Cold, so cold

First of all, I should mention that I started writing a whole entry about Sarah Palin and her controversial $150k wardrobe expenditures...clearly it wasn't enough to remedy the 80's prom updo, the broken earrings, the modified construction safety glasses...but then I looked in the mirror and decided it was best not to comment. I mean, I subscribe to "Vogue" because deep down, underneath the cheap maternity t-shirts and Banana Republic Outlet denim, is the soul of someone who actually does care what she looks like. You just wouldn't know it by looking.

November 23rd, 5:44pm, 48 degrees, the outskirts of my neighborhood: woman in her mid-30's wearing full length fur coat and pushing bugaboo stroller with child. Did someone score big at an early black Friday sale? Was she walking to the airport on her way to Moscow for Thanksgiving? Was she making fun of Sarah Palin?

For those who've been asking, I've got about two weeks left before baby #2 arrives, via induction if it comes to that. I will keep you posted. Suffice it to say that I would be cool with the baby saving me from ruining my favorite holiday with a poorly planned menu.

Happy Halloween & other confessions

Today is Halloween. The month of October is virtually gone and I'm a sleepless wreck. So as not to dwell on my pathetic physical state, however, I would like to announce that Carly Q is now officially in her new bedroom. It took a swift lie ("oh NO! the crib is broken!!") coupled with anecdotal evidence in the form of a disheveled crib mattress devoid of its usual cute crib sheet and haphazardly topped with an empty laundry basket (genius!). Greg doubted that this scheme would work and I was a bit tentative when, after I announced to Carly that the crib was broken, she gave a doubtful glance over her shoulder to the crib and said, "no, not broken, needs a new sheet mommy." Yet, the allure of the swanky new digs must have been secretly taunting her, for that very evening, she succumbed to the broken crib theory and made it through the night in her big girl bed and even slept in late the next morning.

So far, we haven't looked back.

On to the big Halloween confessions. I was up late reading Time when I came across an article about online confessions (http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1853325,
00.html?iid=perma_share) (no, I can't figure out how to get this to convert to a link). Now, I think this is a fantastic idea, even if the Catholic Church doesn't. Since I used to be a good Catholic and generally buy into the idea of reconciliation and forgiveness (I'm married to Greg, after all), it made me think: what would I confess online if I could? As it turns out, I came up with many things sitting there reading at 3am, but I didn't write them down, so here are the remnants of what I remember:

1) I am a stay-home mom and I hate being at my house during the day.
2) Carly once walked down our steep staircase wearing my 2.5 inch heels and I didn't notice until she was at the bottom.
3) I envy (had to throw in that mortal sin reference) creative people.
4) I say I don't like dressing up for Halloween, but secretly I wish I had a reason to go nuts with a costume. (This year, I'd wear a green hat, green tights and a huge orange sweatshirt over my massive pregnant belly and go as a pumpkin.)

Anyone else have a confession or two you'd like to share?

Movin' on up - or not.

Check out Carly's sweet new room. Books, toys, new bed, tea parties, dress-up clothes...the works! Who wouldn't be excited to move out of a baby nursery into this fab room, right? As in all things I think I've got nailed down parent-wise, I am way off base. Don't get me wrong, she loves her new room as a playroom. The bed is a great place to practice jumping skills or to read books. She likes putting her dolls to bed over and over (more on that later), but as far as putting herself to sleep, well that's a no go. After we read books in her big girl bed every night, she quickly pops up and prances her pajama'd little self into her old room and demands help getting into the crib. We even caught her referring to the new bed as her "couch" recently, so clearly we are heading in the wrong direction.

I am soliciting any and all advice on getting her to make the move, so bring it.





With all the media hype over gender issues in politics these days, I'm proud to report that Carly does not yet recognize gender differences in her dolls. Hence, I introduce to you (below) Carly's doll "Sara" (to her far right, in the pink) and "Greg" (to her immediate right, also decked out in pink). She picked the names and let's just say dad isn't as happy about this development as I am (maybe because "Greg" looks smaller and weaker than "Sara"?). The good news is that she treats them both really well. Does this kid need a sibling or what?

It's a Zoo here

We have no cleaning person here on Cameron Mills (besides yours truly) and there are many (MANY) days I feel like we live at the zoo. This had me thinking, if we were zoo animals, which animals would we be?

Carly:

....mostly because she has turned into a show-off lately


me (in my current state, lethargic and always hungry):


Greg:


** photos courtesy of our zoo trip last week.

Where to begin?

Where shall I begin? Well, I should really begin by giving a quick update about baby-to-be, due in December. Already, this baby is getting the shaft on the blog because I assume our tangible happenings are more interesting than the pregnancy updates (to summarize the last 28 weeks, I've been stiff, fat, sleepless and hungry all the time). In any case, I had the opportunity for some bonding time with the peanut last Friday as I gazed at a sonogram screen for thirty minutes during my latest appointment (now conveniently scheduled during preschool hours - awesome news if you've ever been privy to my Carly-humiliates-me-at-the-OB's office stories). I usually can't help but prematurely try to make guesses about his/her personality during these sessions and this was no exception. I'd say, with the baby's constant movement, that he/she is not a big sleeper and possibly thinks that that is funny (it's not). The one concrete trait I did learn from the doctor is that this baby has big feet. And, yes, I am concerned.

