Valentines Day - Pre & Post Kidletts

A Pre-Kidletts Valentines Day Story:

Husband wakes up wife with kisses and a morning romp.
Whispers and promises of more fun to come later.
A sweet ado, and off to work he goes.
Wife spends the afternoon doing whatever the heck she wants and, most importantly, getting ready.
And when pre-kidlett Wife gets ready, she does it right.
Long hot shower, carefully shaved legs, lotion and perfume, curling the hair, curling the eyelashes, make up; the works. And of course, picking out that hot little number, most likely black. Black is slimming.

Husband arrives home from work with a bouquet of favorite flowers adorning his arm.
Husband is super pleased with the hotness of wife. Wife is pleased husband is pleased.
Some flirting, some kissing, and they leave on-time for their romantic dinner.
They drink wine and take long, slow bites, fully enjoying every piece of food that touches their lips.
They look lovingly and longingly into each others eyes. They whisper some more.
They return home, Husband carries Wife over the threshold, and...if you have any imagination at all, you know what comes next.

All in all, a perfect romantic evening.


Post-Kidletts Valentines Day Story:

Wake up bleary eyed from a long night with a newborn.
Husband says, 'I love you'. Bleary eyed Wife says 'Happy Valentines Day babe' and sticks a boob in the baby's mouth and falls back asleep.
Instead of a whisper waking her up she hears ' Mom!! MOM!!! MOOOOOOOOOOM!' thundering from her toddlers room.
She stumbles down the hallway, changes a massive poop diaper and totes toddler downstairs to watch Sesame Street. With both kids spoken for, she bolts into the shower.
Showered, dressed, make up & hair thrown back into a messy chignon in under 4 1/2 minutes.
Wife spends the afternoon changing diapers, nursing, and building skyscrapers with toddler and his blocks.
Husband texts Wife on the way home from the grocery store 'Got into an accident. That was fun.'
A few moments later Wife learns it was minor, Husband is fine and it wasn't his fault.
Wife breathes sigh of relief, then feeds toddler, toddler gets oatmeal everywhere, Wife bathes toddler. [What do you call a woman who bathes a kid and nurses at the same time? SuperWoman.]
Bleary eye and tired Husband arrives home mildly annoyed from the accident, with a slightly crushed single rose adorning his arm. Husband kisses wife, puts away groceries, opens a beer, takes baby from Wife's arms and sits on the couch.
After putting toddler to bed, Husband and Wife start cooking. It's 8 pm. Baby wakes up crying, Wife straps baby in the Moby. With baby finally asleep they finish cooking and sit down around 9 pm to a tasty and hot meal of filet mignon, risotto, and mozzarella caprese. Baby wakes up, of course, so Husband eats meal one handed while holding baby. Toddler rouses, and which parent went to soothe him; this story teller doesn't remember. Wife drinks wine too quickly.
Husband starts to say something romantic, when he is cut off by Wife. Not by her lips, or saying something romantic in return, but rather a fart. Wife had a baby 3 weeks prior and she doesn't have full control of her sphincter muscles yet.
Husband and Wife break into laughter. 'Were you going to say something romantic...and then...I farted???' she sputters in between laughs.
'Yes.'
'Well....let me finish your thought. All.....things.....considered........I  love....you.....aaaaand....?
'...this was a really nice evening.'
'I love you too. Welcome to life with children. Happy Valentines Day babe.
'Happy Valentines day love.'

Husband and wife crawl into bed, with baby, and with a quick kiss, they crash.
No romping for this tired, kidlett-clad couple. There's always next year.

red peckers & roller coasters

{tired arms from waving a white flag}

The Brink Haus has seen some high high's and some looow lowwwww's today.

It all started with a frantic cry from his room at 12:30 last night.

As usual I reached into the crib to find his pacifier and re-plug, but what I found instead was a warm puddle of vomit. I turn on the light and see Rue crying and rubbing his eyes/heads/face with little vomit hands. 'Chris [I know you have to get up at 6 to shovel your car and give a presentation to the owner of your company on your new design and you need your brain working tomorrow, but I need you to come here and] help!'

