No, I don't have one yet....but I did have brunch with the deliciously cuddly baby Max and his sweet mama this morning, and holding the little dude made me think of all the newborn-y phenoms I'm looking forward to...and so I give you, in no particular order:
1. Fresh baby/baptized smell. Whether it's sweet milky babyness or the persistent odor of sanctity (aka chrism oil), there's nothing sweeter than baby scalp. Love!
2. Immobility. Set baby on couch. Line couch with pillows. Proceed with intended activity...genius! (Though I suppose only with exterior baby safely asleep or highly supervised.) When Joey was wee, he lounged on his boppy while I Jillian Michael'sd 6 inches from his indifferent face. Those were the days...
3. Onesie and donesie. Sufficient to say, unless this baby is a little lady, he will be sporting a solid 'classic' white onesie and not.much.else. all summer long. I consider that a perfectly acceptable ensemble for 0-6 months, though my mother has been heard to remark that babies without socks look a little 'white trash.' Classy, Glam ma.
4. Teeny little odorless diapers. Well, almost odorless...
5. Senseless smiles and/or chin wiggles during sleep. Melt....
6. Portable to the max - Joey must have slept under a dozen restaurant tables in his first few months ex-utero. And perhaps double that number of coffee shops.
7. Ergo wear-go: I love wearing my babies...it's the most hippie thing about my mothering style, except for perhaps the henna incident and the copious amounts of homeopathic crack I'm ingesting morning, noon and night these days.
Thanks, Jen!
P.s. this is ridiculously filled with profanity, utterly unrelated, but holy hell is it funny. (Don't judge if you click, and I won't tell you that my saintly husband sent it to me via messenger...and do skip ahead to like minute 3)
Friday, March 30, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Waiting in Joyful Hope
At some point today, in between a pitiful nap and bouts of feverish cabin cleaning, I looked down at my phone and saw a little email icon dinging away. What I read took my breath away, and slapped some sense into my puffy self:
'Please pray for Jonathan and Gina and their family who lost their lil baby boy today who was full term.'
That's it. One sentence. And a family's life is shattered.
For a few minutes I couldn't think of anything else except how incredibly selfish and complaining I've been these past few weeks, months, etc. All my pregnancy complaints, discomforts and inconveniences were cast into harsh relief against the reality of what must be the world's greatest grief; the loss of a child.
My breath catching in my throat, all I could do was pull exterior baby into my lap and sit quietly stroking his soft blonde hair for the 4.5 seconds he would tolerate it, all the while feeling waves of shame for the very weak way I've been facing the burdens and blessings of motherhood lately.
I don't know this family, but they'll be in my heart for the duration of this pregnancy, and surely for the suffering that is to come in the delivery room and beyond.
Thank God it's still Lent. I can still start over.
St. Joseph, patron of departing souls, pray for them.
'Please pray for Jonathan and Gina and their family who lost their lil baby boy today who was full term.'
That's it. One sentence. And a family's life is shattered.
For a few minutes I couldn't think of anything else except how incredibly selfish and complaining I've been these past few weeks, months, etc. All my pregnancy complaints, discomforts and inconveniences were cast into harsh relief against the reality of what must be the world's greatest grief; the loss of a child.
My breath catching in my throat, all I could do was pull exterior baby into my lap and sit quietly stroking his soft blonde hair for the 4.5 seconds he would tolerate it, all the while feeling waves of shame for the very weak way I've been facing the burdens and blessings of motherhood lately.
I don't know this family, but they'll be in my heart for the duration of this pregnancy, and surely for the suffering that is to come in the delivery room and beyond.
Thank God it's still Lent. I can still start over.
St. Joseph, patron of departing souls, pray for them.
The Best Laid Plans
Trotted off to a nearby mountain town yesterday to re-enact the infamous induction and birth of exterior baby, hoping for a similarly dramatic (but perhaps less lengthy) outcome for interior bebe.
What an idiot I was.
Proof of idiocy abounded in the idiot-flavored pudding, which included: letting a toddler fall asleep in the car for a 20 minute rejuvenating 'catnap' en route to our apparently detestable destination, hauling a laptop and a Dora dvd into the nail salon and somehow thinking it would magically transfix him for 30 + minutes while mommy got pampered, not bringing a drop of alcohol/tylenol/orajel/vicodin/etc. to ease his teething pain.
Idiot.
20 painful/humiliating minutes later, my darling friend Jenny had a moment of lucidity and volunteered to stroll the little master around in his carriage whilst I finished up in peace.
Don't worry, she still got her pedi too.
Moral of the story: little boys hate salons as much as - or more than - big boys. And the number one most disturbing thing you can say to your far-from-fluent in English aesthetician is "oh yes, we plan on having more than two children."
We didn't connect on much, conversationally, but she somehow read that one loud and clear. And proceeded to pat my belly many, many times for the remainder of out appointment, feverishly uttering 'you have girl...girl...please have girl...be done!'
Still here, still pregnant, but my toes look amazing.
Thanks, OPI.
What an idiot I was.
Proof of idiocy abounded in the idiot-flavored pudding, which included: letting a toddler fall asleep in the car for a 20 minute rejuvenating 'catnap' en route to our apparently detestable destination, hauling a laptop and a Dora dvd into the nail salon and somehow thinking it would magically transfix him for 30 + minutes while mommy got pampered, not bringing a drop of alcohol/tylenol/orajel/vicodin/etc. to ease his teething pain.
