I Love a Parade

I took Mason to his first parade last week. The firetrucks fascinated him, the band made him dance, and the whole thing made me realize (yet again) how contradicting parenting is.

Hey Mase, how 'bout ya go play in traffic and eat candy thrown at you by strangers! I'll yell at you for doing it some other day, but today it's totally cool.

Top 10 Reasons (Carefully Selected from my List of 100 Reasons) Why I'm Crazy

Oh, Mason.. I love you. I really do and I hope you never doubt that, even when I'm sitting in the corner rocking back and forth while contemplating the cheapest, fastest, closest-to-legal way to get my hands on some Zoloft. In case you wonder someday why Mommy's crazy, here are the top 10 reasons why:

10. "Mine". You know those kids you see running around grabbing toys from other kids, not sharing, greedily wanting everything for themselves? Yeah, I hated those kids and I was absolutely not going to have one of those kids. I mean, didn't their parents teach them to share? Before you could speak, I had this idea that I was going to bring you up in the ideal hippie, everybody-loving-everybody, caring, bubble world. Yeah, well, that was a bunch of elitist crap. "My truck, my slide, my dog, my purse, my toys, my sandwich, mine, mine, mine." Really? That's your 2010 Mustang driving down the street? I think not.

9. The Tornado Effect. In Mason Land, every puzzle, every book, every freaking nibbled-on crayon must be on the floor at all times and scattered around in disarray. Sometimes, I find myself wondering how much fun that would be, pulling everything off it's shelf and just laughing hysterically at the mess I've created. The answer: not fun at all. And ya know why? Because I'd have to clean it up. Do you clean it up? Nope. "Help me clean up your toys" is answered only with more laughter and more chaos.

8. Rubber Legs. A trip to the grocery store is dreaded by the both of us, trust me. But when I have to run in to get some milk, I don't have the luxury of collapsing into a puddle of baby, laying there all limp until I'm picked up and carried. I walk. You weigh thirty-one pounds and I haven't been to the gym in months. How 'bout you walk too?

7. Whiiiining. Oh man, the whining. You've known the sign language for water since you were 8 months old and you've known how to speak the actual word since 11 months, so why the need point at the Brita pitcher while grunting and squealing? I just don't get it. Isn't it easier to just say water? Heck, you even know how to say please. Don't your ears hurt, too?

6. Fun with Food. One day, baby carrots are the best food you've ever had and you'll eat twelve of them and still ask for more. The next day, you chew them up into mush and spit them into my hand. Apparently, it's also tons of fun to smear cream cheese all over your face and then cry because your hands are messy. I made your baby food from scratch, fed you only organic fresh crap, and now there are days when I'm thankful to see you eat three french fries for dinner.

5. Diaper Removal. For godsakes, keep it on. If you don't want to wear it, potty train. Grandma would have a bird if she knew how often you peed on her carpet (sorry, Mom).

4. 3AM Playtime. I don't know what prompts you to wake up in the wee hours of the night ready to play. I know that I'm a ton of fun and to be honest sometimes I can't wait 'til morning to hang out with myself either, but every once in awhile I need to get some sleep too. I don't want to rush time, but oh how I can't wait for your teenage years when I'll get to wake you up for school at 6AM while you yell at me to leave you alone. I daydream of waking you up for seventh grade by whining and crying and throwing toys at you while you try in vain to sleep through it all. Payback, baby.

3. Embarrassing moments. Screaming "Mommy poop!" while we're in the bathroom at a restaurant (I wasn't even pooping!). Grabbing a pair of my underwear out of my drawer without me knowing and dropping them on the floor in the middle of a crowded living room. Calling a random stranger "daddy". I could go on, but now I'm embarrassed.

2. Getting dressed. Oh how I miss the days when you laid there like a little lump while I calmly got you dressed in the morning. Somehow, our morning routine has turned into me frantically chasing you around the house with a pair of shorts while you crack up with one arm dangling through a shirt-sleeve and one shoe on the wrong foot.

