the hodge podge lodge

public service announcement.

2012-02-12T21:04:00.000-06:00

just popping in for a quick PSA. you might have seen this technique all over pinterest. you can make new wood look old using cider vinegar and steel wool. i was working on a project this weekend, and put this pin to the test.

just wanted to let everyone know that yes, this does work.

it also has a nifty side effect: it makes your hands look like they belong to a mechanic who's been working hard without washing them for 5-7 years.

playing with your food.

2012-02-10T11:07:00.000-06:00

i like to tell people that i cloth diaper because i'm an eco-minded, green-thinking tree hugger. mhmmm. and that wouldn't be a complete lie because i like the earth, i like trees and i once won 1st place in a poster contest sponsored by some regional conservation district where my tagline was "crop rotation prevents soil migration." that tagline was worth $10 in 4th grade, but if you ask me, the folks at the conservation district were a bit stingy in rewarding *GENIUS* poster taglines. that's another story for another day.

today's story is about how cloth diapering makes it possible for me ~~to waste money in many other unnecessary ways~~ to buy things i otherwise wouldn't be able to afford.

like this...

i could pretend that i bought this for jack for valentine's day or that i got an early start on putting together his easter basket, but in the interest of full disclosure, let's just say that i am VERY MUCH looking forward to playing with my food.

stay tuned for some creative renderings as soon as this baby arrives on my doorstep.
this post was sponsored by CLOTH DIAPERING.

ps. to clear up any confusion, i wanted to let everyone know that yesterday, around 10:30 p.m., my husband joined facebook. this was not in response to any prompting from me. in fact, i was seated across the room, on the couch, engrossed in teen mom, righteously indignantly yelling at leah for cheating on corey. next thing i know, john is giggling evilly and saying, "i joined facebook." i couldn't believe it either.

the one wherein i become "chopped liver."

2012-02-09T11:40:00.000-06:00

i knew this day would come. i was *sort of* mentally preparing for it, but i thought that it would be something i'd encounter a year or two down the line. i thought it would be a more subtle shift culminating in me arriving home from work to find jack and john snuggled on the couch, both laughing at the same simpson's episode or both playing some video game perhaps, sharing giggles over inside jokes to which i am not privy. i expected that there would come a point when my son would realize that john is clearly the more fun parent, but i really did think that i had some time left to enjoy being the center of his world.

well, apparently not. last night we were out running some errands, and we perused the toy aisle because i am working on a project that may or may not go better with some little matchbox-type toy cars. so the three of us are enjoying a jaunt down the aisle when jack starts motioning that he wants out of the cart. he wants to walk, and so we oblige. he is walking down the aisle now, pointing at things, looking at stuff, and then he grabs a thomas train and... throws it into the cart. and i can't help but laugh because it's so cute. i mean, we're not getting that train, but we can pretend til we hit the end of the aisle.

and we carry on this way for a little bit, and then we reach the end of the aisle, and jack's getting pretty handsy with the merchandise, so it's back into the cart he goes. and he starts pitching a fit because HE DOES NOT WANT TO SIT IN THE CART. he's arching his back and throwing his head back and making it quite clear that HE IS NOT SITTING IN THIS CART. NOT WITHOUT A FIGHT, MOM, NOT WITHOUT A FIGHT. after walking up two aisles with this crazed 15-month-old maniac, john picks him up, hums a little tune, and baby INSTANTLY melts onto his shoulder and sighs. calm and content. we walk a little bit, and john hands him to me, and he begins WRITHING in anger again. "THERE'S THAT WOMAN THAT MADE ME SIT IN THE CART!" his eyes seem to sneer. "DON'T LET HER NEAR ME, DADDY, PLEASSSSSEEEEE." so, john again picks him up and calms him down with some soft words and quiet humming.

you all know that i am inwardly SEETHING now, right? outwardly i am all like, "awww, good boy. being so nice to daddy. that's nice. good boy." and inside i am like, "ohhh really, jack? you want to calm down for your father, do you? where was daddy dearest when you couldn't get enough of the boob during your 3 month growth spurt? where was daddy at 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. and 6 a.m. and 8 a.m. the first week home from the hospital? and where was your precious daddy when mommy was freezing cold in her car pumping to gaping onlookers in an attempt to provide you with every ounce of sustenance?" but i mean, i totally wasn't bitter or anything. i was just delivering an epic monologue in my head.

so this continues on, and jack is all nestled up on dad's shoulder, walking through the store all "i won! i won!" and instead of looking at this whole situation rationally like, "wow, isn't it nice that my husband can get our baby to calm down when he's having a tantrum?" or "isn't it nice that my husband takes a very active role in parenting our son?" or "in the future, you shouldn't give in to your son's whims and let him down from the cart in the first place," i analyzed the whole situation and decided instead that obviously my son hates me and loves john more.

so i did what anyone faced with this situation would do. i ate a piece of candy. i opened up a candy wrapper and loudly and conspicuously started to eat it because i knew that would get jack's attention and he would want to be near me, his mom, the one with the candy.

and of course, that's what happened.

i am not proud of what i did, okay? but it was an irrational, emotional response to an incorrect assumption and when that happens, what do you really expect?

i feel compelled to provide the following details: at the time i got the candy out, jack was fully calmed down. i was not rewarding bad behavior with a snack. i was merely trying to reinforce the fact that I AM A SUPER COOL MOM, JACK. i was merely trying to stay in the good graces of my 15-month-old son. we all need reminders of things. we need bonuses from our jobs to remind us to keep doing our best. we need sweet cards and chocolates from our significant others to remind us that they love us and appreciate all we do. and we need to share candy with our parents to remind us that they're super awesome and super cool and we should love them EQUALLY. (hear that, jack?!)

oh, by the way, i don't PLAN on doing this regularly as i am working on fully accepting that john is more fun than me. I ACCEPT THIS. it is just going to take some getting used to, okay?

judge me. judge away.

emotionalism.

2012-02-08T15:37:00.000-06:00

if you haven't heard of the avett brothers, then i think you should stop reading this, make your way over to pandora and take a listen. because they're awesome. i've been listening to them for a few years now, and i love basically every single song i've ever heard, with some clear favorites, of course. i have a special place in my heart for their emotionalism album which i listened to A LOT when i was pregnant with jack.

it seems only fitting that my favorite album of one of my favorite bands would be titled emotionalism. because i'm pretty emotional, as you might either know from experience or have gathered from reading this blog. my friends would definitely describe me as a "hugger," who melts at the sight of tiny babies, newborn puppies and other adorable miniatures. i cry easily upon watching extreme makeover: home edition or listening to sarah mclachlan songs. i've been known to get all choked up reading quotes i find on pinterest. and i'm a definite sucker for sappy love stories. (not cheesy love stories that leave you wondering, DUDE... is that guy for real? but real life persevering through struggles to find joy and happiness love stories). sometimes i have to look away when i encounter a sweet old grandma or a kindly gentleman at the grocery store or the bank because it reminds me of my grandparents and missing them and thinking that they won't be around forever... and i feel tears welling up.

while i could try to blame being emotional on having had a baby, that's not exactly fair. i was like this before jack, though i will admit that it's become distinctively more prevalent postpartum. it is what it is.

and it was taken to new levels today when i met my husband and son for a quick lunch at red robin. we were waiting for our food to arrive when john held a cup out for jack and JACK USED A STRAW TO DRINK MILK. like a real person. like he was just some guy out to lunch, sipping on a cool beverage. all nonchalant like.

so naturally, i started getting all misty.

does this happen to other people? do you cry over the fact that your baby is NOT spilling milk? do you stop and ponder how exactly they went from being attached to your boob to independent little beings? "he doesn't need me anymore!" i complained to john the other day. which is obviously not just something a hyper-emotional person would say, but also something an irrational and melodramatic person said. of course, jack needs me. who would help him cook his favorite cheese, lettuce and tomato stew? and who would painstakingly draw stick figures in washable bath paints on the side of the tub? and who, pray tell, would make up elaborate stories in an attempt to keep him calm while waiting in line at the grocery store? yes, yes, jack still needs me and i know that's true. but there's no denying that he's getting older and bigger and more self-sufficient.

PEOPLE - he's drinking out of a straw now. (excuse me while i go cry into my coffee.)

what do the rest of you do when faced with the inevitable aging of your wee ones?
(sniffle, sniffle)

two recipes.

2012-02-07T10:39:00.000-06:00

two recipes to share. i've been meaning to post the first for awhile, but was reminded of my grandiose failure to do so yet again this week when someone else asked me for it. here is the recipe i use to make my own cloth diaper laundry detergent.

i've been using this detergent for 4 months now, and i really like it. it was less than $30 to make, and it makes a very large amount. i'll probably be able to use this batch for as long as i have children in cloth diapers. seriously. i poured some into a little container so i wouldn't have to lift the big tub i have the batch stored in, and i've not yet had to refill the littler container. i have an HE washer, so i use 1/2 Tbsp. per load (i do a cold wash and then a hot wash, so i use 1 Tbsp. total each time i wash, or approx. 2-3 times per week).

so anyway, there's the recipe i used. the only hassle was finding a way to mix all the ingredients since you have a pretty large amount you're trying to combine.

.... annnnnnnnnnnddddd, recipe number 2.
i can't take credit for this because john made it for dinner last night, but it was EXCELLENT! definitely a great way to satisfy that brat craving when grilling weather still seems so far away...

M is for mustache.

2012-02-06T21:28:00.001-06:00

i know mustaches being funny is like so five years ago. i get it. i'm behind the times.

but i still think they're funny. (see above)

i've often said that i can't get a tattoo because i don't like anything enough to permanently put it on my body... buuuuut if someone forced me to do it, i think i'd get a tiny little mustache on one of my fingers. an elegant kind that curls at each end and says, "i'm very proper and important, and i sip scotch." you know. one of those kinds of mustaches.

so anyway, on a related note, two out of my three brothers have february birthdays. add birthdays to my love of mustaches and you get the following:

while i made these glasses, jack whipped up a devine concoction of carrots, tomatoes, mushrooms and cheese.

he cooks better with one sock off.

he let me sample his creation, but not until he'd made sure it passed the ole taste test.

i reaaaaallly wanted to do a mustache party for jack's birthday, but then we sort of merged the big day into fuegerfest. i regret not planning a party all around that little line of hair that grows above the upper lip. maybe for his 2nd birthday? maybe a for-no-reason-at-all-mustache party? i'm totally planning this. starting NOW! who's in???

what's it all mean???

2012-02-06T11:33:00.000-06:00

this weekend i had a dream. one of those really vivid dreams where you wake up reeling, pondering the illogical steps, wondering if you dreamt it for a reason, questioning what it might mean. when i woke up saturday morning, i remembered that the dream had begun with me driving jack to the home of the people i baby-sat for when i was in 7th grade. i drove up the winding driveway, and i have no knowledge of what i was actually doing there, just the impression that i had dropped jack off and drove away.

then john and i were at some country club-ish type place having dinner. it was warm, and we were overlooking a golf course. other people were there. and we were engrossed in conversation. and then i remembered...

jack was alone at this house. i had dropped my son off and no one was watching him.

john and i immediately got into a golf cart and tried navigating our way through a maze of cars, trying to find ours, so we could hightail it out of there and get to our son. we were scanning the rows and rows of cars, but we couldn't find it, and i was panicking.

all of the sudden, some random man offered to drive us, and we got into the back of his pick-up truck, silently praying that jack was ok. i just kept thinking, "oh my god, if my son dies, it will be my fault. how could i have left him alone?!? what was i thinking?" and john kept staring at me, not saying anything, but i could tell he was thinking, "what the EFFFF, stephanie? what in the world would possess you to leave a 15 month old alone?"

on this ride from the country club to the place i had dropped off my son, i kept thinking of my mom and how i would have to tell her what i had done. how she would be disappointed in me. how she would think to herself, "what was she thinking? what kind of a mother does that?"

and then i started thinking about what i would do if he was gone. and in the dream i felt so nauseated at the idea, so upset and heartbroken that i screamed out, and john looked at me as if to say "SHUT UP! you got us into this mess." so i'm emotionally writhing in the back of a pick-up truck driven by a man i don't know on a road i'm not familiar with desperately trying to hold onto the hope that jack is alive and well.

i don't know how the dream ended because i woke up sweating, my heart racing. i immediately grabbed the video monitor and turned it on to see my sweet little peanut, breathing in and out peacefully. all was right with the world. i went downstairs, threw in a load of laundry, made some coffee and took a few things out for breakfast.

but i couldn't shake the dream. how had i managed to make such an egregious error in judgment, even in a dream? what did it mean? did it mean that i'm not paying enough attention to jack? that i'm too consumed with work, with john, with myself, with projects, with housework, with friends?

when john woke, i relayed the dream to him, still panicky about it. "john!" i wailed, "seriously, it was so awful. is this an omen? what am i forgetting? what are we letting slip us by about jack? is something wrong?"

"what? you're crazy. seriously, it was a dream. should i get some beer for tonight? do you want to have a movie night?" he shrugged off my worries, as per usual.

"JOHN! I AM SERIOUS! this is bad. i just know it. it was so real. and it's been eating at me ever since!" my voice reached that pitch that signals hysteria to john.

"ok, that's enough. WHAT is going on with you? are you fishing for compliments? (he asks me this everytime i worry about something i've made, sewn, cooked, etc.) you know you're a good mom and you know jack is fine, so just. stop. it."

and that was the end of our conversation about it, but not the end of my worry over what it might mean. because isn't that motherhood, to a t? a lifetime of busy fragmented by tiny moments just long enough to catch your breath and point a magnifying glass on yourself and your parenting and worry if it's good enough? am i reading to him enough? am i feeding him enough of a variety of foods? is he social enough? is he too social? does he have an appropriate fear of strangers? is he adventurous? is he too adventurous? does he have an appropriate grasp of concepts of danger and safety? do we need more of a routine? are we being too rigid about a routine? while i do worry, i have to say that as jack's gotten older, i've gotten better about worrying. i just don't have enough time to do it.
but in the lull before the day begins, in the early hours of the morning, as the sunlight peaks in through my kitchen and i sip on my freshly brewed coffee, i do find myself wondering if i'm doing a good job, if the way i'm navigating motherhood is the right way.

it's an awesome responsibility, no? to be in charge of shaping and directing and molding and teaching someone else? i am often struck by the mountainous undertaking of raising a child. because it's not like you can correct missteps in judgment easily. it's not like you can change course immediately if you decide your disciplinary methods or your overall approach is lacking. you basically have to figure this shit out and have it down. and execute, execute, execute. and there are no do-overs. you get these little people for a very small window of time, and then you have to give them up and hope you gave them enough to help them succeed.

and so it goes. life continues, a string of moments where you're feeding them, changing their diapers, soothing their owie's, reading them their stories... but mixed into these seemingly ordinary moments are extraordinary opportunities to shape them into good people. people who know right from wrong, good from bad. people who will (hopefully) grow to be intelligent, strong and compassionate leaders. i just hope i'm doing a good job.

maybe i talk about being a mom too much. on this blog, in my life, in general. maybe you're tired of hearing about it, and for that, i do apologize. i guess i never expected to be so changed by this. yes, i knew it would be amazing and life-changing and a huge and awesome responsibility, but i guess i just couldn't even comprehend what that even meant. sometimes i don't even get it know, but then it overwhelms me, after a dream like i had friday night. or in the aisle at joann fabrics when i say "1" and jack counts "...2! ... 3!" and i get tears in my eyes because he's so proud of himself and i'm so happy for him. after i say "give mommy a hug" and he wraps his arms so tightly around my neck and nuzzles his little face in so sweetly, and i think, "i hope i always remember this moment." or when he wakes up at night (just the past few days) because he's cutting his eye teeth, and he looks up at me with that face of misery that screams "hold me, rock me," and we cuddle together until his breathing finally gets rhythmic. or when he crawls into my lap begging me to read "five little pumpkins" or "are you my momma" for the 8th time that day, and i am powerless to resist his excited little smile. no matter how many times i've already said it, i have to say it again, i love being a mom. i love it more than i knew that i could, and there is nowhere i am happier than when i am with my son.

any moments of worry over whether i'm doing this right are certainly overshadowed by the moments of pure joy and happiness that accompany them. and i guess that's what i'm choosing to take from my ~~dream~~ nightmare. mothering will always include some modicum of worry over whether i'm doing this right. there will never be a day that i won't feel some anxiety about my son and whether he's okay. and from talking to my mom, who's over 27 years into this mom thing, apparently that's going to be true FOR.EV.ER. FOR.EV.ER.

so, if you're a lifelong worrywart like i am, just know... we got this! if you're up around 6 a.m. on saturdays and you're in the dubuque area, feel free to come over for a coffee/conversation support group in my kitchen.

mr. independent.

2012-02-05T12:59:00.001-06:00

a friend who struggled with a strong-willed child once told me she'd read a book that strong willed children grow up to be independent, self-sufficient leaders. well, i hope that's true. because i have a very strong-willed little man on my hands.

i was in one of those out of control moods this morning prompted by the fact that everywhere i looked there was a pile of junk waiting to be cleaned, organized, put away, dusted, mopped, etc. when i started to feel the familiar rise of panic and brink of mom-meltdown consuming me, i put my shoes on and got jack dressed to go on a nice, long walk. mr. independent went to the front closet, grabbed his "SHOE! SHOE!" and proceeded to put them on himself. he didn't want me to help him, so it took a little longer than expected, but we were on our way.

halfway through our walk, he started yelling and pointing. "DOWN, DOWN!" so i let him out of his stroller, and he pushed it back home. it was a very slow second half, but who could resist his squeals of delight at his own success? he was so proud when we FINALLY made it back to our house.

at lunch, he insisted on feeding himself his yogurt with a spoon. "ME! ME!" nevermind that ~~a lot of it~~ most of it ended up on the sides of his highchair and on the front of his shirt, he wanted to do it himself.

i would say that it's annoying to have to wait for a 15 month old when we have deadlines, and to-do lists and mile long weekend agendas to complete, but that wouldn't be true. i love watching jack learn things, and i love the little smile he gets when he's doing it for himself. if it takes us longer to get where we're going, i try to think of it as a built-in reminder to take the time to appreciate all these sweet moments that pass me by too quickly.

happy superbowl sunday!

on kindness.

2012-02-02T10:33:00.001-06:00

a lot of people see movies or television shows about attorneys and assume that we're a group of angry bulldogs who get off on starting arguments with people and who are driven by an all-consuming need to be right. all. the. time. and i can't say that some in our profession don't fall victim to this lawyer stereotype. what i can say is that i am lucky to practice in a firm with good and honorable attorneys who believe in the nobility of this profession and who are genuinely committed to ethically serving their clients and the practice. i feel privileged that i can say this so easily because that's the kind of lawyer i strive to be. that's the kind of lawyer i hope people think of me as being.

when i was younger, i did like to argue a lot. about anything. about everything. mostly with my dad or my siblings, but i enjoyed a good political debate as much as anyone who enjoys a good political debate, and i really thought it was important to have these sessions/conversations/arguments often. the older i've gotten, the more i've realized how very naive it is to assume that with one conversation you're going to change someone's deeply held beliefs about anything. when i was sworn in to the practice of law in iowa and began getting down to the business of lawyering, i realized that one of the most important skills a good attorney has is knowing when not to argue. when to lay your cards on the table. when to compromise. when to have the "come to jesus" talk with your client. because the skill of knowing when not to argue serves your client's best interests and ultimately, that is my job. doing the best work i can for my client. zealously representing their interests. in knowing when not to argue, i serve my client, my firm, my colleagues, my reputation and the profession.

yesterday, i had a phone conversation with an individual on behalf of a client. and i got ahead of myself and committed the cardinal sin of an attorney. i took something that was said in the middle of settlement negotiations personally, and i reacted to it. i was rude. i ended the phone conversation on a bad note, and it bothered me.

i laid in bed last night thinking about the way the conversation had gone. it was eating at me. i don't like to be like that. i don't want to be forceful and mean and ignorant to any viewpoint other than my own. that doesn't serve my client's best interests, nor does it serve my own interest in building a good reputation and being the best attorney i can be.

so after a restless night of sleep, i dialed the person i spoke with yesterday when i got into my office this morning. he answered the phone on the first ring, and i told him who i was. and i said, "listen, i wanted to talk to you about our conversation yesterday. i just wanted you to know that i was thinking about the way it went and i wanted to apologize. i felt like i was rude and i didn't explain my position clearly, and i don't want to interact that way. i'm sorry." he didn't say anything for a minute, then cleared his throat and said, "i really didn't think you were rude, but this is probably the nicest phone call i've ever gotten first thing in the morning." we proceeded to have a very cordial and productive conversation, and he made my client a better offer than he had previously... which was right in the range we hoped. more importantly, i feel better about the way the situation was handled.

because while law & order episodes showing that spunky blonde making vicious little comments under her breath to opposing counsel are fun to watch, i never want to be that blonde. i want to be the blonde who does her best for her clients, her firm and HERSELF every day. i get far too few hours of sleep to lose any of them to worry about whether i did the right thing that day. some cliches aren't true (fight fire with fire), but some are: you get more bees with honey.

get with the imaginary program, john!

2012-01-31T16:25:00.000-06:00

when my brothers and sisters and i were much younger, and my parents decided to cut costs (since our family was a tiny catholic army), my sister cathy and i were sometimes left in charge of the brood. actually, this became the norm, rather than the exception when some baby-sitters would sit around doing nothing and cathy and i ended up taking care of the little ones, cooking food, changing diapers, soothing siblings who missed mom and dad, and breaking up fights. so, mom and dad decided that they would finally start taking advantage of having so many kids, and we'd be left in charge on saturdays while mom worked with dad at his office.

i say "we" because though i was the oldest, cathy and i were a team of babysitters. we were sort of like mallory and jessi from the babysitter's club. we were just junior babysitters, so we would team up to divide and conquer the children. cathy was more of the rule enforcer, as i recall, and i don't know exactly what i did. orchestrate elaborate games of court? in these games, i donned my dad's dental school graduation robe, grabbed a pair of my mom's more conservative heels and presided over the living room, seated at our coffee table with a meat hammer as my gavel. this game was less than satisfying because i routinely had to stop and feed lines to the "witnesses," and really, what fun is a game of court when you have to be the prosecutor, the defense attorney, the judge and mostly every witness too?

junior baby-sitters at ~~work~~ play.

when court got old, we played games of church. a very progressive catholic, i played the role of the female priest. cathy and i would painstakingly count out the correct number of graham crackers and the requisite amount of grape juice so we could celebrate the holy eucharist. if chris or marty got fidgety during a long-winded homily, may god have mercy on their souls! my lecture would take a new track, focusing on the members of the small congregation who couldn't even give up 10 minutes of their time to listen to god's word.

perhaps our all-time favorite make believe game was "babies." it did not need a more detailed description than that. in the land of "babies," dolls were real people, little siblings were our children and we were married to rich and accomplished imaginary husbands. cathy lived with her husband in an estate otherwise known as the front porch. i lived in the plush digs of the back deck. chris lived up near the apple tree. the game transcended many years, and we added players (cousins) depending on who was around and when. sometimes the locations of our homes moved, and once we even set up shop in the woods, where i enlisted the help of all our siblings in clearing a path to a circle of trees. after we had spent all day weeding the path and adding stones to make it look like a tiny driveway, i announced that i was too tired and was done with the game for the day. my heartbroken sister just wanted to actually play after going to all that trouble.

it's funny how games of make believe remain so etched in your memory, even now, 20 years later. how any one of us can answer the name of the doll who had diaper pins attaching his legs to his body (since they had fallen off after years of play)... ummm, his name was michael and he had hip dysplasia from the time he was an infant, duh. how we all recall fondly the elaborate baptism ceremony we conducted for our doll children, enlisting mom's help to make appetizers and cake and wrapping up real gifts to open during the after-party. how we all know that the beach is actually a creek on the southeastern portion of my parents property and "stephanie's house" is a foxhole under a circle of trees up in the woods. and how the single most successful way to get someone to admit to having done something wrong was the epic, "it's good if you did it, but did you?"

baby michael pictured in background, right. this picture was taken sometime post-hip operation.

i am not quite sure why judges and prosecutors haven't stumbled upon this age-old confession mechanism, but when the secret gets out, you better wait for it. cathy and i were skilled in the art of interrogating our younger siblings, and if one of them had done something wrong, we could expertly extract the confession with a simple series of questions designed to break the defenses of the offender. allow me to explain.

let's say that by chance or wayward broomsticks one of my brothers had managed to break one of the wildlife plates displayed on the shelf in the dining room. upon surveying the scene of broken wildlife pieces, cathy and i knew that we needed to get to the bottom of the catastrophe and, as good junior babysitters, report to my parents upon their return. and so we would descend upon the likely culprits and ask whether anyone knew anything about the broken plate. no one would 'fess up to the deed so easily, so sometimes we'd have to take the kids off, perhaps one-by-one, to question them more thoroughly. "yes, ummm, chris, you know that pheasant plate? yeah, that's the one. well, did you break it? it's okay if you did. actually, it's really good if you did it, but did you break it?"

always best to follow up an interrogation with ice cream.

after a few pointed questions, the guilty party would admit to what he or she had done, and it was one for the history books as we all got back to our regularly scheduled imaginary games. or maybe back to cathy's list of cleaning tasks to be completed before mom and dad returned home. or maybe we'd sneak in a fuzzy episode of rikki lake or the golden girls. or pretend we were gymnasts as we performed daring stunts on the ~~balance beam~~ picnic table.

i was thinking about this tactic the other day and wishing that it worked that well in present day. "john, did you leave all those stray nails on the floor of the basement? if you did, that's great. that's actually what i wanted you to do. that's good, but did you?" of course, john's defenses haven't been broken down by years and years of assaults by junior babysitters. he simply looks up at me with that bird-ate-the-canary type look and says "nope," as if anyone would believe that. infuriating, i tell you!

gone are the days when i had a whole army of little siblings to do my bidding. gone are the days when a captive audience fixated on my every word! gone are the days when my ideas were widely regarded as the bee's knees.

now every idea is met with a "that sounds like a complete waste of a saturday" or a "yes, dear, i'm listening," while he secretly watches ESPN highlights on the television behind me. well, husband i got some news for you! once upon a time, i was judge, a prosecutor, a defense attorney, a star witness, a priest, a mother to world famous model twins, a grandmother, a private investigator, an avid traveler, the owner of several palatial estates, a lifeguard, a talkshow host, an interior designer, a landscaper, a cashier, a swim lessons teacher, and a babysitter. i really do know best.

so anyway, that frame that got broken? you know the one. did you break it? i mean, it's good if you did... but did you?

miniature snowman.

