When I grow up I want to be: "BIG!"

So if you're a Pinterest devotee like mee, you may have seen the "Birthday Interview" pins sprinkled aboot. Being the little joiner that I am, I compiled a list of questions for TJ and conducted his three-year-old interview a couple days after his bday.

We even got through 2/3 of my 50 questions - not counting follow-ups. I mean, what kind of interviewer would I be if I wasn't prepared with questions, and thinking on my feet for those hard-hitting follow-ups? I have cred to maintain.

So, without further adieu...

Ladies and Gentlemen - THIERRY JAMES PAAARRRRR, 3 years old! (My comments are the words in italics.)

What is your name: "TJ."
How old are you: "Free!" We don't quite have that "th" sound down yet :)
What is your favorite color: "Black."
What is your favorite toy: "Dump trucks."
What is your favorite fruit: "Apples."

Doing good so far...

What is your favorite lunch: "Lasagna!"  

We've never had lasagna for lunch. Not once. But I digress.

What is your favorite game: "Fishy's!"
What is your favorite animal: "Horses!"
 - Me: "Any horse in particular?" 
 - TJ: "BENNY!" (Shout out Aunt Allie-Poo)
What is your favorite song: "Horses."  

<Smile> Nope, not a duplicate answer, that's our kick-off anthem for bedtime songs

What is your favorite outfit: ...<Wide eyes>..."I don't know."
 - Me: "Soccer jersey?" 
 - TJ: "Ummm...yeah."
What is your favorite thing to do: "Push buttons." (Hides giggle)
What is your favorite toy: "You just said that!"
 - Me: "No I didn't"...<looks at list>..."oh, right, yes I did."

Gah! Stop being smarter than me! When does this STOP?!

What do you want to be when you grow up: "BIG!"  

So profound. So hilarious.

What is your favorite cereal: "Cheerios"
What is your favorite food: "I just said lasagna!" 

Note to self: learn the difference between lunch and general food. THAT is important life stuff.

Who is your favorite person to spend time with: "YOU! And dadda!"
What is your favorite thing to do outside: "Go in that truck that talks!" That's never happened. "And go high in the air...And hit golf balls with the 7-iron."

Yes. Except for the talking truck. I have no idea what that even is.

What is your favorite drink: "Lemonade!"
What is your favorite holiday: "Christmas. And birthday party."
What do you take to bed every night: "Nightnight and nook."
What is your favorite sport: "Soccer."
What is your favorite show: "Thomas!...I need to go potty."

<Intermission>

And we're back!

What is your favorite sports team: "GIANTS!"
 - Me: <confused...and not pleased> "...Excuse me?..."
 - TJ: "Giants, mama!"

<Deep sigh, shakes head> I mean...what?

And WHO DID THIS?!

WHO?!

Not gonna lie. I needed a minute to compose myself before I continued the interview.

And then this...

What is your favorite birthday dinner: "LA-SAGN-NA, mama. LASAGNA...And candy."
Who is your best friend: "Dadda!" Saw that one coming.
Where do you live: "Rochester."
 - Me: "Where else?" (I was looking for "40!" or "Pink house!")
 - TJ: "Chicago." (Hmm..alright.)
 - Me: "Ok...where else?"
 - TJ: "Next to Mr. Tom. And Dennis."

I give up.
 
What do you do really well: "Poop." 

<Stifles an LOL> Now we're back on track.

What makes you laugh: "Jokes." Again with the profound!
What is your favorite book: "Itsy bitsy spider."
What is your favorite thing to do with your family: "...Am I done?..."

Yes. And you're 3.

<Big sigh>

So there ya go. 

Nostalgia. 

Eat it up.

We'll do this again next year. And hopefully 365 days is enough time to get good at something other than pooping.

Much love from next door to Mr. Tom and Dennis,
CP

A Shard of Parenting Brilliance, From Me to You

So, it happened again.

The post-partum dog hates hit me like a ton of bricks.

