Making the Police Log

So, some days I think that you should have to be issued a license to be an adult in the functioning world.  Mostly I think this applies to other people, but occasionally (ok, weekly) I think that person may be me.  Remember that time my pants fell off in public?  Well this week I totally felt up a stranger.  I was at the pretentious asshole grocery store (my husband's name for it) (no, not that one, the other one) (you better not even be thinking about my beloved Trader Joe's!) and was trying to think of a good side to go with Crockpot BBQ Beer Chicken.  I settled (as I usually do with sides) on sweet potato fries, then decided to get waffle fries, since it seems to a shape that appeals to my three year old.

First prob, there were only two bags left of sweet potato waffle fries (uhh, these obvs need an abbreviation, how 'bout we go with SPWF).  Second prob, they were pushed way way way back in the freezer.  And I'm a shortie.  I just could not reach the fries. Third *imagined* prob, you are thinking now I should buy sweet potatoes and make my own.  Which I do sometimes, but not the amount of work I was going for today.  I will carry on now.  So I used my honed problem solving skills and poked my fingers up through the bottom of the shelf to try and drag the bag.  This did not work for varying, boring reasons.  Then I tried standing on the edge of the freezer and reaching in, to Squish's delight, she thought this was hysterical.  But I still at least five inches short.  After that, I looked around the aisle trying to find a stick-like object to drag the SPWF towards me.  Being in the freezer section you can imagine the dearth of stick-like objects.  I thought about boosting Squish up into the freezer to grab them, but I don't think you are supposed to stick your children in public freezers.  (Obvious joke, put down your phone.)

So I did what short people do in these situations.  No, not jumping wildly, hoping for traction and trying to reach, but looking around for a tall person.  Preferably an employee of the grocery store.  When this magical employee did not appear after a few moments I started eying a taller woman at the other end of the aisle.  Eying might be too generous of a word, because at some point she make eye contact with me and mouthed "Sorry" because she thought she was in my way.  I was flat out staring.  She was still at the other end of a 30-foot grocery aisle (not to scale because I still find numbers scary {sorry Mrs. Rowe, you tried} and am not sure how long the actual aisle is.  I would have had to project loudly to have a conversation.)  Ok, refocusing...NOW.  As she got closer I kept peeking and making shy smiles.  Squish turned on her cutest gummy grin face.  When she got close enough she said hi and I started with the verbal diarrhea.  "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, can I ask you a big favor, I am soooo short and can't reach the SPWF, do you think you could get me a bag????**"  She chuckled and said sure.  I pointed them out, she reached in and easily grabbed a bag.  Story over right?  Job accomplished, good deed done?  Nope!  I even managed to mess this part up.  I reached out for the bag too quickly (no, I didn't push her into the freezer) and overreached.  As I grabbed my bag of fries, I BRUSHED BOTH HANDS DOWN THIS WOMAN'S CHEST.  Yes.  I felt her up.  Well, down.  I felt her down.  A look of shock rolls across this woman's face.

I turned scarlet, grabbed the fries, thanked her profusely and quickly turned away to retreat before she called the grocery store SVU.  I also forgot my grocery cart with my daughter in it.  She laughed again, a beautiful musical laugh, and pushed my cart to me.  She seemed to think the entire exchange was funny and didn't seem to be too disturbed by our sudden jump to second base.  After thanking her again, I started going the opposite way through the store (through aisles I had already covered) so we didn't do that awkward pass thing down every aisle.  Between that and Squish letting my shopping list blow away on the wind in the parking lot before we went in, it took me two hours to do my grocery shopping.  Seriously, I need to a license to have general public interactions.  I did see her at the check-out.  She pointed to me, waved, and turned to talk to a man with her.  At some point during her conversation with him, she gestured up to her chest.  Sigh.

Ok, spill your most embarrassing stories.  Or at least the most embarrassing thing that happened to you this week.

**you know its serious when I use quadruple punctuation!

Relief Pitcher

A good friend came over this afternoon.  When she walked in, the girls and I both breathed a sigh of relief.  It was almost as if we were all thinking, thank god an adult is here.  Even though the friend had worked a full day and dealt with a commute, she stayed with the girls for an hour while I went to Target to pick up a prescription and wander around and look at things.  It was much needed.  Somehow I managed to FUBAR the nap schedule royally (I know, you organized people have no idea how this happens, but it does to me.  Regularly.) and everyone was a bit of a grump.  Squish is crawling everywhere and has come thisclose to tumbling down some stairs a dozen times.  Bug is majorly testing boundaries.  She "counts" me to time-out regularly (uh, 34 minutes where I can sit by myself and not talk to anyone?  Yes, please!) and for some reason has started hitting my face.  She tackles her sister who is just starting to pull up and wrap her big brain around walking and also whacks her on the head with anything and everything.  Not acceptable.  I started out patient and calm as you please, but by the end of the day I was doing my best not to hit back, use a major yelly voice or just hide in the bathroom.  So an hour of mindless consumerism was much appreciated.  Cheers to good friends and kids who are a thousand times cuter after a peaceful wander through the $1 Spot.

How long does the boundary pushing last?  Will Squish ever manage to balance those big brains over her tiny feet?  What is your fantasy Target shopping list?

One.

