Head, Shoulders, Knees and Oh!

I'm about to commit a heinous act of oversharing.  I'm about to blog a picture of my toe.  More specifically, my disgustingly bruised toe. 

There.  I did it.  Feel free to forward to your friends.  I expect this lovely piece of digital toe art to go viral any minute.

The story?  Well, it begins with me trying to be nice.  No good deed goes unpunished, right?  I thought that I'd be nice and try to clean the house so that Jeffrey would be happy.  The first thing I did was open the bottom drawer in the bathroom so that I could put up the folded towels...

...and that became both the beginning and the end of my cleaning session.  The bathroom drawer fell off of its guide and fell directly onto my poor, poor, poor toe.  The next few minutes were a blur of crawling on the floor, using Lamaze breathing techniques to try and stop the pain, and really wishing that accident hadn't happened. 

But happen it did, and so today I returned to work sporting one very purple toe and a very classy "pimp limp."

So now that I've marred my blog with that terrible picture, I will attempt a little internet contrition by posting a barrage of Carter cuteness. 

And finally, somebody finally noticed that he has a big (furry) sister...

And he LOVES her!

Proud Papa

Last Sunday during church after watching Carter perform a flawless transfer of a toy from his left hand to his right hand, Jeffrey leaned over to me and whispered, "He is so smart!"  His voice was full of pride and admiration.  And he was totally serious.

You might think he's a little too obsessed with his baby boy, but before you judge, consider this:  I was thinking the exact same thing at that moment.

Oh, Carter.  You're really in for it.  Your parents have lost their minds over you.

When he's not practicing his incredibly advanced fine motor skills, Carter attends Sunday School in the nursery where the nursery workers take adorable pictures of him holding tiny, Carter-sized bibles.  Love!

Pop Goes My Heart

The title of this blog is paying homage to a great movie:  Music and Lyrics.  It stars Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore and has adorable music...you should rent it or buy it now if you haven't seen it.  Go!

Anyway...last fall I joined the Scott and White Wives' Alliance.  It's a group of women (the wives of residents, duh) who get together at least once a month and do social and community service activities.  These ladies have been wonderful to me, especially after I had my baby--they provided us with meals for 2 weeks!  The Alliance has asked very little of me in return, simply that I bake twice this year for their monthly bake sales. 

Well, I realized last week that there were only 3 bake sales left in the year, and I had baked exactly zero times so far.  Impressive, no?

The theme for February was Valentine's, so I decided to bust out my new cake pop maker (Christmas present from Grandmother--thank you!) and halfway fulfill my duty as a member of the Alliance. 

Bee mine, Valentine!

 

 

 

 

 

Candy heart wings, sprinkle antennas, sparkly black stripes, and a Hershey kiss stinger...how could anyone even eat one?  They're too cute to consume!

And, You're a Sweetie!

 

Umm...ok, so the bees took a really long time to make and I ran out of creative steam.  These were much faster and almost as cute.  Overall, a fun and delicious project!

High Five

Another month has flown by with my sweet boy, and this one has been so much fun.  This month Carter learned to pull his toes all the way up to his mouth (Jeffrey and I totally pulled our hammies trying to do the same) and loves eating his feet.  He also has figured out how to pull his socks off, so I really hope his little uncovered toes don't get frostbite in this harsh Temple, TX winter.  Today the mercury bottomed out at 48.  Burrrrr!

Carter also has started talking incessantly this month.  And by talking, I mean squealing.  And by incessantly, I mean only when he's awake.  Honestly, it's pretty cute...most of the time.  He's actually squealing in the 5 month picture.  So appropriate!

Our little buddy began eating solid foods this month after his four month visit with the doctor revealed that he was only in the third percentile for weight.  Third!  He enjoyed rice cereal first.  Then he got constipated.  So now he enjoys prunes or apples every other meal. 

He is oh, so close to being able to roll over from his back to his belly, but I guess that won't happen until next month's post. 

Our boy continues to turn our days into precious moments by sharing his easy smiles, giggling when we tickle his belly or squish his tiny thighs, and having very serious talks with his toys.  I don't know how it's possible, but we love him more each day than we did the day before.

Happy 11th, baby.

The Wheels on the Bus

Lately, the wheels on the (crazy) bus just keep going round and round.  Let me fill you in...

Dixie continues to escape from the backyard every so often, usually in the mornings when I'm running late for work already.

We have approximately 8000 pacifiers.  There is only one kind that Carter likes.  We had 2 of them.  I lost the blue one several weeks ago and kept thinking that I'd come across it, but haven't yet.  Today I lost the yellow one.  If you have pacifier-dependent children, you know that this is a recipe for disaster comparable to a nuclear holocaust.