2012-01-30T13:52:00.000-06:00

above image from here.

this morning, i woke up annoyed. i don't know why. maybe it was because our room was incredibly hot. maybe i slept wrong. maybe the weird ass dreams i had all weekend finally got to me. regardless, i was in one of those early morning monday moods that translate into "stay the EFF out of my way." which was good, considering john and jack were both sleeping when i awoke and started getting ready for work.

i was looking to start a fight with someone and it just so happened to be my husband. so before i left for work, i started bringing up things that annoyed me. like why in god's name had he put away the stainless steel stock pot without washing it? and why, when i had asked him about this, had he said, "oh yeah, i intended to put away a dirty pot because i was going to use it to make popcorn soon enough so why clean it?" and why wasn't he completing the basement remodel in a more orderly, planned out fashion? and why did he leave his socks and shoes in front of the recliner again? and why hadn't he gone to bed earlier the night before because i always leave for work at the same time? rise and shine time can't be that much of a surprise.

he sat there looking at me, as i continued on this diatribe, not really saying anything, looking sleepy and looking confused.

which annoyed me more.

so i left.

i generally don't like leaving like that. because, as i always remind him and my brothers and sisters: what if something happened and this was the last time we ever saw each other? would i really want my last words to him to be "and why aren't you finishing the basement in a more orderly way?" if my dear friend whitney still worked at this office, i would have grabbed a cup of coffee, marched down to her office and bitched for twenty minutes. i would have stewed and rolled my eyes and gotten even more angry.

but instead, i tried to forget about it, drank some coffee and tried to accomplish stuff. when it came time for lunch, i headed home. i shared a sandwich with my son, cooked some felt food with him in his kitchen and read him a book while john shoveled part of our driveway. and when it was time for me to leave to return to work, i went outside to get into my car, and on the roof was a tiny snowman. a tiny snowman with very disproportionately sized male genitalia. i started laughing and crying, touched, yet again, by my husband's infinite patience and sense of humor when i'm being a heinous bitch.

i picked up the little snowman and moved him to the sidewalk, and then called john. "i love you," i said. "and i'm sorry."

all i can say is that i'm so grateful that my husband always remembers the importance and meaning of the words above, even when i don't.

a [brief] list.

2012-01-27T13:36:00.000-06:00

things that annoy me, a thank-god-it's-almost-the-weekend-LIST!

[1]

(from here)

i am so sick of seeing all these "keep calm and _____" prints. keep calm and drink coffee. keep calm and call batman. keep calm and drink wine. keep calm and eat chocolate. do people actually hang these up in their homes? keep calm and chew xanax. i don't know about you, but anytime anyone tells me to "keep calm," i immediately kick it up a notch and begin feeling so annoyed and out of control that that person's safety is in peril.

[2]

photo from here, where you can read about his most offensive statements.

rick santorum. do i need to say any more? why is this creepy nut job running for president? why has anyone voted for him in the primary? why hasn't he seen the light and dropped out? the only thing more terrifying than this bigot campaigning for office in this country is the fact that he can't accept that he is not electable. time to hang up the sweater vest, rick.

[3] people who say things like, "you look so tired." "are you feeling ok today?" "you must be exhausted." "you poor thing, you look run down." SHUT THE EFFFFF UP. i'm EXHAUSTED from dealing with people with poor manners, ahem, you. i feel crappy when my day consists of run-ins with people who can't tactfully interact with others. i am tired of biting my tongue when people like you say stupid shit. dude, i am TIRED. i was tired before i had jack, i was tired when i was breastfeeding and i am tired now. because it is a busy life i lead, and you try fitting working, mothering, wife-ing, reality tv watching, sewing and basement renovations into 24 hours. i figure i'll be tired forever, so you can stop commenting on it. or i'm going to start commenting on how scrunchies are so 1990.

but it's not all bad around here, folks. i discovered some funny things this week, too.

[1] alibi cologne. it's not that i support cheating on one's spouse or going to strip club's behind your significant others' back. it's just that i think this is hilarious. my-car-broke-down cologne or i-was-working-late cologne? funny. i need to get some no-i-wasn't-wasting-time-on-facebook perfume, or maybe some john-i-did-not-spend-the-last-hour-watching-the-real-housewives-of-atlanta perfume.

[2] this twitter. apparently this person told their 82 year old dad that twitter was actually google. so old man types searches into twitter. it's pretty funny. equally funny: ghetto hikes twitter, where a man who leads inner city kids on nature hikes records things they say on their adventures on his twitter.

and, hands down, the funniest thing that happened to me this week: while out of the office, i called my friend greg's office extension, but couldn't reach him. when i got back, he didn't answer again, so i sent him an email, asking a question. he called me back at my extension to answer my question and confirm that i hadn't gotten through to him on his extension. and then he goes, "are you out of the office today?" to which i replied, "no, greg. you called my office extension." i laughed so hard i cried.

a relaxing weekend to all!

the REST of the story.

2012-01-26T09:22:00.000-06:00

i often say things that i later reflect upon and realize you should not have said that. sort of like my math skills. you should not have added that. but, to use a senseless phrase to sum it all up, it is what it is. whatever that means.

i was recently reminded, by my husband, of one such incident that occurred a few months ago. jack had been a little sick and had been taking some medicine for congestion, so he was all-around miserable. trying to ease his pain, i started filling up the bathtub for him because no matter what mood he's in, a good soak in the tub always cheers him up.

except this time it didn't. i set him in the tub and he started screaming bloody murder. he'd had a little bit of diaper rash from the medicine, and i figured maybe the bath was irritating it. i pulled him out of the tub to inspect the situation.

and not really sure about everything that was going on down there, i called to my husband, "JOHN! can you please google pictures of baby penises because i want to make sure this is fine."

silence.

"JOHN!?! DID YOU HEAR ME? i asked you to...."

suddenly john was at the door of the bathroom, and he stood looking at me very calmly and cooly. "stephanie, did you just ask me to google baby penises?" he asked.

"yes, i just need to..." my voice trailed off as he interrupted.

"yeah, i'm NOT going to do that." he replied.

and then i realized that it was probably for the best that my husband had refused to search for child pornography on our home computer. instead we reassured ourselves that everything was fine after a quick visit with our doctor.

and now, as paul harvey would say, you know the rest of the story.

the principle of the thing.

2012-01-24T09:17:00.001-06:00

this post is not going to be about how i don't get men. (even though, after being with john for 8 years, and being friends with him even longer than that... that's definitely true. case in point: this past saturday. between several moves, i somehow misplaced the cord that connects my sewing machine to the outlet. which hasn't really been an issue because my camera charger cord is interchangeable with the sewing machine one. well, as luck would have it, i left my camera charger at my brother-in-law's in florida. upon our return to snowy iowa, i began panicking. a week, maybe two or even three without my sewing machine? awwww, hell no. so i frantically began researching where i could get a cord overnighted to me. until i remembered the sewing machine store over by target. i placed a call and the kindly woman said that they had a variety of generic cords, so the best idea would be to bring my sewing machine in to check if any worked. i was about to take jack with me to the store when john announced that he had some errands to run. you know, guy errands. picking up deodorant, getting a six-pack, wandering through the electronics section at target. and because john decided he really wanted to get out of the house, he offered to take my sewing machine to the store and get me a cord. as he was about to leave the house, i remembered i needed to return a plain glass vase i had purchased that wasn't right for a project, and i asked him if he could do that, too. he looked at me with a face of disgust. "a vase?" he sneered. "that's girl stuff. you do that the next time you're out." and i just looked back at that masculine presence standing in front of the door, holding that white and teal sewing machine, and i just thought to myself, "awwwww, you can't expect him to do girl shit! there's only so much a MAN can take.")

but like i said, this isn't a post about how i don't always get men. because that much is true. this is more like a last lecture of sorts, a key to the mystical secrets that befuddle and bewilder the common man. or more specifically, my common man - my dear husband.

now when i was thinking about things to include in this diatribe, i was reminded of an incident with my friend, liz. years ago, a group of us girls had gone out on a friday night. after enjoying some drinks, we returned to liz's apartment, and somehow a little shelf got knocked off the wall. and it was late. and we may or may not have been drunk. but regardless, liz knew that shelf needed to be re-hung on the wall. 2 in the morning, 2+ drinks in, it didn't matter. (spoiler alert: the shelf did get back up on the wall after multiple exasperated attempts and an explanation for liz's then-boyfriend, now husband. "it's the principle of the thing!") ok, but so anyway, i think about this moment time and again, not just because it makes me smile, but because i totally would have done the same thing, i totally have done the same thing, and it totally illustrates this phenomenon of which i am about to speak. the whole dumbfounded guy standing there not "getting" what's so important about the crisis of the moment.

you know, they say crazy is doing the same thing over and over, but expecting to get different results. well, in my husband's world, apparently crazy means wringing dishrags out and cleaning the toilet bowl once a week. but it's like, COME ON, john. it's me we're talking about. you know me. you remember every word of songs you've heard once in the opening credits to movies from 5 years ago. you must know that the dishtowel hanging on the stove is not for actual use, right? it's just for show. because it's cute. and under no circumstances are the two decorative shams from the spare bedroom to be used to sleep on. because SOMEONE, and i am not mentioning any names, was laying on those shams while watching the stanley cup finals and that someone's aftershave or face soap or whatever stained those shams. and now they have to lay face down at all times. and in similar fashion, the towel in the bathroom next to the sink is for drying clean hands. it is not for wiping excess toothpaste. or cleaning the floor. or wiping jack's nose. (p.s. there are ghetto towels in the bathroom closet. you can use those for whatever purpose you wish.) and yes, john, it is absolutely necessary to take your cereal out of the box and pour it into the cute decorative containers i have purchased and placed in our cabinet. i understand you think this is an exercise in futility since we are the only people who see what the inside of that cabinet looks like, but a euphoric sense of calm washes over me when i open the doors of that cabinet and i see all the products arranged in an aesthetically pleasing way. which brings me to the bowls on the shelves above the fridge. i know they look curiously like ordinary bowls. and i know you want to grab them off there and throw some chips in, or maybe add some pistachios. but i need you to resist that urge because those bowls, my darling, are actually pieces of home decor that i have painstakingly placed there because they fill up that shelf space in a way that makes me happy. and i can't have you ruining my design project because you want to have a snack. (we have bowls you can use to your heart's content on the shelves below the china cabinet). and speaking of bowls to store things in, i have to remind you: tupperware comes from the store. when you purchase it, it is empty. it does not have sour cream in it. it does not have butter in it. those plastic receptacles are not tupperware, and when they are empty, we recycle them.

[this is where it gets kinda dicey because inevitably john takes these reminders as an affront to who he is. as if me explaining about towels and bowls and home organization is a refusal to accept differences between people. listen, my love, i'm not racist. i'm an OCD perfectionist. there's a total difference.]

john, all i'm trying to get at is that there are rules. and they have to be followed. or there are hormonal, emotional breakdowns. and there might be tears. and gnashing of teeth and eating of ice cream. but facts are facts. and some bowls are for decoration. and not all towels are meant to be used.

hopefully this has cleared up a few issues and explained some things because in the immortal words of my dear friend, liz: it's the principle of the thing.

but you already know all this, john. i know you do.

hugs n' kisses, your soul mate

p.s. next week, perhaps over a romantic dinner and wine, we're going to talk about how far i've come in letting things go and going with the flow. xoxo!

twelve [12] in twenty-twelve [2012].

2012-01-23T09:10:00.000-06:00

if i could sum up the single most important thing i succeeded at in 2011, it would have been learning to let go and be. i am trying to savor each moment, ignore the things that are not ideal and be happy for all the good that comes my way. thankfully i have a beautiful 24 pound-ish son that helps me remember to do this when i forget.

"Awareness born of love is the only force that can bring healing and renewal. Out of our love for another person, we become more willing to let our old identities wither and fall away, and enter a dark night of the soul, so that we may stand naked once more in the presence of the great mystery that lies at the core of our being. This is how love ripens us -by warming us from within, inspiring us to break out of our shell, and lighting our way through the dark passage to new birth." -John Welwood

in the spirit of continuing to evolve and grow and change, i have been thinking (for the past three-ish) weeks about accomplishment, and specifically, those things i'd like to accomplish this year. i decided on twelve, got out a piece of paper and wrote them down with a red felt tipped marker because that felt more official. (sidenote: i also put them in the drawer next to my bed and somehow john found them and made his own revisions. this is why we can't have nice things!) i am re-creating the list here in the hopes for some accountability.

without further ado...

[1] take a trip with john. when we were on vacation, he mentioned that we should go away, just the two of us. and then he said it again. and then a third time. third time's a charm, mr. fueger. sometime over the course of the next 11 months and 1 week, we will embark on an adventure sans child. i promise.

[2] get family pictures taken.

[3] run a few 5k's. i didn't want to put something down like "go to the gym 4 times a week" or something. because i knew that i would have those weeks when it would be all i could do to walk up the stairs to my office. that's just how my life is. rather than beat myself up about it, i just want to be realistic. i want to get more exercise than i did in 2011. amen.

[4] plant an adventurous garden. we had our first garden last summer and we enjoyed some peppers, beans, peas and tomatoes. i'd like to try some interesting varieties this year... maybe eggplant? only time will tell.

[5] re-do the basement and make a playroom for jack. this is currently in progress as i type this, and please lord, let it be complete by december 31.

[6] save more money.

[7] visit my in-laws' new house in ohio. currently planned for memorial day weekend.

[8] read more for pleasure.

[9] cook one new recipe each month.

[10] build something for jack. when john and i made the workbench for jack (and yes, i'm aware that it was nothing mind-boggling, but it was our first attempt at using power tools to create a child's toy!), it was really rewarding to work together to create something... then watch him enjoying it. i'd like to do that again sometime this year... maybe with a refrigerator to go with his play kitchen? or maybe a child's sized picnic table?

[11] take a family vacation this summer. even if its just a long weekend trip somewhere, i want to go somewhere, just the three of us. i loved family vacations when i was a kid, and i treasure those times with my parents and siblings as some of my favorite memories. i want that for jack.

[12] go camping. because we have a really nice tent. and we haven't used it for a couple years. and that's a shame.

jack's first shower.

2012-01-22T10:27:00.000-06:00

alternate titles for this post included: "where did that poop come from?" (the discovery channel version) or "on my knees, sniffing around: the tale of a sunday morning gone wrong" (the nightline special title) or "poop: the untold story" (the mtv special title) or "he had to poop" (the lifetime title).

it being several weeks into 2012, i've been trying to put together a list of things (twelve things, in fact) that i'd like to accomplish this year. not resolutions per se, which is not to say that i think i'm above resolutions or that i don't need them... far from it... it's just that i wanted it to be a little bit more general than all that.

anyway, that's what this post was going to be about... my twelve things. and then one very interesting thing happened. so that's what this is about instead.

jack and i were doing our usual weekend "what should we make for breakfast" dance when i realized i didn't have the right ingredients on hand to make our go-to buttermilk pancake recipe. not to be deterred, i tebow'ed it at the last minute, and modified a french toast recipe, which jack seemed to really enjoy. so i gave myself a mom point, sat down with some coffee and was about to eat a piece of the toast i'd prepared while jack played on the floor. and then i smelled it.

the unmistakable odor of the bowel movement of a child who is no longer a baby, but approaching toddler-dom. talk about loss of appetite. i scooped jack up to head down to the laundry room to grab a clean diaper out of the dryer. he had been in a disposable since we have some to use up from vacation, and i had used the opportunity to strip my cloth diapers. as i took a few steps toward the basement door, i stepped in... a pile of poop.

except that i didn't realize it at first. between jack and the dogs, i have to be honest with you, there are often piles of unrecognizable substances on my kitchen floor. and i guess i assumed that i had stepped on a piece of jack's french toast that he had thrown to the dogs. except that i realized it was not quite the right consistency, and i looked down to inspect and realized: AHHHH the horror! poop in between my toes!

but i am carrying my son down the basement stairs, and i cannot very well drop him and clean my foot, and so i suck in my breath very hard and yell, "ewwwww, shit!" to which jack replied, "DIT!" "no, no, no, don't say that, mommy is bad," i'm mumbling as we reach the bottom of the stairs, and i set him down. i hobble to the bathroom to wash the poop off my foot, wondering how the hell poop got on the floor, and who is responsible for this? jack? kingsley? gracie? (the dogs?) meanwhile, jack has been carrying some tools from his workbench around, and he opens the toilet in the basement bathroom and triumphantly throws them all inside.

i pick up jack and survey the scene. the fit of the disposable diaper on jack is not as tight as i would like, and it appears that a load of poop escaped the side. i don't quite know how, but what i can see is that there is poop all over his legs and the inside of his pants. i then make the executive decision that jack is going to enjoy his first shower. i plop him in the basement shower stall and spray him off... and he laughs and giggles, loving the whole experience.

when he's all clean, we head back upstairs and i get down on my hands and knees to find the original source of the poop. i'm sniffing and crawling and trying to be thorough about the whole thing. jack thinks this is some kind of a game in which mom tries to be a dog/horse/pig, so he begins to crawl behind me and make exaggerated sniffing noises, too. he's laughing and giggling and you see, this is like my son's best. day. ever. he got to enjoy a romp in a sprinkler and gets to play the animal game with mommy.

i am thoroughly confused as i can't find the original place where the poop was dropped. i do have a jute rug in my kitchen, the color of which is eerily similar to that of the poop, so i carefully inspect every inch, squinting intently and sniffing as i go. jack is really loving it at this point, hysterically laughing and pretending to pet me as i crawl around. as i make my way to the other side of the kitchen, jack hugs me and mimics my sniffing. we both sit on the floor laughing... because what else can you do in such a shitty situation? hahaha, ohhh, the things john misses when he decides to sleep in on a sunday.

one of my twelve things? laugh at myself, especially in the midst of moments like this one!

eye of the storm.

2012-01-20T09:34:00.000-06:00

i don't truthfully understand why everyone is making such a big deal about this impending 4-6 inch snowstorm. i mean, there's a veritable shitstorm in my office on the daily, and i've never called in on account of it.

ohhh, i kid, i kid. i get it. i wish i could be home enjoying the snowstorm, too. but i can't. (ahem, the whole shitstorm thing).

but let me just say: it's really not fair that kids get snow days and adults don't. i mean, when you're a kid, your life is pretty much like one big snow day. me? i'm in dire need of a snow day. i want to be sitting on my couch, in my pajamas, shouting "UH-UH, no you diii'int get back with kieffer, jenelle!" while john slowly dies a little bit more inside. not to mention the fact that i would make myself a very large mug of hot cocoa + peppermint schnapps and sip on that throughout the day as well. and i would eat spoonfuls of alcohol-infused whipped cream. and i would snuggle with jack. and read books. and remember that scene from the final season of sex and the city, where that drug-addict socialite falls out the window, and the snow starts falling after the funeral. i always think of that scene when there are snowstorms. yes indeed, i deserve a snow day, and i would enjoy the shit out of it. these kids these days. so ungrateful for the blessings of snow days.

anyway, this is my ode to you, snow day. you blessed, magical, unicorn of my past. i never appreciated you when i received you in abundance and now that you're gone, i mourn the loss of you with a heavy heart. amen.

keepin' it real.

2012-01-19T21:21:00.000-06:00

to clarify: after reading my post from earlier today, you might get the impression that i'm trying to pretend that john and i are something that we're not. we are by no means that perfect couple who remembers to buy each other flowers on their anniversary or who write each other long love notes (yes, i do have a homemade valentine from him, circa 2005, that reads, "you give me boners.") but anyway, i am (often) struck by how lucky i am and how good i have it, and so i document the moment with a blog post. but most of the time? most of the time, we're more like this.

john: are you going to help me with the basement tonight? or are you going to waste time on facebook?

me: [in as exasperated a tone as i can manage] john, i am not on facebook. i am working! [pause] please, don't come over here because i'm working on stuff that's privileged and i don't want you to accidentally see. [nonchalantly x's out of facebook.]

john: ok, but seriously, are you coming down there to help?

me: i've got a lot to do. but i did write a blogpost about you today. I LOVE YOU!

john: that does not qualify as helping.

me: it was a very nice post. you should read it.

john: i already have. i get your blogposts sent directly to my phone.

me: wait, what? you do?! that's so sweet!

john: of course not! i've never read one of your posts in my life... and i don't plan to start. and if you're not going to help with the basement, i'm going to decorate it however i want. you might just as well call me TOM because it is going to be MY SPACE.

whew! that's more like it.

my "dear john" letter.

2012-01-19T12:33:00.000-06:00

on my way out the door for work this morning, i heard john say to jack, "we're going to be working on patience this week, buddy." jack babbled something back that sounded like, "shawshank... shoe... bubble... mom?" i caught a glimpse of them in my eye as i turned to shut the door, both of them snuggled together in john's recliner, jack looking up at his dad while they settled in to catch up on some sports highlights from the night before.

it reminded me of a list i've seen floating around the blogosphere the past few weeks. rules for moms of boys. particularly, it reminded me of this one:

Let his dad teach him how to do things
...without interrupting about how to do it the 'right way.' If you let his dad show and teach and discover with your son while he is growing up, some day down the road (after a short period of your son believing his dad knows nothing), he will come to the realization that his dad knows everything. You will always be his mother, but in his grown-up man heart and mind, his dad will know the answers. And this will be how, when your son is too busy with life to call and chat with his mom, you will stay connected to what is happening in his life. Because he will call his dad for answers, and his dad will secretly come and ask you.

sometimes i want to be the one to do it all. i want to teach my son everything, and i want to be the one he comes to when he's wondering about something. when he's sad. when he needs an owie kissed. when he wants milk. when he can't turn on his toy. when he wants "are you my mommy" read for the 800th time.

but i also think a son's relationship with his father is so important, and i am so proud of the one that jack and john have. i love that he doesn't cry when i leave in the morning because he is just that happy to be spending the day with dad. i love that he has john's sense of humor and that his sneaky little smile is the mirror image of the one that's usually plastered on the face of the man i married. even though sometimes, i want to be the only one he wants, i'm happy that that's not the case.

and i have john to thank for all that.

dear john,
thank you your endless patience. first with me, and now with our son. thank you for your ability to remain calm no matter what new struggles you encounter. thank you for always seeing the silver lining when i can't. thank you for teaching our son all the important 'stuff' he needs to know as he grows... you know, like which beef jerky flavor is more delicious, which bubble guppies have secret romantic relationships and how to yell MOM when you need something.

thank you for never allowing yourself to be phased by my obsessive compulsive nature. thank you for introducing me to salsbury steaks, hamburger helper, 'the league,' and essentially every album i've ever enjoyed for the past 8 years. thank you for always believing in me and us, no matter how crabby i am or how crazy things get.

you are a wonderful dad. you are teaching our son to be an independent, happy, well-adjusted little boy, and i love you so much for that. you're the best.
xo, me.

crying on vacation.

2012-01-18T14:30:00.000-06:00

we're baaaaaaack! back to the snow covered streets of dubuque from sunny florida. back from too much good food and lots of little baby babbling. back from a much needed, albeit brief respite from the day-to-day. back to reality.

anyway, on monday, we bid adieu to our family, and as i watched my brother-in-law walk off down the terminal toward the exit, tears welled up in my eyes. i tried to do that thing where you open your eyes really wide to stop the tears from coming, but it didn't work. i turned my head to the side, but not quick enough because my husband asked loudly, "are you crying?" and then some people started staring at me. which made it worse. i mumbled something to john about needing to change jack's diaper, then quickly wheeled him into a family restroom and shut the door.

the trip had gone by way too fast, as i knew, even expected, it would. what i did not expect was that it would make me so emotional or leave me feeling so reflective. this vacation really struck a chord with me. i have come to the inevitable conclusion. i need more of this. i need more sitting around the living room, watching two babies babble on and share exclamations over melissa & doug puzzles. i need more yuengling shared with family. i need more sand all over my suitcase and plastered to my baby's head. i need more opportunities to hit pause and revel in all of the precious moments that are passing by too quickly.

i'd like to say that the episode at the tampa airport was the only one with tears during vacay. it wasn't. after returning to my brother-in-law's house after a day at the beach, i was giving jack a bath, trying to wash all the sand out of every. crevice. of. his. body. he was looking at me very intently, and i stopped. just took it all in for a moment. my sweet little boy. my family all together downstairs. the opportunity to get together and share taco soup and beer and alcohol-infused whipped cream (we'll get to that in a minute). i shed a few tears.

i loved going on vacation. i loved it so much it scared me. i loved it so much i don't want to think anymore about it because what if i stop and think about it, and what if i consider the conclusion that maybe i love vacation so much because i'm not happy at my job? i'm not saying that's it. maybe i'm just overworked right now. maybe this vacation came at the perfect time, all the stars aligned, and i had a really great time, just like it was supposed to be. maybe i was moved to tears because i always am when i see jack experiencing new things (sand, airplanes, flamingoes) for the first time. maybe.

but what if it's more than that? what if the general feeling of "i just want to snuggle with you all day" that greets me every morning when i pass jack's room on the way to the shower is actually a feeling of "i want to quit my job and stay home," disguised by my eternal optimism? what if, what if? when asked, i like to tell people that i enjoy my job. i like to tell people that i couldn't stay home because i'd get bored. i like to pretend that i do really important things that no one else could do for me.

but is that really true? if i weren't my clients' lawyer, wouldn't they just find someone else? and would i really be bored at home? i doubt it. i wouldn't sit around eating snacks and watching tv; i'd sure as hell be filling my days with crafts and projects and adventures and stuff, but i don't think i'd be bored.

i suppose i'm torn. i do like my job and even more importantly, in my opinion, i love the firm where i work and the colleagues with whom i work. i like arguing motions and drafting briefs. i enjoy talking with judges and meeting with clients. i do enjoy what i do, and i can't deny the satisfaction i feel when i get the result my client was hoping to receive. that's all well and good. but there is definitely the part of me that avoids ever stopping to think about not working out of fear that i'd realize there's another life i'd choose.

my husband stays home. we've already made this choice; we've already decided on this arrangement. and while it's not like our lives are set in stone with no room for deviations from the masterplan, there's not as much of an opportunity for change when there are student loan and mortgage payments to be made. and i can't say that i'm unhappy with the set-up we've chosen. i love the relationship that john and jack share. i love seeing them together. for the most part, our household runs smoothly and efficiently. we don't dust the tv stand enough, but we i try to let that go. we make time for the important stuff and forget the rest. we are a work in progress, but i am proud of what we are doing.

and maybe that wouldn't be the case if i were home everyday. maybe instead of delighting in jack's every move from the time i get home until the moment he falls asleep, i'd be feeling overwhelmed or sick of him or ready for a break. maybe i'd put social events on my calendar, then sit waiting for the next opportunity to leave the house if that were my reality. maybe i'd feel resentful of my son for being the reason i gave up my career. maybe when he had graduated and left my house, i'd feel regret over decisions i'd made. i have it pretty good, after all. because of the sacrifices john has made, i get to be the one who misses jack. who finds everything he does adorable and amazing and magical. the one who's never gotten really mad at my son (in 15 months) or needed a break from him. i've gotten to revel in him, not resent him. and that's pretty awesome. i can't say for sure that it would be that way if i spent every single moment of the work week with him.

maybe this is just post-vacation "i don't want to be back at work just yet" ramblings. maybe i'm stressed out over the upcoming trial i'm preparing for next week. maybe i just need a new project. i'm not sure. i'm in a funk.

a funk that can hopefully be cured with some burlap, a drill and alcohol-infused whipped cream. yes, that does it exist. my mother-in-law introduced me while on vacay. i highly recommend in coffee. or on pie. or on a spoon. i highly recommend it anytime. it is amazing.

and now, it's time to power on through this funk. just need some strong coffee (sans whipped cream).

felt-a-palooza.

