From the Nostrils of Babes

An excerpt from a conversation I had with 4 year old Moses, a boy who goes to the same baby sitter as Murphy

Moses: I was sick yesterday

Me: Me too. I had a stuffy nose. What about you?

Moses: I had a stuffy nose too, but I picked all the boogers out and ate them.

Me (in an appalled voice): Eww Moses! That's disgusting!

Moses (in and equally appalled voice): I know! I didn't do it! My hand did it!

Me: Well tell your hand that's disgusting and not to do it!

Moses: Stop it Hand! That's disgusting!

I can only hope he moves on to pre-school before he has too much of an influence on Murph!

Baaaack to School.... Baaaack to School.....



Ah Fall... That time of year when stay at home parents breathe a collective sigh of relief.


Not to say that they don't just adore their little darlings, who in late May and early June were so sweet and innocent, but as the summer wears on, so do parent's nerves. Sure, the student's vacation is ending, but that of the parent's is just beginning.


For children and teens, the worst part is usually having to wake up and go to bed at certain times. But what other options do they have? They have to be there. So as much as they might grunt and groan, they'll be waiting for the bus with their boots tied tight.

Then you have those of us adults who CHOOSE to go back to school. Either as paid employees, or as paying students. Whichever the case may be, you have to give us a little credit. It takes a big person to be able to walk into a classroom everyday and not want to turn and run screeming back to our cars.

This year I'm torn. I was actually really enjoying my summer home with Murph. I'm torn because I am so incredibly happy to be back at school. I'm around other adults all day long, and I don't smell like spit-up. I feel guilty because I'm not more upset about having to drop off my little man at the sitter. Hopefully I have a redeeming quality since the very best part of my day is picking him up as soon as possible after the final bell rings.

I am 32 flavors

I'm a fan of the singer Alana Davis. I listened to her first CD over and over again. In one of my favorite songs "32 flavors" (yes I know it is a cover of an Ani DiFranco song, but I heard Alana's version first) she sings "One day you're going to get hungry and eat most of the words you just said"

"Of course I'll go back to work!" I'd quickly exclaim. "I wouldn't WANT to stay home" and "I just wouldn't be a good mom if I didn't work" I'd proudly proclaim.

Who knew how quickly Murph could change all of that for me.

In less than 3 weeks I am going to be leaving this little man in the care of a perfectly nice and capable woman. But in the last few days I've been brought to tears by the thought of putting his care into her hands. I know him you see. I'm the one who can tell the difference in his cries. I'm the one who has comforted him and loved him and worshiped him.

I'm going to miss him. I'm not going to be there when he wakes up smiling from his nap. I won't be there to hear him giggle and coo through the day. And it won't be me who is there to pick him up and comfort him when he cries.

"Of course I'll go back to work", I say begrudgingly.

Who knew that one of my 32 flavors would be crow.

There was a woman who swallowed a fly....

I don't know why she swallowed the fly, but I think it might have something to do with the fly crawling down in the straw of her chocolate coke from Sonic.

And it wasn't so much that she swallowed the fly, but actually more accurately chomped on it a little bit thinking that it was a strawberry chunk.

What would a strawberry chunk be doing in a chocolate coke you ask? It wouldn't! She normally gets a strawberry banana smoothie and was confused! So back off jerkface!

Insomnia anyone?

Murph can't sleep.

More accurately, Murph WON'T sleep.

He fights it with all he is worth (which in my book is quite a lot)

This is NOT something he inherited from my family.

It is 3:45 am and he is bright eyed and bushy tailed.

"Put them in their crib," they say.

"It won't hurt them to cry," they say.

I've decided that "They" are masochists.

Have "They" ever listened to the heart-breaking, increasingly desperate whimpers/hysterical cries of a 5 week old?

Me thinks not.

So I will continue to break every parenting rule there is--I hold him too much, I let him sleep on his tummy, I put him in my bed with me, on my chest even, and at 3:45 am I consider giving him just enough Baby Tylenol to take the edge off.

Introducing....The Baby Bear (also to be known as Murph)

Murph arrived a few days early, proving to be more of his father's child than my own, since I am never early for anything. But definitely has my nose and ears. He has the Chief's blue eyes for now, but somehow I think they might turn brown.

He's such a good little guy. He wakes up in a good mood and just looks around smiling. His personality is just so mellow. Let's hope it stays that way!

Last night we tried to add his handprints to his baby book. I now understand why the nurses at the hospital didn't do this at the same time they printed his little feet. We now have a black smear where his hand print should be. The worst part was that he likes to put his hands in his mouth. At one point before I could get all the ink wiped off he had this little smudge right below his nose that made him look a little too much like a former German ruler! I know his dad and I both have quite a bit of german heritage, but that was a bit much!

