Neighbors Think?

So the Rifes were over for dinner the other night and we were looking at the dog who lives behind us. Jerod and Jeff were hypothesizing about what type of dog it is and said, well it might be a golden retriever but I just don't know. Its fur doesn't look right. I said it is a golden, they just had it shaved. Someone said, really? Because it doesn't really look like a golden anymore. And I said, yeah, I know, but it had hair when we moved in and then last week it showed up all shaven. That seemed to be a good enough explanation.

Why am I telling you that? Because it's probably similar to the conversation that will take place in all the neighbors' houses when they see this:

I really didn't mean to pass along my hair inconsistencies, but I don't actually know how to answer when the lady at Sports Cuts asks, "how do you want it cut?" Because I'm a girl and I don't know about clippers vs. scissors and I thought phrases such as "we like it a little longer", "we part it over here" and "just a good little boy cut" might do. Alas, they do not.

The upside? It will be approaching fall when he needs another cut. I guess I know how to get my money's worth out of that $8.95 coupon!

The picture below is two-fold; it captures the ill-fated 'do (which, by the way, surprised me anew when I went to get him from his nap since this morning he had hair and all) and also provides a nice comparison to this day last year, when Wyatt was photographed under the table next to the same chair. Hard to believe how big he's getting (even for a smallish guy). I really wanted the same picture, but guess who wouldn't quite cooperate? He's simply too busy getting used to the feel of wind on his scalp.

Speaking of Timesucks

Pretend you are me & Jeff (okay, if being two people is difficult, pick the one of us you like most. I'll wait... Seriously? You all picked Jeff? Figures.)

Okay, so you are Jeff and this is your situation: you and your adoring, competent, beautiful, hilarious wife - who, coincidentally, is a FANTASTIC mom - have recently purchased a home that is 20 years old. It needs a little updating and you are financially committed to X total dollars for said updates. One of the projects is your kitchen because the cabinets are in okay (but not great) shape and because your aforementioned wife cannot fit all her necessary kitchen accoutrement into the existing space. Therefore, you are set on adding an island but are running into a few snags in the form of cannot-match-old-cabinetry-to-new and these-cabinets-are-looking-worn-in-a-few-key-spots. You had really hoped to update the kitchen by adding granite countertops, which you can do with your current budget. However, you worry that granite+mediocre cabinets = BIG MISTAKE but do not particularly want to finance/do not particularly think the market can make worthwhile a real kitchen overhaul. What do you do?

Option 1: for original budget plus a little bit, redo all the cabinets so all are new and put in laminate countertops.

Option 2: stay within your budget and go for the island in a different color (supposedly is a trend now?) and put granite on everything hoping that mediocre cabinets+granite = ooh! pretty countertops and now I don't even notice those cabinets!

Option 3: Go big or go home. For roughly double your original budget, redo the cabinets and the countertops and keep all digits crossed in hopes of somehow, someday making some money out of this house.

This is the part where you comment. Be anonymous if you want, but really! Please comment! We need guidance and will take it in whatever form it avails itself. Thanks. And I hope you had fun being Jeff.

The Good Ol' Days

Remember when I used to blog every day? Sometimes even twice in one day? What happened?! I think there are a few options at play here: (1) My life used to be more interesting (2) It was easier to be selfish with my time when Wyatt took two naps (3) it was easier to be selfish with my time when Wyatt couldn't verbalize what he wanted and, therefore, I didn't feel guilty about spending quality time with my laptop (4) it was easier to be selfish with my time when I had half as much house to clean and no bills to pay and nowhere to shop (5) I used to be better at managing my time (6) I used to know when to say no to dead-end projects like kitchen improvements and new furniture quests.

I'm not really sure which of those options is holding the most power over my life right now, but somehow they come together to suck all creativity and blogginess out of my being. And also, I think (once upon a time, for like two posts) I used to be a little bit funny. I am none of those things anymore. It's a wee bit depressing; I'm not going to lie.

So here's a non-creative, unfunny version of our weekend:

1. Left Friday at 4:00 for North Carolina -- Furniture Quest '08 -- after choosing to not have Wyatt nap (following the "he'll fall asleep in the car" theory) all afternoon.
2. Was amazed by the fact that Wyatt slept for about 40 minutes of a 4.5 hour drive, but we didn't even break out the DVD player. It's all about books and music for that kid! Note to selfL:
3. Ate my weight in omelet and pancake at the Embassy Suites breakfast. Gotta get my money's worth, you know?
4. Spent 8 hours in furniture stores, less 30 minutes for a quality McDonald's lunch. Was amazed that Wyatt fell asleep in the car for 5 minutes yet transferred well to his stroller where he slept for another whopping 30 minutes. At least we had that half hour of peace and focus for Furniture Quest '08. Surely we could find the perfect couch and pick out fabric in that time, right?
5. Heard them lock the doors behind us as we left the store after having found neither the right couch nor the right fabric.
6. Headed home Saturday evening feeling utterly defeated. Broke out the DVD player for our son-turned-three-headed-sleep-deprived-monster. Listened to two episodes of Elmo's world, three episodes of Bob the Builder, five run throughs of Ralph's World DVD and then to pitiful wailing when we turned off the DVD player in hopes he might actually close his eyes and end the catatonic stare.
7. Was amazed when two hours later he was still awake.
8. Felt awful when he gave in to sleep only 30 minutes from home.
9. Was astounded when changing him into his pajamas and found large chunks of ham and cheese sandwich plastered to his body. Felt awful putting my little hammy boy to bed without a bath.
10. Unpleasantly resigned to the fact that his extra early wake-up on Sunday morning was all our fault so dragged myself out of bed with a happy face. Spent the rest of the day recovering.
11. At 11:00 last night, discovered there's a store about 30 minutes away with as much selection and almost equivalent prices for Furniture Quest '08. Sheepishly took myself to bed.

See? My life, it's FASCINATING. Hope your weekend was good.