Category: Eliott

Carter, Confessions, Eliott

Let the Holiday Festivities Begin

In the name of Fall, and what I assume is a hormonally induced burst of creativity, I have found myself in Goodwill and Joann’s Fabrics more times this month than I have all year. I have wielded felt, a hot glue gun, duct tape, and duct tape sheets. And thanks to Google Images, I’ve surprised myself, artistically speaking.

Without further ado, I’d like to provide evidence that as the cleanest most type-A parents to ever live, every once in a while, we aren’t total deadbeats in the name of fun. (What you do not see pictured is the stick horse we created for Kindergarten Wild West Day, nor the backup costume that doubled as Hey Diddle Diddle, the CAT and the Fiddle for Nursery Rhyme Party Day. Perhaps an update, soon.)

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Carter, Confessions, Eliott

Would You Rather: Bathroom Talk at the Dinner Table

Dare I admit that the first thirty-seconds of mealtime at our house is a terrible, terrible picture of the way things really are in my house? I’ve been fielding comments in light of my two recent video posts (more face-to-face than written here on my blog) about how “cute,” “sweet,” and “well-mannered,” my children are. This, because we tend to set a few boundaries when it comes to talking to God.

I feel sort of obligated to show a little more reality behind the Baptist facade. And not just in my children.

While growing up, a frequent dinner table comment of my mother’s went something like this: “If you were having dinner at the Queen’s table would you ______?? [Here, insert any number of behaviors, table manners, or the wearing of appropriate attire.]

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Carter, Confessions, Eliott

Crazy Pregnant Lady Goes Postal

Was Labor Day a month ago? John keeps commenting how quickly this year is flying by, meanwhile, four measly weeks ago feels like an eternity in my mind. But Labor Day weekend was a pinnacle moment for me in this pregnancy.

It is when I took my nesting hormones and actually applied them to something productive. For real.

I find it funny that the Urban Dictionary definition of “nesting” includes ridding the house of anything “potentially harmful” to the soon to be born child. It turns out, on Labor Day Weekend, this meant the fetus’ father and his older sisters.

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Confessions, Eliott

Why I Will Continue to Pay Premium Prices for Children’s Shoes

About two weeks ago, Eliott’s class of behavioral over-achievers filled the jar of gold drops (and I quote) “faster than any class has ever done this!” (according to the email) and earned themselves a little party. It was a stuffed animal party. Each kid was allowed to bring a favorite stuffed animal to school for the day. Talk about a genius idea.

But this was back before brand-new-and-also-pregnant-kindergarten-mom had her shit together.

It was a Thursday. John offered to take Eliott to school, so he could see her classroom, meet her teacher, and let Carter and me sleep in.

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Confessions, Eliott

Dear Mom and Dad

John and I are just sitting (laying) here in front of football.  He’s typing a brief that’s due tomorrow while I tackle my back-to-school to-do list (or at least make a plan for when I can accomplish all of these things) and we both just said, “Hm, haven’t called my parents in a few weeks.”  So just to let you know, we aren’t slacking off.  We’re treading water right now and be patient with us.

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Carter, Confessions, Eliott

Birthday Week Wrap Up

It is a rainy Saturday morning and I am avoiding gearing up for a ridiculously busy day.

It has been an emotional week.  The UnderToad has been lingering, and though I know my hormones are more to blame than anything, I can’t help but think several circumstances also contributed.  There have, on the positive side, been some hidden gems of goodness sort of sprinkled throughout everything.

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Confessions, Eliott

The Moment Vacation Ended

The week after vacation is always difficult. We spent time last week in the mountains of NC with Grandma and Grandpa and then drove a little further west to Mimi and PopPop’s house, where we got to see both of my sisters (and Dragon). John came to the mountains, but left me on my own for the Tennessee trip.

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Carter, Confessions, Eliott

Thoughts on the Terrible Two’s

I have become that mother who screams, “GO OUTSIDE!” about ten times a day.

It is a crying shame North Carolina isn’t big on basements.  Another mental note for the house we build one day.  I will make sure it has a big basement, which is padded, and filled with things I do not care about.  I will turn a blind eye when “fight club” develops down there, making sure not to burn the muffins I have baking in the civilization I have created for myself above.

I have come to the conclusion that my children were too intelligent for the “Terrible Two’s.”  Instead of spending nine months to a year of their lives in emotion-driven tantrum frenzy, they feigned innocence while silently observing and storing up all aggression to be distributed in a much more calculated and passive way.

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Carter, Confessions, Eliott

So Here’s the Deal

I hit sixteen weeks (two weeks ago today) with a vengeance.  As predicted, the nausea was gone.  And my energy is returning.  Enter melt-down number one.  I now have just enough energy to be bothered by the mess that is my house.  I do not yet have the energy to fully tackle it.  As it is, completing one or two tasks a day (outside of the normal routine of meals, entertainment, and bus driver) is about as much as I can handle, if I’m lucky.

Thank God I’m an American and have at least twenty pairs of underwear.

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