model taco

Once when The Husband and I were just parents to two cats my mom told me when I had kids I was never going to take pictures of them because I would be too worn out from taking so many pictures of the kitties.

“Oh please,” I replied back, “I’ll take so many pictures of my kids you’ll be able to make a flip book movie of their entire childhood.”

I’m proud to say I was right. I have a camera in Lydia’s face more often than I probably should. But seriously . . . how can I resist this?

I can even do flip books, just as I promised.

the story to end all stories

Most families have a story like this. The story that you tell at every get-together or low point in the conversation since it’s guaranteed to liven things up. Our story has now been told to so many people in our circle of friends most everyone knows what I’m talking about when I utter the fateful word . . . Wendy’s.

But for y’all that don’t know, here’s our family’s greatest tale . . .

This was way back in the day, like Elementary School days, and Cathy and I were involved in many after-school activities like dance and piano. We tended to go out to dinner after these things and on this evening the four of us somehow ended up at Wendy’s.

This was also back when Wendy’s had this getup called the Superbar, a mini-smorgasbord that had an array of foods on it that was all-you-could-eat. As an aside, isn’t ‘smorgasbord’ a FANTASTIC word? I’ve never actually had the chance to use it before outside of quoting the Charlotte’s Web movie!

So, enter in my tired parents along with their two hyper girls who are oh-so-glad that piano/dance/school is done for the day and it’s time to eat. Cathy and I get Kids’ Meals to score the awesome toys but Dad is feeling adventurous so he goes for the Superbar.

Over the course of the dinner Dad went up to the bar multiple times to try out all the different foods, some at our behest. This was before the days of extreme germaphobia so the same plate went up every time. He had some spaghetti, some tacos, salad; I wanted to try some horrible concoction of strawberries and banana (ick!) so by the end of dinner that plate had a little bit of everything on it.

Near the end of dinner we were all slowing down, digesting, and discussing our day. Cathy, as usual, had wandered off to the bathroom. Dad was fiddling with her toy from her Kid’s Meal. One of the pieces fell on the floor and he bent down to get it.

The following sequence of events happened in slow motion for Mom and I.

In bending down to get the toy, Dad’s elbow hit the edge of his Superbar plate encrusted with foods from around the world, sending it flipping high into the air, up, up, up . . .

. . . then down, down, down, landing precisely on Dad’s head.

As the food oozed down his eyes and over his ears, the entire restaurant, which was full of patrons, became deathly quiet. All eyes were on our table, looking at this woman, child, and well-dressed man with a button-down shirt and tie sitting there with a mix of spaghetti, tacos, and strawberry gook all over his face. Mom always suspected other people thought she dumped the plate on him.

After a few seconds, a single sound began to emerge in the restaurant. A giggle quickly rising to a chuckle that immediately escalated to an all-out guffaw. It was me, falling to the floor, laughing so hard in a room of completely stunned people. I could barely breathe.

Perhaps my sputtering helped to break the ice. People around the restaurant slowly went back to their own meals over covert looks. Mom reached over and pulled a spaghetti noodle off of Dad’s ear. I finally came to my senses and realized Cathy was still in the bathroom and had missed the whole thing — I ran to get her. I peeped under the stall and said, “You have GOT TO COME SEE DAD!”

By that time Mom was helping him clean up enough so he could at least open his eyes. He cleaned up as best we could and slunk out of that Wendy’s. Mom had to throw away Dad’s shirt — the strawberry stuff just would not come out.

We didn’t eat there again for YEARS.

motivation

When people find out that I am a landscape designer by trade, people tend to reply with one of three comments. One is, “Ohh, that must be so much fun!” and, yes, it really can be. Another frequent comment is, “Well, I should get you to help me with my yard/specific plant/right side of driveway/grass problem I’ve been having.” The specific questions can be excellent as long as I know the answer. It makes me feel quite knowledgeable.

The most frequent comment, however, is, “Oh, your yard must look FABULOUS!” Um. Heh. Well, at least I don’t lie and say it’s totally awesome. I own up to it. After three years of living in our house, our poor landscape is a blank slate of topsoil, weeds, and juniper — the only remaining shrub from the builder-installed plantings.