Poor Jeffrey spends about every free minute of his week cleaning up (all 12 or so free minutes he has), and I somehow manage to mess it up within seconds.  This time I've destroyed the kitchen making cake pops for a bake sale.  They are adorable.  He will not think that the cuteness is worth the mess.  What a boy!  :)

We decided to redo the back patio, mostly since the people who lived here before did such a poor job of laying the stone that it was already breaking to pieces and becoming uneven.  Jeffrey pulled up the old stone and we bought a few of the supplies for the project, but haven't quite gotten underway.  As such, there is a 13 x 18 foot rectangle of destruction in the backyard which Dixie uses as a dog bone graveyard when she's not Houdini-ing herself out of the yard.

Carter started eating solid foods two weeks ago and he LOVES them, but the poor little booger keeps getting constipated from all those yummy foods.  My doctor had warned me that this might happen, but I forgot to ask her what to do for it.  Mommy fail.  Basically, we've now got our little buddy on the same schedule as a 94 year old man in a nursing home (lots of prunes and passive leg exercises).

Dressed up for dinner.  We're gonna need some club soda to get the sweet pea stains off of that tie...

Oh yeah, and I'm changing jobs.  But more on that later.

So, a job change, a missing pacifier, our dog wandering the streets while I coat our counter tops in melted candy as I listen to my son overflow a diaper with digested prunes...

I cannot figure out why I love this crazy life!

Combustion

**Preface**

I began writing this post a few days ago, but promptly had to put the computer away when I saw my dog at the front door. You see, I had let her out in the back yard, but suddenly she was at the front door, frantically "knocking" with her paws to try and get back in. I let her in and she hung out for a while in the living room with Carter and me (Jeffrey was at a co-worker's birthday party). I had no intention of letting her out again that evening because I figured the yard needed to be inspected for Dixie-sized holes under the fence so as not to end up with another ding-dong ditch by my dog at the front, but then she started this whiny, frantic, incredibly believable charade of convincing me that she HAD to go outside to poop. (And let's face it: Who wants to gamble on that one?) Skeptically, I let her outside. And then was completely not surprised when she wasn't in the back yard a few minutes later. I was, however, surprised when I shook some food in a cup outside the back and front doors and she still wasn't coming home. In a total panic (because I wanted to find our dog but also really, really didn't want to wake the sleeping baby to go combing the Temple streets for her), I called in reinforcements. Jeffrey's first question on the phone was: Is she wearing her collar? I don't know. She is microchipped but I honestly don't even really know what that means. Probably that if she ever walks out of a CD store, the alarm will go off. Jeffrey ended up being able to find her really quickly in the greenbelt behind our house. He described finding her like this: I heard something rustling in the leaves, so I said, "Dixie dog?" **Rustle, rustle, rustle!** "Dixie girl, is that you?" **Rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle!** "Dixie, get back in the yard!" **Rustle, rustle, SPRINTING striped dog back through the open gate and into the yard, never to escape again.** And that's why this post didn't get posted. Humph.

**Chapter 1**

I've done a lot of silly things lately that I've blamed on pregnancy/post-partum brain. Well...now my baby is almost 5 months old. Is it too late to continue this excuse?

Yesterday I needed gasoline in my car. Unfortunately not an uncommon occurrence due to my commuting to Killeen daily for work. Most people have somewhat of a routine about these things. You pull up to the pump, you stop your car, grab your keys, pump some gas, and get on with your life. The problem comes when you change your routine. Even a tiny change can cause a major breakdown in the system.

For example...

Yesterday I pulled up to the pump while thinking about a new song I'd heard on the radio that I wanted to download. As I got out of the car I checked my phone to see if I could find it. As the gas started to fill the tank, I heard someone call my name. It was a former employee from my dental office wanting to say hi at the next pump over. I talked to her for a minute and as I walked back to my car I realized with horror that I wasn't holding my keys.

O. M. G. Did I lock them in my car?!? I do not have time for this.

Relief was immediately followed by more horror as I flung open the car door (which was unlocked) and spotted my keys...

...in the ignition.

I closed my eyes to wait for what was sure to be a massive explosion since I was simultaneously watching gasoline pump into my car while the engine was running. I wasn't great in Chemistry class, but I do know that you're not supposed to mix combustion with gasoline unless you want more combustion.

I turned the car off for the rest of the filling up (like it mattered at that point anyway) and thanked my lucky stars that I didn't blow my little Toyota Corolla into tiny charred
pieces.

Oy. I have got to get it together.