K's Legacy

A long time ago, a girl I went to school with told me an interesting story about her mom and her brother. I'll call her mom K. For some reason K had told the girl's younger brother that if he ever went to the bathroom and his poop was 12 inches long.... she would give him a quarter.

Where the heck does something like that come from?

I had heard this story.... and it stuck with me, but I never shared it for years. As it turns out.... my younger sister had also heard the story. The "brother" was in her grade in school.

Fast forward until several years post high school. My sister and I were travelling in Europe. I have what you might call a "shy colon" (I think it goes back to the time I "went at church, the toilet broke, and my dad told me no one wanted to look at my turd!")

Anywho....

I hadn't been able to go for a few days, but my time finally arrived. I went, and the only thing I could think of was "Wow! K owes me a quarter" A thought I went on to share with my sister, not knowing that she would actually understand. We were both shcked to know that the other had heard the story!

In the years since that time, K's legacy has grown. Other family members and friends have been clued in on the story. I often get text messages, phone calls, or emails asking me to collect the $.25 for them. This poor, sweet, God fearing woman is now thought of whenever one of us "goes."

How would you like THAT to be your legacy?

Time keeps on ticking (ticking) into the Future.....

I remember eagerly counting down to the end of school each year. This continued through elementary, junior high, high school, and even college and grad school. As a teacher.... you would think I would do the same thing now. But each year it sneaks up on me and I'm broadsided by the announcement "We only have (insert number here) days left!

This year has been a little different. I am due to have a baby on June 3rd, and the last teacher day of school is not until June 5th. I must have been the only person disappointed this year when I got the call for snow days. I currently have 12 days to go until my due date, 14 until the end of school. I must be the only pregnant woman ever to want to go past her due date.

Could it be that I am just a control freak and don't want someone else coming in to finish up my class for the year? Could it be that I don't want to waste any more sick days than necessary? Cold it be that I am just FREAKING out at the thought of having a baby come barreling out of my lady parts, then being responsible for it's upbringing for the next few decades? Yes. I think it might be a little of all of those. But mostly the barreling out of my lady parts.

Like getting 7 McNuggets for the price of 6!

Did you ever go to McDonald's and order the 6 piece nugget, only to be pleasantly surprised to find they gave you 7 nuggets instead of 6? My friend Alexa was the luckiest person I knew. She was always getting extra nuggets!

Yesterday I got my extra nuggets. I had ordered Baby Einstein videos from ebay. I won 2 seperate auctions (from the same seller). When my videos arrived yesterday I found that instead of the 22 I paid for (excessive?) I actually received 24! Sure they were duplicates, but who cares! I got 2 extra DVD Nuggets!

I'm a simple girl. Simple things in life bring me joy.

Now the only question is...Do I regift or resell?

What's in a Name?



" What's the name of your baby" my 2 year old niece asked? "I don't know. We haven't named it yet. What do you think we should call it?" I respond. "Bill!" volunteers my sarcarstic hubby. "Biiiilllllll!" she says disgustedly, "NOT Bill"

The baby's name will not be Bill.

Not that we had wanted to name it that, but how could you when the name causes a 2 year old to look as though she has swallowed the lemon tree?

We don't know what the baby's name will be, won't for several months. We are in the minority of parents to be who are choosing NOT to find out the gender. A good friend is appalled! "Well what do you call it?" "Junior" I reply calmly. "But what if it is a girl?" She is saying this to a girl who was called "Little (insert my father's name here)" my entire childhood. "I think she will be fine"

"What should we call the baby?" I asked my niece again. "Bear" she said with confidence. So we call the baby Bear.

Why I have been an AWOL Blogger


I have not been a very dedicated blogger the last month. Mostly because the only thing I really wanted to write about was the one thing I couldn't write about. My family is far too superstitious. But I figure that I might as well put it out there that I currently have an alien the size of a Gummy Bear living inside of me. Actually He/She was a Gummy Bear 2 weeks ago. Now He/She is moving towards the size of a Gingerbread Person.

I will go back in less than 2 weeks and will hopefully get to hear the heartbeat again. I won't know until June if it is a He or a She. I just hope He/She is healthy.