2012-01-11T20:21:00.001-06:00

at some point in my life pre-jack, i apparently became convinced that in the future, there would be a felt shortage. and though i can't remember this attack of way-too-prepared-ness, i apparently took it upon myself to purchase multiple 8.5 x 11 inch sheets of every color of felt in the rainbow. these sheets comprise a large portion of one of my rubbermaid craft tubs, and everytime i need some felt, i am overjoyed to discover the extensive and colorful collection. i have not the slightest recollection of having made this purchase, and what's more interesting is that each time i return to the tub, it seems to have gotten larger, with more colors, just in the shade i need. are they multiplying in there? i can't be sure.

anyway, this all ties in to this post, i promise. i was feeling a little down after putting away all the christmas decorations. something about taking the tree and garland and christmas burlap away just tugs at the heartstrings. so i decided to channel my efforts into some crafts to ward off impending doom. i descended upon the felt collection and decided to make some of my "pins" a reality.

one of the things i've had pinned to my DIY board was this adorable number.

(From here)

apparently this little back-of-the-chair valentine's day card holder was originally from pottery barn.

upon some further research, i discovered that it was being sold for $19. which was about $18 too much for this cheapskate. especially when you have an entire collection of felt multiplying in a craft box.

voila! this is my version:

it's as easy as making a felt envelope. because it is a felt envelope. when i excitedly shared this new creation with john, his response was less than enthusiastic. "that will be very handy for all the valentines he's going to get," john began. (i didn't even detect, nor suspect the veiled sarcasm.) "I KNOW!" i exclaimed. "that's exactly what i was thinking!" "yeah, except i bet he'll get ONE. from you." he finished. i promptly texted my mom and asked if she was going to send jack a valentine. to which she replied, "of course." so see, john? this project WAS totally necessary to hold jack's 2+ valentines. and even if he doesn't get ANY valentines (oh, the horror!) i still think this is a cute use of 4 sheets of felt.

the thing about felt is... when you get started with it, the fun just multiplies. and speaking of multiplication, let me issue this disclaimer. i can't do math good. hahaha. no, really. i don't want to share with you the exact timeframe on this, but i was sort of convinced for awhile that there were 5 quarters in a dollar. and my checkbook is perpetually off. i just forget to carry the 1 or something, i don't know. usually this results in us having more money than i think we do, and lots of unnecessary stress for my husband, who, each week, seems just as surprised with my math ineptitude as he was the week before. which is rather surprising to me, considering i've never taken a math class in the 8-ish years we've been together. come on, john, face facts. you married a felt crafting wizard, not a mathematician. but just because i'm not good at addition (well, if we're being honest, it's mostly subtraction) doesn't mean that jack has to suffer a similar fate. in fact, my hope for my dear son is that he doesn't inherit my sub-par division skills and that he has a gusto for calculus some day.

and so, to that end (and as a precursor to the magnetic felt alphabet i hope to one day accomplish), i used up a few more of the felt scraps to make him a little set of numbers.

inspiration from here.

i stuffed all the numbers into the little felt bag and set it on the couch, fully intending to give it to jack at some point in the future. after he woke up from his afternoon nap, however, he discovered the bag and pulled all the pieces out. i lined them up on the floor and counted each number (flawlessly, to my husband's surprise!) and he then mimicked me by grabbing each number and jabbering with different voice inflections which suggested he was trying to count like me. he has now taken to carrying the bag around the house, dumping all the numbers out, "counting" them, and then stuffing them all back in. he is partial to the purple equal sign. i am, to be perfectly honest, surprised that he cares at all about these things, but maybe it will be motivation for me to get started on the alphabet. i'm HOPING to convince my husband to paint one of the small walls in jack's room with magnetic primer. so far, my idea has hit a wall of laziness ("but we already have a refrigerator he can use."), but i'm not giving up just yet. stay tuned for the showdown!

getting there.

2012-01-11T15:30:00.000-06:00

here's what (the-eve-of-our-florida-vacay-edition):

1. dear continental airlines: it should not take thorough analysis to understand your baggage policies. i am thankful that you have made it crystal clear that should i ever need to travel with antlers or animal horns, dry ice or a vaulting pole, i will incur a special handling charge. however, upon several searches, i was not able to ascertain your umbrella stroller policy. just a simple "yes, it's allowed and it will cost 'x'" would be appreciated. and if you can't oblige a weary traveler in that regard, then please train your rude and abrasive customer service people. i like to give them the benefit of the doubt, but no less than 4 of them treated me poorly. my dad's response to our airline choice was, "didn't they go out of business awhile back?" my response, after dealing with you for the past 24 hours: "they're headed that way."

2. i recently discovered my blog's stats bar. this link allows you to see what sort of google searches are bringing people to your blog. at the top of my list? "tying up my husband," "burlap advent calendar," "preggings," and "farrah teen mom braces." as you can see, we cover a wide range of genres here at the hodge podge lodge. from burlap to S&M to teen mom to maternity duds. all in a day's work for this humble blogwriter.

3. a few days ago, i decided that i needed to add some more art to the mini gallery wall in jack's nursery. i also decided that the lyrics to lynrd skynrd's "simple man" are really akin to a mother's wish for her son masked by a seedy bar-pbr-drinking type aura. i wanted to create some art with the lyrics of that song. so i did.

never mind that if you study the lyrics i painstakingly typed out into the background, you can see a spot where i misspelled simple as "snple." i might have been enjoying an ice cold hefe weiss at the time. after i finished the piece, i asked john for his opinion. "i feel like you're telling jack to be a simpleton or something," he critiqued. even though i absolutely doubt that visitors stopping by his room will assume i'm throwing out a "hey jack, stupid works," i can't get that comment out of my head. a total waste of an otherwise pleasant beer-drinking experience. damn you, john!

for auld lang syne. (a 2012 letter to myself).

2012-01-05T22:30:00.001-06:00

i had a whole post reflecting on 2011 and welcoming in 2012 mostly written. and then today happened. and i had an emotional breakdown mixed with a stress cocktail tossed in with a side of heartache. i am not the best at removing myself from the thick of a situation and giving myself some perspective, but i am trying to be better at that. and so, since this is a real and true virtual diary of my life, here's a real and true virtual letter to myself as we begin 2012.

dearest stephanie:

happy new year! another year over, and a new one just begun. first of all, i'd like to applaud you on a few accomplishments i've noticed. one - sometimes you go to bed and leave dishes in the sink. good for you. i know that would be a resolution for some, but for you, it's a good sign that you're learning to let some things go. i'm super proud of you for this. two - you don't make idle threats to burn your house down for the insurance money anymore, so i take this to mean that you're relaxing and learning to accept the "process" that is home ownership. kudos. three - you ate hamburger helper for the first time in your life (courtesy of john) in 2011, and you didn't complain. good girl. pick your battles, doll. some days are hamburger helper kind of days.

before i get into the meaty, thorny stuff, let me be crystal clear. you have made progress with the whole giving up control thing... to an extent. i think you are starting to understand that you aren't in charge of much. i think you are slowly realizing that there are more important things to bitch about than john's shoes perpetually being left in the living room and his coat constantly hanging over the side of the chair in the dining room. i know you're empathetic enough to see that there are people suffering, and articles of clothing strewn about your house are not. the. end. of. the. world. so, before i give you some gentle reminders, let me first say: good job. it's hard accepting that you're not perfect. you're not the best wife there ever was. you're not the most patient person to walk the face of the earth. you're not a perfect mom. you're not the best attorney on the planet. you're just a human being. one person in a world of so many, trying to make it day by day. that's all you have to be. and more and more, i see you accepting this and i see it shaping the things you say and do. and that is good. commendable.

but sister, you're on a journey, and you have roads to travel! you have hills to climb and valleys to forge. you are miles and miles and miles away from your destination, and let me tell you: the path is treacherous in parts. don't worry, though, i've got something better than a flashlight or a canteen. i've got FORESIGHT. and i'm gonna share it with you.

stop worrying about the curtains in your living room. they have been hanging unhemmed for more than a month now, and no one has died (or noticed, to be honest). no, they're not perfect and no, no one cares. if 12 months pass us by and those curtains are still unhemmed... you haven't failed anyone. you've just been busy living. and that's good thing.

stop arranging jack's room in meticulous order before he goes to bed at night. it is a child's bedroom, for the love of god. please let that sweet baby mess up the books and toys. please let him spread out all his lovies on the floor and then pick them up, one by one, and give them goodnight hugs. newsflash: bh&g is NOT coming for a photo shoot, and if they ever do give you a call, you will have ample time to straighten things up. let. it. go.

stop taking work stress out on your husband. guess who shouldn't have to worry about the brief that is due in three days? john. (and for that matter, jack.) john's job is to keep jack alive between the hours of 7 a.m. and whenever-you-get-home p.m. you do your job, and he does his. and guess what? that brief is going to get written. so stop panicking and start writing.

stop commiserating in your head whenever you have a bad day. you don't have it so bad. not everyone's life is easier than yours. suck it up and stop whining. whining is so unattractive and might i remind you... you chose this life. you have everything you ever wanted. and just because it doesn't look exactly like you thought it might is no reason to be anything less than utterly, eternally, on bended knee grateful. you are blessed beyond measure. you know this. so when you are tired, or sick, or feeling fat, remember that you married your best friend on a perfect day surrounded by your family and friends. and you became a lawyer and a firm trusted you enough to hire you. and clients respect you enough to hand you their most intimate problems and ask for your help in solving them. and you made a choice to expand your family, and you were blessed with a happy, healthy, beautiful son who warms your heart every day. and you live in a house that's cozy and comfortable and home. so quit your bitchin'. even if it's in your head, it still counts as whining.

we touched on this briefly, but let's revisit. you cannot control everything. you cannot control a lot. you cannot control much at all. you cannot control the weather. we know that if you did, there would be snow. and lots of it. you cannot control the decisions that the judges make about your cases. you cannot control the facts of the cases you are given. you cannot control jack's health. you cannot control your husband. you cannot control whether and when you're going to have another baby. (so please, spare everyone the mind-numbing agony of discussing it at every juncture. stop with the charting and planning and obsessing.)

this last one is the big one, so it deserves a paragraph all of its own. first, congratulations on your pure and unadulterated love of motherhood. it looks good on you. it's obvious that mothering jack brings you joy and happiness, and that is nothing short of wonderful. it's absolutely 100% great that you want to add to your family and it's even more exciting that your husband is on board. but that's where you need to be... and no further. stop obsessing over every symptom and temperature and premonition. it will happen. and when it does, it will be wonderful. until that time, enjoy the family you have. enjoy the precious son whose tiny blonde hair is getting long enough to look messy in the morning. enjoy your husband and his wicked sense of humor. sit down on the floor and play cars with your son. when you feel like perusing crazy online "ttc forums," read another book to your son. when you feel like peeing on a stick, take a walk. when you wake up pre-occupied with your temperature, roll over and kiss your husband. you are missing it! and that it will never happen again is what makes life so sweet. so please, for the love of all that is holy, and for the sake of your husband's sanity and your son's happiness, accept that you are not in control of everything. and that is okay.

go to bed earlier, set your alarm, get up... and go. to. the. gym. you will feel better about yourself and about your days. you have always loved being active, and have always prioritized your health. you cannot survive on coffee & granola bars alone. drink more water. run. sweat. do some sit-ups. you will thank me. so will your waistline.

be true to yourself. it's okay to say "no." you don't have to be everything to everyone. you don't have to be a part of every group you're invited to join. you don't have to donate to every organization that approaches you. you don't have to be something you're not. you have a really great family, wonderful friends, loyal co-workers. no one will fault you for telling the truth; "i just don't have time." don't be ashamed. remember, you're not perfect. and more importantly, people don't expect you to be.

most of all, enjoy this year. it will go by as fast as the last one did. who knows what jack will be doing next year at this time, but i certainly hope when we get there, you'll have experienced all the in-between instead of worrying, stressing or obsessing over everything else. have fun in florida. don't think about work while you're there. let jack splash in the bath. increase john's candy budget. the world does not stop because you discover stray cheerios under the car seat. get a massage. get more sleep. re-read this letter when you forget.

most of all remember - you're doing a good job! you're one crazy head case, but you're doing it. congrats! here's to a good year!

xo, your voice of reason.

christmas reflections.

2011-12-26T16:33:00.000-06:00

well, merry (belated) christmas! i can't believe christmas is over... i'm re-living it with this post, as one way to ward off my impending post-holiday depression. at least we still have NYE celebrations and another three day weekend fast approaching to look forward to, right? how will i fill my days, if not with burlap christmas crafts??? it will take an adjustment, that's for sure.

christmas was an absolutely wonderful time around here. i stayed in my pajama's for 24+ hours and reveled in jack's delight and wonder over the whole affair. we enjoyed some new toys, chinese food and a few glasses of wine. one of john's xmas presents to me was that he sat and watched an entire episode of the real housewives of beverly hills with me while jack napped. merry christmas to me!

we had quite the week of celebrating, kicked off by an overnight visit from a college friend of ours who now calls the grand state of texas home. that's right, texas teal came home to iowa. we had a lovely visit, complete with sushi and lots of reminiscing about old memories. it was too short, as every visit is, but i was so happy to see her! love you, teal, and thanks for making dubuque one of your stops!

we donned some festive christmas apparel on friday night....

and welcomed our friends whitney and bart back to dubuque from tampa, fl. whitney is a former colleague of mine, and a very dear friend. she about broke my heart when she left the firm in september to join her husband in florida, but at least we're only a plane ride away. it was great seeing the two of them and great seeing how happy she is down in florida. the best christmas gift you can receive is the knowledge that your friends and family are as happy and blessed as you are! it was a great night, complete with lots (and maybe too much, as the case may be) holiday cheer!

saturday we hosted christmas eve with my family, and it was a great night, as usual. i don't have many pictures because i was too busy enjoying every single minute of it, but, suffice it to say, everyone put up with my elaborate holiday celebrations/decorations/etc. and i am grateful for their good sportsmanship. it was especially nice to see my brother chris, someone who claims to be annoyed by christmas, embracing the holiday spirit. he played not one but TWO christmas carols during the night, and he also read jack "twas the night before christmas" before the wee one retired for the evening.

we continued a few of our favorite family traditions... chicken on christmas eve & the end-of-the-year confessionals, and added some more. first up, the confessionals. every year on christmas eve, everyone shares something naughty they did over the past year for which they receive immunity from my father... as in, he's not allowed to ground or otherwise punish anyone based on what is revealed during the confession. it's not as important for me anymore since my father's jurisdiction doesn't reach outside the confines of his home, but it's always a pretty entertaining conversation in which we all learn a little bit more about each other. my brother chris, in grinch-like fashion, usually refuses to share any confessions, but this year, he shared several year's worth, and it was quite satisfying for my sister and i to have him participate. john revealed that, by some fluke or miracle or what-have-you, jack had, earlier in the week, managed to tear down one of the paper lanterns hanging above his crib. he proceeded to shred the lantern and john discovered him giggling about this shennanigan. they both feared what might happen if i learned of the lantern's demise, so john carefully placed it in the trash under other rubbish, and figured it could be their little secret... til the christmas eve confessional!

thinking about the confessionals reminds me of the great times my family has at holidays, everyone gathered around the table, laughing, drinking, sharing a meal. we are blessed beyond measure, and i am eternally grateful for the blessings that touch my life on the daily. i have a warm place to live, a beautiful, healthy family, a job i love, the opportunity to advance in my career. thinking about all the things i have that i sometimes take for granted made me think that i really wanted to do something this holiday to help my family remember how good we have it. usually i scour the pages of my favorite cookbooks, looking for elaborate appetizers to prepare and serve with cocktails for the first hour or two of the night. this year, i set about trying to find some way to give back to those less fortunate in our community.

i divided the nine members of my immediate family who would be joining us for dinner into three groups of three, and wrote little instructions on sheets placed inside envelopes. when everyone arrived for dinner, we gathered in my living room and i handed out the envelopes. the deal was that no one could open their envelope until the group got into their car. everyone was supposed to follow the instructions, then meet back at the house to share what they'd done. my dad, jack and i took five bags of groceries to the teresa shelter, which is a local shelter for battered women and children. john, my mom and my brother, clayton, handed out gift cards to wal-mart, and my sister, jessica and brothers, marty and chris were supposed to buy hot chocolate and take it to salvation army bell ringers. i think that this will become a new tradition in my family because everyone enjoyed it so much. the surprised look of the woman who answered the intercom at the shelter was so touching, and when my mom described the response of the little girl and her mom who received one of the gift cards, i couldn't help but shed a few tears. because that's truly what christmas is all about: spending time treasuring your blessings with the people you hold dear. (from the mouths of "babes," my brother marty's initial response to this event was: "of course stephanie would have us participate in some elaborate event on christmas eve. remember when she made us take that long hike into the woods to find out that jack was a boy?" haha. they know me too well!)

after we had all shared lots of laughs and drinks and opened some presents, it was time to play santa. there's something about a house on christmas eve, the lights all twinkling so sweetly, the tree looking perfect, the presents all arranged underneath. the warm feeling you get observing the whole scene makes any pre-holiday stress worth every minute, right? totally. so i stuffed all the stockings and made my way to bed...

... when i was awakened the next morning by excited baby squeals. of course jack didn't really understand that it was christmas, but he's pretty excited about waking up most days, and christmas was really no different. we shuffled down the stairs, and upon surveying the scene, he let out a "ohhhhhh, cooooooooo," which is jack speak for "awesome. cool. mom & dad, you're the best." haha.

jack is thoroughly enjoying his workbench, particularly the drill, which he seems to have quite a grasp on how to use...

he's also been preparing many a delicious feast for john and i, and luckily they're low in fat, high in imagination content...

i was sort of worried that these gifts might be a little too advanced for the wee one, but he's been enjoying them non-stop since he discovered them... totally a "jack" of all trades! oh, and as you can see from above, while some of us refused to change out of pajamas, some of us refused to wear clothes at all. it was christmas after all. and who am i to stop him from naked celebrations, if that's what floats his boat???

it was the very first time in all of our years that neither john nor i spent the day with our extended family. it was just the three of us. and it was so wonderful. i feel like i truly got to hit "pause" for a little while and just enjoy my sweet little baby boy. while i did miss being with our families (we did get some skype action in, and of course a few phone calls to loved ones afar), it was really nice to stay put. we had traveled every single weekend of december, so the couch in our living room was really begging for us to cozy up and veg for the day. i have to hand it to my husband. it was really his idea for us to stay home this christmas, and i'd be lying if i said that initially i didn't feel some pangs of disappointment to be missing seeing my sisters and brothers and parents and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. john reminded me that we make a great effort to spend lots of time with them throughout the year, and that we needed to start making our own holiday traditions. so i reluctantly agreed, and he couldn't have been more dead on. it was a lovely break with old traditions, and a sweet beginning to some new family memories of our own. of course, we did pay homage to an old fueger family favorite a la "the christmas story:" chinese food! no stress, no fuss, chinese food take-out on the christmas china. nothing says happy birthday, jesus quite like that!

jack's first attempt at coloring. he was partial to the orange crayon.

bathtub picasso

and of course, we had to spend 22 minutes with the bubble guppies on christmas!

so anyway, we were blessed with a wonderful, relaxing holiday, and i hope you were, too!

as for my twelve christmas crafts... how did i make out?

well, (surprise, surprise) my pinterest boards were a little too big for my allotted spare time. such is life. i did complete a few more christmas inspired things...

we traveled to michigan to see my sister, brother-in-law and their new puppy lemmi the weekend before christmas. i was admiring my sister's pottery barn initial ornaments that she had hung from the chandelier in her dining room. (i can't find a picture on PB's site, but i did find a similar version on this blog:)

the ornament reminded me of a coaster, and i remembered that i had saved several coasters from trip to the hofbraus haus in munich, germany in 2009. i added some glitter and jute and voila! my very own PB knock-off ornaments!

i also half-assed a christmas table runner. it wasn't my intention to be so lazy. i bought the holiday-inspired fabric over a month ago. and i folded it and set it on my dining room table, with a burlap runner over top. and i very much intended to hem the edges and take the fabric from remnants to runner, but i just never quite got there. and it was approximately 1 hour until my family was set to arrive on christmas eve, and i was all like, "john, i'm just going to quick hem this, and..." and he was all like, "NO! absolutely not. your family does not care about hemming table runners. are you insane?" and with logic like that, how could i argue? so, yeah... the next christmas craft is the tale of a trip to joann's that resulted in 2 yards of fabric that i folded to make it look like a sweet table runner. no one said a word about my no-sew faux pas; aren't they well-mannered? (i might never sew my runners again....)

and now... for my favorite christmas craft... john's gift (which, coincidentally, i can enjoy, too!) i've been wanting an old sign to hang above the window in our living room that faces the gallery wall (which we've discussed ad nauseum on several prior occasions). and after deciding that i had to have an old sign, i encountered about 99 more problems... (1) when would i find the time to hunt down an old sign at an antique store? (2) once i tracked down a sign i loved, how would i afford it? i could always sell my first-born son, but i've been growing increasingly fond of him... (3) i feel about signs the way i feel about tattoos. what should the sign say? we don't collect things (except dogs and burlap - and you can't very well make an old sign that says "wayward pet home" or "hi. i have a burlap addiction.") i wanted the sign to be meaningful, but the changes of finding an old sign that was in my price range and meant something to me were slim to none. so i headed to pinterest, where i found several old sign tutorials. and i enlisted the help of my father, who agreed to find an old crappy piece of barn wood for me to turn into an old sign for john for christmas. once the sign was safe and sound in the recesses of my garage so john wouldn't suspect a thing, i googled around for an old-fashioned free font i liked, downloaded it and printed out the letters i needed in 300 point font. i used an exacto knife to cut around the letters to make stencils and then painted the words on the sign. it's worth mentioning that i promptly ignored all the sign-making tutorials i found on pinterest because i was lucky enough to be given an old piece of wood (many of the tutorials show you how to make the wood look old using cider vinegar and other potions. i highly recommend checking out the other pinterest methods, if you're so inclined. the only drawback to my method is that my authentic piece of barnwood weighs like 30 damn pounds!)
anyway, without futher ado, here she is:

i really like the way it turned out, and i think john was touched. he's always surprised that i've pulled something off without alerting him to my schemes. he also made sure to point out that we could totally fit an "s" at the end of "son" if need be!

i also prepared a bunch of holiday treats from new recipes, including THIS fabulous one. ummm, white chocolate + raspberry + pecans = make it right now, and love it as much as we did! it's supposed to be a three layer torte, but i made a two-layer torte and had one thin cake, which, i told myself, totally cut down on the calorie quotient (don't read the nutrition facts at the end!), but really my three layers were starting to lean dangerously!

ok. so. in summary: i didn't quite pull off 12 christmas-related crafts (but 10 is pretty good, right???), i had a great holiday... and i hope you did, too! merry christmas to all!

girls' nite out.

2011-12-13T23:32:00.000-06:00

so tonight some friends gathered for my first real christmas party of the season, and it was lovely! topics of conversation included pinterest, astro-glide, breastfeeding and felt food, and that range is pretty much par for the course with us ladies, right? anyway, while girls' nights never really need a theme or ulterior motive, this gathering's theme was "my favorite things." everyone was supposed to bring their favorite thing (x 5) for $6 or under. you draw names, pick gifts and come home with 5 favorite things of other guests. i am loving all my new treasures, but i have to say, my favorite was the gift brought by my genius friend, marie. she made 5 kids' growth chart rulers, which i just happened to have pinned to my "kid stuff i love" board on pinterest.

(image from pinterest)

that's not the picture of the growth chart i was lucky enough to receive, but very similar. it looks amazing, and i can't wait to hang it up! merry christmas to me!

and speaking of getting crafty, do you ever get the distinct impression that you're about to be handed a "cease and desist" letter from the fine folks in your home improvement store paint department? i have this sinking suspicion that the guys policing the paint chip holders at my lowe's are about ready to tell me i'm no longer welcome. my name is stephanie, and i like to collect paint chips. in my defense, i do have rooms i'm thinking of painting. and i might want to re-paint rooms someday. and i believe in doing research and being an informed consumer/decorator/painter. all of which is facilitated by the use of paint chips.

know what else paint chips are good for? making free art. (this might be why the guys in the paint department stare so intently at me as i shove various chips into my purse while making conversation with my one year old son. "hmmm, jack, do you like this color? i do, but i don't know if daddy will. best grab a paint chip to take home to show him? hmmmm, this color is more his style. better bring home a chip to see in the light.")

a few weeks ago, i found this glass shelf on clearance at lowe's, and decided it would be a nice addition to the space above my toilet. so i slapped her up on the wall, added some storage options, and proceeded to hate the whole shebang because i felt like it was missing something. on a recent jaunt to ikea, i picked up some plain white frames because you can never have enough picture frames waiting in the wings, can you? plain vanilla picture frame + paint chip obsession = art.

this project is best completed with the help of a spirited one year old boy and christmas carols sung on high volume. speaking of which, just tonight i discovered that onDemand has a karaoke channel. guess who's requiring all guests to sing christmas karaoke at our christmas eve celebration???

happy ho-ho-holidays... THIS GIRL!

xo, stephanie, the christmas elf

the straw that (almost) broke the camel's back, and other tales of woe.

2011-12-13T14:01:00.000-06:00

forgive me blogfriends for i have sinned. it has been approximately three weeks since my last post. remember that whole bit where i was challenging myself to complete 12 christmas crafts before the big day? yeah, that was silly. i guess i should refrain from making promises in writing, spelled out for the masses to see and delight in my very public failures. or, maybe i can salvage that promise by bending the rules a bit. only time will tell.

anywhooo, where have i been? just celebrating babies and christmas and merriment and the everyday joys of living with a very spirited one year old, that's where i've been. auntie cathy took jack to build-a-bear a couple weeks ago, and they crafted an adorable new member of our family who, for the time being, has been named "brownie." jack has developed a very close bond with the bear, and threw a tiny tantrum on sunday as we were leaving to head to chicago for the day. i couldn't figure out what was causing the wee one to writhe and scream so, until he charged over to the christmas tree, and grabbed the little bear that had been placed so importantly beneath. it's safe to say that brownie will be a dear companion.

i have been wishing for snow (c'mon! it's december 13! where's the white stuff?!) and trying to finish crafts/projects/etc. a lot of the etc. and in that vein, let's talk about the straw that (almost) broke the camel's back or the gallery wall that almost preceded the dissolution of my marriage. (just kidding... i hope? :)

whenever a new divorce client comes to my office for a consultation, i'm always somewhat surprised (though really, nothing should surprise me at this stage) about the final thing that sealed the deal and forced them to make an appointment with a divorce lawyer. i imagine that if john had made such an appointment a few days ago, his attorney would have been somewhat surprised to hear him say, "this gallery wall my wife's been making. that's it. i can't do this anymore."

spoiler alert: the galley wall is finished (for the time being) and we're not getting divorced. but man, we were skating on thin ice there for a bit. i wanted to create this eclectic gallery that showcased a collection of treasured artifacts. and you previously saw exhibit a on this journey toward the final specimen.

i knew that the gallery needed something more on either side to really fill the space above the couch, but since i was going for that collected look, i didn't want to slap just anything up. thus, on thanksgiving, i embarked on a spelunking adventure at my parent's house.