So we get him cleaned up, new bedding, and he's sleeping again within minutes. I figure [hope really] that his tummy must've been upset and it's nothing to worry about. I doze off to sleep.

Around 1:30 I hear him cry again. More vomit. At that point I realized it is something more serious and probably is that strange vomit/viral bug that has been traveling around all the church kids. [MOMS OUT THERE- If your kid is sick puhlease, DON'T bring them to play-dates!] I laid awake for another hour or two racked with anxiety. Of course there was nothing more that I could do at that point, but I'm his mother....it's my job to worry.

This morning he woke up an hour later than usual, we snuggled in bed and everything seemed hunky dory. Until, you guessed it, more vomit. I called our pediatrician and he confirmed based on symptoms that it is a viral 24-48 bug going around. With some extra TLC the afternoon seemed to have finally turned around. He was happy and eating and talking away. Then out of the blue came the screaming. The frantic screaming. The being cut with ten thousand little daggers screaming. I couldn't figure it out! I took him upstairs to change his diaper and what do I find? A huge crap and terrible diaper rash, with the worst of it on le Pecker. Thanks to my 3-day long STUPID HEAD COLD, I couldn't smell his overly full diaper! mom fail.

Uggghhhhhhhhhhhh. Rue, if you read this someday, I am SO SORRY. [I only have the best intentions when it comes to your pecker. And I don't mean that in an awkward way. I'm gonna stop typing my thoughts now.] So, I'm feeling like I earned a crappy mom award.

I can't breathe, my kid has a red pecker, and it's only wednesday.

a talented pair

A story I forgot to share:

A while back I was changing Rue. Well, trying to. He's a moving target.

So he was squirming allll over the place. I nearly couldn't hold him down any longer.

In the blink of an eye he had flipped over, crouched onto his knees and then stood up and had reached into the baskets on the shelf next to the changing station. Then...it happened. His feet slipped from under him and fell feet first, into.......

The hamper.

The hamper full of cushioning dirty clothes. There aren't many moments that I am proud of neglecting full hampers...but that day, I WAS PROUD.

This is a mom fail moment that made me laugh instead of cry, and I especially want to remember laughing moments.

:)

so.sad.

isn't that the most adorable/sad little face you've ever seen?

pooooor baby.

burned his palm and thumb on the radiator.

it was heartwrenching.

and let me just say it is not easy to keep a crawling baby from crawling, nor is it easy to keep wounds clean. it's also nearly impossible to keep a bandaid on a baby.

thankfully my neighbor is an EMT and he said it looks as though it's healing nicely.

but gosh, that doesn't comfort a mama much.

it's 7:51 am.

baby woke up at 5:30 [2 hours] earlier than usual.

then, he threw up an entire meal on me and my pretty wool anthropologie rug.

it's only 7:54 am, and I am working on coffee cup #2.

so instead on dwelling on how bad I smell and how $ it will be to clean my rug, I'm going to stare at the mega watt smile above and think happy thoughts.

good morning motherhood!

mom fail #2

I grew up watching MacGyver.

I'd like to thank him for helping me this morning.

I may, or may not, have locked myself out of the house today.

The baby may, or may not have been sleeping inside.

Let's go with 'may'.

I had the monitor with me as I 'unlocked' the door on my way over to my neighbors to feed their cats. Little did I know, I actually locked the door, not 'un'. So much difference that little 'un' word makes.

When I realized my mom fail #2, I tried not to panic. After all, it's only 95 degrees outside, none of my neighbors are answering and I'm wearing my freshly cleaned white linen pants.

Exhale. Call husband. No answer. 3rd neighbor attempt- he was home!

[enter MacGyver] Armed with a flathead, I set my sights on my storm windows. No luck. Contemplate breaking......Hubs might be less than impressed. Next idea. Side door!! I wiggled my screwdriver in and yet, fail again. My last option was the front door. Somehow, I did it. I wiggled the screwdriver between the jam and the lock and voila! I was in shock!

I channeled MacGyver and kicked that door's ass, and I didn't even dirty my white linen pants.

Thank you Mac, for showing me how to make a bomb from a toothpick and a gum wrapper. You're still a hero in my 8 year old eyes.