Idiot.
20 painful/humiliating minutes later, my darling friend Jenny had a moment of lucidity and volunteered to stroll the little master around in his carriage whilst I finished up in peace.
Don't worry, she still got her pedi too.
Moral of the story: little boys hate salons as much as - or more than - big boys. And the number one most disturbing thing you can say to your far-from-fluent in English aesthetician is "oh yes, we plan on having more than two children."
We didn't connect on much, conversationally, but she somehow read that one loud and clear. And proceeded to pat my belly many, many times for the remainder of out appointment, feverishly uttering 'you have girl...girl...please have girl...be done!'
Still here, still pregnant, but my toes look amazing.
Thanks, OPI.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
37 Weeks and Change
Officially more pregnant than I've ever been...but who is keeping score, really?
But come on, I'm obviously carrying two. Most of the time. Joey recently confessed to me he'd like to keep his 'shelf.'
Just might.
 |
| Highly unnatural and oh-so-flattering pose |
 |
| Please excuse the eye bags, make-up free palate and gym clothes. It was 7 pm people, waaaaay past our bedtime. |
Just might.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Public Mortification
At the risk of regretting this already, the much sought-after evidence from last Friday's hippie dippy henna session. Ask me how much fun my Lutheran doula had tracing the back of a miraculous medal on my 9 month pregnant belly...the answer is: lots.
(note: henna is black when applied in paste form, but after the 'crust' - for lack of a better term - peels off, the result is a lovely rich reddish brown stain that lasts for 1-3 weeks. So, here's hoping my medical team has something even more interesting to feast their eyes on in the delivery room than the status quo)
(note: henna is black when applied in paste form, but after the 'crust' - for lack of a better term - peels off, the result is a lovely rich reddish brown stain that lasts for 1-3 weeks. So, here's hoping my medical team has something even more interesting to feast their eyes on in the delivery room than the status quo)
Monday, March 26, 2012
What's Your Parenting Style?
Is there honestly a better way to strike up a lifelong friendship at mom's group - or isolate and appall potential parent pals - than busting out some confessional-style admissions of the number of minutes hours you've let your little bundle of joy CIO sleep train on any given evening?
I think not.
It's kind of the new litmus for casual encounters becoming 'something more,' kind of like a post-collegiate 'what's your major/sign/political affiliation/marian devotion of choice?'
Except more loaded.
I've learned the hard way (read: from direct experience) that not everyone thinks it's amusing to mock your sleep-stunned child for failing to 'learn from his mistakes' and choosing instead to cry for 2 solid hours between the hours of 3 am and 5 am.
In fact, some parents find that quite cruel.
Color me sadistic, but after 15 months of running in to his royal highness at the slightest peep, I was about ready to throw in the towel on ever getting more than 4 solid hours myself, and resigned to the 3 cups of coffee each morning that restarted my heart after an excruciating night of torment. Also, I was 5 months pregnant. So if this little one comes out a little on the short side, we'll all know why.
In a desperate act of stupidity, I turned to a virtual poll of my facebook audience and cried out for sleep tactics. I was losing the battles and the wars. There were few victories on our home front, and we were all downtrodden, wearied, huddled, etc. I figured soliciting some well-meaning cyber advice couldn't hurt.
No stranger to facebook drama, I boldly stated my objectives and issued a call to arms for fellow parents. I think it was something like: "We no sleep good for long time, baby up wakes always no sleep cant drive car please help sleep anyone ohpleaseGodanyone ...."
And oh boy did I get some feedback.
It was a virtual full-spectrum panel on parenting advice, running the gamut from CIO while mommy physically removes herself from the house and goes to the 24 hour gym/a hotel/the backyard/anywhere so the crying doesn't reach her sensitive ears and tug her heartstrings too tightly to a curious article citing the evolutionary reasoning that human babies were not meant to 'sleep in their own caves, because saber-toothed tigers might eat them.' End quote.
Needless to say I was enlightened, amused, and edified by the outpouring of opinion, commiseration and doctrinal instruction my sad plea elicited. And I came to a conclusion of my own:
Whatever works for your family, works for your family. So do that.
Whether 'that' is co-sleeping (which in our household goes by the clever moniker 'no-sleeping'), bed-sharing, bed-swapping, mattress on-the-floor-lying, baby-wearing, breastfeeding, bottle feeding, trough feeding, love and logic or love and complete absence of logic disciplining, crib-using, cloth-diapering, vaccine-injecting or vaccine-avoiding chiropractic pediatric medicine.
In other words: do your thang,mommas.
God gave you this particular child(ren) for a reason, and He has given you the resources and the resourcefulness to track down answers to (most) every situation you'll encounter on a given day. The trick is to keep your mind - and heart - open, but to know when to close it down around something solid and workable.
Don't feel capable of strapping your sweaty newborn to your chest in an Ergo carrier? Fine, toss him in the stroller and get your grocery shopping done.
Want to nap with wee bebe snuggled by your side in bed but feel better banishing her to the pack n play once the sun goes down? No problem!
The bottom line is, if it works for you and your particular child, then it works. Who knows why or why not, and who cares if you aren't able to do Montessori-style home schooling with your precocious 2 year old and he doesn't learn his colors for another 6 months?