Caving—also occasionally known as spelunking in the United States and potholing in the United Kingdom—is the recreational pastime of exploring wild (generally non-commercial) cave systems. from Wikipedia

in my world, spelunking is more like casing your parents' old out buildings for cool old rusty stuff you can steal and hang on your walls for zero dollars and zero cents. my dad is generally pretty agreeable to these types of missions, so he and i took jack on his first four wheeler ride and proceeded to search through the barn on the back part of his property. i also cased the barn next to the garage, and lo and behold! i found an old oar and a rusty horseshoe, both of which were destined to become stars on my wall of fame.

can you believe pottery barn sells these distressed beauties for around $80? way overpriced if you're lucky enough to have a barn to root through.

(image from Pottery Barn)

anyway, i added a little white paint to the oar, then distressed it with a hand sander. (ok, to be completely honest, i added a lot of white paint and red stripes to the oar, and while i ADORED the look, it was all wrong for the style of my gallery wall, so i sanded almost all of it off, and happened to love the look of it that way even more anyway)

so, with my newfound treasures plus a few old forgotten loves from my basement, the gallery wall was looking like this:

i thought it was done. john prayed it was finished. (he might have been a teensy bit tired of me moving things, asking him to hold them up while i stepped back and pondered, etc., etc.) then i drove to chicago for a friend's baby shower and, on the way, started obsessing about the gallery wall. something was annoying me about it. it seemed way too orderly or something to me. the grouping was irritating me.

i came home and announced to john that i was going to take everything off, lay it out and re-work the wall. he said he was not helping and that i was crazy. i took everything down, spackled all the nail holes and proceeded to re-work the arrangement on the floor of my spare bedroom. then i re-hung everything, all amidst john's "seriously, stephanie, when is this going to stop? it looks exactly the same? why are you doing this over and over?"

putting up with that nonsense was actually worth it because i really love the way it looks now. there's even a bit of space at the bottom so i can add treasures later on, when jack stops thinking it's a good idea to stand on the couch and attempt to destroy my efforts!

where there's a will, there's a way, john! gallery wall: 0, stephanie: 1.

... and now a quick "12 days of christmas crafts" update. i get to count jack's christmas present as one of the crafts because... i make the rules! hahahaha (evil laugh). anyway, i proudly present to you a handmade gift from mr. & mrs. claus to the wee one:

a wooden workbench, complete with black & decker junior tools! i nagged john for a whole 45 minutes one saturday in october until he finally agreed we could make this, and i'm so happy he ~~gave in to my demands~~ agreed to help. we borrowed a cross saw from my boss and bought the supplies at lowe's. total cost for the project was approximately $15, which i think is a pretty sweet deal since i've seen wooden workbenches selling for upwards of $60 in magazines and catalogs. if you want the plans we used, search for them on pinterest or i can email. it was really pretty simple. i sewed the little canvas pockets (which are attached with boat upholstery snaps) as a place to store more tools and screws. i think the black & decker tools (which were $12 on amazon, ps) are SO adorable! i can't wait to give this gift to the little man on christmas morning!

... and you didn't think there would be a christmas craft update without a little burlap, did you??? i decided we needed some more burlap around for the holidays (who doesn't?!?) and made some new burlap stockings for the family. i haven't exactly finished jack's and john's yet because john did not want anything lacy or girly on his, so i had to re-work my original plan to masculin-fy their versions. here's mine though:

yes, that is light green tinted burlap. did you know that made such a thing? i didn't, but after my squeals of delight, the entire flock of customers at joann's now does. i just traced around another stocking already owned, flipped the pieces inside out to sew and added lace to the top. the boys' stockings are more involved, but i'll share some updates on those when i get around to finishing them.

annnnnnddddd finally... christmas in a jar. anthropologie was selling these little christmas jars for somewhere between $39 and $59, depending on the size.

(from Anthropologie)

i found a tutorial on a blog, and the rest is history. my own christmas jars for about $5 total. jack LOVES to look at the "dees" (that's the baby version of 'trees,' in case you're not fluent.)

if you're interested in the tutorial, i will email you the blogsite where i found the deets, but it's really just glass jars, shakers, etc. + tiny trees + glitter + hot glue gun = christmas in a jar. easy, peasy.

well, that's what i've been up to. hopefully, i'll be back to share some more updates on my progress with my 12 days challenge. accepting any challenges as of late? stop in and share your progress!

xo,
stephanie, the christmas elf

on mothers.

2011-11-22T23:45:00.000-06:00

today i was trying on a green coat in the fitting room at kohl's when i overheard two teenagers talking in the room next to me. the first girl asked her friend for the time and upon her companion's reply "9:30," remarked: "great. we better get going. my mom's going to freak out on me." "seriously, why?" was the exasperated response. the first girl sighed louder than was necessary, and said, "she's so lame. she called me after she watched the news because she saw some story about a kid getting kidnapped. seriously, what does she think is going to happen to me? i can't wait to go to college." (i'm paraphrasing a smidge and omitting a whole bunch of like's and umm's, but you get the general picture.) i almost left my dressing room to barge into theirs and explain how being a mother changes you. how things you never thought you'd worry about now occupy your mind all. the. time. i almost wagged my finger and reprimanded them for their lack of understanding, their lack of empathy for the women that brought them into the world, their naivete about what it means to bring a life into this world and watch it crawl then walk around outside your body. i stopped myself, though, because i don't know these girls, and it's not my battle to fight. someday they will hold the tiny warm bundle of their first son or daughter and they will immediately and intuitively understand why their mother insisted on a 10:00 curfew. why their father put a prohibition on dating before age 16. why seatbelts were required and sleepovers were always supervised. time will teach them these lessons, and she will do a much better job than i could in a kohl's dressing room.

after this exchange, i got this overwhelming urge to run home and check on my son. he'd been sleeping for a little over an hour, and i knew everything was fine, but i just needed to see the rise and fall of his chest, hear his rhythmic breathing. i hurried out of the store, drove home and quickly climbed the stairs to his room, where i stood beside his crib and watched him sleep. ohhh sweet baby, how many more years are you mine before you think i'm lame? how many precious moments of being your hero and your sweetheart do i have before i'm the most annoying dork you've ever known?

well, until that time, whenever it may be, i vow to revel in all these moments where jack thinks we (his parents) are the coolest people to roam the earth. i will continue to delight in seeing the way his face lights up when i greet him in the morning. i will continue to treasure his squeals as he peeks around the corner of our room and sees his daddy hiding under the covers. i will never forget the way he lays his head on my shoulder and pats my back. i will remember these moments now... and when jack wants to talk shit in a kohl's dressing room with his friends.

and speaking of mothers and mothering, i finished another cheap-o christmas craft, which doubles as a thanksgiving hostess gift for my mom.

i will NOT be making 12 different christmas garlands, i just love burlap (as you know) and think this will look adorable with my parent's country/farmhouse vibe. if you're interested in the play-by-play, message me. again, i freehanded the pattern, used supplies i had on hand and voila... christmas garland to say "thanks for being awesome even when i was shithead teen-ager, mom." happy thanksgiving!

this little light of mine.

2011-11-21T23:10:00.000-06:00

are you as obsessed with the land of nod as i am??? for real, everytime i get their catalog, i'm drooling over pretty much everything. their stuff is SO freakin' adorable, i can't stand it.

anyway, this post is not about how i wish i had a million dollars to blow at various retailers. rather, it's about how i like my crafts... cheap and easy. (there's probably a joke in there somewhere, but i digress). upon thumbing through the land of nod's holiday catalog, i came across this:

isn't that garland the cutest?!? the land of nod wanted $29 for it, but i decided to see if i could make it myself. here's my version (the $0 and 0 cents version):

i settled on these colors after a very long process wherein these were the only scraps of felt in my craft box. i free-handed the lightbulb template, cut a bunch of felt pieces out, stuffed them with one cotton ball each, then sewed them shut and attached them to a long piece of green ribbon i had on hand. it took approximately 2 real housewives episodes to complete (roughly 1.5 hours). (i craft in intervals of reality television, you see).

i'm challenging myself to complete twelve days of christmas crafts. depending on my likelihood of success, i may include the advent calendar i've already completed. (it's not cheating because i get to make the rules). hopefully sometime between now and december 25, i will share with you 10 or 11 more cheap and easy christmas crafts. it's quite possible that i might get distracted by watching "it's a wonderful life" approximately 22 times and coercing john into making me eggnog every night. you never know. either way, i'm so excited for the rapidly approaching holidays... and hope you and yours are, too!

five dolla.

2011-11-17T21:39:00.001-06:00

tonight jack and i just had to get out of the house for a hot minute. we had to pick up some supplies at hobby lobby, and since i had a kohl's coupon burning a hole in my pocket, we ventured over there to pick up some socks for his fast growing little feet.

(this is not related to this story whatsoever, but i almost had a nervous breakdown in the store when i picked up some new socks. how are his feet that big already? the socks looked almost as big as mine. that's crazy business.)

but anyway, back to kohl's. upon entering the store, i was pleased to discover that the new kohl's cares book collection being sold includes 4 different nancy tillman books. we already own "on the night you were born" and love it, so i decided to check out the other offerings. they're selling "on the night you were born" along with "the spirit of christmas," "it's time to sleep, my love," and "wherever you are." for $5 each. and ALL the proceeds benefit community charities. these books are so beautiful and touching, and $5 is an unbeatable price when even amazon is selling them for $12+.

get yourself to kohl's and grab these babies before they're gone!

super-sized "here's what."

2011-11-17T00:08:00.000-06:00

picture me donning a teal blue "mazel" tee, sipping on a cocktail and dishing on what's been going on around here, ok? except in this "watch what happens live" there are only like 4 people tuned in... but nevermind about all that.

so, where have i been and what do i know? i started to type something about work, and then decided against it. most importantly, i have been RELISHING all things quintessentially fall with my family.

first of all, my sweet baby boy celebrated his first birthday.

john and i spent the day hanging out and relaxing with the little peanut. we also took him to dubuque's river museum, which was a big hit. check out that picture; it KILLS me. doesn't he look like such a big boy?!? i can't get over it. where did my baby go?!

i've also been doing a TON of fall baking. there's something about tying my favorite apron on and messing up my whole kitchen all in the name of a delicious apple cake or a hearty batch of butternut squash soup that just makes everything seem perfectly right with the world. last year i was still in that i-just-had-a-baby-and-i'm-deliriously-happy-but-overwhelmingly-exhausted stage so i completely missed fall baking season. this year, i am taking full advantage of all the homegrown apples we got from friends. mmmmmmm!

and even though i've been enjoying fall so much, i've really gotten a jump start on christmas. last year the season truly was a blur for me. i don't even remember what i got people as gifts. i recall wrapping things 3 minutes before my family came for dinner on christmas eve. i think i finished shopping 2 weeks after christmas was over... it was a little chaotic, to say the least. so anyway, i have been thinking about being super organized about the season this year so i can just enjoy the time and soak up the precious moments of watching jack experience the holidays.

in that vein, i was thinking about traditions. ever since jack was born, i'm constantly thinking about what traditions i want us to have, what things i want to etch into his memory as he grows. i kept thinking about how a family friend used to give my brothers and sisters and i this advent calendar and we'd delight in opening a new little door each day until christmas arrived. to that end, i've been obsessing about this pottery barn burlap advent calendar that graced the pages of last year's holiday catalog:

and it just so happened that my joann's had utility fabric on super duper clearance (yeah, i did pick up like 6 or 7 yards for $1/yd. what of it? my love for burlap knows no bounds. sidenote: the people at joann's know me and jack by name, and they also know about all my current projects. is this normal? unhealthy?) i decided to make an advent calendar with little burlap pockets so i could move a little vintage santa from pocket to pocket til he landed on the 25th one on the big day. you know, that or i could leave "holiday honey do" lists in each pocket for john. or christmas chocolates for myself to "find." either way, win-win! so i cut 25 6 x 6 in. pockets out of the burlap, and hemmed them.

i printed numbers out using different fonts, then created a stencil of each number. i painted numbers on using fabric paint, and then i added embellishments to some of the pockets. after they were all finished, i sewed them on a burlap backdrop, hemmed the sides to prevent further fraying, and added a fabric panel at the top with a dowel rod inside to hang it, and presto, DIY burlap advent calendar.

ok, my camera is a hot mess. i feel like none of these pictures is doing my calendar any justice. i actually love it more than the PB version, and it was less than $20 to make (they were charging $99). but anyway, even if you're a beginning seamstress, you can totally do this project. burlap is SO forgiving and easy to work with. i feel like i'm like an eHarmony creator, trying to convince people to give burlap a date recently.

speaking of unhealthy obsessions with utility fabric, i did buy 15 yards of linen. why, you ask? oh, just to have on hand. just kidding. it matched the more expensive ($24.99/yd.) home decorators fabric, but was only $2.30/yd., and i really needed to make some curtains for my living and dining rooms. i needed to spring for the decorator fabric for our large window because we need the extra width, but for the other regular sized windows, i figured the regular width would do, and i think it's working out pretty nicely.

here's my pitch for curtain ring clips. if you go that route, you can make curtains by simply hemming all four sides. or if you're scared of sewing, you can use that heat bond adhesive tape to hem the edges. eaaaaasy peasy. and generally WAY cheaper than buying curtains. it's my personal opinion that curtains are the expertly applied mascara to a room. it just makes a room look put together. so, head to the utility fabric section and get going!

and now, since i've really crossed the line into overshare territory, how about a gallery wall update? here's what the wall above my couch looks like now...

i know, i know. i need more to fill the space. but since i want that "collected" look, i've got to "collect" things. i'm working on it. my new love is that antique street sign. THAT is what happens when my clients are late for their meetings and i kill time on ebay. luckily i'm only $18 poorer and john likes it, too.

ok, now for a confession. well, actually it's a revelation. brace yourselves. i have all my christmas shopping done. don't hate. seriously, don't. i feel like i should get a pass on any haterade because of how crazy and disorganized i was last year. also, i have some really good christmas gift ideas that i'm going to share with you right now... so spike your haterade with peppermint schnapps and grab a pencil. you could check "christmas shopping" off your to-do lists with a few clicks of the mouse...

for the chef on your list: THIS cookbook.

it is my MOST favorite of all-time cookbook (and i have a LOT of cookbooks, as well as three cooking magazine subscriptions, so i'm basically like a total cookbook fiend/expert on the topic. haha) no, but seriously, this cookbook is so amazing. it has recipes that require various ranges of skill, but many are very easy. the food is. to. die. for. it's made with natural ingredients. and it makes me hungry just thinking about it. buy it. buy two copies; one for you and one for a gift. it's an investment for your kitchen.

for anyone, but especially someone who recently moved or a newly married couple: THIS handmade self-inking address stamp.

sold by this etsy shop. there are many other options. they're reasonably priced, super cute and useful. this shop is great to work with, ships stuff promptly and sells quality products.

for the sports enthusiast on your list: THIS book.

this book apparently chronicles the creation and rise of ESPN. my husband said it's excellent. i trust him.

for the person with a sense of humor: THIS dvd series.

first of all, if you don't watch this show on thursdays on FX, first order of business: start. it is a hilarious show about a group of guys and one wife who participate in a fantasy football league. it makes my sides hurt from laughing so hard. it. is. SO funny.

well, that should give you a start at least... right??? if you even continued reading this far, bless your heart. and happy holidays-are-right-around-the-corner to you! (JOHN broke our cardinal "no christmas music before thanksgiving" rule. and i was totally supportive.)

progress report, part I.

2011-10-27T01:07:00.000-05:00

so, we've now lived in our house for six full months (as of friday), and even though i complain to john that we haven't done enough, while walking around at fuegerfest, i was reminded that some parts of this house have come a loooong way since closing day. i know i've promised to share the progress, but, like most blog promises i make, i haven't. but anyway, i'm on an adrenaline rush from finishing jack's thursday (aka, actual) birthday cake (yes, i believe birthdays should be celebrated all week, with different cakes each day!) and our halloween costumes, so here i am.

without further ado, i present our new and improved main floor bathroom.

here are some of the icky before's, from the day of our home inspection:

oh, lordy, where do we start?!? yes, all walls were painted a bright purple, as well as the ceiling. it was like a crazy cave. the wainscoting on the left wall had never been painted; it was just primed. the blind was one of those cheap and horribly dusty white ones. the woodwork was clashing with all the white wainscoting, and the fixtures were all mismatched, cheap faux-stainless steel.

so, we painted the ceiling white, and the walls a very soft green (olympic's milkweed). we primed and painted all the trim, wainscoting and doors, and changed all the fixtures to a brushed stainless steel.

i'm a simple gal, and one of my favorite things about our "new" bathroom are the hooks on the back of the door. seriously, these hooks improved my life exponentially. really.

ok, but now let's share two very interesting things about the bathroom makeover. (1) JOHN picked out the mirror. when we removed that cheap mirror that used to sit above the vanity, we discovered a large hole in the wall behind it, presumably from a former built-in medicine cabinet. while we will repair that situation at some point down the line, for the present time, we needed a large mirror to cover that hole. i was striking out everywhere (hobby lobby, pier one, kohl's, menard's...) i had picked out a white mirror from lowe's, but it looked cheap next to the vanity, and i was bound and determined to find a better solution than the original mirror. john picked out this mirror because he thought it might tie in with the bamboo shade... and HE WAS SO RIGHT. it looks really nice. maybe there is an interior decorator buried underneath all that "they all look the same" and "who cares if it matches" facade!

and now for the second thing: I INSTALLED THE NEW LIGHT FIXTURE. as in, i turned off the circuit breaker, hooked up the wires and messed with ELECTRICITY. just call me ben franklin!
the new one is a brushed stainless steel with seeded glass lightbulb covers. i really like it, and more importantly, I DIDN'T KILL ANYONE OR HARM MYSELF WHILE INSTALLING. (take that, guy from lowe's who suggested i wait until my husband got home to try installing... when john got home from his hunting trip to south dakota, he was very impressed!)

of course the room isn't completely finished. we need to add something to the blank space above the toilet... and eventually we'll rip the whole thing apart to add a shower in this bathroom, but for now, i can live with the new and improved version of our bathroom!

thousands and thousands and thousands...

2011-10-25T10:18:00.000-05:00

... of words. you know, they say a picture is worth a thousand words. or something like that. and if that's true, then i want the wall above the couch in my living room to share thousands and thousands of thousands of words. that's right, now that fuegerfest has come and gone, we can move on to tackling the other projects i have planned (albeit at a much slower pace). first up is creating an eclectic, hodge podge style gallery wall in the living room.

i have been not-so-mildly OBSESSED with this gallery wall since it appeared in my pottery barn catalog last fall.

so obsessed, in fact, that i actually planned to paint my living and dining room that blue color. i went to lowe's and grabbed some similar paint samples and slapped them on the wall, only to discover that while i absolutely ADORED the color, it was just too dark for my little house. adding interest with a modest sized gallery wall would be a better idea. so i am now trying to put together an interesting collection to showcase above the couch.

i love these images (from pinterest) that aren't too matchy matchy, but still look so cohesive and put-together:

anyway, john's a little burned out on my decorating schemes right now, so i need your help. i have an AMAZING old frame i found at an antique store when i lived in carbondale. it is an old white ornate frame that used to house a wedding picture above our bed. i want to add it to the wall, and i'd like to include a family picture from the fall photo shoot we just had. which would you blow up to a 16 x 20 size? let me know your preference! (my husband thanks you for your assistance; i think he might be a tad bit tired of my questions/concerns/decorating issues)

smashing pumpkins.

2011-10-23T23:55:00.001-05:00

well, another fuegerfest has come and gone, and regardless of the amount of clean-up that remains, i can say with assurance, we have the most wonderful family and friends imaginable and this party gets bigger and better every year. all of the preparations, lack of sleep and last minute trips to the grocery store were worth every minute.

we added some new recipes, some new drinks and most importantly some new guests... (ahem, that little man in the middle above, for example) and we had a great time. i maintain that last year's fuegerfest induced labor (jack was born 3 days later), and this year, we celebrated another year of memories, love and friendship with our almost-one-year-old.

part of celebrating a first birthday involves the very important tradition of smashing the cake. and so, in the middle of fuegerfest prepping, i took the time to make a little cake so jack could enjoy this age old tradition.

behold: the before.

and next, after smashing pumpkins:

thanks so much to all who came and celebrated with us yesterday. it was a great time, and we appreciate the opportunity to spend a little time thanking you for all of your love, support, friendship, baby cuddling, painting skills, and moving assistance throughout the past year. for the next MONTH, i vow to relax, get to bed before 3 a.m. and check the rest of the adventures off our fall bucket list. up next: celebrating jack's actual birthday. can you believe that sweet baby is almost O-N-E?!? i cannot....

sister, sister (wives).

2011-10-18T10:12:00.001-05:00

are you noticing a theme here? that i'm sort of reality-tv obsessed? damn you, DVR and the ease with which i can fit all these shows into my late night gotta-get-5-million-projects-done-commencing-the-moment-after-jack-shuts-his-eyes routine. we are t-minus 4 days from our big party, and i am pleasantly surprised at how close to being on track i am. last night when i got home from work, i started talking excitedly to my mom (john's out of town til wednesday) about everything i was going to accomplish that night. she became concerned and remarked that i seemed like i had drank too much coffee and not slept nearly enough. both of which are true. but anyway, mom, i totally did get it all finished. while i caught up on my sunday night recordings.

first up, the real housewives of new jersey reunion special, part 1, while i sewed custom length linen and burlap table covers. (i adore this layered look,

and i became a fiend for anything burlap once the weather dropped below 90. first image is from pottery barn, and the next is from etsy.)

ok, first of all, what the hell happened between teresa and everyone??? no one has elaborated on the incident that occurred during the recent filming of season 4 (except to say that that's why jaqueline was not present), but i am literally DYING to know. for the real, yo. some other observations: i do not know what was up with caroline manzo's hair. the shade of red was off for me, and even though i thought she looked much cuter this season, girlfriend was not looking so hot. speaking of looking "hot," while i never noticed this before it was pointed out during the reunion, teresa does have a weirdly small forehead. nothing that shocking was really revealed, except that teresa has totally pissed everyone off and her position is that any slightly good thing that has happened to any of them was the result of teresa and/or joe juwwww-diiiice. this is sort of like the chickens coming home to roost for me because i have NEVER liked teresa, have always thought of her as a self-centered b****, and now, dear friends, i am vindicated by andy cohen & co.

after finishing my table runners, i moved on to making some chalkboard frames (like this one from here)

so i could organize and label food on the table for the party. and for this project, i decided to catch up with kyle, kim, camille & the gang. truth be told, i don't know if it was the oil based primer fumes, lisa's over-the-top wedding planner or sheer exhaustion, but i just couldn't really get into this episode. can we please stop talking about the peepee at the party incident? if you don't know what i'm referring to, please note: brandi's son whipped out his goods at a barbeque and went pee in the yard. is it really that big of a deal?!? maybe as the mother of a little boy, i have a different perspective (though jack is not yet whipping out his goods in public, thank you very much), but my brothers used to pee outside and i know our friends' kids use the yard as their own personal restroom in the summer, and to me, this just seems to be another perk of being a guy (besides the envious metabolism, of course). but yes, i agree, there is a time and a place for peeing in the great outdoors, and probably at the park or at a barbeque are not ideal locations. and i agree, maybe a tactful convo with the wee one about his weewee would be in order. but to crucify this mom, as if her kid was doing crystal meth in the bathroom and she was turning a blind eye, sort of ridiculous, don't you think? and speaking of crystal meth in the bathroom, thank you, brandi, for making the accusation that i've been screaming at my tv set for months. SOMETHING is up with kim richards, and if she's not doing crystal meth, then she's doing something else. watching her is like watching the first 20 minutes of intervention. a total train wreck.

and finally, i rounded out the crafting with sunday's sister wives. i'm sorry, but this show intrigues the heck out of me. what with kody's "i think i'm fabio with my luscious locks," the tension and jealousy between the wives so thick it's like another character on the show, and the weird ass children's names (madison, aspyn, savannah - what, polygamists are against using baby name books and prefer, instead, to consult thy holy atlas?), i just can't look away. in this episode kody & his harem trek back to wyoming to meet with some high school friends and finally introduce himself (publicly) as a "polyg." highlights of the show included kody's hs bff telling him (to his face) that, essentially, he was going to burn in hell for having multiple wives. kody's hs acquaintances revealed that they had always assumed kody was gay. finally, kody and robyn prepare for the 17th brown child, who will be named solomon. you have to hand it to kody. even after having two complete hockey teams (and then some) worth of kids, he's still able to act eager and excited for the latest one. and that, my friends, takes talent. talent and time, which surely are limited since kody has to spend so much time raking his fingers through his sadly thinning blonde locks. to be honest, though, i could use myself some sister wives this week. one could finish the second coat of paint in the dining room, one could re-cover the two remaining chairs in the dining room set and one could totally get to cleaning and organizing all the junk that's "landed" in the spare bedroom. maybe these polygs have the right idea. who wouldn't love a few more women to gang up on your husband and convince him just how wrong he is? i mean, damn! think of the odds. i'd never lose an argument with some sister wife backing!

ok, consensus: i watch too much tv, i love burlap too much and i'm stretched a wee bit too thin. come saturday, it will all be worth it, however!

xo, steph

here's what.

2011-10-14T14:51:00.000-05:00

you know that segment on bravo's "watch what happens live" with andy cohen where andy recounts his observations on three things from the week? well, two can play that game.

here's what:

(1) "that's my jam" has to be one of the most annoying pop-culture phrases ever invented. not just because it makes me feel like my dad must've felt when we used to say "dude" or whatever it was that we used to say. one should only say "that's my jam" when someone else has first queried, "who owns this jar of jelly?"

(2) after you've been in a relationship for awhile, you might get a ring. apparently after you work with a law firm for awhile, you get an expensive button down and a swanky golf tee monogrammed with the firm's logo. these two shirts cost probably more than any of the suits i own, but they make my bosses happy, so i can rock them on fridays.