1. "Mama. Mama. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy." WHHHHAAAAT??

I do love you though. Really.

Not-Very-Silly String

Hey, I thought it was funny.

Bog Walkers

Mase had a doctor's appointment the other day. 31.2 pounds, 34.5 inches tall - a "huge two-year-old" by the doctor's fancy growth chart. He got one shot (yes, I know, he's a million vaccinations behind, and yes I still only want him to get one) and a blood draw for lead testing. He held my hand and didn't shed a tear, but I still wanted to make it up to him.

I planned on taking him to the beach, but it was pretty overcast and windy so we settled for the Bog Walk at Blacky. It's Philipsburg's equivalent of Ocean City, Maryland and it consists of a wooden path over the murky waters of the Black Moshannon River. I love taking Mason places I went when I was younger. Oh, sweet nostalgia.

What's usually a four minute walk to the end took us about forty minutes. When we got there, we had a picnic and I read a little while Mase threw blueberries to the fish.

Afterwards, Mason got another treat and a trip to the park since I was still feeling guilty about the shot.


Or maybe I just wanted ice cream.


Another beautiful day...

Evie G

Mads has a new little sister - Evelynn Grace.

Holding her made me almost want another baby. Don't worry though, I'll be stopping in at Aimee's daily for stories for sleepless nights and bleeding nipples.

Welcome to the world, Evie. And good luck keeping up with Mase and Mads. I can't even handle those two.

Because it Wouldn't Be Bathtime...

if I didn't take humiliating pictures of my kid.

If You Can't Duct It...

Mason's having a slight problem with... keeping it in his pants... and I'm having a slight problem coming to terms with washing sheets every morning.

On Night One of my attempts to fix this problem, I taped up his diaper:


and failed. I don't know how he did it, but he woke up soaked and diaperless at 4AM.

On Night Two, I got serious:

Success. I've been ducting him for three nights now, and we've had three dry, laundryless mornings. Oh, the stories I'll tell his future girlfriends...

Just Stuff

It's amazing how much of your life can be packed into your Prius...

I've been home for about two weeks. I don't have a job and I'm living with my mom while (slowly) fixing up the house next door where Mase and I will get to live rent free until further notice. I'm pretty short on cash. Actually, short on cash doesn't begin to describe it, but it's the first phrase that comes to mind.

Today, I went to the office of domestic relations and got the paperwork I need to file for child support. I have an appointment on Monday, and no, George, it's not because I hate you and it's definitely not because I want to ruin your life. It's because I love Mason so much that the thought of not being able to provide everything he needs makes me sick to my stomach. It's because I don't want to feel like I'm failing him anymore. It's because I finally admitted to myself that maybe I can't do it all on my own... at least not right now. I just want to go to sleep tonight knowing I'm doing the best I can. Making the best decisions I know how to make. Not letting Mason miss out on anything because I'm either too stubborn to accept help or I feel too guilty to do what I need to do to get it.

I don't know. All the stuff, all that crap crammed into my stupid car that I can't afford, none of it matters. The child support doesn't matter either, aside from wanting to give absolutely everything to the person who does matter in this whole mess. I have half of everything I own shoved into a $100/month storage unit, the other half not-very-comfortably occupying a 10x10 bedroom in my mom's way-too-small house, and the other half running around smilling and giggling and learning and growing and I completely understand how contradictory I must sound. A dichotomy of 'it's just stuff' vs. 'I need money'. But I can't take my big heart to the store and try to buy diapers with it. My love isn't going to send Mason to Montessori preschool.

I'm doing the best I can. I promise.

Spring Creek and Best Friends

It only took one trip for Aimee and Madelynn's love of this park to rub off on Mason and me. I can see where we'll be spending most of our summer. It's crazy how Mase and Mads have gone from two little blobs propped up next to each other to two little people playing together.