Little Monster,

Your Mommy is a bit of a wuss so today was a scary day for her. You had tubes put in your tiny monster ears. You have basically had an ear infection since the end of July. You have been on antibiotics five times and slept for approximately 42 minutes in the last five months. Even for a monster, that just sucks.

I love you. I love rocking your little monster body to sleep each night. Once or twice or even three times is ok. Anything above that and we start to enter “Mommy wants to stick her head in the freezer until her ear drums go numb” territory. But still worse was that fact that my monster was not growling out of pure furry fun, you were like a lion with a thorn in your paw. One that couldn't hear.

I did not like the idea of an anesthesiologist putting my tiny monster out. I did not like the idea of holes is your little monster eardrums. I did not like the idea of restrictions on any deep sea diving or water slides for the next year, but it was necessary.

You see monster, over the last nine months I have had exactly zero nights where I have slept all the way through. I have had many, many nights where your daddy was out of town and I had to work the next day and I was awake cradling a screaming baby all. night. long.

Your daddy and I were once bestest buds. Long term sleep deprivation is a terrible thing little babe. One false move on you dads part the last few months and he might have been looking at a fatal paper cut. Or a diaper in his face. Or I might have run away to Bangkok with the nice waiter from the restaurant down the street and done foreign, exotic Thai things while your daddy got some quality monster time.

I don't know if this will help you sleep, but it will help you hear. It will stop the pain. I will feel less guilty if I turn up Gossip Girl if you wake up 20 minutes after I lay you down so I can drown you out with Chuck Bass for five minutes before I go rescue you. Or maybe I'll still come grab you right away because you're my favorite cuddle partner and I think you have a crush on Leighton Meester.



Jared is not a very patient wait room person.

I received so many lovely and thoughtful gifts for Christmas this year (did I mention my husband managed to sneak a piano into my living room at two in the morning Christmas Day?) but there was one extra special present. I am so lucky to know an AMAZING artist. She is actually an amazing everything and art is just one of the notches is her talent belt. Not fair.

She was kind enough to ask me and Phinny to pose for a picture earlier this year for a painting she was doing as a gift. On Christmas Day she gave me an additional painting she did just for me. Did I mention I was super, super spoiled? She is so talented/kind/fantastic and if you ever get the chance to own a painting by Missy Ames, consider yourself very, very lucky.

I asked her if she would think it was a bit vain to hang it on the ceiling over my bed so I can stare at it all the time. I haven't been able to get a good pic yet with my camera, but here is one I took with my cell.

And by the way

If you were curious as to why I posted a picture of Lesco trying to eat my face in the most unflattering way possible, it's because I'm super envious of the way he can bust out a blue steele on demand and I just look angry.

But Lesco has not had a good day. In fact, he has had a crap day. The tipping point was when a cute bulldog wandered over to him in the dog park and marked her territory. All over his leg.

Bummer Jared. So to cheer him up, here is hot, model Jared and not good for runway or commercial shifty eyed Mel.

A Happy Christmas

I love LOVE Christmas and I am always so sad when it's over. Like I look at my countdown to Christmas clock and see three hundred and sixty something days and get an eye tear sad. This year was the best. Christmas Eve Eve was perfect. Christmas Eve was perfect and Christmas Day was best of all.

We baked sugar cookies, visited friends, stormed families homes and ate until we both looked like we were about to pop out a sibling for little Phin. That last part was not so cool but hello January, hello treadmill and peace out breakfast fudge.

Having my own little elf (you didn't know monsters turned into elves during Christmas?!?!?) to tote around made it even better. Why? Because he was far too young to open his own presents so that meant double (triple?) the present tearing time for myself! Or maybe it was because he is the cutest little thing to ever grace this planet with his existence and just knowing this was his first time experiencing the magic of Christmas made my being glow. Granted eating paper is totally the reason for the season for him at this point, but someday he'll get just what this time of year celebrates. There is such great potential in his beautiful, old soul. I love him and am in awe my Heavenly Father think Jared and I are worthy of being his parents.

Merry Christmas!