(3) in true "here's what" fashion, my final observation does relate to a bravo tv show, the real housewives of beverly hills (tied with HOTlanta for my favorite of all the housewives franchises). what is the deal with kim richards? seriously, is she on crystal meth? an alcoholic? an idiot? someone cracking under the pressure of public scrutiny and financial pressures? i don't know, but someone needs to clarify this for me right quick. in similar vein, could someone enlighten me with a little "what's the dealio" with the mother of teen mom's amber? what's with her constant mumbling (she's so inaudible her lines are sub-titled on the screen)? what's your vote: (a) stupid; (b) alcoholic; (c) drug-user or the ever-popular, oft-chosen (d) all of the above?

we are 8 days from fuegerfest, and i swear we've accomplished more projects and checked more off the 'ole to-do list in the past three weeks than in the previous 5 months. nothing like a little pressure to speed up progress! maybe once the dust settles, i'll share some hot mess before's and the new and improved after's on here. let's just say that previous owners of our home took a fair number of shortcuts. we've been working to remedy that flaw, as well as some of their other flaws (bad judgment in regards to dark, saturated paint and very public arguments in front of the entire neighborhood). i do have to hand it to my dear husband who, in a total "hail mary" i-can't-believe-he-actually-did-this picked out the perfect new mirror for our bathroom re-do. it was NOT something i would have considered whatsoever, but i am in love with the look... and it's all thanks to a guy's decorating perspective. who wouldda thunk it??? have a happy weekend, ya'all. i'm hoping for at least 48 straight hours of increased productivity. looking forward to celebrating with you all next saturday!

xo, steph

trade offs.

2011-10-12T02:08:00.000-05:00

getting oil based primer in my hair and under my fingernails was totally worth it for the money shot, don't you agree?

photo credit to marie fry

... still can't believe he's going to be one in a couple weeks...

bucket list.

2011-10-11T00:54:00.000-05:00

i'm in charge of jack's bedtime routine at our house, which i absolutely love. i use the term "routine" relatively loosely because except for the jack-sleeping part, it sort of varies depending on the day. somedays it includes a long bath full of splashing water all over the walls and trying to coerce the pups to join him in the tub. other nights he opens the bottom drawer of his dresser and pulls out all the pajamas and laughs, while looking at me with his best "what are you gonna do it about it, mom?" look. some nights he is fixated on the paper lanterns hung above his crib, crawling from spot to spot to peer at them slowly moving in the breeze from his fan. no matter the day, however, the theme is usually the same: jack is a-moving. john calls this "the zoomies," and jack usually gets a pretty severe case right before bed. and i've been missing him all day, so i don't mind what he's doing... i'm just soaking it all up and having fun watching him cause trouble, make messes and have fun.

for about the last week, though, we've been settling into a new routine. jack curls up on my lap and lays his head on my chest while i sing to him. i know that this might not seem like earth-shattering news, but ever since jack learned to crawl, he's been OFF TO THE RACES. he will not stop, pause or sit still for longer than 32 seconds. he has to see everything, discover everything and destroy anything and everything within his reach. i can't really fault him for this because i don't sit down either, so i'm sure he's just imitating what he sees. the past week, though, as i said, has been quite a change. he just lays in my lap, staring up at me while i sing him off-key tunes. and, can i just say, i LOVE the change in pace.

i love it so much that i started crying the other day while singing him all i could remember of edelweiss from my time as a von trapp in my high school's production of the sound of music freshman year. he looked up at me confused, touching my face where the tears were. he patted my cheeks as if to reassure me that he wasn't growing up too fast. but the box full of clothes he's outgrown in the past month sitting on the floor of his closet tell another story. my sweet baby boy is growing, changing, getting older so very, very fast. how can it be that in 17 days he will turn one year old? how can i be the mother of a little boy who can scale the stairs, yell "dadda" at the top of his lungs and enjoy lasagna like it's sunday dinner on jersey shore?

so in the spirit of treasuring every moment, i resolved to create seasonal bucket lists to encourage us to spend time doing fun things together, to focus on the stuff that's important and to let go of the rest. after making this resolution, i started about the list and promptly realized i don't know the first thing about making a bucket list. it started off promising enough with "family trip to the pumpkin patch" and "make a big batch of butternut squash soup," but quickly turned into a to-do list: "paint the trim in the dining room/living room" and "hang picture collage about couch" and "organize entryway closet." and that, my friends, is exactly why i am in DIRE need of seasonal bucket lists. because i would spend all my time frantically trying to accomplish the million projects i have planned in my head. i absolutely NEED a seasonal bucket list to keep my crazy project ADD at bay.

and so after some tweaking, i came up with a fueger family fall bucket list for 2011. and this weekend we crossed a few things off that little list.

jack, at the pumpkin patch

picking out the perfect pumpkin!

trying to eat his pumpkin

another one on the ole list was taking fall family pictures. done and done. we had a great shoot with our friend, marie on sunday. (beautiful weather, good times, lots of laughs and even a little cooperation from the wee one. you can check out some of those 300+ moments she captured on her site.)

and since i envisioned using one of my four goodwill chair purchases at the shoot, i suppose you could say that my bucket list inspired me to get cracking on my lengthy "to-do" list. without further ado: goodwill chair specimen numero dos:

i don't know how often i'll use this bad boy, but for $5, i couldn't resist (even if it's only ever a photo prop, how could i say no at that price???) i painted it benjamin moore's tangelo, courtesy of a free coupon in my pottery barn catalog. they were running some kind of promotion where you could take said coupon to any retailer carrying benjamin moore paint and receive two free pint samples. well, the two places in dbq that sell the paint weren't honoring the coupons, so i called corporate and sweet-talked a nice man named george who agreed to give me 1 quart of semigloss vs. 2 pints of satin. badda bing, badda boom! done and done. thank you, george, for helping me give this sad old highchair a happy new life.

and speaking of happy life, go check something off your fall bucket list. it's good for the soul.

long time coming.

2011-10-07T22:17:00.000-05:00

what were you doing two years ago??? seems like such a long time ago, no? were you single, and are now married? were you unemployed and now kicking ass in your career? have you since won the lottery? bought a house?

well, approximately two years ago, i became obsessed with banners and fabric garland. i excitedly grabbed my 50% off joann coupons and booked it to the store to gather supplies. with visions of adorable finished projects spinning in my head...

i set to work.

and then i got busy at work. and then i got lazy. and then i got pregnant. and then i had a baby. and then we bought a house. and then we moved. and then baby got mobile. and then we started project after project at that house. and then one day, it dawned on me that my baby boy was about to turn ONE year old, and i had a half-finished birthday banner tucked away in a rubbermaid tub just waiting to emerge victoriously and in celebration of the wee one's first year.

so i teamed up with my brother (not my brother by blood, my brother sewing machine, in fact) and set about finishing the fabric birthday banner i started so very long ago. and i am here to announce... it is finished.

pretty happy with the way it turned out, and isn't it funny that two years ago, i didn't even know that i'd end up having a little baby boy with a fall birthday, making the color scheme of the garland practically perfect!

anyway, get down with your brother (sewing machine, not your sibling!) or singer or what-have-you and make your own fabric banner! if i didn't think it'd take me another two years to complete, i'd be all over a "merry christmas" or "happy holidays" version.

and speaking of projects that took way longer to complete than necessary, i'm proud to announce that i am FINALLY finished sewing jack's curtains. and yes, i did buy the fabric many months ago. and yes, i did start sewing them way back then. and yes, they did sit in my spare bedroom, neglected and wrinkled on the floor, just waiting for me to finish them all that time. (and it wasn't even like it was a difficult project, people. all i did was hem all four sides of each panel. my lack of follow-through and project ADD is pretty remarkable, i have to say.)

anyway, THIS was my inspiration:

i LOVED the simplicity of the curtains with the two colors for added interest. with the sloping walls in the room, i figured anything too busy would be overwhelming. anyway, ta da! one less thing living on the floor of the spare bedroom!

and if you're wondering about the fleece tie-blanket looking dealio on the sides of jack's crib, that's my $3 solution to my woodchuck problem from here. a few months ago, i discovered jack, poised to destroy his crib with his newly cut teeth. the bars of his crib are wider than most, so traditional clear guards wouldn't work, and this was a cheaper option that took me approximately 10 minutes to complete. how much wood can a woodchuck chuck? i didn't want to find out!

so, anyway, back to my regularly scheduled programming. i'm knee deep in projects i started months ago (perhaps some painting in the kitchen, some backsplash installation, some bathroom re-decorating, a mini art collage for that blank space above jack's glider, and on... and on...) around here. here's to actually finishing some this weekend! hope you are all well... and checking lots of tasks off your own to-do lists!

sick, with child.

2011-09-26T10:39:00.000-05:00

this weekend marked the first time i have been sick since having jack.

being sick after kids is infinitely worse than pre-mom sick.

it is like kids know when you are sick, and they rise to the occasion, feeling compelled to wake up four times in the night (even though they normally sleep through the night with no problems) just to giggle and laugh at you. it's like the cough medicine and other drugs you're ingesting somehow translate into lots more boisterous energy for them. and you know how you're like 27 million times more tired and run more ragged now that you're a mom? well, it's just that much harder to fight off sickness now. meaning that sickness descends like the plague upon you, and you settle in for what will be a miserable three, four or five day stint.

i love my son. i love that he is sharing things with me now. it is adorable when he hands me his pretend cell phone to share his "incoming calls."

all that aside, i do wish, however, that he had not decided to share the bug he caught last week from his little friends...

good enough is the new perfect.

2011-09-20T10:18:00.000-05:00

a few months ago, i bought a book called good enough is the new perfect. i read some of it, and then promptly quit (isn't that ironic?!?) mostly because (a) i got the gist by about halfway through and (b) the writing style was a little irritating. but the general message of the book was something i can totally get behind.

it's....

*above image taken from the Real Simple site.

no really, it is. the basic philosophy is: cut out the extraneous crap in your life, treasure and prioritize the most important things, do a few things really well and let everything else fall away. and ye shall be happy.

i am doing my best to take this philosophy to heart. so much so, in fact, that i sat up in bed two nights ago and mumbled to myself, "i don't have to have all the downstairs trim painted white by fuegerfest." i leaned over and thought about waking john to share the news, then thought better of it. (our annual oktoberfest party is fast approaching... t-minus 5 weeks... and i've been feeling a little anxious about whether bungalow one-six-seven-five will be crowd-ready by that point... and then it occurred to me... if it isn't, people will deal.) i know that this doesn't seem like earth-shattering news to anyone else, but it takes a lot for me to admit and accept that (1) i cannot control things and (2) perhaps every little detail will not be perfect. GASP! the next morning i shared my big revelation with john and he looked at me with this dumbfounded expression... and by dumbfounded, i totally mean that his face was giving me that look that said, in a perfect antoine dodson voice, "you are so dumb. for real." "of course not, stephanie!" he remarked in an exasperated voice. "if our friends and family are going to judge us for not having all of our trim painted white, then they're not really people who deserve to be partying at our house, are they?" well, when you put it like that, i guess not. and this, my friends, is why i love my husband. because in spite of his never-ending odd habits (placing his shoes on the couch after he returns home, perpetually leaving the hose strewn across the sidewalk, eating cereal at all hours of the day/night, sneaking Coor's Light into the shopping cart when I'm not looking ... and the list could go on .... and on....), he has this amazing ability to cut to the heart of an issue, identify the important stuff and let go of the rest. i admire and envy this ability.... because it's something i struggle with. but it is something i am working on.

so, before we go any further, here is a disclaimer to my readers (who, i believe, are mainly all family and close friends and are all invited to fuegerfest III): the trim in my living room/dining room may not be painted white by the time the party begins. i cannot promise that the bathroom renovation will be complete, and i cannot swear to you that the spare bedroom will be painted. i have lofty dreams of re-painting our front door, but i do not know that that will happen within the next 5 weeks. i can promise you that there will be too much food, lots of good german bier (and wine!) and laughs. when you get to my house, you don't have to take your shoes off. we are real people with real dogs that shed and real babies that make messes. my kitchen floor (at least until we replace the current flooring) is always going to look slightly dirty anyway, so please don't feel like you have to walk on eggshells here. inevitably someone (most likely my sweet father-in-law who i love dearly) will walk in dog shit in the yard and track it through my house... and that is okay. someone might break a wine glass or bier stein, and that is okay, too... because when the best parties end, there are usually a few pieces of broken glass in the garbage can. someone (most likely my brother chris) will end up dripping spaetzle gravy all over the tablecloth, and when the party is all over, and i'm cleaning up the remnants, i will laugh ruefully at his carefree spirit.

because what else can you do in these moments except laugh... and be ever so grateful that you have such wonderful people with which to surround yourself? i want to own a home that people feel comfortable in, not a beautiful house that people admire from afar. truly. i love to look at beautiful home images on pinterest, but the truth is, i would really rather have a home that people like to visit. a home that's real. a home that's filled with laughter, a soft place to land... with cold beer in the fridge and an abundance of chips and salsa in the cupboards.

so anyway, as you may know from your email inbox, you are all invited to the third annual fuegerfest. we are looking forward to spending the day/night with you! just don't judge our trim ;)

moving on up!

2011-08-19T11:30:00.000-05:00

AHEM! Last night, at the casa de Fueger, two very important events occurred. Now, the first of these events had previously (numerous times) been attempted, albeit unsuccessfully. And the unsuccessful attempts lead to tears, gnashing of teeth and flailing of hands... followed by a Real Housewives of X-city marathon and some ice cream on the couch. However, last night, none of that was necessary because....

I pulled on my pre-pregnancy jeans....

and they zipped up.

As in, I was able to wear them while dancing around yelling excitedly for John to come bear witness to this most amazing of all feats. I literally spent nothing short of 2 minutes parading around my bedroom, congratulating my reflection in the mirror on getting 'er done (almost 10 months post-baby, but who's counting, right?) I also spent a full 2 minutes calling, then shouting, then screaming for John to come see. I meandered out to the hallway and stood at the top of the stairs, only to discover....

Jack had scaled three steps and was staring proudly up at me (important event #2). It is now time for BabyGate2011 to descend upon us. And so, this weekend, I will don my pre-preggo jeans and install gates on the top and bottom of our stairs. (And then afterwards, I'll probably settle in on the couch for a nice long Housewives marathon + Raspberry Sherbet ice cream. C'mon now... Jack will share a few licks, too!)

intervention: episode one. crack-whore redo.

2011-08-17T14:27:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the first installment in a four part series entitled Once Upon a Time... I went to Goodwill to find funky picture frames to spray-paint for a project and discovered FOUR chairs instead. Yes, you read that right. Last week, I headed on down to the Rescue Mission Thrift and emerged the proud owner of not one, not two, not even three, but four chairs. (Actually, I bought three chairs... went to work and tried to ignore the nagging voice in my head that told me I should have bought that fourth chair... finally gave in to that evil voice... drove back to the Rescue Mission and bought the last one to add to my collection... but c'mon... let's not let facts or the truth get in the way of this story).

Now, just a quick disclaimer. You might be thinking that I bought a set of chairs, as in four pieces of furniture that match and will be used in conjunction with one another. Ohhhh no sireeee! These are four very different chairs and I intend to clutter up four different parts of my home with them. Ohhhh, I sincerely wish I had had the foresight to capture on film John's face when I arrived home, my little Ford Escort jam packed with these new purchases. I brought them in one by one and lined them up in the living room, while John watched silently, his brow furrowed in a quizzical expression. See, I don't need the gratification of John's seal of approval (because rarely are my "ideas" or "projects" met with anything except an eye roll, a stern warning or a lecture about past mishaps). Anyway, my captive audience (John, Jack and the canines) seemed collectively underwhelmed in regards to the new furniture, but I hardly let that deter me. Peeps, I've been scouring Pinterest for weeks searching out all sorts of inspiration for these chair re-do's and damnit if these four chairs aren't going to be the cutest little things you ever did see... someday.

So anyway, specimen one. Do you watch the show Intervention on A&E? You know the sad one about the addicts at the end of their rope who are screaming for help? And 2/3 of the way through the hour, they're whisked off to Palm Springs or Ft. Lauderdale for 90 days at some posh ~~resort~~ rehab facility only to emerge looking well-rested, tan and happy, rejoicing in their new sobriety? (Yeah, it's totally a feel-good moment, until the credit music starts, and some white script rolls across the screen informing viewers that "Doug left rehab early against the advice of the facility. He relapsed three times, and is currently living on the streets of New York. His family has not had contact with him since September 14, 2008".) Well, anyway, specimen one was a hot mess, crack-whore in need of a visit from a furniture-style Candy Finnigan/Jeff VanVonderen (my favorite interventionists, fyi).

the "rock-bottom" BEFORE:

Please note that ripped cushion. It pretty much smelled like a homeless crack-whore, if you sniff my drift. Forrrr riiiiilll.

When I brought the coveted collection home, I did not intend to start my project with this chair, but Jack started climbing all over it, which I proudly announced to John meant that my purchases were a grand success... and didn't he feel silly for ever doubting me???

John decided to head over to my parents' house for a guy's night with my dad and brothers, and after Jack went down for the night, I cued up my DVR'd Jersey Shore and gave my little Snooki-chair the beating she deserved. (Wait, are we talking about the chair re-do or is this a commentary on my guilty pleasure/reality-tv watching?) But in all seriousness, crack-whore had several layers of tanning bed on top of an otherwise solid wood frame, so I sanded down the nastiness and primed the heck out of her.

The next day Jack and I headed to Lowe's where I set approximately 20 paint chips in front of the young chap and charged him with the responsibility of choosing the chair's new color. He started chewing on the edge of Valspar's "Garden Sprout," which I interpreted to mean (1) John and I are awesome parents who have taught Jack to prefer garden veggies and (2) crack-whore was about to undergo a bright, new transformation!

A few coats later... the AFTER:

I reaaaallllly like where this turned out. And so does Jack. For some reason, he can't stay away from his new rocker. Since this is pretty much the only piece of furniture in our house that is peanut-sized, he's understandably stoked about my redo. Down the road, I might whip up a seat cushion or something, but for now, can we all just admire that sweet little recovering rocker together? All together now: I told you so, John! ($3 Goodwill rocker + $8 paint = totally worth every minute of my $11 "victory" over my husband)

If this really were Intervention, I suppose that music would start, and a disclaimer would flash, something like "Jack later broke that chair, and John hauled it out to the yard for a weekend bonfire," but luckily enough that chair's made a genuine turn-around. I'll keep you posted on any developments, though.

Stay-tuned for the sequel to this story, coming soon (give me a week or two) to a big screen near you!

[post-script] Let's just say it had been you prancing around the Rescue Mission Thrift, as you guarded your discovered loot from the vultures lurking in the dank basement. Would you have brought these FOUR chairs home.. for the grand total of... wait for it... $20? Feel free to agree with me in writing. While my husband is not an avid blog reader, I am not above forcing him to read comments!

a big thank you to the support staff.

2011-08-04T19:19:00.008-05:00

recently, some minor staff changes were made at work, and i found myself with a new secretary. and she is lovely, and amazing, and cheerful, and kind. she's the kind of person who asks you about your day and genuinely cares to hear your response. it's really nice. but this post is not about her, even though she makes my days that much more pleasant. it's really about some other supporting players in the theatre of the absurd (a.k.a my life) and how grateful i am to have them in my cast of characters.

but as they say, you have to experience the rain to get to the rainbow, so let's dissect the not-so-nice, so i can wrap this up with a proper shout-out to a few choice people who deserve a big thanks. are you thoroughly confused? i'm reaching the end of what has turned out to be a harrowing work week. too much coffee, not enough sleep... i apologize in advance if none of this makes much sense.

very few people read this blog. which is perfectly fine with me. i rather prefer it, to be perfectly honest. in fact, the only people (i assume) who read this blog are people i've generally shared all of this with anyway, so i don't feel all awkward about anyone reading this. the older i get, the more i realize that i have a terrible memory, so mostly this is a diary of things i want to remember or document. and not that i necessarily want to document what i'm about to type, but i just want to put it out there because i do feel strongly about it.

ok, enough with the suspense. today i'd like to talk about... (DUN DUN DUN) mean mommies. and, before you come to this conclusion anyway, i'd like to issue a full disclaimer: i do believe that the reason the following bothered me is because at the time that each of these comments were made, i was not in a place where i was secure enough or confident enough in my abilities as a mother to brush off what was said. in other words, i was bothered because i was bothered, if that makes any sense at all. it took awhile to get here, but i do feel like i'm in a completely different place with myself as a mother, and if these scenarios were to happen now, i hope my reaction would be different. i hope that if you're feeling the way that i did, that maybe you will know you're not alone. maybe you'll have the courage to stand up for yourself to the mean mommy. either way, here goes....

mom guilt sucks. i wish i could put it more eloquently than that, but the truth is, it's major suckage. as a mom, you've automatically opted into the lifelong worry club. you worry about everything. if it's been a busy day and everyone's exhausted, and you breathe a sigh of relief as you gently tuck that sleeping angel into his crib, you are immediately consumed with guilt over the fact that there wasn't enough time for a bedtime story. damnit it all to hell. will my baby excel if i forget to read him "the very hungry caterpillar" at the end of a tiring day? if we lay around all afternoon on a sunday, watching tv while jack plays on the floor with his blocks, are we bad parents for failing to engage our youngster in interactive activities that stimulate brain development? if i let jack have a few licks of my beecher's praline cream ice cream cone, am i a bad mom?

and then the more emotional questions: if i stop breastfeeding and give my baby formula, have i failed my son as a mother? if i'm out the door before my little peanut awakes, am i prioritizing work over family? if i have to prepare for trial and i don't have time to eat dinner with my son tonight, am i a horrible mom? i mean it, you pick a day, you pick a time, and one of these queries is floating around in my head. i swear.

most days, i am pretty good at applauding myself and commending me and john on being good parents. i mean, jack is alive, happy, learning, growing... we must be doing something right. but then there are the days where i doubt myself. i doubt the choices i'm making, and the routines we've chosen. i feel guilty, horrible all-consuming guilt that threatens every part of me. it is on these days that i reach out, that i need a friend to tell me that i'm doing okay, that i'm doing my best, and that perfection isn't possible.

unfortunately a few too many times, i've been met with an absolute wall of... (again, sorry for the lack of eloquency) bullshit.

here are some of the honest-to-god comments i've gotten in response to my (maybe too veiled) "hey, i need some mommy support:"

me: yes, i stopped breastfeeding at 8.5 months. mean mommy: i thought you were actually going to try to make it to a year. i just couldn't imagine quitting like that.

(cue all-consuming vein-popping anger) I DID NOT QUIT BREASTFEEDING. i breastfed my baby, and then i decided to stop when he was 8.5 months old. all things being equal, i would have loved to continue breastfeeding. i went through a rollercoaster of emotions with it that ended on satisfaction and acceptance. i fed my baby exclusively breastmilk til he was six months old (and was introduced to some solids). i continued to feed him breastmilk and solid foods until he was over eight months. i did damn good. and i am now at that place of righteous indignation where i want to slap anyone who makes me feel anything but proud about having breastfed "for only eight months." because i think breastfeeding and PUMPING is completely different than feeding on demand, and anyone who has been where i've been (pumping in abandoned alleyways, pumping in the car, waking up in the middle of the night to pump and keep my supply up, pumping in between clients) knows what i mean. stupid, insensitive comments are so unnecessary. ultimately, we all try to do the best we can. and my best was 8.5 months. at one point, i had something like 800 oz. of stored milk in my freezer. i busted my ass and i gave it my all. i am at peace with having stopped.

mean mommy: wait, you're not dressing jack in organic baby clothes? i mean, we did because it's really the best thing for a baby's skin.

umm, are you out there weaving a tiny shirt made of corn tassles to pair with a grass skirt fashioned from your yard clippings? first of all, a baby is a tiny human. yes, babies have sensitive skin, and i don't want to over-simplify the complex skin conditions that some children have. however, using gentle laundry detergent (or even 1/4 the amount of the regular stuff) is just fine. as long as you're not out there soaking baby clothes in pesticides, he or she is going to be fine. besides, i think it just as important that baby has a roof over his head and food in his belly, and if we were forced to purchase organic-only clothing, we'd be homeless. i guess you pick your battles.

mean mommy: wait, jack isn't in [x class]? you really need to sign him up so he can interact with people and learn things.

here's the thing: i'm not opposed to socializing my child. i think that's super important. and for the record, i do that. i take jack out places, and john and i have taken jack to weddings (3, in fact), restaurants, vacations, stores, etc. jack is happy and good-natured. at some point we may sign him up for swim lessons or maybe see if he'd like to play an instrument or a sport. we also live in iowa, where classes and activity groups and weekly "come look at how awesome my baby is compared to yours" classes are not as frequent, so i'm perfectly okay with not having enrolled jack in anything of the sort. the insinuation that my son will not be as smart as yours, or as socialized because i am not paying $100+ a week so he can sit in a room and listen to music playing loudly with a just-a-little-bit-too-happy instructor shouting and clapping is just OFF BASE.

mean mommy: you shouldn't have your tv on when your jack is in the room. he shouldn't be watching tv when he's under one.

SO TRUE! i totally don't want jack getting addicted to certain tv shows and then trying to cramp my style by insisting that he should watch them when i want to veg and catch up on real housewives! do i think it's appropriate to park an infant in front of a tv and let the television babysit him for hours upon hours? no, but i don't think that's appropriate at any age. do i think i'm a bad mom because i let jack watch 21 minute episodes of "bubbleguppies" on nick onDemand (because he bounces up and down and claps, and i think it's adorable watching him enjoy it)? no. i think it's all about moderation, people.

mean mommy: are you going to let jack play hockey when he's older? me: if he wants to, sure. mean mommy: you think that's smart? we would never let our kids play hockey because it's so violent and dangerous. i mean, you really have to prioritize your child's health... but that's just my opinion.

and thank you for it! by the way, that's bullshit. there, i said it. i have a dad and three brothers who played hockey and have developed wonderful friendships and the kind of strength that comes from conditioning one's body and mind to excel at an athletic undertaking. i suppose hockey can be dangerous. but so are knives. so are electrical outlets. so is getting into a car and walking down stairs. i will support jack if he wants to play hockey... even if it is a touch more dangerous than playing the piano. you can't keep your kids locked in a room all day. afterall, children are not flowers in an attic (yeah, i'm totally in a v.c. andrews phase right now...)

mean mommy: do you walk around naked in front of jack? me: ummmm, no. mean mommy: well, when i first had kids, i didn't either.... but you realize over time that you have to introduce kids to the naturalness of the human body. you really need to make an effort to be around a child and show them that being naked is normal and not wrong.

thank so much for sharing your superior mom knowledge with me! first of all, let's talk about the message that using a towel after one has showered sends. do you assume that people put towels on after showering in an attempt to cover up their sinful bodies? i don't. i generally think that people are using the towel to dry their wet body and not puddle water all over the floor, but maybe i've been wrong all these years. i am not trying to teach jack any "lessons" when i wear a robe. i'm simply comfortable wearing a robe after i shower and as i get ready for work. i suppose i could strut around naked and teach jack about having a crazy, nakey mom, but that's just not me. and i do believe that being naked is wrong... in certain settings. for example, being naked outside of a bar at 2 a.m. will get you an indecent exposure charge and, depending on your proximity to a school, maybe the obligation to register on the sex offender registry. while i don't think the human body is anything to be ashamed of, i do think that it is important to teach my son: no shirt, no shoes, no service. if that makes me a horrible mommy, so be it.

mean mommy: why aren't you buying jack dolls? by limiting the toys you buy him, you're asking him to assume a gender role... and that's so old-fashioned especially in this day and age.

to be quite honest, i don't really buy jack many toys. he receives his fair share of blocks and other things that are scattered about our living room from generous family and friends. regardless, he seems altogether fascinated by spatulas, laundry baskets, empty boxes and water bottles, so i don't see the need to spend a fortune on things he couldn't care less about. however, when i do decide to purchase a toy for him, i am not making a social statement for the world to see. i'm buying an over-priced piece of brightly colored plastic. and please, people, let me do this in peace.

the thing is: i already worry about lots of shit! i don't need you to add your two cents to the pile of loose change i have floating around in my brain. i'm already there. maybe this post demonstrates that i am super sensitive or super insecure or super hormonal. and i wouldn't disagree that i've been all of those things at various points since jack was born. but i will say that i have gained confidence as a mom and i like to think that i'm more in control of my reactions to other people's opinions of me as a mother.

i try to learn something from every experience that i have, and in these instances, i've made sure to commit to memory the way these comments made me feel. because i never want to do that to someone. i never want to come across as judgy mc judgerson. one of the hardest parts of being a mom is learning to trust yourself and your instincts. if i can help a fellow mom feel better about herself, i absolutely commit myself to that task. because (cue the ben lee!) we're all in this together!

and now for the good stuff. i was actually prompted to write this post because i got the sweetest e-mail from a friend, who also happens to be a mom, so full of support and love that i cried (what else is new?). regardless of the crappy moments i've experienced during a few (thankfully isolated) encounters with some meanies, i am blessed to have some wonderfully supportive mommies and soon-to-be mommies in my life. and to them, i dedicate this post. thanks for sitting with me and allowing me to "let it all hang out" (quite literally) with you. thank you for sending those text messages at the appropriate moments. thanks for accepting my tearful phone calls and meeting my desperation with advice, empathy and understanding. you have helped me to be a better mom, and i can never convey my gratitude for that.

and, on a final note, to the mean mommies: my hope for you is that you are afforded a little break today, perhaps ten minutes or more, to stop, look in the mirror and honestly tell yourself: you're doing just fine! you're a good mom! i believe, more than anything, that these comments were borne of insecurities, maybe mixed with a little guilt or frustration, too. i think the inadequacies swirling around in a mean mommy's head surface as criticism of others. and i mean this from the bottom of my heart: i don't want that for anyone. i wish all mothers and soon-to-be mothers of any age all my best. when we worry too much about what we're doing, we miss all the magic being made by the little ones.... and life is too damn short for that.

love, love, love, love craaaaaazy love.