My beautiful baby, Squish, is one today.  I've been doing that parent thing where I think back to exactly what I was doing a year ago, up until she was born at 3:38 p.m.  We have had such a sunny and fun first year.  It's amazing how much more relaxed I was with the second.  Even in just two years though, baby contraptions and raising ideas have changed.  Squish is just gorgeous, all incredibly soft skin and rosy cheeks.  She still has tiny feet with delectable toes.  Her hair is super-soft, but it is also very thick in the back - I think it might be a different texture than her sisters.  She murmurs mama and dada, but I don't think she knows them yet.  She makes noises that my mom and I can her pterodactyl noises.  Sometimes she will look at me and seem to repeat a word I just said, but surely that can't be.  She tries all foods, but at various times has rejected bananas and kiwis.  She loves cheese, crackers, strawberries, carrots, squash, eggs, pasta and many, many other foods.  She ADORES her big sister  - when they first get up in the morning they shriek at each other.  I don't know what they are saying, but they are clearly having a conversation.  Her face lights up when she sees her daddy and she loves to roll around on the floor with him and when he tosses her in the air.  She likes to chew on bath toys and stack blocks.  She isn't moving much yet, but when she wants something she finds a way to get to it.  She, like her sister, isn't much of a snuggler once they gained head control.  But every once in a while she'll nuzzle in and it is the sweetest.  She smells like sweetness all the time - strawberries mostly.  Probably because a chunk is caught in her neck folds.  She has this crazy method of getting around.  A combination of roll-sit-flinging that is terrifying and hilarious at the same time.  I am deeply, madly in love!  Happy Birthday my sweet Junebug!

Braindump

Alright, sorry for the pause there.  Haha, no one is reading this (yet?), so it doesn't really matter.  But fake it 'til ya make it right?  Anyway, my mom was here and birthday party and yadda yadda.  When we had Squish, we started refinishing a room in our basement to use as a guest room.  In the past two weeks (yes, Squish is almost one, shut up) we finally got Squish in the nursery, Bug in her big girl room and the guest room moved downstairs.  It was really nice for everyone to have their own space.  My mom is really freaking amazing - she is great with the kids, she can cook, but is ok with being cooked for/doesn't demand meals/certain foods, she does loads of laundry, she takes the kids out, she babysits.  It is really nice having her around.  I am not a naturally schedule-oriented person (all the people who have ever worked with me in the past and are finding this are now spitting coffee out of their nose at that understatement) so even though it is helpful and of course you get used to it, just keeping the kids on a regular daily schedule is something that takes a lot of brain energy for me.  So having someone else around who steps in on that part (and clears the sink) (and rounds up baby socks and discarding hoodies and washes them) is immensely helpful.

So with all of that extra brain energy, here are things that got accomplished while she was here - threw (kick-ass) pirate birthday party, did some quality Marshall's and Costco shopping, came up with next great children's book idea, tested guest room bed and bathroom, got some history about things I have from my grandmother's house, mopped kitchen floor and cleaned up bathrooms, found some delicious cookies, tried (and failed) to show her how to use her Kindle.  Not a bad trip all in all.

Any great children's book ideas?  How about mother or MIL stories? Mid-renovation stories?

Thanksgiving

I was wondering why Squish smelled like Thanksgiving this afternoon.  What a strange smell for a baby to have.  I sniffed her hair and her toes and lastly in her diaper area wondering if something bad had happened.  I didn't know if there was a Thanksgiving-smell disease like there is a maple syrup urine disease.  I mean, she is a little turkey!  I finally realized that she had pumpkin for lunch and Bug was sneaking her cinnamon graham cracker-thingies that she got for her birthday.  Pumpkin + cinnamon + graham cracker = Thanksgiving :)  And I don't even eat pumpkin pie!  Wonder if I could hire her out to smell like fresh baked cookies at realtor's open houses?

Scratch This

Squish's nose, chin, forehead and cheeks are covered with scratches.  I trimmed her nails earlier this week, so they are short and I checked them for sharp edges and there are none.  So, I am forced to conclude one of four possible causes:
1.  She turns into a tiny Wolverine in her crib at night.
2.  She has smuggled razor blades into her stuffed animals.
3.  She is getting scratched by the invisible cat that we do not own.
4.  She is utilizing her crazy baby flexibility and scratching her face with her toenails.

Any hypotheses?

Intro, finally.

So I'm a thirty-something SAHM (not necessarily by choice) to two little girls.  I haven't thought my way through all of the internet blogging security issues, so I will call them Bug (almost three) and Squish (almost one) here.  Bug because she used to curl up like a little bug against me when she was tiny.  I was trying to reserve that nickname for her.  My heart broke a little bit when Squish was born on the first day of June and the doctor goes, "oh, you have a little junebug."  Squish is, well squishy.  Her sister had some adorable baby chub, but Squish is covered with arm rolls and tummy packs and some of the best baby thigh chub you've ever seen.  It was a surprise to me and Squish she became.  I love it.

I have The Best Husband in the World.  He is thoughtful, kind, and smart.  He knows where to scratch my back when it itches.  He bakes and cooks, gardens and cleans (some).  He lets the girls do his hair and comes to our tea parties.  Sometimes with a big hat on.  He is scared of craft time and glitter (that may be related to my aforementioned non-love of cleaning).  He cleans all of our girl hair out of the drains in our bathroom (but he makes me share a bathroom with the girls, so he has a man-bathroom), he makes homemade ice cream, he eats strange meals I make with little complaint.  He also makes fun of me when I get lost within three blocks of our house and deliberately brings up controversial topics on long road trips so I'll stay awake and argue with him.  He still pretty much rocks.


I'm sure I'll end up sharing more.  Maybe one day I'll even share a link to this blog somewhere so I'll get some readers.  Or not :)