In the grand scheme of things, these little bumps in the road are just that, and no matter what any well-intentioned (or perhaps massively-overreaching) practictioner of (insert parenting style here) tries to convince you of, you're ultimately the world's expert on your child.
And on yourself as a mother, come to think of it.
And every book that has ever been written is already out of date by the time your little one arrives in your arms (with our without drugs) - they hadn't been born when it went to print, and you hadn't become a mommy yet.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to nesting feverishly and stocking the first 2 drawers of interior baby's dresser with 800 Target-brand disposable diapers and fluffing my Grovia organic cotton inserts. Just in case.
I think not.
It's kind of the new litmus for casual encounters becoming 'something more,' kind of like a post-collegiate 'what's your major/sign/political affiliation/marian devotion of choice?'
Except more loaded.
I've learned the hard way (read: from direct experience) that not everyone thinks it's amusing to mock your sleep-stunned child for failing to 'learn from his mistakes' and choosing instead to cry for 2 solid hours between the hours of 3 am and 5 am.
In fact, some parents find that quite cruel.
Color me sadistic, but after 15 months of running in to his royal highness at the slightest peep, I was about ready to throw in the towel on ever getting more than 4 solid hours myself, and resigned to the 3 cups of coffee each morning that restarted my heart after an excruciating night of torment. Also, I was 5 months pregnant. So if this little one comes out a little on the short side, we'll all know why.
In a desperate act of stupidity, I turned to a virtual poll of my facebook audience and cried out for sleep tactics. I was losing the battles and the wars. There were few victories on our home front, and we were all downtrodden, wearied, huddled, etc. I figured soliciting some well-meaning cyber advice couldn't hurt.
No stranger to facebook drama, I boldly stated my objectives and issued a call to arms for fellow parents. I think it was something like: "We no sleep good for long time, baby up wakes always no sleep cant drive car please help sleep anyone ohpleaseGodanyone ...."
And oh boy did I get some feedback.
It was a virtual full-spectrum panel on parenting advice, running the gamut from CIO while mommy physically removes herself from the house and goes to the 24 hour gym/a hotel/the backyard/anywhere so the crying doesn't reach her sensitive ears and tug her heartstrings too tightly to a curious article citing the evolutionary reasoning that human babies were not meant to 'sleep in their own caves, because saber-toothed tigers might eat them.' End quote.
Needless to say I was enlightened, amused, and edified by the outpouring of opinion, commiseration and doctrinal instruction my sad plea elicited. And I came to a conclusion of my own:
Whatever works for your family, works for your family. So do that.
Whether 'that' is co-sleeping (which in our household goes by the clever moniker 'no-sleeping'), bed-sharing, bed-swapping, mattress on-the-floor-lying, baby-wearing, breastfeeding, bottle feeding, trough feeding, love and logic or love and complete absence of logic disciplining, crib-using, cloth-diapering, vaccine-injecting or vaccine-avoiding chiropractic pediatric medicine.
In other words: do your thang,mommas.
God gave you this particular child(ren) for a reason, and He has given you the resources and the resourcefulness to track down answers to (most) every situation you'll encounter on a given day. The trick is to keep your mind - and heart - open, but to know when to close it down around something solid and workable.
Don't feel capable of strapping your sweaty newborn to your chest in an Ergo carrier? Fine, toss him in the stroller and get your grocery shopping done.
Want to nap with wee bebe snuggled by your side in bed but feel better banishing her to the pack n play once the sun goes down? No problem!
The bottom line is, if it works for you and your particular child, then it works. Who knows why or why not, and who cares if you aren't able to do Montessori-style home schooling with your precocious 2 year old and he doesn't learn his colors for another 6 months?
In the grand scheme of things, these little bumps in the road are just that, and no matter what any well-intentioned (or perhaps massively-overreaching) practictioner of (insert parenting style here) tries to convince you of, you're ultimately the world's expert on your child.
And on yourself as a mother, come to think of it.
And every book that has ever been written is already out of date by the time your little one arrives in your arms (with our without drugs) - they hadn't been born when it went to print, and you hadn't become a mommy yet.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to nesting feverishly and stocking the first 2 drawers of interior baby's dresser with 800 Target-brand disposable diapers and fluffing my Grovia organic cotton inserts. Just in case.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
A Brief Review
I totally see an abortion analogy here, but I'll have to mull it over a bit longer before I can speak cogently on it. Still, child sacrifice at the behest of a corrupt government seeking to control its population by coercion and fear....and the hyper-maturity with which children in such an environment are forced into adult roles far too young? Yep, I can totally see it.
Go buy your tickets! Plus, all the actors are beautiful and talented. Win win.
Friday, March 23, 2012
7 Quick Reasons I'm Dying of Excitement
That it's Friday.
Friday.
Gotta get down on Friday... (I'm sorry. My brain is broken though. This has been happening every week for the past year, and I think it's terminal. Also, there's a fun commercial for meth at the beginning. You're welcome.)
Anywho.
1. Hunger Games. OMGOSH I feel like I'm 13 and it's Star Wars, digitally remastered, all over again. And I wasn't even home schooled. Saturday morning matinee, come swiftly...