There were shrubs in front of the house when we moved in, but I ripped them out post-haste in preparation to do my own plan. Come on, I am not going to keep a squished-in planting of variegated privet, a.k.a. noxious weed, mixed in with cleyeras and azaleas alternating each other. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, then suddenly it’s years later and we’re now known in the neighborhood as The House With No Plants.

My main problem is because I am landscape designer, I know of so many options that we can go with as far as plants and styles are concerned that I’m feeling indecisive as to where to head. Also, there’s some pressure involved. It does need to look FABULOUS, right?

A few days ago, motivation moved in, just two doors down. I haven’t met the guy so I don’t know for positive, but the big-ass truck with all the logos on it makes me feel pretty positive that it’s the owner to one of the other landscape companies in town. A landscape company that is doing a friend of mine real dirty by claiming some of his work as their own on their website. It’s pretty damn low, actually.

Like I said, I haven’t met the guy (and I’d rather not) so he doesn’t know me nor who I work for, but once he finds out, he’ll just get the silly giggles over my landscaping. Or lack thereof. I will not let this guy get a laugh out of me.

So today, I began to tackle the yard.

Remember the juniper I mentioned I left from the original planting? They were such little bitty things the first few years . . .

. . . but all of a sudden they exploded and had gotten taller than me, not only crowding the right side of the front yard near the wall, but also highlighting the lack of plants elsewhere by their enormity.

I despise juniper in places where you have to touch or prune it, but because of that wall and Lydia’s lack of understanding of gravity I am not about to remove them so I started pruning them back this afternoon. I don’t think I have an allergy to juniper but it certainly causes me to break out into little welts and itch. I suppose that’s what juniper does. Nevertheless, I dived into it, cutting back huge branches of the stuff. As I cut I did some mental planning as to what I shall plant along the front of the house.

After one large cut deep into the mass of shrubs, a mass of wasps came flying out at me. I ran across the front yard, throwing my pruners in the air and cursing all the way. Thankfully, none of them got me. I bet I was a sight to see. The rest of our can of Raid was used up this afternoon.

It took a couple of hours, but I took the height of the junipers down by half. They look a hell of a lot better. I still need to move my perennials away from them or they’ll just continually be crowded out otherwise. The next phase is to get some freakin’ plants.

I wish I had gotten a “before” picture; they were twice as tall, and apparently filled with wasps.

The goal is by Christmas when someone finds out what I do for a living and they reply, “Wow, your yard must be GORGEOUS!” I can respond, “Yeah, it’s totally awesome.”

toddlin’ taco

A few weekends ago Lydia took the big plunge and started walking. We were at her Aunt Lisa’s and Uncle Ken’s house when she started to take off — she was waiting for the right audience.

She’s very proud of herself and is getting better every day. It took her a few days to master the art of changing direction while walking. Now she’s working on walking fast, a.k.a. running.

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Last weekend we took our walking child with us down to Auburn to visit her cousin and they had a blast together. They slept in the same room with Elizabeth in her crib and Lydia in a borrowed pack-n-play (Whoops! The one thing we forgot to pack!) and when they would wake up in the mornings they gabbled to each other until one of them got hungry enough to make a ruckus.

Despite there being a hundred toys on the floor, one girl would inevitably want what the other girl had. There were many fracases over THINGS that the other one HAD that they WANTED and LIFE IS NOT FAIR.

We had the girls pouffed up in dresses on Sunday so we couldn’t resist a little on-campus photo shoot. In hindsight, we made the mistake of doing this right before lunch, so there were some rumbly tummies. Lydia, who isn’t very demanding about food until she sees it, was perfectly willing to ham it up for the camera,

. . . but Elizabeth knows when lunchtime is, and that time was now, and that camera does NOT look like a grilled cheese sandwich. So she cursed us.