In any case, here are the latest shots:



Switching gears now to preschool, glorious preschool (God bless those home schoolers). All summer, we talked up the idea of school to Carly. Every time we drove by her new school, we'd make a big deal about it being "Carly's school" and point out "Carly's playground" and tell her how exciting it would be to meet new friends & new teachers, read new books, and play with new toys, albeit, without mom, dad, binky or froggy. We practiced rocking out to a school bus song anytime we drove by the school. You get the idea.

Well, good news, my brief stint at child psychology worked. Day One came and Carly was so excited, she could barely eat her breakfast. She had her frog backpack over her shoulders before she was out of her pajamas. She even totally refused to pose for the traditional first day photos.


And, as we pulled up to the school, she screamed "bye bye mommy, Carly's school, yeeeeeah, see ya!" Once inside, she found her way to her classroom, walked right in toward the train set, and didn't even look back to say goodbye. (A bit over the top, don't you think?) Then, when I went to pick her up, she threw a fit and refused to leave. I'm talking total temper tantrum. I had to carry her kicking and screaming to the car and toss out a few fake laughs for the benefit of the staring moms when she did the 'ole arching of the back to avoid the carseat trick. As a new preschool mom, precariously navigating the world of late policies and volunteer "opportunities", I found myself a bit humiliated. I mean, seriously, I was surrounded by moms conversing with the teachers about how little Mary finally adjusted after snacktime and how little John spent his day looking longingly out the window for his mom. And damn it if she didn't do it again the next day.

The following week, our pick-ups were a bit more successful, perhaps because I knew to bribe her with the promise of a lollipop in the car and a return to school for the back-to-school pizza party on Friday night. In any case, I think we'll just use this photo as her official first day photo. Of course, I had used my free time the previous week to buy those mums.

Fantasy

Does someone you know fantasize? My husband does and his season kicked off last night with a ridiculous auction or draft or whatever that lasted over 3 hours. Greg was on a conference call with the rest of his league of, excuse me guys but, dorks and demanded complete silence within the house and absolutely no interruptions. Carly was lucky to get a "goodnight" from him as he studied his 6 pt font spreadsheets of names and stats as if he was reading his Mazdarati manual. In any case, like the dutiful wife that I am, I complied and tried to shut out the periodic laughter and accusations of cheating that emanated from the back room. Normally, I would have poured myself a huge glass of wine and called up my sister in law, Michelle, to make fun of the scene, but alas, no vino for me right now. Instead, I kept my distance and surfed for some crappy pre-season (that's right, I get the lingo) tv show to watch.

Lucky for me, the new 90210 was making it's debut during the fantasy draft, in what appeared to be a two hour gift from God on this particular night. And, folks, I will admit here that I actually was eager to tune in. (First, I need to concede that I shouldn't be admitting to this on my blog, especially after Levi Johnston's unfortunate self description on myspace. You really never know when you are going to be the center of a political scandal, though, do you?) I'm not sure what I really expected because, as Greg later pointed out, I didn't even watch the first 90210 and this version is on a network neither of us have ever heard of, but guys this show is really, really bad. It is laughable, it's so bad. Last night's pilot episode managed to steal a plot from Pretty Woman, badly imitate Sweet Sixteen, and pathetically pluck the Lucille Bluth character from Arrested Development (God I miss that show, when is the movie coming out anyway?) It was so bad that I actually think watching Fred Thompson speak at the republican convention may have been a better choice.

On an unrelated note, did you happen to catch this last week?

End of the Innocence

Our summer vacations have come to a close and it's almost time to get ready for preschool (yee-ha!). There are too many hilarious stories to recount from our trip to the Rock, but suffice it to say that one of them involved Grandma Rita strapping a maxipad to her ankle. In any case, Carly had a great time making memories with her cousins, so below I'm sharing a few more shots.

Sully - either protecting Katie as she slept by the bonfire or waiting to see if she had an extra s'more.

It did not take old Sully boy long to locate a better spot, directly under the chair holding the marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers. Score.


This shot captures exactly how I'll remember Charlie at meals this summer.


Carly finally convinced her cousins that Annie isn't a "girl movie," but a classic to be enjoyed by all....over & over & over when necessary.


Okay, these two shots are from the "donut place" as we refer to it, even though the donuts there are not that great (you can bet I still ate them). That is actually a goat on top of that platform thing, and Charlie is using the pulley to entice it up there to eat. Pam Anderson and PETA were protesting in the parking lot while Kid Rock was singing "All Summer Long." Just kidding.



Carly & Sully were pumped when Greg finally arrived...but not so happy when he made us head home early.



Carly & Mitchell at the Fredrickson's beach, just a few houses away. On a related note, if anyone has contacts at the Army Corps of Engineers, my mom is interested in bribing them to clear some of the grass away from her beach.


And it wouldn't be a family vacation without a ridiculous amount of time spent trying to get a group shot. This year, mom & Julie actually set up a poor professional photographer with the challenge of trying to get beach glamour shots of 5 kids under the age of six, one great-grandma with very fussy hairstyle taste, one matriarch who thinks that the coordinating white outfits make us resemble the Kennedy family, and 5 other pessimistic adults. Painful does not describe it. Did I mention that Carly had some type of crib accident just prior to the shoot and emerged with a swollen, bruised nose? In fact, the only one who honestly enjoyed the photo shoot was Nick, who, when it came time for individual family shots, instructed the gracious photographer that "since Scott doesn't have a wife, I will just be in his photo."





And, finally, a photo that my dad would love....he would have also loved every minute of chaos with the family this summer. Cheers dad.