2. In a profound act of artsy hippie mothering, I am having my huge-ass pregnant belly tatted up with henna tonight by my doula, because it's part of her pre-birth 'services' and because I could not look worse so why not let someone trace flowers and vines over my stretch marks.
(In case you don't recognize half the words in that sentence, don't worry about it. And don't look them up. Just watch this ... or revel in blissful ignorance. Whatevs.)
3. Exterior baby is having what is properly termed a 'language explosion' over the past 24 hours, and has added to his extensive vernacular 4 tasty new phrases:
"I'm Joey"
"Dora"
"Boots!"
"Bro"
.....
Totally ready for public school.
4. I have my last (please God) midwife appt today (see above embarrassing video) and am hoping against sweet merciful hope that I'm under the 2 century mark on the 'ol cattle scale and that I'm imminently close to finished cooking this bun. Absolutely refuse to schedule one single more appointment. We're done. Done, I tell you.
5. It's the 2 year anniversary of ObamaCare! Whooohooo! Nancy Pelosi wants to know what you're doing to celebrate this 'momentous achievement 100 years in the making' .... Well, what are you doing? Us? We'll be cashing in our government entitlement checks to buy cartons of cigarettes... and super-sizing it, because hell yeah it's on Uncle Sam! (Note: labor and delivery are, of course, not covered. Breeders don't deserve health care. Duh.)
6. Lent
7. Is almost over. And in a curious reversal of what usually accompanies the Octave of Easter, I plan on shedding 45 lbs and drinking many, many glasses of red, white, purple and all other varietals of wine I can get my slender paws on. Okay, maybe not a complete reversal...
Happy Friday! Now go see Jen.
Friday.
Gotta get down on Friday... (I'm sorry. My brain is broken though. This has been happening every week for the past year, and I think it's terminal. Also, there's a fun commercial for meth at the beginning. You're welcome.)
Anywho.
1. Hunger Games. OMGOSH I feel like I'm 13 and it's Star Wars, digitally remastered, all over again. And I wasn't even home schooled. Saturday morning matinee, come swiftly...
2. In a profound act of artsy hippie mothering, I am having my huge-ass pregnant belly tatted up with henna tonight by my doula, because it's part of her pre-birth 'services' and because I could not look worse so why not let someone trace flowers and vines over my stretch marks.
(In case you don't recognize half the words in that sentence, don't worry about it. And don't look them up. Just watch this ... or revel in blissful ignorance. Whatevs.)
3. Exterior baby is having what is properly termed a 'language explosion' over the past 24 hours, and has added to his extensive vernacular 4 tasty new phrases:
"I'm Joey"
"Dora"
"Boots!"
"Bro"
.....
Totally ready for public school.
4. I have my last (please God) midwife appt today (see above embarrassing video) and am hoping against sweet merciful hope that I'm under the 2 century mark on the 'ol cattle scale and that I'm imminently close to finished cooking this bun. Absolutely refuse to schedule one single more appointment. We're done. Done, I tell you.
5. It's the 2 year anniversary of ObamaCare! Whooohooo! Nancy Pelosi wants to know what you're doing to celebrate this 'momentous achievement 100 years in the making' .... Well, what are you doing? Us? We'll be cashing in our government entitlement checks to buy cartons of cigarettes... and super-sizing it, because hell yeah it's on Uncle Sam! (Note: labor and delivery are, of course, not covered. Breeders don't deserve health care. Duh.)
6. Lent
7. Is almost over. And in a curious reversal of what usually accompanies the Octave of Easter, I plan on shedding 45 lbs and drinking many, many glasses of red, white, purple and all other varietals of wine I can get my slender paws on. Okay, maybe not a complete reversal...
Happy Friday! Now go see Jen.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Drumroll Please...
In honor of my 500th blog post in history (actually, just a happy accident) may I introduce to the world the next best thing in mommyblogging: another former Senour sister.
But wait, there's more! A fabulous 20-something professional version, too.
Watch out, we're witty.
In the immortal words of Samuel L. Jackson circa Jurassic Park: Hold on to yer butts.
But wait, there's more! A fabulous 20-something professional version, too.
Watch out, we're witty.
In the immortal words of Samuel L. Jackson circa Jurassic Park: Hold on to yer butts.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Catholic ghetto
Because there's nothing new under the sun, here's a different link to a completely unchanged article from 2 days ago. Except for the omission of the potentially questionable term 'bi-otch.'
We classy.
And lazy.
In other news, just bought myself tickets to a 10 am matinee showing of the Hunger Games. Because while I'm 13-years-old-excited on the inside, I'm heavily pregnant and too lame for midnight showings on the outside.
May the odds be ever in your favor.
We classy.
And lazy.
In other news, just bought myself tickets to a 10 am matinee showing of the Hunger Games. Because while I'm 13-years-old-excited on the inside, I'm heavily pregnant and too lame for midnight showings on the outside.
May the odds be ever in your favor.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
In This House, it Will Always Be Tebow Time
Because we like us some football, but we LOVE us some Jesus-praising, sick-kid cheering, handsome gridiron warriors. Especially ones who aren't afraid to take hits that would leave most mere mortals in long term physical therapy and/or a wheel chair.
All that, and his spinal column contains all its original discs --- bam, Peyton.
(Thus ends my first and last sports-related 'post' in history. Probably.)
(Thus ends my first and last sports-related 'post' in history. Probably.)