We hightailed it off to Niffer’s where Elizabeth quickly downed some milk and a baby food appetizer. Lydia chowed down on some chicken, some of The Husband’s french fries, and a bit of the pasta from my pasta bowl. Elizabeth enjoyed a lemon slice because she’s odd like that.

All too soon, we had to head back home, but Lydia and Elizabeth will be able to play together again soon — Aunt Cathy’s and Uncle Jason’s birthday is coming up!

here’s your sign

Yesterday when I went to pick up Lydia from daycare I was told she got an Oops Note that day that I had to sign. At first I thought it meant she got a boo-boo, but no . . . she gave other kids boo-boos. An Oops Note is a note that the parent has to sign when your sweet innocent daughter has BEEN BAD and has been BITING THE OTHER CHILDREN. Lydia is turning into The Biter.

In Lydia’s defense, she is teething again and these unbearable chompers are bugging the stew out of her. She has been biting the others for a few days, long enough for the other kids to figure out that when she comes for them, they shove her own arm into her mouth and she ends up biting herself. This daycare is full of brilliant one year olds!

I told Lydia if this doesn’t let up they’re going to hang a sign around her neck as a warning to others: Warning — Biter.

"Grasp the subject, the words will follow." — Cato the Elder

On July 4th the three of us were heading down to The Husband’s parents’ house for a 4th of July shin-dig. We were ready for copious amounts of food, swimming, and fun. As I watched the trees fly past the window, I heard the tell-tale sound of a pacifier clinking down the side of a car-seat as Lydia threw it out.

“Uh-oh,” I thought. I waited for the fussing to begin.

“Uh-oh,” said Lydia.

I looked at The Husband, and he looked at me. “Did she just say, ‘Uh-oh?'” I asked.

“I think so. Maybe,” he replied.

“Lydia, did you say, ‘Uh-oh?'” I asked her.

“Uh-oh,” she said. She continued her ‘Uh-oh’s’ for the rest of the trip. Of course, she didn’t do it when we prompted her upon arrival to The Husband’s Parents’, and I wasn’t even sure of ‘Uh-oh’ counted as a word. It’s more like an extremely mild curse. I wouldn’t play it on a Scrabble board, you know?

I must confess out of all the words we say repeatedly around her, I’m surprised she picked up ‘Uh-oh’ first. That’s a VERY GOOD THING.

Throughout this past week she has continued with her Uh-ohing. She definitely connects it with dropping stuff. She will drop — or deliberately throw — her toys/food/things that aren’t hers to the floor and say, “Uh-oh!” On the way home from daycare she works on perfecting it: “Ah-oh . . . Uh-uh . . . Uh-ohhhh . . . UH-OHHH . . .”

Everyone says it’s definitely a word, so even though Hasbro wouldn’t accept it, I will officially declare ‘Uh-oh’ Lydia’s First Word ™.

Spoken modestly, God help us (name that movie!).

my eyes! the goggles do nothing!

The other night Steven and I went with some of his co-workers to see the Transformers sequel on the IMAX screen at the McWayne Center. Cool, right?

Ugg. I don’t think The Great Wonderous People That Be thought this one all the way through. Some movies aren’t meant to be stretched across your entire span of vision, and 140 minutes of fast-paced, constantly-transforming robots shown in closeups will wear on your eyes in the first five minutes.

The few times people were not running for their lives and actually walked across the screen, you would have to turn your entire head in order to see them.

Sometimes, the location of the city would flash in techy wording at the bottom left-hand corner of the screen, which was right over my left shoulder. A little sound effect would burst forth when the words would be etched on, encouraging me to think, “Where are we at?” so I would lean forward to look around Steven and everybody else to my left so I could read the slightly stretched words of NEW YORK, which I should have been able to tell anyway if I knew my Geography of Buildings better. It didn’t matter that the characters were in New York, anyway.

The worst part was an unexpected strip-down of a guy into just a creepy thong — larger than ever thanks to the IMAX experience. We did not need to see the hairs on that man’s ass.

At least, since the movie let out after the McWayne Center itself closed, we didn’t have to pay for parking.

twelve month old taco (1 year old taco!)

