Reminiscing

Someone on The Bump (my fav mommy website) asked if we liked our Jumperoo. The short answer is yes. It made me recall some old photos of Breckin when he was a Jumperoo addict and scrolling through his 4-mos photos shows just why these two are siblings. Breckin looks like Dustin and Ella, while 4 1/2 years younger, is Breckin's twin.  My genetics are officially inferior.
I promise, these are Breckin- not Ella dressed up in boy clothes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And, here's Ella.

 

One of those days....

I'm at work.
I've been away from my desk for most of the morning but took a quick break to check my emails/get some lunch for Ella for tomorrow/freshen up. I just answered a phone call while taking this quick break and decided, while on the phone, to multi-task and brush my hair and put on some chap stick. Run the brush through the hair, notice it's a bit tanglier (it's a word as of right now), check the mirror. Bam. SOMEONE's tiny bag of m&m's fell out in my bag, melted while sitting in the sun yesterday, became glued to my hairbrush, and are now streaked throughout my hair.
At work.
And, my shirt and bra smell like spit up cause I got tagged on my way out the door and, although it doesn't show, I know it's there cause it's right under my nose. So, I put some new lotion on my hands and arms to try to mask it but the only lotion I could find in my desk was thoroughly past it's halflife and smells like bad, old, bathroomatthezoo lotion. I tried to wash most of the chocolate out of my hair but now it looks like I just took a shower.
At work.
I have to go back to the auditing task smelling like I just cleaned a port-a-potty at a park with mostly wet hair which is now in a pony tail. Let's just hope I don't have toilet paper stuck to my shoe or my shirt all jacked up cause I just pumped. Gosh, being a working mom is glamorous. It's not even noon yet.

Just like Mastercard....

I was tired and annoyed that I had to do my weekly grocery shopping late Monday night instead of Sunday afternoon. But, that's life and sometimes the weekend doesn't go as planned. Here's the tally:

Healthy, non-couponed (it kills me) groceries for the week: $100
Toiletries that somehow happen all at once: $30
Birthday party favors for 20 kids cause I know I won't get back to Walmart before his actual party day: $40
Random Hot Wheels conveniently placed near the checkout so I get them for my little man: $2
Having a 30-minute, full-on conversation with my 4 month old daughter consisting entirely of squeaks, babbles, giggles, flurbs, and raspberries while doing the shopping: $Priceless

Just when I thought I was going to fall asleep while pushing the shopping cart, baby girl kept me entertained and made the whole trip go a lot faster. And, snap!, the job's a game.

Have you seen my heart?

It is in the form of a small child- "yellow" hair (according to him), goofy smile, manic amounts of energy, usually running/skipping/jumping. Answers to the name of Gloria, Sally, Cindy, Buddy, Bubba, BreckinBall, and- sometimes- Breckin. Likes hot dogs, m&ms, lemonade (and until recently, called it womenade for lack of the "l" sound in his vocabulary), and cupcakes.

If you've seen him, give him a hug. Tell him he's a fantastic kid. Give him a high-five. Smooch him on the cheeks. Heck, you can give him some m&ms if you have any. Please show him as much love as you can.

Last night, he performed his first, miraculous, big brother stunt. Our baby monitor came unplugged in the middle of the night rendering me useless to Ella's cries. Our room is on the opposite side of the house from hers and without a monitor, I would literally never hear her. Breckin's room, however, is right next door to hers. About 4:05 am, he came in our room and said "Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. (shakes me) Ella is crying. I went in, gave her a binky, rubbed her belly, and told her it was ok. I think she still needs you and I can't hear her on the walkie talkie. I don't want to change her diaper."

I stumbled down the hall to find her screaming but her mobile was on, she had a blankie covering her legs, and there were four binkies surrounding her head. Tried as he might, Breckin couldn't stop her screaming but he called Mommy 911 and that's what mattered. I will forever love him for hearing her and coming to get me. How do you repay that? Good job, Buddy.

Oh.....

I added some "retro" Easter photos to the end of the Easterish album over there on The Photos. I ran across them while I was uploading this year's and Breckin's little face reminds me so much of Ella... I had to throw some old school shots in. I think he was not quite 2 years old. It was when we lived in the apartment after our Issaquah house sold.... Good times.

Self Inflicted Ridiculousness

We taught Breckin about April Fool's Day. It started with the simple humor of:

Dustin: Hey Buddy, my name is Buzz Lightyear. April Fools!

He thought that was funny and caught on that it's basically about doing/saying stuff that isn't true and seeing who will fall for it. It evolved to:

Dustin: Hey Buddy, Mommy's teapot is made out of junk. April Fools!

And, then finally- on the big day, I told him that Miss Carol called and said a pancake fell on their school and it was closed. April Fools. He wore pajamas to school just to be silly. And, after dinner that night, I served him spaghetti cupcakes. They are simply regular ol' cuppycakes with yellow piped frosting (to look like noodles), melted jam (the sauce), and whoppers (meatballs). He was fooled and quite upset that I would ruin cupcakes with pasta. His reaction was priceless and he almost had tears in his eyes til we convinced him it was not actually pasta. Poor guy was so upset. I guess we better stick to the simple jokes...

Wanna see pictures of the cupcakes and his reaction (as well as Easter, egg hunts, etc)? Click on The Photos over there on the right.

BFL 2010

It seems like my life is surrounded by weight-loss lately. Do you watch Biggest Loser? My co-workers and I lovingly call it BFL. Big Frickin Losers. I don't know why- I'm sure Joe started it and we all just continued it. Anyway, long story short, we are doing our own version of BFL in our department. It's only for 30 days but it was a great excuse to jumpstart my IWillRegainControlOfMyBodyAfterThisBabyIfItDamnNearKillsMe phase in life. Don't get me wrong- I'm down 30 lbs since Nov 28th 2009 and I, honestly, could care less about my number. Like a contestant said on last week's episode- a 2 lb loss doesn't define me. It doesn't matter what I lose each week. It matters how much better I feel. I didn't even know my number until I "weighed in" yesterday. I was glad to see I'd lost some poundage but what feels better is pulling out my bin of clothes from my last after-child body-shrinking episode and fitting in some of them. All I really care about is how my clothes fit. Vain, right?

Unfortunately, now I have to care about the number. This friendly competition is solely based on percentage lost and to know that, I have to track my number. It's not cute. It's not fun. And, competition is steep. I am determined to beat my boss at something. We compete on a daily basis- usually we bet on reality show outcomes (keep your opinions to yourselves!). And he wins most of the time. I have motivation now: summer is coming, I need to get back into shape anyway, the gym is right across the street, everyone around me is body-conscious, and I WANT TO WIN. Damn it. Ella's back meat is cute. Mine is not. (wink, wink, J.) So, game on.