Monday, March 19, 2012
What NFP Isn't
I'm being hosted by the lovely and talented Grace over at Camp Patton today, kicking off her fabulous series on the perils and joys of NFP. Little bit starstruck to be featured thusly - check it out!
This makes no sense
but it was sent to me in an earnest email by a loving husband doing his darndest to cheer my Tebow-broken heart.
I guess it worked?
I guess it worked?
Friday, March 16, 2012
7 Quick Takes Friday
In the spirit of having survived to week 37 (almost!) with both mother, exterior baby and interior baby intact, may I present the following 7 nuggets of evidence that standards of best practices in parenting have lowered severely:
1. Joey 'signed' something at mom's group yesterday, eliciting approving comments from another mom who informed me that he was signing 'I want.' Well, great... he must be self instructing! Next up: unschooling. (and yes of course I pretended it was on purpose. We are alllll over language enrichment in this house)
2. Above mentioned toddler has learned to fetch and administer mommy's flip flops, which is both adorable and timely. At least one of us can reach my feet. Now on to making coffee...
3. It has been 70+ degrees here in the Mile Hi all week, leading to long, leisurely afternoons on our back 'patio' (read: distressed concrete slab) where I lazily toss a toy basketball into the weedy depths of our perfectly unmanicured yard and await its return. In other words, I play fetch with my human child.
4. Scene: lunchtime yesterday. Chicfila cashier: 'Would you like to make that a large?' Me: 'Oh, sure...(shooting furtive glance at Joey) we're sharing.' (no waffle fries were shared. Not a one)
5. Wore a mumu to the gym, essentially, and may or may not have turned off the entire women's locker room to the prospect of continuing the human species when I flashed a little pregnant bell while struggling into my hot hot HOT maternity tankini for some pool time.
6. It's Friday. During Lent. While contemplating packing a meatless lunch for Dave, I've instead decided to inform him it would be a great thing if he did a real bread and water fast today. Because I am out of tuna, and out of ideas. (But really, always seeking his sanctity)
7. My little sis came over with a bottle of wine last night, and we spent an hour of our lives (non-refundable) watching "Sick, Fat, and Nearly Dead" which was exactly as enlightening and uplifting as it sounds. Should have gone with the Bachelor season finale. Womp womp womp.
Now go forth and be inspired by Jen.
1. Joey 'signed' something at mom's group yesterday, eliciting approving comments from another mom who informed me that he was signing 'I want.' Well, great... he must be self instructing! Next up: unschooling. (and yes of course I pretended it was on purpose. We are alllll over language enrichment in this house)
2. Above mentioned toddler has learned to fetch and administer mommy's flip flops, which is both adorable and timely. At least one of us can reach my feet. Now on to making coffee...
3. It has been 70+ degrees here in the Mile Hi all week, leading to long, leisurely afternoons on our back 'patio' (read: distressed concrete slab) where I lazily toss a toy basketball into the weedy depths of our perfectly unmanicured yard and await its return. In other words, I play fetch with my human child.
4. Scene: lunchtime yesterday. Chicfila cashier: 'Would you like to make that a large?' Me: 'Oh, sure...(shooting furtive glance at Joey) we're sharing.' (no waffle fries were shared. Not a one)
5. Wore a mumu to the gym, essentially, and may or may not have turned off the entire women's locker room to the prospect of continuing the human species when I flashed a little pregnant bell while struggling into my hot hot HOT maternity tankini for some pool time.
6. It's Friday. During Lent. While contemplating packing a meatless lunch for Dave, I've instead decided to inform him it would be a great thing if he did a real bread and water fast today. Because I am out of tuna, and out of ideas. (But really, always seeking his sanctity)
7. My little sis came over with a bottle of wine last night, and we spent an hour of our lives (non-refundable) watching "Sick, Fat, and Nearly Dead" which was exactly as enlightening and uplifting as it sounds. Should have gone with the Bachelor season finale. Womp womp womp.
Now go forth and be inspired by Jen.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
You're It
Not that I have anybody left to tag at this stage in the game, buuuuut, in the spirit of internet sportsmanship, and because Ana is awesome, I will comply. Also, I love looking at pictures of people from the 90s wearing denim 'shorter-alls.' And I feel like this is a really great opportunity to see more of that.
Without further ado: The hottest trend in the mommyblogosphere
1. The first rule is to post these rules.
2. Post a photo of yourself and 11 things about yourself/your life .
3. Answer the questions set for you in the original post.
4. Create 11 new questions and tag people to answer them.
5. Go to their blog/twitter and tell them that you've tagged them.
 | |||||||||||||
| 6 out of 7 Senour siblings on a trampoline agree. 1999 was a very good year. |
| (I'm the sultry, Sun-In blonde in the background, awkwardly clasping my poor sister Hillary.) |
11 things about me? Yes please, since Lent took Facebook from me, I've been suffocating in an introverted shell of keeping personal details...well, personal.
1. My first job ever was as a lifeguard at our country club. And it was a ghetto fabulous country club, let me make that quite clear. Case in point: I painted the interior of the men's locker room in mildew-resistant waterproof paint. For 6.50 an hour.