Yesterday, Lydia turned one year old. An entire twelve months has flashed on by.

This last month was a doozie.

At the very end of May we lost my mother relatively unexpectedly, and it seems with each passing day I have a greater need of her. Not two months ago I was discussing with her my vague plans for Lydia’s birthday party, and now that party is just a few days away; I cannot fathom that she won’t be at the very event we talked about just a few weeks previous. I remember her voice just a year ago when I called to tell her Lydia had arrived; half excited, half admonishing (for catching her by surprise) — it seems unnatural for her not to call this year and send birthday wishes. It feels so unfair to me that Lydia will never know her Nana — I knew my mother’s mother, so why can’t Lydia know hers?

Lydia, bless her soul, was a trooper during all the multi-day functions that a funeral brings. She spent the first night away from us, staying with her Grandma and Papa, and she was a sweetie for them. As long as she has her snuggle blankie, she’s good for a sleep just about anywhere.

Table foods continued to become more interesting to Lydia. She quickly switched to eating straight table foods — she was eager to try anything!

Pretty soon, she started having trouble with looser stools, then straight-up diarrhea — as in straight up the back! It became a daily occurrence for me to pick her up from daycare and find her in a completely different outfit from what she had on that morning. Sometimes she went through two outfits a day. Daycare clothes became commonplace. The doctor said to feed her more starches (the BRAT diet) but, alas, nothing seemed to stop her up.

Then her feet started peeling. Not like sunburn peeling, we’re talking huge thick chunks of skin off the bottoms of her toes and heels. Good Lord, my baby is falling apart! The doctor said to moisturize and wait since her checkup appointment was around the corner. And the diarrhea raged on.

In desperation, I switched Lydia’s milk from regular cow’s milk to soymilk. She liked it and, the next day, a poo came forth that stayed within its bounds! More tamer poos continued and so far things are looking better. Her peeling feet are calming down as well. The doctor is thinking she could have developed a temporary intolerance to the lactose because of a virus (Hand, Foot, and Mouth, anyone?). I’m thinking Lydia can now shed off the stigma of being The Diarrhea Kid at daycare.

Throughout the month of Skin Shedding and Poo, Lydia became very adept at Walking With Assistance ™, a pastime that my back is not very fond of. If you hold her hands, she can walk all over the place, and Lydia always makes sure she gets her money’s worth. I’ve had a constant backache since this new endeavor began. Now I see why all new parents get so damn excited when their kid starts to walk — their backs can now begin to recuperate.

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In the teeth department, Lydia is now up to four — her second top tooth finally decided to join the party. Most of the month she was an Itty Bitty Snaggletooth Girlie.

The night before Lydia’s birthday, she had another first — barfing. Technically, she’s accidentally gagged herself and thrown up before when she was leaning to eat table foods but hadn’t gotten down the chewing part yet, but that was nothing compared to this.

She had already gone down for the night but was fussing, but when I went in her room to give Lydia her pacifier, something didn’t smell too good. When I turned on the light I saw she had barfed all in her crib. A mountain of grossness. The Husband and I got her out, cleaned her and the crib up, new pajamas and new sheets and back to bed. She pretty much slept through the whole thing.

Twenty minutes later The Husband hears her on the baby monitor and says, “She threw up again.” We went back in there and sure enough there was more barf all in her crib and on her. This time she was wide awake and upset. We had not dealt with this before and I wasn’t sure what was wrong. I just wanted to talk to my mother so bad. After we got Lydia cleaned up this time she was still wide awake and just wanted to be held — I was happy to oblige with some snuggling.

Thankfully, she didn’t throw up again and she was a most happy girlie for her first birthday. Something just got her tummy upset. Amazingly, we were also able to clean up and salvage her musical crib bear. It will live to play another day.

I didn’t trust myself to take Lydia’s one year portrait, so I got a real photographer for Lydia to ham up to. We actually did the photo shoot last Saturday and the pics are totally awesome. So here you go.

I know this is the longest monthly post ever, but I told you this past month was a doozie.