2011-07-30T18:32:00.000-05:00

on tuesday, john and i celebrated our third wedding anniversary. and because i'm somewhat pinterest-obsessed lately and because i've been inundated with balloon ideas found on pinterest, i decided to get all crafty. and crafty + third anniversary = sweet, sentimental balloon messages.

forgive our bare walls and lack of decorations... as i make sure to tell everyone, we are definitely a work in progress around here. anyway, late in the night of july 25, after i forced john to go to bed so i could work in peace to create my anniversary surprise, i wrote little notes with favorite memories on small strips of paper. i rolled them up, put them in the balloons, then scattered the balloons around the house. i also created a print with a song lyric from an old favorite song (that just so happened to be on our wedding programs, too).

so that's the surprise that greeted john on the morning of our anniversary. yeah, it's nothing earth shattering... but jack is in this stage where he loves all things balloons, and i knew john would be on board with the idea of popping balloons (to read the messages), so it seemed like a good idea all around.

that night, we had a nice dinner out and then saw horrible bosses, our first movie at the theatre since jack came on the scene. just a completely ordinary, yet sweet day, and that was all i needed. you know when you spend a lot of time helping people dissolve their marriages, sometimes it's nice to uneventfully celebrate your own. an uninterrupted few hours to share some time together was simple enough, but much appreciated. also appreciated: this being my first anniversary not marred by a looming bar exam. not worrying about black letter law or easements or estoppel was another sweet part of my tuesday.

somedays i can't believe john and i have been married three years already, and other days, it seems like we've been together decades. we've had so many good times together, and we're looking forward to all the fun to come!

on july 26, 2008

eating year old cake on our 1st anniversary, july 26, 2009

2nd anniversary, july 26, 2010

all 3 of us, on our 3rd anniversary, july 26, 2011

the house that built me.

2011-07-15T01:20:00.001-05:00

my dad has good taste in music. i like to think i do, too, so it's only fitting. when my siblings and i were kids, we were subjected to dad's musical stylings during long car rides in the wee hours of our vacations. somewhere on the stretch of highway between ohio and "get me out of this damn car," my dad would pop in a cassette tape of old uncle neil and sing along as we carried on toward our final destination. and being the young whippersnappers we were, we liked to joke about his horrible taste in tunes. he loved neil young. at the time, we thought neil was this weird old crooner who couldn't hold a candle to our favorites (like TLC, boyz II men, etc.) how fitting that we all rank old uncle neil among our favorites now.

my dad has married off two daughters now. and he's taken his duties as father of the bride quite seriously, picking a special tune to dance with me and cathy during the father-daughter dance. the title of the song was kept under lock and key and was only announced by the dj at the appropriate time during our respective big days. for me, he chose an old favorite: neil young's old man. it seemed particularly fitting. i am my father's daughter, and it becomes all the more apparent as i grow older. old man, take a look at my life, i'm a lot like you. it wasn't a total surprise when the dj announced the song and my dad and i took our places in the middle of the dancefloor. we twirled around, laughing and talking about old memories and the times gone by.

three summers later, it was my sister's turn to don the white dress and emerge as princess for the day. and a perfect princess she was....

and after everyone toasted my sister and my new brother-in-law, enjoyed the amenities of the blue dress barn, and watched erich twirl his bride around the room, it was time for the father-daughter dance. no one knew the song my dad had picked because it was tradition that the song would be kept under wraps until the appointed time. only my mom had the insider's scoop on the song dad had chosen, but we were all pretty sure we knew the lyrics of the tune he'd picked. we assumed it would be heart of gold or maybe silver and gold. in fact, we knew that at any moment, we'd hear the familiar sounds of the harmonica, as neil started crooning, i wanna live, i wanna give...

but then the dj picked up the microphone and revealed the song. and as we all digested the news, the tears started flowing. i watched my dad escort my sister to the dance floor. the tears were flowing down her cheeks and, truth be told, i don't necessarily know what happened next since i couldn't see through my own waterworks. i know they say you can't go home again, i just had to come back one last time.

it wasn't uncle neil. it wasn't a hit from the harvest album. it didn't even come off after the gold rush. it was the house that built me by miranda lambert. and much like the day, my sister's dress, the whole affair... it was perfect. my dad had done it again. wow'ed everyone with his ability to pick the right tune, at the right time.

and through my tears, i watched my dad and my sister dance around the blue dress barn. and i thought, are we really this old? is that really my daddy and my little sister? is she really married? am i really married? is that really my baby over there in my husband's arms? time seemed to stand still for a moment, as the lights twinkled softly in the hot summer heat. i felt older than my twenty-six years, but yet so young. much too young to feel so old.

a lifetime later, the song ended. my sister hugged my dad, and went about her rounds, greeting her guests and standing next to her husband. my dad returned to my mom, and it was time to get down to the business of celebratin' the wedding. (and celebrate we did. with no less than 4 bonanzas!)

i hadn't thought about that moment until tonight, when i noticed a link posted on a facebook friend's page. it was that miranda lambert song. i clicked on the link, and the tears started flowing. my heart immediately started aching, but it was the good sort of ache that comes from the knowledge that all is right with the world. my sister is sleeping in her happy new home in michigan, next to her husband. my parents are sitting around the fire at my aunt's cabin in wisconsin, and we've just returned home from a night spent laughing with friends and family at a local watering hole. we're all chasing our own dreams, growing, learning, changing... but sometimes, we come back home. sometimes, we spend a whole weekend crammed together in my parents' little farmhouse, creating time capsules, singing songs around campfires, sharing a few beers and reminiscing about days gone by. and all is as it should be.

and so, i dried my tears and sent my dad a text. you leave home, you move on and you do the best you can... i love you, dad. after a few moments, he responded. you can bury gracie under the tree in the yard... love you, too.

as the soft summer breeze rustles the blinds in my living room, i think of my family. i think of my mom and of my dad. i think of my little brothers and sisters, and how they're all spreading their wings and starting their own journeys. we are each strong and unique individuals. we are finding our ways and forging our own paths. and yet, we are all so connected. we share an unbreakable bond that neither time nor distance can change.

it takes only the first few lines of a sweet song to remind me of the house that built me. and tonight, i am grateful beyond words for that.

to my brothers and sisters: cathy, chris, marty, jessica and clayton,
i love you more than words can say. thank you for all the memories, for all the ridiculousness, for all the games. thank you for the cool beers shared around hot campfires. thank you for the arguments, the inventions and the laughter. thank you for your unconditional support. you have taught me the true meaning of friendship and love. i love each of you to the ends of the earth and back. may we forever cherish, love and respect one another as we do today. and may we never forget the memories we've shared in the house that built us.

NEWS you can USE.

2011-07-13T10:54:00.000-05:00

i've been neglecting the ole blog here, and while i could make up some dramatic stories to explain my absence, the long and short of it is that i've been reallllly reallllly reaaaaallly busy. and when i wasn't busy, i was lazy. so here we are.

over the course of the past few weeks, i've learned a number of things (the entire list of which is much too long to post here), but i figured i'd share a few tidbits.

did you know that white paint under your fingernails looks like an expensive french manicure from a distance? well, it does. so get down with your bad self and semi-gloss up your trim if you're into that two birds, one stone type thing.

did you know that 8 1/2 month old babies could flip their legs over the sides of their cribs and try to escape? well, they can. jack's crib is now on it's lowest setting. i'm telling you -- he is a trouble-makin' adventurer, and we are going to have our hands full. i suspect this is poetic justice considering all of my husband's shennanigans throughout his childhood, adolescent and now adult years.

did you know that farrah on mtv's teen mom got a boob job? i'm still reeling. in the immortal words of my friend irene, what the devil? the best part is that sweet, naive, misguided farrah really and truly convinced herself that the boob job was not just cosmetic surgery, but rather an investment in her future as a model. 'cuz, like, she's totally going places, like as soon as her chest like, heals, you guys. but hey, who am i to judge? afterall, i'm the one glued to my telveision screen for the approximately 47 minutes that the events of her life are playing out like a soap opera before me. if only jack were a bit older... "bring me my ice cream! mama's watchin' her stories...."

ok, ok, this post is getting away from me. sometime soon i do plan to share a real update on where i've been and what i know (veer off course with me for a moment: remember that SATC episode where carrie and aiden are living together in her apartment, and she's wearing that crazy outfit and she sees her neighbor outside, who informs her about delayed moving plans? brace yourself partner! i been outside and what's up is old lightning rod next door informs me that she will not be leaving... for THREE WEEKS! and then carrie and aiden dance around, jumping up and down, while aiden moans f*ck! f*ck! what the f*ck are we gonna f*cking do now? well, that's my go to scene when things are not going my way. i totally pull an aiden shaw right there in the middle of whatever crisis arises... whether in my kitchen, an aisle at lowe's, my backyard or, to be completely honest, in my office.)

anyway, over the course of the past two months, lots has taken place. jack has teeth (as in plural chompers!), our bedrooms are painted, we dabbled in some wall bashing and the house is still standing and my sister got hitched. i will share the juicy details of all these events sometime soon, i promise!

hope you're enjoying your summer!
xoxo, steph

on splitting the difference.

2011-06-16T00:51:00.000-05:00

did you know that you could buy a box spring that was split in two?

i actually did. well, i knew that generally king sized box springs were actually two twin box springs, but i did not know of split queen box springs.

now i do.

one thing i alternately love and hate about our new house is that is a 1 1/2 story house, meaning that the upstairs is enclosed with the roof. while this adds delightful character to the bedrooms (a plus), it also means that there are some tricky space issues that really impact our ability to move and arrange our furniture. we've been sleeping in one of the downstairs bedrooms for the past almost two months as we slowly paint and ready the upstairs bedrooms. jack's room has been painted for a month now, but we just got around to attacking our bedroom. there were intense color negotiations, and then the business of taping, priming, painting, but as of yesterday, our bedroom was calling out for furniture and happy owners to sleep contently in it. after arriving home from work (yes, at 8:30 p.m.) i decided to start moving everything upstairs. around 10 p.m. came the realization that our box spring was not getting up the damn stairs.

at first i thought john and my brothers were just joshing with me because they had only agreed to help during a break from watching game 7 of the stanley cup, and i figured they were looking to ditch their manly responsibilities. i surveyed the scene and decided that, indeed, that box spring was not malleable and it was not getting up the damn stairs. we had two alternatives. remove some hallway ceiling plaster or admit defeat. neither was a great option. i decided to move this pity party out to the backyard, where i took solace in staring at my flourishing garden from the comfort of our new adirondack chairs. it was here that i lamented to anyone who would listen (jack, my sister and my brother's girlfriend) that i was ready to set the house ablaze. ok, i'm nothing if not a tad dramatic under stress. or duress, as the case may be.

someone may have suggested moving the full size spare bed upstairs. well, damnit, i wasn't going to settle for that option. hell no. i wanted my comfy queen bed upstairs, and i wanted to sleep in it tonight. after a temper tantrum in which i totally pulled a carrie bradshaw style "whaaaaattttt are we goonnnnnnaaaa dooooo???" google informed my husband of the existence of split queen box springs. husband gently passed along the information.

new dilemma. will a store sell a box spring sans mattress? i totally wasn't intending to buy a new set right now, but it is what it is, and according to the book i'm currently reading (ahem, trying to internalize) good enough is the new perfect. tomorrow i shall embark on an adventure of calling local mattress outlets to determine the answer to my query. tonight, however, i will bask in the small victory of having convinced my husband that it was absolutely necessary to get that queen sized mattress up the stairs.

goodnight. gonna go sleep on my mattress on the floor.

my time.

2011-06-10T23:41:00.001-05:00

the title of this post is somewhat ironic considering that i have been nothing if not amazed at the sheer lack of "me time" i've had since my little bean came into this world over seven months ago. this post is not about the things i do in the few moments i have to myself every once in awhile. it's not about how i think it's important to regularly steal a few minutes of uninterrupted time of my own every day (because truthfully, it doesn't happen on a daily basis). in fact, this post is about making the most of the time i have with my baby boy. making the most of the time i have while he's mine.

yes, he'll always be my son. and yes, he'll always call me mom. and yes, no matter if he is seven months old or twenty-seven years old, i firmly believe that we'll have the sort of relationship that is born the moment you grasp the awesomeness of the concept that you are growing a living being inside you. but, let's face it, he's only mine for such a short amount of time. in the grand scheme of things, he'll be someone's husband and father for much longer than he'll be just mine, just my baby boy. and so, i must remember to drink in these days like the sweet nectar of summer's first freshly squeezed lemonade. and in the midst of the busy and chaotic stream of events that i call my life, i remember this. and i stop. and i squeeze that baby just a little tighter, spinning him around, his toothless grin spreading wide across his face, his tiny hands grabbing at my face, his little body pressed close against mine. for now, he is all mine, and i love every minute of being with him.

last weekend, we embarked on a roadtrip to cincinnati to celebrate a weekend of love and happily ever after with family and friends. i have to say i was more than a tad anxious about spending 20 hours roundtrip in the car with a baby, but off we went with a what-doesn't-kill-us-will-just-make-us-stronger can-do-it attitude and lots of baby gear in tow (speaking of which -- supreme shout out to my uppababy g lite umbrella stroller. it's amazing and light and a fabulous travel companion... and jack just loves adventures under his umbrella ella ella ehhhhh stroller).

in the middle of this long journey, something happened. something wonderful. i managed to leave it all behind, live in the moment and have a truly remarkable mini-vacay. doesn't sound that remarkable, i know. but it was great. i did not check my work e-mail or voicemail once on this trip. i didn't think about the burgeoning to-do list waiting for me on the right corner of my desk at work. i did not allow myself to worry about the piles of unfolded laundry scattered about my basement. i made an active choice to forget all about deadlines and itineraries and schedules. and i decided, this is my new perfect.

because what is life if not an opportunity for baby races complete with excited squeals and crescendo-ed cries?

a time for snuggles with wee ones, who always find the softest place to land?

bath time with the little ones (even if the littlest one also decides it's an appropriate time to go number two?!)

a time to revel in the magic and wonder written all over a child's face as he experiences something new?

this cincinnati trip provided all these opportunities and more. and on the way home, after my sweet little angel had stolen a few licks of mama's ice cream cone and fallen asleep peacefully under his favorite blankey, i stared out at the dark stretch of highway and somewhere between the middle of illinois and home, i made a new year's resolution in june. i will live every day the way i lived this vacation. i will take advantage of these opportunities for happiness, wonder and joy. i will treasure each moment of this short time that he's all mine.

happy new year!

professionally derailed.

2011-05-10T11:17:00.001-05:00

a friend sent the following to me yesterday, and it made me cry at work. so true, every word.
We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?" "It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping
my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations...."

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a
mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could
be worse than watching your child die. I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation. I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will
have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will econd-guess herself constantly as a mother. Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years -- not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. This blessed gift from God . . . that of being a Mother.

children will listen.

2011-05-09T14:27:00.001-05:00

very special thanks to my friend marie for this photo. i was not supposed to make an appearance at jack's photo shoot, and i didn't know she had taken this picture, but despite my unwashed hair, i like this.

yesterday was my first mother's day as someone's mother. i arrived home from my sister's bridal shower weekend in michigan to roses, wine, and steaks on the grill. it was lovely. and after a meal shared with my husband and baby boy (each of whom made it possible for me to be a mother in the first place), i swaddled my sweet little angel and rocked him to sleep. he closed his eyes and his breathing became rhythmic, and i placed him gently into his crib.

i went to find john, and discovered him outside in the top "fort" part of our swingset. we sat there for an hour or so, me sipping reisling, him a miller lite, talking about our plans for the house and jack and our neighbors and life... and i got to thinking about being a mother.

sometimes i'm so busy accomplishing everything that goes into a day that i don't ever get a chance to reflect on the wonderful opportunity and awesome responsibility that come along with motherhood. it's amazing and overwhelming and gratifying and frustrating and completely worth it, if that makes any sense. and really, we get to call these little people our own for such a short time... and then they're off to flutter their wings and make their own life.

and so yesterday, while crammed into the top of my son's swingset, i vowed again to treasure each and every moment of motherhood. i have been so blessed over the last six months to mother my little man, and i am grateful each day for him. happy (belated) mother's day to all! xoxo

Children Will Listen

How do you say to your child in the night?

Nothing's all black, but then nothing's all white

How do you say it will all be alright

When you know that it might not be true?

What do you do?

Careful the things you say

Children will listen

Careful the things you do

Children will see and learn

Children may not obey, but children will listen

Children will look to you for which way to turn

To learn what to be

Careful before you say "Listen to me"

Children will listen

Careful the wish you make

Wishes are children

Careful the path they take

Wishes come true, not free

Careful the spell you cast

Not just on children

Sometimes the spell may last

Past what you can see

And turn against you

Careful the tale you tell

That is the spell

Children will listen

How can you say to a child who's in flight

"Don't slip away and I won't hold so tight"

What can you say that no matter how slight

Won't be misunderstood

What do you leave to your child when you're dead?

Only whatever you put in it's head

Things that your mother and father had said

Which were left to them too

Careful what you say

Children will listen

Careful you do it too

Children will see

And learn, oh guide them that step away

Children will glisten

Tample with what is true

And children will turn

If just to be free

Careful before you say

"Listen to me"

on baby time.

2011-05-01T14:52:00.000-05:00

we bought our new house back on january 26th-ish, so we've officially had three months to make plans, have panic attacks, peruse paint chips and the like. and, as per usual, my lofty dreams about all we'd accomplish prior to moving the last box into the house took over. i assumed we'd re-paint all the rooms in the house, tackle some landscaping, maybe put in a garden for shits and giggles.

well, i realized quickly that that's NOT going to happen. the previous owners were wonderful stewards of our little home, but they had two girls. two girls who apparently really like very bright, saturated colors in their bedrooms. we spent quite a long time taping off the trim and priming what will eventually be jack's bedroom yesterday. it took quite a while to prime the hot pink and purple walls. dear lord. it was like a life sized barbie playhouse up there.

it was a very long day. a long day that began at 6 a.m., after a night that ended at 2 a.m. in between negotiations/settlement discussions (for work), washer/dryer shopping (for me!), swing shopping (for jack!) and priming (with john), i am exhausted and my back (along with my head) hurts very much. it occurs to me that we will probably be taking our sweet time turning this little house into our very own. afterall, we are on jack time.

once upon a time. (a modern fairytale).

2011-04-30T01:34:00.001-05:00

i should be sleeping. the hours logged getting shut-eye are few and far between these days and, to be quite honest, a failure to take advantage of the same is just poor planning on my part, but, as luck would have it, baby is sleeping and i'm awake. so.... i will overshare on this, my very public journal of my most private thoughts.

good news! we are officially homeowners. as of sometime in the late afternoon of thursday, april 28, we own our very first home. the closing was actually pretty anti-climatic as big events go. a lot of signing our john hancock/fuegers on a bunch of meticulously prepared documents, a few seals of a notary stamp, a handshake... and the keys were ours. i might have cried, except that the whole shebang took place in the board room at my office, and the key players were people i work with professionally... so tears would have been a faux-pas if there ever were one.

after all the i's were dotted and the t's crossed, we headed downstairs for a celebratory cocktail with some friends. (yes indeed, i am fortunate enough to work at a firm in the same building as a restaurant/bar. and yes, i do believe good, bad and ugly moments should be celebrated or commiserated over a draft of blue moon.) and then... we headed over to the new place. we had packed a picnic pizza, some miller lite and jack's bathtime necessities for our first night in our new house. we spent the first few moments walking through the empty rooms, calling to each other to come see this nook and that cranny that we'd forgotten about since our initial tour and home inspection. we excitedly made furniture placement plans, and there was some very casual talk about future parties and bbq's to be hosted. and then we laid jack's quilt on the floor, opened the box of now cold little caesar's pizza, cracked open a celebratory miller lite and enjoyed a brief moment of celebration of home ownership.

i very cheesily said to john, "i'll probably always remember this night." and i probably always will. i thought back to so many moments of frustration over being a renter and living in places with appliances or lay-outs that just weren't quite right. i remembered painstaking discussions about saving every penny so we could afford to start the house hunt that would lead to our "dream house." and somehow, as i bit into crappy pizza and sipped on cheap beer, it seemed to all have been worth it. the satisfaction of having finally accomplished this purchase was worth all the stress, worry and anxiety that we've dealt with over the past few years. we wanted a place to put our shoes, hang our coats, and call our own. and now we have that.

it's not that remarkable. people buy houses every single day. realtors show homes to hopeful couples so frequently it's not anything to write home about. this post is nothing short of completely ordinary. except to me, it means validation for long hours spent studying in a library or drafting briefs or waiting for john to get home from a job he didn't necessarily love but took to better our future. i made silly faces at jack and smiled ruefully at my husband, and i thought this is what life is all about.

many a time, i've opened a pottery barn catalog and wished that i lived in the homes depicted in the pictures. i've longed to open the door to a home with perfectly coordinated decor and cozy, inviting accessories that grace the pages of better homes and gardens. but on thursday night, sitting cross legged on the hardwood floor of my living room, i felt content.

so many times i spend moments wishing for something better, hoping that my life will read more like a fairytale than reality, thinking, "but i'm working so hard. i deserve this." i'm driven by this need for perfection, for something more or greater. but on thursday, it was enough. i felt content. i felt a calm wash over me, and i felt... at peace. at home. for a few brief hours, i didn't think about what i wanted to do to the space i now own. i stopped worrying about the million projects i want to complete over the years as we turn this house into our family's home. i didn't even spend one minute wishing that the kitchen walls were some other color. i just kept looking at my husband and my son, thinking this is enough. this is all i need. this is all i want.

i expected that when i woke this morning, the familiar sense of oh-god-now-we-have-to-tackle-this-that-and-the-other would come flooding back. i expected to be overwhelmed with the feeling that i needed to put pen to paper and compose a long to-do list. i figured i'd start worrying about which purchases to make and which home improvement stores to visit. instead, i still feel the same sense of peace and calm. i'm right where i need to be. somewhere between working so hard to get there and being there, i've arrived. i am who i want to be and i am here.

maybe the same old feelings will return. maybe tomorrow or next week or next month. maybe this is just a brief respite from my usual approach, but for the time being, i am content. and that, my friends, is worth a post in and of itself...

on the night you were born.