2. My second-45th jobs were at various and sundry restaurant establishments, including (but not limited to) Denny's, Village Inn, Damon's AND Bob Evan's, (both in Steubenville, both for 5 minutes out of very real fear for my own life) Old Chicago's, Red Robin and probably 14 more that I've blocked from my pain-filled memory. Can I get you a refill?
3. I am a choleric introvert. That means I'd like to take over the world, but I am crippled by the prospect of making small talk at dinner parties. Thankfully I married another undercover introvert, and we spend most of our evenings reading silently in bed for 45 minutes every night.
4. I am the oldest of 7 children, and there is a 17 year gap between me and my youngest brother Patrick. When he was born, my best friend and I would take him to the mall and play 'unwed teenage mother.' For reals.
5. I was raised in a semi-wild subdivision populated by foxes, deer and the occasional mountain lion and/or black bear. As a direct result, our family pets were notoriously short-lived to the point of being considered 'disposable.' My brother recently had his deceased shit-zu replaced by a pair of kittens, one of which went mysteriously missing weeks later...
6. I am a writer/editor/journalist ... which is what I always wanted to do when I was little. (The only missing pie piece is astronaut, but I'm hoping to revisit that one after menopause...)
7. I was a crazy, crazy party animal in college. I transferred to Franciscan my senior year and 'dried up,' so to speak, but I still have to resist the urge to empty entire bottles of wine by my lonesome. What can I say? When I hear Usher or Nelly on the radio, I can get a little crazy.
8. My little sister is my best friend, and we talk on the phone at least two times a day during the week. If she didn't live 2,000 miles away, we'd probably split a duplex and raise our wolves together.
9. I love being at the gym. I feel skinny just walking in the doors, and conversely, feel morbidly obese on days I don't go.
10. I am prone to biting sarcasm, hyperbole and the occasional (maybe too occasional) curse word.
11. I am a secret Star Wars fanatic. I had like 4 logo/character t-shirts in middle school, and wore them regularly in public. So shameful....
1. My first job ever was as a lifeguard at our country club. And it was a ghetto fabulous country club, let me make that quite clear. Case in point: I painted the interior of the men's locker room in mildew-resistant waterproof paint. For 6.50 an hour.
2. My second-45th jobs were at various and sundry restaurant establishments, including (but not limited to) Denny's, Village Inn, Damon's AND Bob Evan's, (both in Steubenville, both for 5 minutes out of very real fear for my own life) Old Chicago's, Red Robin and probably 14 more that I've blocked from my pain-filled memory. Can I get you a refill?
3. I am a choleric introvert. That means I'd like to take over the world, but I am crippled by the prospect of making small talk at dinner parties. Thankfully I married another undercover introvert, and we spend most of our evenings reading silently in bed for 45 minutes every night.
4. I am the oldest of 7 children, and there is a 17 year gap between me and my youngest brother Patrick. When he was born, my best friend and I would take him to the mall and play 'unwed teenage mother.' For reals.
5. I was raised in a semi-wild subdivision populated by foxes, deer and the occasional mountain lion and/or black bear. As a direct result, our family pets were notoriously short-lived to the point of being considered 'disposable.' My brother recently had his deceased shit-zu replaced by a pair of kittens, one of which went mysteriously missing weeks later...
6. I am a writer/editor/journalist ... which is what I always wanted to do when I was little. (The only missing pie piece is astronaut, but I'm hoping to revisit that one after menopause...)
7. I was a crazy, crazy party animal in college. I transferred to Franciscan my senior year and 'dried up,' so to speak, but I still have to resist the urge to empty entire bottles of wine by my lonesome. What can I say? When I hear Usher or Nelly on the radio, I can get a little crazy.
8. My little sister is my best friend, and we talk on the phone at least two times a day during the week. If she didn't live 2,000 miles away, we'd probably split a duplex and raise our wolves together.
9. I love being at the gym. I feel skinny just walking in the doors, and conversely, feel morbidly obese on days I don't go.
10. I am prone to biting sarcasm, hyperbole and the occasional (maybe too occasional) curse word.
11. I am a secret Star Wars fanatic. I had like 4 logo/character t-shirts in middle school, and wore them regularly in public. So shameful....
And now for Ana's lovely queries:
1) favorite color and why? hot pink. I tell Dave it's my 'power color'
2) favorite kind of shoe to wear? Reef flip flops. Sadly, I haven't owned a pair since college
3) best time of day? The moment he gets home from work :)
4) Favorite book? Fr. Elijah by Michael O'Brien
5) Jeans or skirt? Skirt... love
6) Favorite movie? The Empire Strikes Back (hangs head in shame)
7) How many kids would you like? As many as God gives us.
8) If you could wake up anywhere tomorrow, where would it be? Roma
9) Favorite recipe? gringo huevos rancheros.
10) Favorite blog? Grace's always-stimulating Camp Patton
11) Favorite person? My darling husband, or Dave Ramsey
And fiiiiinally, my questions back to the blogosphere:
1. What would you do with a spare hour (child-free)?
2. What is your favorite mixed drink?
3. Weirdest/fondest holiday tradition in your family?
4. Favorite Saint/role model?
5. Worst job you've ever had?
6. Favorite guilty shopping pleasure?
7. Where did you meet your husband/significant other?
8. Pregnancy: love it or loathe it? (in other words, are you a happy gestator or a grumpy mama)
9. Favorite season?
10. Organic produce or name-brand coffee? (fess up your grocery store weaknesses)
11. pedicure or massage?