Dodging a Bullet

I can't tell you how happy it makes me to be able to call this post "Dodging a Bullet." Normally, I am not a very literal person. But today I will make the exception. My dear Chief had been on a very short list of people (eleven to be specific) who would possibly be going to Iraq. He would have been stateside for a 100 or so days, then be on land in Iraq for nearly 200 days. I am so glad to announce that we found out just a few hours ago that he will NOT have to go. He was in the Middle East a few years ago. But that time he was able to sit 13 miles off shore. This time he would have been smack in the middle of the country.

I do not mean to sound un-supportive of the men and women already serving overseas. Whether or not you support the war or the President. I find it critical that people support the troops. (Which I do) Because they are there doing their job, I can sit here and do mine in little fear for my safety. But I am also selfish enough to want my dear Chiefy here with me. Can I be supportive and selfish at the same time?

You can't make the poor buggers happy.

I have found that regardless of what you do, there are going to be people who whine about it. I've spent several weeks working on a project that I presented today to about 30 people. I had worked very hard, which for a perpetual slacker like me is saying a lot. I had consulted several people experts on the subject , and had all in all put much thought into it. Up until today, everyone I had talked to about the project thought that it was really very interesting. Not to pat myself too hard on my back, but I was pretty proud of myself.

Enter the audience. I shouldn't get too down on myself. Most of the participants were excited about the project, and their role in it. But there were those 2 or 3 who made me want to pull out their hair. (Yes, I said their hair, why ever would I pull out my own. Ouch!) I resolve not to let the 2 or 3 negative people over shadow the positive people. I am presenting again tomorrow to a smaller group. Let's hope that the negative people will keep their little mouths shut!

I just had another of those moments where I realized just how old I am. I had one this weekend as well. This weekend, my dear nephew failed the written part of his driving exam. When I heard the news, I flashed back to one of my first days in my profession. You see I deal with 14-18 year olds on a daily basis. On that particular day, one of the dearies was getting ready to go get her license. I laughed and said I hope it's not like in that movie "License to Drive" with the two Coreys (you know the one where the cute Corey and his twin sister go to get their license and he fails, but is too ashamed to tell anyone so he just pretends that he got it anyway... then chaos ensues?) Anywho.... the girls response? No, it wasn't, "Yeah, I hope not!" Her response was "Who are the Coreys?"

I'll wait while you compose yourself. I know how you must feel. The absurdity of the girl not knowing the two Coreys hit me pretty hard too. At that moment. I thought. Wow. I am old!

I had that same realization today. Being that it is the 5th anniversary of September 11th, I thought I would lead a discussion on the topic. I asked the students where they were at the time that they heard the news. It turns out that the majority were somewhere in 4th grade. Ironic. You see when I was in 4th grade, I also witnessed a national disaster when the Challenger exploded. How many of you instantly thought of Christa McCauliff? So Anyway... when talking about where we were when big things happened, i realized that these kids weren't even born yet. A major memory of mine, and they were still about 6 years away from conception. I know that one day, they will have the same experience with the next generation. But by then I will be about 15 years even older! Sheesh!

I have decided through peer pressure to begin my own blog. I have high hopes for my blogging adventure. Just as I had high hopes for the baby blanket I began when my sister told me she was pregnant. Of course, the blanket is a scarf, and the baby is 2 and a half.... but who says I won't finish it eventually? I am an excellent beginner. My issue is finishing what I have started. But I assure you that I will do my very best to inundate you with useless information about my life.

The world of blogging is new to me. I see those wacky kids with their MySpace accounts, and I wonder. How do they make it through the day? They are so artificially connected with everyone they meet! I swear they are getting dumber with each text message they send. Will they ever know the joy of actually talking to their friends on the house phone at 3 am. When they have to sneak and use it because there isn't a cell phone and if their parents found out they would be in big trouble? I remember actually dialing on the rotary phone at my parent's house, then laying on the bathroom floor whispering to my good friend until all hours of the night. Why didn't I talk to him that during the normal daytime hours you ask? Because unfortunately my Dad was the phone Nazi! Ahhhh.... the good old days of my dear Dad getting on the phone after 10 minutes to tell me to "Wrap it up." Now it would be no big deal because they could just IM or text or email or talk on their Razr phone.

I named my site "I am my father's daughter" for the sheer fact that each day I am turning more and more into him. Most men are warned that their wives will turn into her mother. My dear Chief could only wish that were true. But sadly for him I am more and more like my Dad every day. I find myself wondering why the kids on the phones can't just "Wrap it up" and do something else. And why they have to be out all hours of the night just to have fun. Any fun they can have they can have before crufew I tell you! And there in lies the second part of my Blog title. The "Damn it" part is because I was so sure that when I grew up that I was going to be hip and cool. Now it seems that I am just Hippy and Cold. Damn I'm getting old.