Santa, Santa

Today my monster met one of the worlds most important people, Mr. Santa Claus. He was on his best behavior. He knows that in just two days and two hours Santa will decide if he deserves a stocking full of squishy things to chew on or fuel for the fire place. Normally monsters love fires and things that start them, but he can use some new bath toys and we are in a recession people. Even monsters need to make smart business moves. Besides, he can just use our dead dead dead tree for fuel. Then the couches. Then the bathroom cupboard because that sucker has got to go.

He has never seen a human with that much facial hair and he gave him several long, long looks before he determined that yes, he did want to eat it.



The cousins came too. This year they were a little nicer and didn't run screaming in terror. That just hurts Mr. Clause's feelings.



Even when we walked away he couldn't take his eyes off of him. That Santa is one tricky fella.



I'm really hoping that Phinny Phin tricked Ho Ho Clause into coming to our house this Friday. I reallllllly want some yummy chocolates and he knows how to hook a girl up.

DIY queen. QUEEN!

This year I kinda suck in the Christmas/wife/citizen department. Last year was also slightly sucky but I blamed it on being miserable and pregnant. I wonder if for the rest of my life I will have something to excuse the fact that I have presents with no tags (my bad Steve, that Victoria's Secret set was for Na, but I think you'd smell great in Pure Seduction) and a tree that might burst into flames at any given second due to the fact that I haven't watered it in three weeks.

Either way, I checked out some photos from Christmas past to reassure myself that I've totally improved.

Example one. Circa 2003

I always tell people that one of our first years married we were so poor that we couldn't afford stockings so we stole a pair of my sisters old soccer socks and wrote our names on them with permanent marker. Shove a fake poinsettia on it and voila. Don't worry people, this won't be turning into a diy blog anytime soon.

But seriously, what the hell? Was this the year I couldn't kick the glue habit? Actually, that year would have been 1988 and I was waaay craftier then. I rocked that macaroni necklace project like a mini Jared (the one that has Just in front of his name and not the one living in my house). And in the name of full disclosure I was more of a glue eater than sniffer but I'm sure that can't be any better for the brain cells.

Side note Monster, don't eat glue.

If I could afford stuff to shove in the sock, couldn't I have just run down to the dollar store and grabbed a stocking? I definitely wasn't in an eco phase, but I might start claiming that. I was just re purposing people. And no, I didn't wash the socks. My machine wasn't energy star approved.

I should finish this blog, but my monster is ready to torch something small and flurry until then, a picture of my best excuse.

Stick a monster in something cute and fluffy and you have the perfect Trojan horse. Don't give him any money, I'm pretty sure he's running some sort of ponzi scheme.

PS

Did I tell you that I have discovered the best way to stop a monster from taking a bite out of you is to take a bite out of the monster?

Christmas, Christmas

Is is bad that my Lesco and I still try to wake up super early just so we can beat each other to the advent calendar? Is it worse that I went a whole day with out speaking to him because I KNOW he cheated and changed it before we went to bed? Am I the worst Mom ever because the list of one hundred and fifty two thousand things I can't wait for Phinny to do does not include moving the mouse on MY Avon Mouse Advent Calendar?

Look at that cute little mouse. Would you share?

Other Christmasy things have invaded our home and I like it very much.

I really need to clean that lamp.





Ignore me and my giant purple sesame street legs and focus on the monster. Focus! This is what he looks like right before he attacks you for your fudge. Only monsters and grinches steal christmas treats and he's not green (although he does have a super fab olive complexion).

Sometimes I want to cry because he is just so dang beautiful. Other times I want to cry because he just ripped a handful of my hair right off my head. I snapped this pic after one of those moments.

Who has a party to go to?

All my invites are for more casual affairs, but I'm seriously considering shelling out some cash for a fundraiser so I can buy this. Anyone else out there need a party dress? Someone should own this vintage gem. Scalloped edges? check. Butt ruffles? check. Exposed back? Check, check, check!!! I can just picture myself floating around in this.

Someone invite me to a fancy party!!!