Whew! Now run with it, ladies:
Kristine
Simcha
Jen
Emily
Maureen
.....
I'm sorry, I'd think of 6 more semi-celebrities to tag, but I have to go eat something now.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Dear sweet Jesus
Please come back soon.
Love,
humanity
(warning: may cause vomiting, particularly in mothers and/or people with a pulse.)
Love,
humanity
(warning: may cause vomiting, particularly in mothers and/or people with a pulse.)
Monday, March 12, 2012
Highs and Lows
Hit the gym bright and early this a.m. for 40 excruciating minutes on the elliptical machine, trying to deconstruct my own pelvis/shatter my spinal column I guess ... what can I say, any kind of physical activity at 9 months feels like holy hell. Except swimming... but there was a very glamorous and exclusive water aerobics class occupying the pool area, and I didn't feel like wobbling my arm fat with the senior set. (Mine, not theirs. Probably theirs are more toned).
But a workout was had nonetheless, which was then promptly undone by lunch at Chicfila. Mmmmhmmm.
Aaaaand, I may or may not have nested at Costco today. A dangerous and unusual phenomenon yielding no fewer than 16 cans of black beans, a 3 lb. bag of tortilla chips, and a 30 pack of horrible, horrible eco-friendly toilet paper that is almost as cheap and fluffy as discarded newspapers.
So pretty much we're all set to get birthin' ... cept for I'm only 36 million weeks along, and even the unusually prompt and polite Joey didn't arrive until week 37 day 4.
So...
Until then, hoping for many more awkward moments at the Kid's Club whereby one lady points out how I've clearly 'dropped' over the weekend and then all three childcare professionals gather around my midsection, hemming and hawing on whether or not that baby is, in fact, hanging out nearer to his/her final exit point.
Litany of humility ... who needs it?
But a workout was had nonetheless, which was then promptly undone by lunch at Chicfila. Mmmmhmmm.
Aaaaand, I may or may not have nested at Costco today. A dangerous and unusual phenomenon yielding no fewer than 16 cans of black beans, a 3 lb. bag of tortilla chips, and a 30 pack of horrible, horrible eco-friendly toilet paper that is almost as cheap and fluffy as discarded newspapers.
So pretty much we're all set to get birthin' ... cept for I'm only 36 million weeks along, and even the unusually prompt and polite Joey didn't arrive until week 37 day 4.
So...
Until then, hoping for many more awkward moments at the Kid's Club whereby one lady points out how I've clearly 'dropped' over the weekend and then all three childcare professionals gather around my midsection, hemming and hawing on whether or not that baby is, in fact, hanging out nearer to his/her final exit point.
Litany of humility ... who needs it?
 |
| Get low. |
Friday, March 9, 2012
Mucking the Internet
My day starts out pretty similar to most other mamas of little people. Leisurely awakened at 6 something in the am (7 this morning, making Daddy late for work - our little alarm clock is usually so reliable) by either persistent head-banging, crying or hooting/gibberish from the room next door, followed by 10 - 20 minutes of beached whaling (mine) around in the king-sized while dear husband valiantly rescues the innocent babe from his baby cage.
I'll spare you the painful details of the ensuing breakfast/coffeeorineffectivetea/to-shower-or-not-to-shower-that-is-the-question debate, but let the record show that more often than not, 'not to shower' emerges victorious.
Here's where my workday diverges from the average SAHM duties ever so slightly.
You see, I spend approximately 4-5 hours a day combing the www for treasures like this and this...and of course the occasionally tremendously uplifting tale like this.
But you have to dig through a lot of poop to find nuggets of gold.
Especially in a sickly culture dominated by relativistic, amoral/immoral detritus such as ours.
(I know, so uplifting, so hope-filled and Christ-centered. But what can I say...it gets a little discouraging some days.)
My husband often helpfully reminds me that I'm essentially doing this:
I'll spare you the painful details of the ensuing breakfast/coffeeorineffectivetea/to-shower-or-not-to-shower-that-is-the-question debate, but let the record show that more often than not, 'not to shower' emerges victorious.
Here's where my workday diverges from the average SAHM duties ever so slightly.
You see, I spend approximately 4-5 hours a day combing the www for treasures like this and this...and of course the occasionally tremendously uplifting tale like this.
But you have to dig through a lot of poop to find nuggets of gold.
Especially in a sickly culture dominated by relativistic, amoral/immoral detritus such as ours.
(I know, so uplifting, so hope-filled and Christ-centered. But what can I say...it gets a little discouraging some days.)
My husband often helpfully reminds me that I'm essentially doing this:
Although somedays it feels like this:
Point being, it's a lot of $&*# to dig through ... and it's not a truly representative sampling of humanity or culture.
Which is tremendously helpful to me when I'm knee deep in a story like this.
God.help.us.all.
Why spend my time this way? Well, it's a job somebody's gotta do. And I have the distinct privilege to work as the content editor of Heroic News, the premier online resource for breaking, global news on all major life and culture issues, from euthanasia to abortion to the attack on marriage and the family.
It's a mixed blessing to be sure, as there are some days when I just feel the crushing weight of how utterly devalued life is in this culture...
but in the end...life wins.
It does...it has.
But in the meantime, we have to keep fighting. For truth to prevail. For charity to pervade our thoughts and our actions. And for life.