I could not handle our four-legged friends and their incessant barking, shedding, poopy, snoring nonsense.

Something had to happen. Someone HAD to go.

So, she’s gone. Miley is gonzo. And she’s not coming back.



I know what you’re thinking...

How could you?! That's terrible! You're despicable! BOOOOOO

I mean, I don’t feel great about it.

And when we made the call and sent Miley to a better place, the one thought going through my mind was “What are we going to tell TJ?...How are we going to tell our 2-year-old we did away with the dog?”

The answer turned out to be pretty simple, actually. When you ask TJ where Miley went, he will tell you…

"Miley went to college!"
 

It’s only a little lie. She actually went to my aunt’s house to keep my aunt’s family’s dog company.

Oh wait…did you think we put her down? Like, put her down-down?? Beezus, please. We are not running a kill shelter over here.

Actually, quite the opposite. From what my aunt tells me Miles is exhilaratingly, ecstatically, blissfully happy. She has a yard to run around in, and a buddy dog to play with, her pick of beds to sleep in with people to cuddle up to in them, and pretty constant activity since their house has people around a lot of the time.

Things couldn’t be better for the bitty Miley-Moo. While I do miss her, I can honestly say I do not miss her constant barking. Nor do I miss the little feces stinkbombs she would leave in the middle of the rug anytime we were gone too long.

So there’s your parenting lesson of the day, friends. Next time your family dog is driving you crazy and you depose the of body, however you choose to do it, just LIE TO YOUR CHILD about it, and tell the child the pet went to college.

Duh.

Brilliant.

You’re welcome.

And I’m probably going to hell.

Pitchforks and Arrow Tails,
Christa

Poopy Poop Poop Dung Feces Excrement.

In case you couldn't tell this is a shit-tastic post. As in poop. No there will not be pictures. Except ones I draw myself. And yes mom and grandma, I will probably drop the "s-word" a few more times.

So I'm 37 weeks preg-perego with this squirmy wormy baby girl in my belly and of course I'm really excited to meet her and cuddle with her and talk to her and love on her - that really goes without saying. But today I made a realization. The amount of excrement I will be handling on a daily basis is about to increase exponentially.

I cleaned up no fewer than 6 giant piles of dog crap today (half of which were IN MY HOUSE - anybody want a dog?), plus the two TJ poop diapers I changed (and that's everyday). In addition, we have to factor in a husband who likes to talk about feces and generally requires a toilet-plunging lesson everytime he's finished going number 2, and now we are adding a new baby who will have the (non-smelly, thank GOD) breastmilk runs eleventy-billion times a day. I mean, we are just talking about a whole lotta shit here.

I love my TJ more than anything, I would literally give the heart out of my chest for him, and that fact is made clear to me in part because I don't even mind changing his poopy diapers. I'm sure I'm just like most moms and actually feel a bit of relief when he has his regular bowel movements, just so I know everything is working alright in there.

T has pooped in the potty exactly one time, and I pretty much wanted to throw him a parade. In fact, when he is officially potty-learned I probably will embark on a one-woman ticker tape affair down Michigan Avenue. I'll say "Happy Poop Day" to people, because this is something my child actually says, usually when I'm trying to get him to say "Happy Birthday" to friends or fam on the phone and he gets bored.

The dogs are a different story.

I hate.

Cleaning up.

Dog poop.

So you can imagine how thrilled I was today to clean up the brontosaurus-sized piles of dung IN MY HOUSE, and outside today. The last time I took them out I didn't even take plastic bags with me, thinking there was NO WAYYYYY they could possibly have more poop to poop, but I was wrong.

So yesss, that makes me the asshole who didn't clean up after her dogs on Marshfield today - apologies friends.

So that's where my head is at today, as I'm weeks-to-days away from having a baby. Not on the fact that I haven't packed my hospital bag, or that I need to make my final call to be sure the new baby insurance paperwork is all squared away, or on getting her bed set up or buying a new changing table pad for the bedroom. No, no, no. I'm in feces-land. Thinking about how much more poopy poop crap feces I'm going to be elbow-deep in.