2011-04-27T11:28:00.000-05:00

dear jack,

today you are six months old. this morning, i walked into your nursery and told you good morning, and you giggled and buried your little face into your swaddle blanket (yes, you still insist on being swaddled at nighttime). i lifted you up and you snuggled into my neck. i said, "you're 6 months old today," but i still can't believe i've been your mom for half a year. you are the sweetest, most precious gift i have ever received, and i feel privileged to be your mom every single day.

tonight i will come home from work and present you with your monthly book. on recommendation from other mommy's, the title of this book is on the night you were born. i will read you this book, while you gaze up at me, your little fingers touching my face and grabbing for my necklace. you will murmur sweet little sounds as you try to turn the pages, and i will cry, as i usually do, because these precious moments are what life is all about. (and also, this book is beautiful and wonderful and i can't wait to share it with you.)

ohhh, on the night you were born. it occurs to me that in between night feedings and diaper changes and bathtimes, we've never really talked about the night you were born. i've always meant to document that here, but time flies, and here we are, six months later. it was a cool evening in october. i was at work, waiting to be called in to the monthly board meeting. in fact, i was sitting in a co-worker's office complaining about how hungry i was when i started to have some contractions. i had just been to the doctor that morning, and she had said it would be at least a week before you'd arrive, and we were about three weeks from your official due date, so i wasn't too concerned. mostly i was just really, really hungry. (daddy says that you have inherited those crabby-when-hungry tendencies from me. sorry about that. god bless his patience.) my co-workers started to get a little anxious when my contractions became more regular. they were coming every 6 - 8 minutes, but i totally wasn't thinking you were ready to come meet us yet, so i was pretty nonchalant about the whole thing. as i think i stated, i was hungry. we were all going out to dinner (a steak dinner, i might add!) after the meeting, so i was concentrating on that. when we got into the board meeting, it occurred to me that the contractions were kind of hurting, which had never really happened before. i was slouching in my chair, and one of the other attorneys i work with joked with me about straightening up (we never let him forget this since it turns out i was in labor!) after the meeting, we were walking to our cars, and my friend and co-worker told me to ride with her to dinner in case i went into labor. i quickly told her that i would drive myself because i didn't want to mess up her car if my water broke. no sooner had the words come out of my mouth then i felt a little pop, and pow! my water had broke. she coaxed me into the car, and i called your daddy. he didn't believe me. really. i told him we were on our way home, and that it was time to go to the hospital, and he was like, "yeahhh right! see you after your dinner." it took whitney getting on the phone with him to convince him that it was go time.

when i got home, he was pacing. neither of us were really thinking we'd be going to the hospital. the puppies (who you adore, by the way) were jumping around excitedly, and i was trying to decide what to throw into a hospital bag. i remember walking around your little nursery, trying to pick out a few outfits to take with us, trying to process the fact that in a few days, i'd be bringing a little baby boy home to this room. it was so surreal. daddy was downstairs making phone calls. he was so excited. he called both grandparents, aunts and uncles and texted friends. i talked with auntie cathy, who couldn't believe she was going to officially be an aunt soon. auntie jess expressed a great amount of pleasure that my endless complaining would soon be over. and then, we got into the car and drove to the hospital.

daddy was so nervous as we checked in. the ladies at the admission desk were laughing at him as he rambled on. we went upstairs and met with a nurse. they monitored my contractions (which seemed to have tapered off a little) and determined that i was not, in fact, in labor. i was starving and irritated and feeling silly, since daddy had called nearly everyone we knew to let them know i was in labor. my immediate thought was that i was not going to go in to work tomorrow. everyone at the hospital was convinced i had simply wet my pants. i might remind you that i had not gotten that steak dinner, had not eaten since lunch, and was about one minute from getting hysterical. daddy turned on the season premiere of "16 & pregnant" (one of mommy's guilty pleasures) and that appeased me for an hour.

we waited. and waited. it seemed like forever. people kept coming in and out, looking at the machine, shaking their head and saying, "yeah, doesn't look like you're in labor, but we'll keep you awhile longer," and then leaving. around 11:00 p.m., i stood up to go to the bathroom, and splish splash on the floor, more water breaking. vindication! the nurse came back and announced that yes, i was in labor, we'd have a baby within the next 10 hours, and no, i couldn't eat anything. i asked for chicken broth, three cups of jello and three popsicles, and they obliged. daddy made himself a pit stop at taco bell. when he came back (with sex and the city dvd's and my pillow), i was hanging out in the whirlpool. my contractions were coming every 4 minutes now, and they were pretty intense. a new nurse named tara came on duty, and she was amazing. she was calm and sweet, and thinking about her makes me cry. she was the best.

the minutes ticked by and the pain got worse. we went for midnight walk around the hospital, but we had to keep stopping every 2.5 minutes to breathe through contractions. daddy kept trying to convince me to get an epidural. sometime in between exhaustion and starvation, i agreed. good decision! i layed in the hospital bed watching carrie bradshaw and friends, sucking on popsicles. it almost seemed like a regular saturday of days gone by... except that nurses flittered in and out, checking on little you. i couldn't sleep a wink, even though dr. mehta had instructed me to rest before the real work started. i was too excited to meet you. it seemed so odd that for the last 9 months, i had counted down the minutes to your arrival, and now, you were almost here. i didn't feel ready (but i still don't). i thought about what you'd look like. i thought about how my life was going to change. i thought about meeting daddy at a party in college, and being struck by everything we'd gone through over the past 8 years. two people from two families coming together to start their own little family. daddy was dozing on and off in the armchair next to me. i remember feeling so blessed and so lucky.

and then it was 7:00 a.m., and dr. mehta said it was time to push. and push i did. for two and half long hours. push, push, push, breathe, push, push, push. it was hard work. you were a stubborn little peanut, and since you were so tiny, mommy had to do all the work. (gravity was not our friend, jack.) this part is kind of hazy. i remember feeling a lot of pressure. i remember working really hard. i remember thinking that the epidural had stopped working because i was feeling every. single. thing. and then i remember hearing dr. mehta say, "one more push, he's right there." i started crying, and she told me to save my energy. and then you were out.

they put you on my chest, and your big blue eyes looked at me, and i just couldn't believe you were mine. this teeny tiny perfect little boy was my son. your daddy was snapping pictures, and talking about how perfect you were. and it was true. you were. (you are.) you weighed five pounds, 14 ounces, and you were born on october 27, 2010 at 9:32 a.m. you were worth all the water i retained, all the sleepless nights, all the stretch marks, all the pushing, and all the pain (ahem, hunger pains!).

it seems like just yesterday, and yet it seems so long ago. how can it be that you are six months old already? each day you grow and change, and i want time to stop for just awhile so i can savor each little moment i have with you. you are a joy. you came into our world, and you changed eeeeeeverything, and while everything is different, it is better. you have taught me about a patience i never knew i had. you have given me a sense of determination and strength i never knew existed. you have transformed the way i think about the world, other people, my family and friends, and most of all, your daddy.

let's just talk for a quick minute about your daddy. he loves you so very much (duh!). every day he stops me in the middle of something and says, "get over here. look at him. he's so awesome." he sends me little videos and pictures of the adventures you two have while i'm at work. i love watching you guys together. you have such fun. i love seeing that grin you give him when he smiles at you or sticks his tongue out at you. you guys are two peas in a pod. your arrival makes me all the more grateful for him and, if you can believe it, more in love with him. (ok, i'm not going to get all mushy, i promise, but indulge me for a minute). i think back on the last decade, and i remember your daddy first as my friend, the college buddy i did beer bongs with (what's a beer bong? never mind. you're never allowed to do one.), then as my boyfriend who i had so much fun with, to my fiance, to my husband, to the father of my son. who would have ever thought that the wild and crazy man we called beans would be the man i come home to sitting in his recliner giggling with "small man" (as he so affectionately calls you)? it's all so surreal, and yet so perfect. your daddy deserves a medal. he put up with me when i was pregnant and my feet wouldn't fit into shoes and when i was sleep deprived and snapping at him when you were first born and through all my breastfeeding trials. he is such a wonderful husband and a great father, and i hope you know how lucky you are to spend your days with him. he knows what's truly important and he would sacrifice money, fame, recognition, success... anything... for his family. i hope you grow up to be the kind of husband and dad he is.

thank you for letting me by your mom. you have enriched my life in so many ways. you have helped me to see what's truly important. you have helped me understand that having a closet full of clothes can't come close to feeling i get when you reach out for me, or when you bury your face in my neck, or when you give me that sweet smile when i come to greet you in the morning. you've helped me realize that i need to slow down and treasure the moments that fill each day. you've helped me see that having a perfect house or car or wardrobe or life isn't possible or necessary, but that true happiness comes from being with the people you love. thank you for your patience when i didn't know what i was doing. thank you for giving me the confidence to be your mother and trust myself in knowing exactly what you need and want. thank you for being a part of our family.

six months seems like such a long time, but in the general scheme of things, it really isn't. we have so many important days and months and years ahead of us, and i am excited for all of them. i wanted to be your mother even before i knew or understood what that meant... and now that i know, i couldn't love it any more.

happy six months to my happy, lively baby boy! i love you so very much,

mom

on taking the easy way out.

2011-04-16T22:30:00.000-05:00

ok, so riddle me this, blog friends: should i join the BLW movement?
(that's baby led weaning for those of you who are out having fun on a saturday, instead of fighting off sheer exhaustion on the couch, reading articles about introducing solid foods to your 6 month old)

i could lie to you and pretend that BLW appeals to me because it makes mealtimes interesting for the baby who gets to discover a variety of food tastes and textures on their own. i could pretend i'm into it because many say that it's a natural method for breastfed babies who are used to choosing as much as they want to eat. i could pretend that i am totally into encouraging jack to become an independent eater by helping him develop confidence as he feeds himself.

but really, i'm busy, sort of lazy, and i don't have the energy to fight at mealtimes. the idea of cutting soft solids into tiny pieces and letting jack take charge of feeding himself is reeeeaaaaalllly appealing. it also seems like it might really work for us because jack is all up in my business at breakfast, lunch and dinner, and he seems to love trying to feed himself (though currently his attempts have been with toys and socks).

i have decided to try tomorrow with avocado pieces. thoughts? horror stories? lay it on me.

a little ditty 'bout jack -minus diane-

2011-04-04T13:33:00.000-05:00

the past few days have left me feeling revitalized, which is especially good considering the busy month i have ahead of me. for the next 5 minutes, however, i vow not to think about the looming temporary hearings, trial and motions to be drafted. instead, i want to take a brief opportunity to brag about my baby.

a few weeks ago, someone said to me "when i have kids, i hope i don't become that kind of mom who only talks about her kids all the time." and after reading this entry, you might think that i've become that mom. but you know what? i don't really care. i still have appropriate adult conversations, i still nurture my love for a good cocktail, and do, on occasion and when the mood strikes, use choice four letter words. so... in my opinion, i'm all good. truth be told, becoming someone's mother is an amazing experience, and i don't have to feel any shame in sharing that with people around me. besides, while i'm bragging about my baby, the real point of this entry is mostly to document my own feelings about this part of the journey... so... there. two birds, one stone sort of a deal.

the past 4 days have left me in awe of my baby. he's so smart. haha. he's five months old, and seems nonchalant about most things (except boobs) and i'm calling him smart? tone down the mama ego, eh? haha. no, but i was looking at pictures from when he was first born and it just amazes me how much he's grown and changed in five months. he reaches for things, tries to turn the pages when i'm reading him his stories, and he's constantly trying to vocalize sounds. it could be because i'm always talking to him. i read somewhere that it's great for babies to be exposed to as many words as possible, and i've certainly taken it to heart. poor john -- jack is destined to become the talker his mama is! anyway, whenever we're playing and i talk to him, he gets this inquisitive look on his face, and he tries to talk back to me in what i imagine is a very serious, concentrated way. it's so precious. i love watching him learn new things and grasp new concepts. he discovered how to manipulate his frog toy to make the ribbet ribbet sound, and then proceeded to squeal with joy for approximately 5 minutes. i ate it right up. whenever we go into the bathroom, i always say, "where's the baby?" and point to his reflection in the mirror. i used to have to work with him to look at himself, but now when i say that phrase, his eyes go immediately to the mirror and he delights in making faces at his reflection. he reaches for me when i come from work. he loves watching the puppies and laughs at them wrestling with each other.

i find myself spending a good 5-10 minutes a day in pure awe at the little person he's becoming. he's developing his little personality, and it's so fun to see. you know, i've said it before: i wasn't prepared for some of the crazy things motherhood means (ahem, adventures in breastfeeding), but i also wasn't prepared for how purely perfect and wonderful these moments are. seeing that little baby's eyes light up when he finally grabs the toys he's been after is worth all the stretch marks, sleepless nights and breastfeeding drama.

end my shameless "jack is the most amazing baby" plug. (and ps. i know every mama thinks her baby is the most awesome being in the world... so i know that this little ditty 'bout jack -minus diane- is nothing remarkable to anyone else. mostly i just wanted to write this so in 20 years i remember the way i felt as i watched my sweet baby boy grow, learn and change right before my eyes. thanks for reading :)

the cloth diaper chronicles (a 5 month review).

2011-03-27T13:53:00.001-05:00

today my baby boy is 5 months old. aside from the oft-asked, "is he sleeping through the night?," the next most common inquiry generally involves cloth diapering. people's expressions generally range from complete shock and awe to disgust (i think there are lots of images of me, elbow deep in baby poop) to general curiosity about the whole process. sooooo, without further ado, i have decided to break down my cloth diaper experience.

we have now been padding tiny man's bum with cloth for 5 months. we didn't necessarily intend to start using cloth diapers from day one (in fact, i figured we'd use those preemie disposables for the first few weeks), but since jack was so teeny tiny, cloth was the best option because we could manipulate the pre-folds to fit him as tightly as we needed them to. so anyway, we've been using cloth since the first day we brought jack home from the hospital, and now... for my rave review.

i love, love, love cloth diapering. no, really. i do. it has been the easiest part of parenting thus far. i guess the only reason i'm even taking the time to type this is because pre-baby i worried about cloth diapering and whether it would be worth it in the long run, and i want other people who might be considering it to know -- it's definitely manageable and totally worth it. i definitely think all the options could leave a person feeling overwhelmed and a little lost.... i mean, i certainly felt that way. and so, months before the peanut arrived on the scene, i spent lots of time researching options, thinking about what would be best for our little family and making (what i hoped would be) smart decisions.

i think the vast variety of options when it comes to cloth diapering definitely leads to intimidation about the whole process. there are all-in-one diapers, prefolds, diaper wraps, diaper snaps, liners, fleece inserts, wet bags and more. our cloth diaper solution would probably not work for everyone, but let me be clear: we do not have some fancy, expensive washer and dryer (we have an old, run of the mill top loader) and we did not spend hundreds or thousands of dollars creating a diaper stash.

i use cotton pre-folds with thirsties diaper covers over top of them. we have 24 pre-folds (more than enough),

fastened with snappis,

topped off with 7 covers (four with velcro and three with snaps; we could definitely make do with less, but 7 was great when jack was pooping much more often "back in the day.").

the nice thing about the thirsties covers (besides the fact that they are adorable, hello!) is that they adjust to your baby's size. you can move the velcro to a wider setting (or adjust the snaps) as your baby grows. the gussets fit snugly around a skinny baby's legs (which was wonderful for my 5 lb. peanut in the first days home from the hospital), but could easily adjust to be comfortable for a more chunky little munchkin. we can custom fold the cotton pre-folds to fit jack as snugly as necessary, and then we fasten them with a snappi. (don't get me started on my love for the snappi, the modern day equivalent of the diaper pin.)

but here's the takeaway: my husband changes 95% of the diapers in our house, and he's on board with cloth. when i was going back to work, i told him that we'd see how cloth went with one of us out of the house. i promised him we could switch to disposables if it was too much work. it took one trip and one blow-out with a disposable for him to start singing cloth's praises to anyone who would listen.

now for the washing routine, which i'm sure is where most of the anxiety lies. contrary to whatever people might think, i don't spend my days with baby poop smeared all over my hands. we have a kissa's antibacterial liner tucked into a simple white plastic trash can with a lid.

we own two liners (so we can use one while washing the other), and they work perfectly. they wick away moisture and keep odors to a minimum. we wash diapers (and the liner) approximately every three days.

we do use a special laundry detergent for cloth diapers. i read lots of horror stories about laundry detergent build up on cloth diapers and the awwwwful consequences (horrible diaper rash, lack of absorbency, etc.), so i invested in thirsties pre-wash and super wash.

five months in, and we're still on our first bottles of each. you only use 1/2 oz. of each, so it does last a long time. we use 1/2 oz. of pre-wash and do a cold wash first, then 1/2 oz. of super wash with a hot wash. the diapers come out soft and clean. cloth diaper laundry is the easiest laundry we do, honestly. we just place the clean diapers in a little plastic crate; we don't even fold them.

yes, we do use cloth diapers when traveling (unless we're going to be gone for several days). when we're out, we store dirty diapers in this fantastic contraption: the wet bag.

the wet bag keeps the moisture inside and repels odors. it's amazing. we received two of these, along with 12 cuteybaby cloth diapers (see below).

we have not used these yet because even though they are supposed to fit babies that weigh at least 10 lbs, jack is still too skinny for me to be comfortable with the fit. once jack chunks up a bit in the thighs, i'll report back on the results.

anyway, we've not had any diaper rash to speak of, no blow-outs or anything of that nature in cloth. they're easy to use and launder, and quite cost effective. we spent less than $100 on our cloth diaper stock, and we haven't had to buy anything else five months in. (jack is a few pounds away from needing a larger pre-fold size, but i swear by this osocozy brand, and you can get 2 dozen on amazon for $24.)

so, there's the skinny on our cloth diaper experience. definitely worth it, in my humble opinion!

on being a mom (or, what a difference a year makes).

2011-03-25T22:41:00.002-05:00

one year ago this past tuesday i found out i was going to be someone's mother. so many things have changed over the past 365+ days that that fateful morning seems so long ago and yet, as the cliche goes, it seems like it was just yesterday. i can still remember the rush of emotions as i looked at that stick, my hands shaking, pure joy, excitement, anxiety washing over me.

one year later, and things just seem different. which is still odd to me because in so many ways, i am the same person i was a year ago. i have essentially the same haircut, i live in the same house (at least for a short while longer), i drive the same car, work at the same place and watch the same tv shows. but motherhood changes you... in a way that i can't necessarily describe. things are just different. motherhood makes you responsible for the life of a little person, and suddenly the view changes.

there are, of course, the obvious changes, which i've mentioned a few times here on the 'ole blog [ahem, breastfeeding]. there are the expected changes (like the whole not getting a ton of sleep and usually having a bit of baby spit up on all your clothes). but then there are the things i never expected. i can't watch intervention now. i just can't. it hurts my heart to watch those lost souls and think about how they're somebody's baby. there's a broken-hearted mom out there, and it pains me to think about what that might be like. there's the endless worrying. i have woken up in the middle of the night not to a crying baby, but to ponder the benefits of starting a 529 plan for jack. i sometimes find myself staring at his tiny little face, wondering what he'll look like at age 5, at age 10, at age 25. i wonder if we'll be able to teach him everything he needs to know, if we can instill in him the importance of being kind and good, while helping him learn confidence and self-respect. i think about him growing up, and making friends, and finding love and starting his own family (i know; i'm insane... he's only 5 months old).

besides being bombarded with irrational and insane worries, i've noticed that i just think about things differently. and this week, that manifested itself in my work.

when i started practicing law, i never intended to practice family law. in fact, i was very vocal with my colleagues about not wanting to work in that area. but there were some personnel changes at my firm, and voila! it just so happens that i do a fair amount of family law work. not that i wasn't caring and compassionate and all that jazz pre-jack, but having a baby has certainly changed the way i feel about my work. whenever i meet with a new client, i always find myself thinking about jack, and what he would go through if he were in the situation. maybe this was a good thing, maybe it will make me a smarter, more conscientious litigator. but it's certainly keeping me up at night. i have a case right now that is just.... hard for me. because i believe in my client, and i believe that he has his children's best interests in mind. and yet, that isn't enough. the attorney on the other side doesn't give a shit about helping this family navigate their way through this tumultuous time. i don't know if he cares about the money he's making, or if he just enjoys putting on a show, but he's certainly not thinking ahead. he can't be remembering that two little kids have to move on from this divorce.

but i do.

the other day, after a particularly rough day in court, i thought about my client's kids, and then i thought about jack. i thought about what he'd go through if (god forbid) john and i were to ever divorce (just a disclaimer: we're not). i can't even really imagine it, but i can say that i hope we'd both be mature enough to cooperate for the sake of our son. there are always easy ways out. and there are always people willing to take those roads, even if doing so will mean destroying the lives of a family under enough stress as it is. i never liked this notion before last october, but it sickens me now. i almost can't bear it. i almost lost it this week when i came face to face with opposing counsel who chose to turn what should have been an orderly hearing into a desperate mud-slinging contest. it was sad. it was uncalled for. i couldn't stop thinking about the hearing, or the unfortunate consequences. i woke up several times in the night, worrying about those kids. and i began to wonder if mothering and the practice of family law are compatible. oddly enough, you'd think they'd be perfectly attuned to one another.

the thing is, when opposing counsel employs tricks or uses dirty tactics, i have to similarly engage in order to stay in the game. but the truth is, i don't want to practice law that way. i want to help people resolve their issues. i want to be fair and compassionate. i want to be just and kind. it is hard to see this sort of behavior rewarded with results. it's hard to explain to a client who's world just got turned upside down that he has to be the bigger person. it's hard not to take this personally. it's hard not to feel a mother's heartbreak. because that's what i feel.

a little over a year ago, i found out i was going to be someone's mother. what a difference a year makes.

my breast frenemy.

2011-03-17T10:35:00.000-05:00

sometimes i feel like i'm in one of those unequal "friendships" with my breast pump. i feel like i give, give, give and get nothing in return. and i totally know that's not fair because the trusty pump allows me to feed my baby, and that's all well and good. but i feel like the pump expects so much out of me.

forgive me. i can't promise this is going to be my last blogpost on the topic, but i do apologize for bringing up the subject again. i am just having one of those weeks, and decided to vent.

i do not mind breastfeeding my baby. this week, however, i really, really mind pumping. it's cramping my style. i know it's beacuse i'm busy, and running to client meetings, settlement conferences and court hearings. squeezing in pumping sessions is adding another layer of stress that i wish wasn't there. i know that once the weekend comes, i'll calm back down and be fine. but damnit! it is SO flipping annoying to have to clean the parts after each pump. to add extra sessions in when i have to skip a regularly scheduled pumping interlude because of court. it is grating on my very last nerve that there are individuals with whom i work that still have not figured out that when my door is shut, i'm pumping. (yeah, there's no need to stand there knocking incessantly and TURNING THE DOORKNOB BACK AND FORTH in an attempt to jimmy the lock and walk in on me and my exposed boobies, thank you very much.)

i am at the point in my career where i have become increasingly busy. this is a very good thing because it means that my clients are referring new clients to me (which is honestly the most rewarding thing about my practice, so far) and my bosses find me to be competent enough to handle more work. however, with each new file, project and case, pumping becomes more of an inconvenience. i wish it wasn't this way. i wish there were more hours in the day. every time i get to working on something and i look back at the clock, thinking "shit, i'm late. should have pumped 30 minutes ago," i feel a pang of guilt. it sucks. being a pumping working mother is damn hard. carrying that medela backpack everywhere, seeking out abandoned parking lots to pump in while on the road, i mean, you've heard it before from me. don't wanna be a broken record, but this is a CHALLLLLLLENGE and a half.

on saturday, john, beebee and i went to madison to watch my brother play in his hockey playoffs. we visited my parents at their hotel afterwards and somehow the talk turned to breastfeeding/pumping. my dad (bless his heart; i know he meant nothing by it -- he just totally does not get breastfeeding, and really, how would he?) seemed to think that pumping and the practice of law were completely compatible endeavors. why couldn't i just ask the judge for a pump recess? couldn't i just excuse myself from a client meeting to express some milk? i think that's a lot of people's thoughts on the topic. i mean, you hook yourself up to the pump, you do your business, and there's milk. supply issues aside, what's the big deal?

the big deal is the constant burden of providing every ounce of sustenance. it is hard work. it is my choice to do this, yes. i could quit, and i could feed jack formula, and he would be 100% fine. i know this. somehow i could probably work through my mommy guilt. but i am dedicated to this choice, it's just hard. i try really, really hard not to let people's comments about how "it's not that big of a deal" or "it's completely natural and easy" get to me. i know they probably just don't understand, and that's a-ok. there are a whole host of things i haven't experienced, don't understand, and certainly have biased, pre-conceived notions about.

i don't know what i want. acknowledgement? no. i don't need a medal; i'd do this anyway for my baby. a thank you? jack can't talk and john is, and has been, very vocal about telling me that i'm doing great and being supportive. a revolution in our society that affords breastfeeding moms the kudos they deserve for sticking with the whole process despite the constraints on their time and schedule? maybe. it's recommended that you breastfeed your baby until they're like a year or something. when i think about doing that, it's still too far away, and i'm far too annoyed right now to commit to it. in truth, i don't know what i want. to vent, certainly.

my pump is a buuuuurden. for real. if she were a "friend," she'd be the one that always wants to order an appetizer, but never wants to pay for it. she'd be the one who shows up to brunch and, in the middle of you talking about your news, would turn the conversation back to her and her issues (ahem, carrie bradshaw?!) she'd be the old high school friend who doesn't get you anymore, but that you somehow can't exclude from your life. to quote a phrase my husband hates, "it is what it is." and it really is. it's annoying. it's time consuming. it's necessary.

fade to black. rant ends. exit stage left.

an update from draft central.

2011-03-14T22:29:00.000-05:00

today marked the beginning of my husband's fantasy baseball league. we've been enjoying "the league" on fx, and i believe the fervor with which john embraced this new undertaking was due, in part, to his love for the comedy. anyway, he's been reminding me for weeks that tonight was the big draft night. when i came home from work, i noted a sign on the door ("draft central") along with a makeshift work station he'd fashioned at the dining room table. he had taped cardboard boxes together to create an easel of sorts, and his stats and notes were organized around the laptop. hours later, i can report: the draft is over, and the league is excited for the upcoming season. i, however, am less than excited about having to run home early from every shopping trip or dinner out so that john can set his line-up before games. i am not necessarily looking forward to 6 months of john bogarting the laptop to do critical research for his team. but i do hope john's fantasy league is as hilarious to watch as fx's "the league." if it's anything close, we'll have a good 6 months.

and speaking of 6 months, guess who's getting bigger?

that's right... my little wee one is getting bigger by the day. he's such a happy, good natured little peanut. i love coming home to his sweet little smile.

sometimes i find myself just staring at him in amazement. i remember when that little 5 pound peanut arrived on the scene over 4 months ago, and now he just seems so huge! he's developing his little personality, and i just love watching him grow and change each day. such an adventure!

we celebrated jack's baptism over a week ago. it was a great day with family and friends, and we were so touched that so many of our loved ones made the trek to be there for the day. we are so loved, and feel so blessed and lucky.

but from lucky... to yucky. i always had an uneasy feeling when my eyes would rest on this bib of jack's.

it occurred to me a few days ago that this bib reminded me of jigsaw from the saw movies.

you see the resemblance, no? uuugggghhhh, freaky. the bib's been tucked away in the dark recesses of our spare bedroom closet, thanks.

on a lighter note, i've joined a book club. the books are poignant, quick reads (generally done in about 7 minutes) and the messages are heart-warming.

ok, you've got me; they're children's books, and jack is the true beneficiary of this new club. in an effort to vamp up his book collection, we've been buying jack a new book each month. (well, i am making a concerted effort to buy only one book a month, but children's books are too wonderful, aren't they?)

somebody's pumped about the very hungry caterpillar!

my personal favorites are olivia saves the circus and olivia! that little pig is adorable and such a sassafrass. seriously. go buy a big ole board book. you won't be sorry! :)

here's to a great week!

xoxo, steph

on cardboard boxes.