Always for life.
So dear readers, will you spread the word about Heroic News? Perhaps link it to your own website or blog, and consider liking us on Facebook and following us on Twitter.
You won't be sorry. And coming Summer 2012, you'll have yet another opportunity to engage with the issues that matter most when Heroic News the television program premiers...stay tuned for details.
Until the whole world hears.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Cheapest thrills
In a flurry of nesting/wanting to flee the house under the cloud of impending confinement, I had a helluva morning at the Goodwill...
Helluva morning.
I had heard tell of this legendary location, mere blocks from the largest (dare I say) SuperTargay in Denver metro, but OMG.
Let me restate. O.M.G.
There were literally piles of Target furniture, still in boxes, tossed in the corner of 'Housewares,' marked down with Sharpie numbers scrawled across their signature orange clearance tags.
And the pillows. Oh my the pillows.
And my personal favorite section: random curtains/tablecloths/dish towels, all still rocking retail tags aaaaand little blue Goodwill stickers that said wonderful things like "$.99"
Dave Ramsey was the sole reason I only did $38 dollars in damage today.
May I proudly present mykills finds from this a.m.?
Helluva morning.
I had heard tell of this legendary location, mere blocks from the largest (dare I say) SuperTargay in Denver metro, but OMG.
Let me restate. O.M.G.
There were literally piles of Target furniture, still in boxes, tossed in the corner of 'Housewares,' marked down with Sharpie numbers scrawled across their signature orange clearance tags.
And the pillows. Oh my the pillows.
And my personal favorite section: random curtains/tablecloths/dish towels, all still rocking retail tags aaaaand little blue Goodwill stickers that said wonderful things like "$.99"
Dave Ramsey was the sole reason I only did $38 dollars in damage today.
May I proudly present my
 |
| $4 Dwell Studio table cloth |
 |
| $1.99 Dwell Studio dishtowels (I can't believe I just blogged about dishtowels. I went to college.) |
 |
| $4 potty training stepping stool (for the world's smartest 17 month old) |
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
The Talk
This morning I took little man on a post-workout date to Panera to have 'the talk.'
It went something like this:
Jenny: "Joey, how do you feel about the new baby coming soon?"
Joey: "NO."
Jenny: "What are you most looking forward to about having a sibling? Having a playmate? Having a roommate?"
Joey: "baba!"
Jenny: "When mommy and daddy decide it's time to have the baby (ha) we are going to the hospital and you are going to stay with Grandma for a while...are you excited?"
Joey: "YAAAAAH .... ALLAH!"(my child has Islamic fundamentalist tendencies...what can I say?)
(uncomfortable glances from other restaurant patrons)
Jenny (shifting tactics): "So are you nervous at all?"
Joey: ...
(crickets chirping...stuffs more bagel in mouth)
--End scene--
It went something like this:
Jenny: "Joey, how do you feel about the new baby coming soon?"
Joey: "NO."
Jenny: "What are you most looking forward to about having a sibling? Having a playmate? Having a roommate?"
Joey: "baba!"
Jenny: "When mommy and daddy decide it's time to have the baby (ha) we are going to the hospital and you are going to stay with Grandma for a while...are you excited?"
Joey: "YAAAAAH .... ALLAH!"(my child has Islamic fundamentalist tendencies...what can I say?)
(uncomfortable glances from other restaurant patrons)
Jenny (shifting tactics): "So are you nervous at all?"
Joey: ...
(crickets chirping...stuffs more bagel in mouth)
--End scene--
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
This is how the Titanic looked
before she sank.
Sometimes things CAN be too big for their own good.
At least my (female) neighbor catcalled me this morning and announced that she would wear my Old Navy maternity shirt
'Pregnant or not!'
Winning.
And may I just add, at this point, the skinny jeans are no longer a friendly trend.
But it's that or Dave's gym shorts....
"Sweatpants are all that fit me right now!"
Sometimes things CAN be too big for their own good.
At least my (female) neighbor catcalled me this morning and announced that she would wear my Old Navy maternity shirt
'Pregnant or not!'
Winning.
And may I just add, at this point, the skinny jeans are no longer a friendly trend.
But it's that or Dave's gym shorts....
"Sweatpants are all that fit me right now!"
Friday, March 2, 2012
Drinking before noon
Well it ain't Grey Goose, but I suppose it will do. For now.
4 weeks and counting. (But who's counting?)
P.s. Prune juice everywhere this morning. Ev-ry-where. What a terrible, terrible beverage to be serving a flailing toddler on a daily.
P.p.s. per Grace's wisdom I've disabled the dreaded word verification, so all you robots who were perhaps put off by my virtual barricade and chomping at the bit to comment: fire away.
Here's hoping one super creepy and vulgar e-stalker from the Lonestar state doesn't find his way back round these here parts...
4 weeks and counting. (But who's counting?)
P.s. Prune juice everywhere this morning. Ev-ry-where. What a terrible, terrible beverage to be serving a flailing toddler on a daily.
P.p.s. per Grace's wisdom I've disabled the dreaded word verification, so all you robots who were perhaps put off by my virtual barricade and chomping at the bit to comment: fire away.
Here's hoping one super creepy and vulgar e-stalker from the Lonestar state doesn't find his way back round these here parts...
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