Ooh, the things the books don't talk about :)

Brown squishy love hugs,

Christa

I'm Trying to be Really Nice to the Dogs In Preparation for When I Hate Them in 5 Weeks.

We have two dogs. There is Stockton, Tom's 11-year-old pug and our resident senior citizen. And there is Miley who is my sweet little lady mutt rescue wonderdog.

I heart our pups.

Until I have a baby and I hate their guts.

Two years ago before I had TJ I loooooved my little Miley and Stockton. They slept with us in the bed every night, we went on daily walks no matter how gross or crappy it was outside, we cuddled and played, I dressed them up and bought them toys and covered them with blankets when they were cold, and there were many evenings when Stockton would lay on my chest and Miley would lay on my legs while I was reading or watching TV. At the time I seriously could not imagine loving any living thing more than I loved these dogs.

And then I had a baby. And the dogs were like three times his size. And they became public enemy #1A+.

GIANT DOGS, tiny baby...and Stockton winking at the camera as if to say, "This kid is going to replace me on the throne of greatness? We'll see about that..."

Why public enemies, you ask?

Well, first and foremost there was the barking...Oh My G, the barking.

EveryTIME T was sleeping somewhere in the front room area, one of these two assholes would decide to bark at something, usually imagined, and T would, of course, wake up. Just, no.

I was not afflicted with any sort of post-partum depression difficulty when I had TJ, but you would never have known that if the only time you saw me was when I was around these dogs. They were always in the way, they were always barking, they always needed food, or water, or to go outside, or to breathe.

And then, of course, there was the shedding. They. Shed. Everywhere. Making the environment FILLED with contaminants and dander that could harm my child's breathing functions and I hated them.


I wanted to kill them, in fact. I wanted to open the door, let them run outside, and then lock the door behind them. Or drive to the middle of a field, let them out of the car, and then drive away. Or stuff them in the bathroom and make them live in the tub forever.

So in preparation of all of those feelings returning in 5-6 weeks, I'm doing my best to be nice to them like the old days. I'll be honest, Stockton is just too smelly anymore to lay on my chest and be allowed to breathe/sneeze directly into my face, and it's just too big of a pain to take them for a long walk EVERYday, especially if I have to do it all by myself with a two year old, AND pick up the poop (a weird no-no during pregnancy).

So there you have it. A confession of negativity. A chink in the sunny disposition.

Stockton and Miley, I love you...for now.
Christa

We Don't Get Smut TV Anymore...Sad Face

So when we moved to Chicago we were on a bit of a budget and decided not to get cable right away. As luck would have it, upon inhabiting our domicile we plugged the TV cable into the wall and <ta-da!> there was TV! All the major networks, plus the History channel (major score) and PBS for the tiny tot. Perf, wonderful, sunshine sparkle rainbows - no cable purchase necessary.

One small issue - and only I would think this is an issue, TP think it's the very best thing in the world - and it's that we no longer get the E! Network, which means we no longer get the mind-numbing, nonsensical, brain cell depleting smut TV that I <deep breath> enjoyyyy watching from time to time.

I mean, PBS and the History Channel are great - but there are times in my week when I don't want to think while I watch TV...is that terrible? Sometimes I just want to kick back and be entertained by Ice and Coco and Coco's moron assistant. Or I might want to catch up on the latest celebrity gossip with that one "news" show that Giuliana used to host. Or maybe she still does host it? I don't even know - because I can't even watch it ever! I don't have my Girls Next Door, and who wouldn't miss Chelsea calling them an asshole every night at 11:30?

When I want the Kardashians to entertain me like clowns I now have to create it myself...

<GIANT SIGH>

What's a girl to do. Cling to the internet and MSPaint, obviously. Devour my US Weekly every Friday. And keep learning things mneehhh on the History Channel, I GUESSSSS.