I'm a girl that loves my space. I hate when people touch me. I am not a hugger. I may like you, or even like like you, but I will not willingly wrap my arms around you unless you're choking and there is a news person around and I have to save your life. Even then, if my hair looks bad I'll probably just let Jared do it. Worse than the hug is the random shoulder massage. I'm not responsible if I flip around and karate chop your neck. It's just a reflex.

Generally Jared does not fall into the no touching zone. Lately though, our bed is getting just too small. The problem is Lesco. He has legs like fricken tree trunks. As the smaller human, it is my right to have my legs on top. He throws one on top of me and I start to lose blood flow to the lower half of my body. It came to a head while I was pregnant.

He would not stay on his side.

It eventually came to this.


The belts have come down, but it looks like they might have to be reinstated.
This morning I woke up and had a dog, a cat, a lesco and a monster in bed with me. I need a California king.

Oh Christmas Tree

I cry all the time. I love crying. Sad news articles, goopey commercials, good books, pictures of bears trying to climb into tiny buckets. Tears. Last year my fave was some jewelry commercial where a mom was rocking her new babe by the tree. I would rewind it over and over if I wanted a good cry. If Jared even attempted to interrupt my tear fest I would throw anything within arms reach to shut him up. My animals learned to duck and cover. My husband never learned anything. Too wild to tame.

In my head I could just see myself with my sweet little babe the next year. Well it happened tonight. My perfect little monster was mad and growly and on the verge of burning down a church so I walked him around the tree and sang pretty little songs. He fell asleep on my shoulder and I wanted to freeze time right there. My baby, my tree, my cold December night. My baby. I know tomorrow when I'm at work or next month or year or decade when I'm having a gray day I'll close my eyes and think of right then and feel much warmer.

Our not so little Christmas tree. :)

Shouldn't this make him love me more?

Someday Phinny will be very surprised to learn that everyone doesn't have homemade pizza for dinner several times a week. I'm an addict.

10k in 10 degrees.

I ran (okay maybe slowly jogged or limped dragging my bad leg while whistling war songs from the 40's) the turkey trot this year. This might seem tempting to you. You might think that this would give you free license to eat all the stuffing and pie you can get your hands on while smugly telling people that you are just sooo hungry from the race you ran that morning. More gravy please. I'm here to tell you holidays are not for exercising.


Your husband might take a picture of you looking like a boy with a ponytail.



As we drove to the race site I watched the thermometer slowly drop and drop on the dashboard. I briefly considered peeing my self while racing for a happy moment of heat. I opted out because I realized post pee my pants would freeze and that would cause uncomfortable chafing.

I met my chicas and learned that one of them had forgot an ear warmer. There were several children under the age of ten that had quality looking headbands but we were pretty sure they could all out run us. And knock us down and take our keys. Not worth it. Somehow she survived with her ears still attached.

I think I just regained feeling in my toes 37 minutes ago.

Monsters prefer heat and bananas to eat that aren't frozen. Warm meat > frozen fruit.


Post race we started a fight with each other just to see if we could still feel anything. Physically or emotionally.

Monster, a few house rules.

Dear Monster,

My family has long had a love affair with all things edible. However, you do not seem to know exactly what that word means. Because of this, I feel that it is my duty as your mother to make you a list of things you should not eat.

Let's start with the dog. Stop trying to eat my puppy. Not edible or very clean these days. We like her, she keeps the cat (also not food) in line and frankly she's a much better sleeper than you are.

The bows on the Christmas presents. Shiny = fun. Shiny does not = delicious. It might mean interesting diapers. It might mean silly pictures. It does not mean a healthy digestive track.

My hair. I like it on my head. Go after Daddy all you like, he deserves it. I think he might go bald someday anyway. Sorry Lesco.

Anything electric. So far we've been able to avoid this but the way you're scrabbling these days we might have to switch to candlelight and battery operated lamps. I have a tendency to catch my arm hair on fire whenever I fiddle with matches so can you just give up on this one? That burnt hair smell sticks around forever.

Dirt. That's just...unhygienic.

Also, the bathtub, grocery carts, your Vovo, our couches and the aquarium at the pediatrician's office. And the pediatrician. Thanks little one!