2011-02-07T16:04:00.000-06:00

last night, i had a dream.

well, actually a nightmare. first, it is important to note that i actually slept long enough to dream, and i woke up remembering said dream (er, nightmare). [insert brief moment of silence in honor of jack's amazing sleep habits as of late. he drifts off around 8-9 p.m. each night, and sleeps until 6-7 a.m. each morning. it is wonderful.]

but now, back to the nightmare. i dreamed that all of our household goods and furnishings were mixed up in random cardboard boxes, and i couldn't find anything. my breastpump was MIA, jack's bottle warmer was smashed to smithereens in the bottom of a u-haul, and his prized sleep noises giraffe was lost in the shuffle. i awoke in a panic, feeling sweaty and anxious. it took me a few minutes to realize it was a dream, only a dream (ahem, nightmare).

but as they say, everything happens for a reason, and i do believe my subconscious was trying to kick my butt in gear with this nightmare. we have about two months to organize, purge and pack our house before moving day, and truth be told, it will probably take the better part of that time. (we bought a house. yay! but now we have to pack and move. ehhhh.)

everything takes about a million times longer when little people (a.k.a babies) are involved. prior to jack, i could fold an entire basket of laundry in 2 minutes flat. now, i have to make silly faces and play peek-a-boo in order to keep jack occupied so he forgets that i'm not holding, but rather folding. christmas decorations have been taken down, but (as of february 7) are still not put away. they are slowly moving from the living room to the spare bedroom and soon (hopefully) back into storage. we're on baby time.

since the year 2002, i've moved approximately 14 times. yes, 14. from college dorms to tiny apartments to this house, i like to think that i've honed my packing skills. i've upgraded from huge garbage bags full of clothes when i left my dorm room freshman year to actual boxes secured with packing tape! but no amount of list-making, box-labeling, or bubble-wrapping can ever completely assuage the beast that is moving. horrid memories of moves gone by still linger in my not-too-distant memory, etched like scars that just won't fade. when i moved from college to law school, i stopped counting the endless trips from the third floor apartment to the jam-packed u-haul. on one of these trips, my right foot slipped, and i fell down a few stairs, twisting my ankle. it swelled to high heaven, and i spent the rest of the move watching john place boxes in haphazard fashion in our new home. it was too much for my control-freak, perfectionist nature to take. the move from southern illinois to iowa was the longest and, by far, the worst of these more than a baker's dozen moves. i was more than a little stressed out about the iowa bar exam, which was looming about 4 weeks away at the time. i enlisted the help of my siblings (john stayed behind in our empty apartment for a few more weeks of work), and we packed a semi-sized budget truck and headed north. i remember the pure exhaustion, the marathon 24 hours of loading, followed by 10 hours of driving a humongous truck with engine problems, rounded out with endless hours of unpacking and arranging. the heat and humidity combined with bar studying almost culiminated in a meltdown. it is a memory i do not treasure. it is a memory i do not want to repeat.

but i am nothing if not proactive, and i have devised a solution to this pesky problem. today marks day one of my get rid of all unnecessary shit campaign. i plan to eliminate a great deal of accumulated crap, all while singing nursery rhymes to my baby. i am also creating a numbering system, complete with a handy chart, in which i number each box, and keep a list of what each numbered box contains. yes, i know this is crazy. yes, i know that the control freak, perfectionist in me should be bitch slapped, but this list will calm my nerves, and eliminate any potential crazed rampages brought on by a "where the hell is that colander?" question, or a "where did you put the washcloths?" inquiry. i am pulling out all the stops for this, our final move for the foreseeable future.

any favorite moving tips and/or tricks for one crazed, ocd mama? i'd be much obliged.

on peeping toms and indecent exposures.

2011-01-26T11:00:00.000-06:00

i know, i know, i said i wasn't going to talk about breastfeeding anymore. but i couldn't resist sharing this anecdote. yesterday, i had to travel to a tiny town in wisconsin to attend the depositions of two clients. i knew i was going to be in the courthouse for several hours, and decided i should pump ahead of time. the courthouse was located smack dab in the middle of the town square, so i drove around looking for a remote parking lot where i could get down to business. i found a deserted "shriner's library" that appeared desolate. not a soul around. i whip out my lady parts, hook my pump up and go to town. i happen to glance to my left... and see an elderly lady peering at my inquisitively.

now when i say elderly lady, don't conjure up images of a sweet little grandma, the kind who would give you a hug, a warm cookie and a glass of milk and ask "how your day was, dear." oh no. picture a wild eyed, wild haired lady, who might take up residence in those abandoned row houses shown in HBO's "the wire." for the real, yo. she hops out of battered red pinto-type car, walks as close as she can to the passenger side of my car, and stares in at me. (yes, this is actually happening).

and then, out of nowhere, the parking lot of the shriner's library comes alive. there are elderly folks all over the place, carrying armloads of books and walking toward the door. i'm trying to dodge the creepy looks from homeless pinto driver by hiding under my coat, but the heat's on full blast, and i'm getting so hot, i'm feeling like i'm going to pass out. i glare back at the peeper, and she gives me a weird look, but at least backs up a few steps.

i'm thinking, "is this for real?" and all i can do is laugh. of course i would happen to pick the busiest, most happening parking lot in this town to expose my boobs to a homeless lady. as i'm finishing up, i start to think about something a speaker at a recent continuing legal ed conference said. he was talking about our ethical obligations as attorneys and how breaking the law means forfeiting your license. and i wonder, if i got a ticket for indecent exposure on account of this whole incident, how exactly would i explain this to the board of attorney regulation? because i totally don't think i'd be able to talk about it without cracking a huge smile.

thoughts? just another day in the life.

state of my union address.

2011-01-26T10:20:00.002-06:00

two weeks ago my marriage was in trouble. you see, the bonds of matrimony were starting to buckle under the pressure of road trips and two very different tastes in television. after nine weeks of maternity leave, i had become accustomed to a specific and regimented television watching schedule. there were "it's always sunny" episodes to watch, and "bridalplasty" re-runs to gawk at. there were real housewives of atlanta and beverly hills marathons to catch. and there was one very annoyed husband, who really couldn't care less about the aforementioned.

in the me vs. john "what are we watching on tv" debate, i usually win. especially since the arrival of jack. because i can totally throw out the "i have to sit on the couch and nurse the baby... so i don't want to watch [insert name of some sports show i don't care about]." however, marriage is all about compromise, right? it didn't feel right stealing these little victories, and i began to feel guilty for commandeering the remote.

and speaking of guilt, here's an update on road trips post-baby: they are complicated. gone are the days of throwing a few changes of clothes into a bag, loading the iPod with some glorious tunage and hopping in the car, corn nuts (john's long distance snack of choice) and coffee on hand for a new adventure. there are bumbo's and boppy's and blankets and bottles to pack. there are "oh my god, what if he has a blowout's" and "what about if he's too warm or too cold or too uncomfortable's" to plan for. this means that john and i are running, on average, approximately 1 -2 hours behind schedule anytime we leave our house for some extended trip. no matter how organized i think i am, or how much i've tried to accomplish the night before, there is some crisis that arises and sets back our departure time. this drives the OCD part of me (which is the largest, loudest, most annoying part of me, you see) nuts, to no end.

and the aforementioned scenario is only compounded when we look down at our hastily printed mapquest directions and realize: shit, there's no edward allen poe lane. there's no thomas avenue. we can't take a left onto birchtree drive. where the hell are we? cue the soft whimpering of a small baby from the backseat. should we turn around? stop at the nearest gas station? cue the high volume screaming of a baby who is tired of this roadtrip, annoyed by the restraints of his carseat, and about to go quite ballistic on his bewildered parents. needless to say, this situation (which we've happened to find ourselves in at least a few times since october) is a bit stressful. and once we arrive home and the memory fades, we plan the next venture. but even though we're both nodding excitedly, in what seems to be happy anticipation of the next trip, we're both silently screaming, "not again, not again."

and then, approximately two weeks ago, six letters changed our lives forever.

D - V- R. G-P-S.

that's right. we, okay i, finally caved and signed up for DVR. on the very same day, we also purchased a garmin, and life is good.

my shows are all recorded and waiting in their organized recording file. while john is at the gym, i can snuggle with my baby, catch up on my forays into trashy celebs' "reality," and skip all those pesky commercials.

commercials, comercials, commercials. fare thee well, annoying commercials that irritate me so much i'm likely to avoid the product you're advertising out of spite. seriously, DVR has allowed me to miss out on all 30 second inconveniences, and for that, i am very grateful indeed. all my maternity leave tv watching left me incredibly annoyed with a few commercials in particular. you know that vonage commercial where the customers are talking about the benefits of switching to vonage, and the one lady goes, "we talk about traditions." and the next lady goes, "we talk about the turkey and the big paniiiiiiii." for weeks, i complained to john about this stupid commercial. "what the hell is she saying?" my sleep deprived, patience-less mind would wonder. "is it panini? fettuchine?" it got so annoying that when it would come on, john knew to mute the commercial to avoid my diatribe. but it turns out i wasn't the only one wondering what the heck she was talking about. you need only to type "the big turkey and the big" into google, and lots of results come up. if you're wondering what the customer was blabbering about, please feel free to read about the big PERNIL here.

and don't even get me started on that damn hamsterdam kia commercial. you can get with this or you can get with that or you can get with this or you can get with that. i don't get how hamsters dressed in jumpsuits with rapper bling around their neck makes you want to buy a kia. but dear lord, i was about to embark on a "don't you dare buy a kia" campaign to counter it.

but that's all in the past now. a simple click of the fast forward button, and we're in business. easy, peeeeezy. just like our roadtrips. on the way to des moines (for the great milk surplus of 2011, mind you), baby jack became less than enthused about sitting in his carseat. we simply asked our dear gps where the nearest restaurants were, and we found a delightful diner hidden away in independence, iowa. it was lovely. the gps has brought some of the joy back into traveling, even traveling with a newborn. and that, dear readers, is no easy feat.

so, in conclusion, if this were the real state of the union address, this would be the part where representatives from both parties stand and applaud because trust me: this is a bipartisan victory. i had to reach across the aisle, so to speak, and make some compromises with my other half, but i finally gave in. and there's nothing but sunshine and rainbows and a whole lot of recorded television programs to show for it.

here's to a great 2011! yes we can!

medal of honor.

2011-01-19T10:33:00.001-06:00

not to toot my own horn, but i'm giving myself an award. baby jack is 12 weeks old today. while this means that our little bambino is growing bigger and smiling wider each day, it also means that i've been breastfeeding for 12 weeks. back when i was pregnant, breastfeeding seemed like a no-brainer for me. of course i would breastfeed my babies. i mean, just ask anyone... breast is best, right? i never dreamed it would be "work." i really believed jack would pop out of the womb, instinctively knowing exactly how to latch on and eat like a champ. i had never even thought about "nipple confusion," "nipple shields," or "supply issues." puuuuhhhhleeeease. breastfeeding is the natural thing to do, right?

well, mannnnn, are we at six flags? i swear breastfeeding is the most up and down emotional rollercoaster i've ever been on. from getting up in the middle of the night to pump (even when jack is sleeping) to keep my supply up, to dealing with clogged milk ducts (sorry, i know it's TMI, but this is a blog post on breastfeeding, so if you kept reading, i assume you were prepared for this), to fighting through baby growth spurts, this three months has been, what i would consider, an epic battle. definitely much more trying than studying for a bar exam. the thing about studying for the bar exam is that i knew if i put in the time and effort, i would do well on the exam. you don't have that same comfort with breastfeeding. you can try your damndest, you can eat lactation cookies, seek out herbal supplements, drink literally gallons of water, and you might not be able to produce enough milk to feed your
baby. isn't that crazy? well, i have to say, i have literally tried pretty much every standard trick out there (some more helpful than others). there have been many days that i felt like throwing in the towel. but here, we are, 12 weeks in, and jack is happy, healthy and steadily growing.

this is probably a really boring post to anyone who hasn't gone through this. i apologize. i'm not trying to make this blog a chronicle of mommy-hood. i don't plan to post about jack's bowel movements (but i also never thought i'd be at a christmas party discussing them with others, so i guess never say never...) or my mommy woes on a daily basis. but i needed to pat myself on the back over this accomplishment because i never thought i would get here. i really didn't.

you know a weird side effect of being a nursing mom? it's lonely. while on jack's first road trip, i sat in the guest bedroom at my friend's house, nursing my baby, listening to my friends talking in the living room... and i wanted to be out there socializing with them so badly. on thanksgiving, i had to take 5 breaks from the festivities to
feed jack, and each time while sitting there, i kept thinking "hurry up, little man! i'm missing stuff." it's not that i hate feeding him. it's not that it's painful or uncomfortable. sometimes i just miss the effortless way of life before... when i could sit around and talk to family and friends, without watching the clock and thinking, "it's about
time to for jack to eat." i'm a social person, and being confined to a bedroom by myself for 20-40 minutes while little man chows down is sometimes so isolating for me. (which is why i usually make my mom and sisters join me, regardless of what they want to be doing)

and yet, i love that i'm able to do this for my baby. (see, rollercoaster!) when i get home from work, and we're sitting together and he's having his dinner and he looks at me so contentedly, i think, wellll, THIS is what matters. it is calming and soothing and relaxing to spend a quiet half hour with my baby at the end of a busy work day. i appreciate being able to do this more now that i've gone back to work than i otherwise might have.

but damnit if it isn't hard, hard work. who would have thought that i could turn into a crazed, homicidal maniac if threatened with the idea of wasting even half an ounce of precious liquid gold breast milk??? who would have thought that i would voluntarily choose sleep deprivation in favor of an extra pumping session??? who would have thought that they'd see me cruising down the highway, my breastpump hooked up to the cigarette lighter, filling bottles for my baby??? i've never been a particualy modest person, much to the dismay of my sisters, who have
been subjected to me whipping off articles of clothing in front of them when trying on new duds at the store, but over the past 12 weeks, any semblance of privacy has been discarded. (i do draw the line at whipping out my lady parts in front of my dad and brothers, which is why i've been holing up in bedrooms, breastfeeding alone.) anyway, this is a public service announcement, if there ever was one. breastfeeding is great for your baby. the whole process intrigues and amazes me. BUT IT IS HARD WORK. it can make you crazy. it can make you even more
emotional than you already are post-partum. it can make you feel like a failure for pumping 3 ounces as opposed to 4. it forces you to rearrange your whole schedule in favor of not having one. it is the single hardest thing i have ever done in my life. i. am. not. kidding. and while i've been known to be a tad dramatic (just ask my husband!), i firmly believe it to be harder than giving birth. at least i knew there was some end in sight to the 2 hours of pushing. yes, labor is painful, but for me, there was no accompanying emotional pain or guilt attached. if a meeting at work runs over, and i have to shorten a pumping session or nix it altogether, i feel like i'm failing my baby. it's not rational. i know this. i know that giving my baby formula would not be the end of the world. formula is not poison. but for some reason, i have it in my head that jack is getting breastmilk, and i am making every sacrifice i can to ensure that happens. it is insane. i never thought i would be like this. i also never thought i'd make it to three months... and here we are!

breastfeeding for the past 12 weeks has opened my eyes to new experiences, new feelings and new crises, that's for sure. but it hasn't all been maddening, though. some of it has been pretty funny. example: the great milk surplus of 2011. last week, i attended a continuing legal education conference in des moines. john and jack graciously agreed to join me on the voyage, so they got some hotel fun in while mama learned about statutes, caselaw and ethical obligations. now, my plan was to pump on my 15 minute breaks from the conference. we were staying at the hotel where the conference was, so i figured it would be pretty easy to run upstairs to our room, do my milk thing, then run back downstairs. the plan worked brilliantly. until all of the sudden i looked down, and realized, woooooahhhh, my boobs were kicking it into overdrive. out of nowhere, the amount i was normally pumping had doubled. here we were, in a hotel room in des moines, with a few bottles and no freezer or fridge, woefully unprepared for this goddamn milk surplus. husband's suggestion was to throw out the milk we didn't need. this earned him some dirty looks. (hell, i almost got all amber vs. gary, teen mom style on him). i appointed john to ice patrol and forced him to guard this excess supply for the duration. we both had a good laugh about how things had changed. back in february, he made sure to have a bathtub full of beer iced and waiting when i returned to our hotel room after the illinois bar. fast forward almost a year and here we were, our bathroom overflowing with mom's milk, and him, valiantly guarding and icing the supply. ohhh, god bless my patient husband.

i've breastfed in the backseat of our car (while the car was stopped, of course) and pumped on the highway while traveling at speeds in excess of 70 mph. this journey has certainly taken me to some crazy places. and my breastfeeding woes provide excellent entertainment for my female colleague, who delights in listening to my diatribes. i really feel like i should get one of those chips you get in AA. you know, something signifying that i've made it to 3 months. maybe an extra lactation cookie with lunch? haha.anyway, cheers to this insane, ridiculous willpower that is coming from somewhere within (i don't even know where.... and ps, where were you when i needed you during bar exams 1, 2 and 3? particularly 2 and 3???) and a very sincere and heartfelt thank you to the friends and family i have coerced into bedrooms while i nursed my baby, so i would have someone to talk to, to make me feel normal again. a very special thank you to my sisters, who have probably been scarred for life by seeing my boobs on numerous occasions and hearing me discuss breastfeeding woes. thank you to the moms i have dialed in fits of desperation, asking for advice and help. i so appreciate all of you... and so does my growing baby boy.

now why did i write this? because someday, when jack is about 16, and thinks that i'm the most annoying, embarrassing dictator on the planet, and he doesn't want to spend time with or around me, i am going to
remind him of all of this. (actually, it would probably be better if john reminded him of all of this, so i can seem more selfless and amazing. remind me to tell john about this asap). and he will feel bad. he will go buy me some mother-of-the-year card, and ask me to watch a movie with him instead of his girlfriend. haha. i know, i'm
kidding myself. none of that is going to happen. i promise i'm not going to hold my breastfeeding over my son's head. i promise. even if i don't even get a movie or a nice card out of it, i have the foresight to realize it's all worth it, even still.

shiny happy baby laughing.

2011-01-09T00:04:00.000-06:00

the only thing cuter than this video is watching jack watch himself in this video.

it adds a little happiness to this, the saddest day of the year: the day john convinces me it's time to take down the christmas decorations. hope you all had a wonderful holiday season!

on hearing things.

2011-01-03T18:03:00.000-06:00

well, my maternity leave has come to an end, and it's back to the grind. my desk is now covered with stacks of briefs and cases and files that will be ruling my life for the foreseeable future, as well as framed photographs of my little peanut, the latter of which, i should mention, are much more fun to look at! anyway, i have been pleasantly surprised at my recent transition back to the practice of law. leaving jack for my first day back was agonizing, and i cried three times before 8 a.m. each day got easier, however, and it has been so fun to come home to a happy baby who spends his days laughing and playing with his adoring daddy. i can't ask for anything more. i think that once we adjust to this new schedule, our routine will be just about perfect.

but anyway, going back to work means that my breastpump has become my new best friend. thanks to a hands-free pumping bra, i've pumped while on the phone with clients, while researching caselaw for a brief i'm writing, and while weeding through the day's emails. it's been quite comical, really. and while my trusty breastpump offers comic relief in the face of work stress, provides breakfast, lunch, dinner and the snacks in between for baby jack, i have discovered that my breastpump does something else: it speaks to me.

no, but for real, it does. i know this is going to sound crazy to you, especially if you haven't hooked your knockers up to an electric double pump, but that contraption says stuff to me. really. at first, it simply hurled insults like "wacko." this made perfect sense to me since my original relationship with the breastpump was a rocky one, and the whole mess seriously made me feel like i was going crazy. recently, it has expanded its vocabulary. it also says, "relax," (thanks, buddy! i'm trying to!) and "sleep now," among other phrases.

now, i can admit to being an odd duck about things. i also admit to being a sleep-deprived new mom, so i wondered if i was slowly going insane. i actually googled "talking breastpump," wondering if others had experienced this same phenomenon. lo and behold; i was not alone! this result assured me that i wasn't losing it.

anyway, here's to new beginning with new "breast" friends! happy 2011!

fours.

2010-12-12T23:45:00.000-06:00

i was about to go to bed, but since i was tagged... here is my list of fours:

1. Four shows that you watch:
(1) Dexter
(2) It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
(3) The Office
(4) Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, Atlanta

2. Four things you are passionate about:
(1) My family & friends, and planning precious moments with them.
(2) My career -- being the best attorney I can be.
(3) Cloth diapering! (I'm sort of obsessed now)
(4) Being organized.

3. Four phrases you say a lot:
(1) "Really, John, really?"
(2) "Shut the front door!"
(3) "It's an albatross around my neck."
(4) "Spicy!" (when anything is remotely dramatic)

4. Four things you've learned from the past:
(1) Some people deserve second chances, and some people never deserved the first chance. Trust your instincts.
(2) Ask for help when you need it; thank people when they give it.
(3) You catch more bees with honey than with vinegar.
(4) Don't put anything on facebook that you don't want made public.

5. Four places you would like to go:
(1) Would love to go back to Italy... specifically the country. Wine country.
(2) Florida to visit my bro-in-law, sis-in-law and little nephew. Also, Florida sounds really nice right now, what with this -30 windchill business.
(3) Egypt
(4) Ireland

6. Four things you did yesterday:
(1) Went out for breakfast with my husband and baby boy (who was a little doll, and let his mommy eat in peace!)
(2) Watched several episodes of The Wire, Season 4. LOVE that show.
(3) Did some laundry.
(4) Opened mail.

7. Four things you are looking forward to:
(1) Visiting my sister and her fiancee in their new house.
(2) Christmas with my family!
(3) New Year's Eve!
(4) Jack's first real smile :)

8. Four things you love about winter:
(1) Snow... love how everything looks so fresh and new.
(2) Flannel pajama sets.
(3) Sleeping under fluffy warm blankets.
(4) Snuggling with my baby since it's too cold to go anywhere.

9. four bloggers who should share their list of fours:
(1) Liz
(2) Meg
(3) Krystin
(4) Heather

on getting stuff done.

2010-12-05T08:56:00.000-06:00

back when i was pregnant, i liked to talk a big line about what i was going to do while on maternity leave. i had dreams of all the crafts i'd accomplish, all the christmas goodies i'd bake, and all the holiday outings i'd attend. my mom suggested that my time off was not necessarily going to be a vacation, and that perhaps i was being a little naive or maybe overly ambitious about the first few weeks of motherhood. i dismissed these ideas; i was the epitome of over-achiever. of course i would do all these things and more. afterall, a never-ending "to do" list is just part of who i am.

well, who am i anymore? as i look around my living room, i'm slightly disgusted by the stack of mail, breast pump accessories and unfolded laundry strewn about. on the other hand, i showered today, so actually, it's been a good day thus far. i guess mom was right. maternity leave has not been exactly what i was planning. but as my mom said yesterday, "you've always had to figure things out for yourself." which is true.

now don't go thinking that i'm not loving motherhood thus far. because i totally am. but it's so weird how everything has changed so drastically in such a small amount of time. i have been jack's mama for a little over 5 weeks now, and in some ways, i can't remember myself before he was here. but of course that seems ridiculous. i can vaguely remember what it was like to be able to run to target to peruse the aisles for things i didn't need without a care in the world, without the constant glancing at my watch in a panic ("does he need to be fed? changed? i need to get back home right away.") i can sort of remember being able to eat with both hands. i remember being able to get into my bed, lay head on pillow and sleep contently for 6, 7 or even 8 hours at a time. (ok, very vaguely. very, very vaguely.)

but, anyway, they say life is what happens when you're busy making other plans. and as cliche as it sounds, it's so true. just when i was feeling as uncomfortable as i'd ever felt in my life, preoccupied with nesting to the n'th degree and worrying about a million things and the aforementioned never-ending to do list, my water broke, and this tiny little being came into the world and just... changed everything. my outlook on life, the width of my hips, you know, just everything.

we spent the first few weeks in a haze, albeit a blissful, sleep-deprived, what the hell am i doing and who let me leave the hospital with this tiny man haze. but the fog is lifting, folks, and we are emerging. mama has strapped on her babybjorn, and productivity has begun increasing exponentially around here. we actually assembled the christmas tree, strung the lights and hung the ornaments! i am caught up on laundry (for the time being; try not to blink too fast)! the dishwasher has been emptied! and... (drumroll please) jack has been sleeping 5.5-7 hours per night, every night for the past week. you'd be surprised at the motivation a little extra shut-eye can bring to a person.

so... anyway, instead of doing what the old me would have done (spend every waking moment trying to get as much done as possible), the new me is going to spend today celebrating my recent productivity and the accomplishments of the past five weeks....

from this,

to this.

we've come a long way, baby!

on precious moments.

2010-11-17T08:27:00.000-06:00

sometimes, in the middle of the night, the wee hours of the morning, when my whole house (except for me) is fast asleep, i look down at the little baby sleeping contently in my arms and i think, all the sleep deprivation in the world is worth this one little moment.

i look down at his tiny little hands, curled into fists that rest by his ears, and i try to soak in the rhythmic hum of his breath. i try to memorize everything about his perfect little face, his tiny nose, his pouty lower lip. every day he changes, and to me, looks a little different than he did the day before. and so, even though i have not slept more than 4 hours at a stretch for the past three weeks, in these quiet moments, in the still of the night, i am at peace with the lack of sleep. being awake for these moments gives me the opportunity to soak up this precious time with this tiny little man who won't be so tiny for so long. happy 3 weeks to my dear little boy.

ole faithful.

2010-11-08T09:50:00.000-06:00

i've heard it from every single parent i know, so it's probably cliche of me to say, but time flies with babies around. for real. i can't believe little baby jack will be 2 weeks on wednesday. ok, it's not like he's graduating from college or going to senior prom, i know, but it's still amazing to me to think that 2 weeks ago, i was carrying that little peanut in my belly, and now he's hanging out on the outside, melting my heart ... like every minute of every day.

and in the past 12 days, jack has experienced many important milestones that he's basically just slept right through. his first hike/walk... his first wedding... his first sweater vest... you know, life-changing moments. i have experienced some life altering moments of my own.

leaking in the workplace.

last friday, i headed down to the office to do some checking on some of my files, update the other attorneys on some cases, and just generally reassure myself that everything was being handled in my absence. i had made the rounds, chatted with colleagues about cases, stopped to give baby jack updates to inquiring paralegals and secretaries, and was one conversation away from heading home when i felt it. liquid. on my chest. i looked down. houston, we had a problem. apparently my body was telling me it was time for a jack snack because i had leaked through a nursing pad, a t-shirt and my sweater. immediately i was horrified. how long had this little scenario been playing out? had everyone in the office noticed, but been too polite (or disgusted) to inform me that i was indeed geysering all over my clothes? for the love of god! i would have marched right into the office of my lone female colleague to round table the situation, except it being the day before her wedding, she was out of the office tending to important business involving programs and favors. "now what?" i panicked. should i just hightail it out of there and forego my meeting with the last attorney? should i try to find some awkward way to use my purse as a shield over my leaky right boob? the OCD part of me decided i had to finish all business as planned, so i opted for the purse shield and made my final stop. i survived the conversation, leakage and all, and headed out to my car, where john and the little man were waiting. the minute i got inside, i turned to john, burst out laughing, and pointed to "the situation" (who, as you now know, is not just a jersey shore character). "look what happened!" we both had a good laugh over it.
i'm just hoping that while we were finding some humor in the leaky event, everyone in my office wasn't gathering to discuss same. ahhh well. i'm sure it's not the last leak we'll have to plug. cheers to breastfeeding!

all in all, i have to say, i'm having a good time being a mom. john and i are just figuring out this whole parenting thing, but we're trying to take it all in stride, enjoy the precious moments, and laugh about the "crises averted." a special thank you to little jack for being so patient with us.

on having mah baby.

2010-10-30T11:47:00.000-05:00

yes, that's right, everyone. this is not a post about the misery that is the last few weeks of pregnancy because... i am not pregnant anymore! jack was born on wednesday, weighing in at 5lbs., 14 oz., 19.5 inches long. at some point i promise a longer post on the story of his arrival, but, for now, the pictures will have to do.

little jack has already become his father's favorite tv watching companion...

and he also provides endless hours of entertainment for our two original babies, kingsley and gracie. (both dogs are enthralled by any whimper or cry he makes. they stand guard at his bassinet. gracie, particularly, is a little mama, and has taken it upon herself to assist in all things jack-related.)

anyway, just wanted to share the good news. thanks for sticking with the blog reading even when it became months of endless complaining about swollen ankles and hands, and insane worries.