diapers, schmiapers

Hi, my name is Jill, and I'm a country music binge-listener.
There. I said it. My secret is out. No more blackmail letters in the mail.

So any way there's this song that has been stuck in my head all day. "Watching You" by Rodney Atkins. It's about a dad realizing just how much is little boy sees. I like the lyrics more than the tune, but it's a fun song. Specifically, here's the part that's been buzzing around in my head all morning:

...I've been watching you dad, ain't that cool
I'm your buckaroo, I wanna be like you
And eat all my food and grow as tall as you are
We like fixing things and holding mama's hand
Yeah we're just alike, hey ain't we dad
I wanna do everything you do
So I've been watching you

Now, this song has always reminded me of Nick and Connor; they really are exactly like this. Take today, for instance. Nick is in New Orleans running the Mardi Gras Marathon this weekend, so Connor and I are on our own. This morning, in order to get a few minutes alone to shower and get dressed, I popped Connor's newest TV obsession into the DVD player. (yeah, bad mamma, I know). As usual, this plan works for several seconds and then...pitter patter...down the hall, he follows me to see what I'm doing.

This in and of itself is not unusual. He follows Nick and I into the bathroom all the time, however, he didn't yell for me or open the shower curtain like he usually does. Instead, I hear him put up both the toilet cover and seat. I peek out the curtain so that he can't see me and I see him standing there...making believe he's peeing! He's standing in front of the toilet (not his potty), his little legs spread apart and he's got the front of his pants and diaper pulled down as far as he can get them (not quite far enough). When he notices me peeking at him, he says "pee-pee". He then slams down the toilet seat cover and flushes the toilet.

Almost 2 years ago, I was worried that his squishy little newborn head would fall off when I was putting his shirt on, now he's emulating a dude at a urinal. Talk about time flying!

I've got the feeling that I'm running on ice

icyrunning
Originally uploaded by Imamamma.

So the PMS-monster is making a visit. In an effort to avoid gaining 50 pounds of pure sugar and trans-fats, I thought I'd go for a run this evening. As you can see, my favorite running trail is a bit icy. So I'm plodding along enjoying myself when I come to a particularly icy spot. I had to stop running and kinda shuffle along to avoid landing on my bum. I'm kinda laughing about how awkward I must look and then my iPod decides to accentuate this very point. What comes on? The Girl From Ipanema.

When she walks, she's like a samba
That swings so cool and sways so gentle
That when she passes, each one she passes goes - ooh

uh-huh. Slipping in the ice...exactly like swinging your bootie on the way to the beach. :-)

More waddle than throttle

My first 5K
Originally uploaded by Imamamma.

So I did it. Last week I finished my first 5K. The race was the first in a 4-race seriesheld every year in Indianapolis. 5K, 10K, 15K and a half-marathon. I'm signed up for all but the half. I'm sure I'll be doing more and more walking as the runs get longer and longer. It wasn't pretty, and it certainly wasn't quick, but I did it. And I ran the whole thing.

I know you're dying for the stats...my finish time was 40:25, ranked 649 out of 757 runners. Right up there at the top... ;-) I did, however, beat some guy right in the last few yards. Poured on the speed and wizzed past him (he probably heard me wheezing behind him and didn't want to get crushed when I finally collapsed).

What's with the freaks?

So...like I frequently do, I posted some cute pictures of Connor on my Flickr site the other day. One of the pictures was a nudie pic of him riding on his wooden rocking horse. It's funny...just your typical innocent naked-kid picture. He's got a big cheesey grin. Our parents all have nudie pics of us and my intention is to share these with friends and family.

Well I noticed today that the picture has over 200 views. Now that in and of itself wouldn't concern me, but the picture before that in my photostream has only a handful of views, then this one has over 200. This means that someone (likely, lots of someones) is looking at JUST that picture in my photostream. So this got me to thinking...last summer I posted a couple of pictures of the dude running around naked in the backyard. Again, innocent pictures meant to amuse. Well each of those pictures have 100 and 200 views respectively.

So...out of the 300-some pictures in my photostream, just three pictures have more than 200 views. "Coincidentally" all are photos of a naked-kid. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE!? I went back and, of course, changed the permissions on those three pictures such that just family and friends could see them, but what is wrong with the world that I even had to do this!?

I swear, sometimes I want to pack up Nick and Connor, and move to a cave at the top of a cliff somewhere. People freak me out.

Hear that? Me either.

Seems to me that I should be cleaning the house right now. Connor is napping, Nick is studying at the library, and we have friends coming over tonight for dinner. Instead, I'm laying on the livingroom floor, on Connor's froggie chair in my PJs, listening to NPR reading blogs, reading the news and generally playing on the web. Peace and quiet, wonderful peace and quiet.

And in case you're wondering, yes...I'm plalying with formatting. That's why the colors and sizes of things keep changing around here. Links pop up and disapear... I like that Blogger has all these templates and user-friendly menus, bu I'm trying to learn to decipher the wonder that is html, so I'm avoiding the shortcuts as often as possible. Problem is, it's not possible too often, and when it IS possible, my experimentation tends to be interrupted without much forewarning (hence the giant purple header...) I'm trying to become an html guru between work and connor and life...so...to say that it's slow-going would be like saying that it's a tad nippy in Siberia. :-) Please feel free to Ignore broken links, odd colors and other bizzare-ness.

gripe gripe gripe

The other day I was reading Lea's blog and I swear her most recent post could've been written by me. Or anyone with a kid or kids. To quote my beautiful, wise and articulate friend...
"Why is it that when you're a mama, your choices seem to so often revolve around peace or sleep. quiet time to yourself or sleep. working out or sleep. clean house or sleep. a well organized life or sleep. "

You said it, sista! Somebody buy that woman a spa package!!!!!

I have worked way too much these past few weeks and have taken approximately 13.2 minutes of me-time in the last month. Okay, slight exaggeration, but it feels like that... Or maybe I have the winter grumbles. That's probably closer to the truth.

I'm supposed to be training for the Indianapolis 500 training series. It's a series of progressively longer road-races, the first (and shortest) of which is next weekend. I haven't gotten out for a good run in almost a week. It's nobody's fault, really, we've just been so busy...but it sucks feeling pulled in so many directions. Our local YMCA has a daycare program, but leaving Connor there terrifies him beyond belief. For some stupid reason, they won't let us stay in the daycare area with him while he gets used to it. They want me to just drop him off and go. Yeah, aside from the fact that I'm not going to be able to unwind after just dumping Connor on people I don't even know, he cries the entire time. We've twice left him for a 10-minute test run and he clung to one of the daycare workers like his life depended on it. And he wailed...oh he wailed. I can't let my boy 'just cry it out' in his own bed...they expect me to let him cry with a stranger?!? We're working on getting him a bit better about meeting new people but we don't see a reason to torture him for a 30 minute jaunt on the treadmill. So there went quite a few after-work trips to the gym for a few miles 'round the track.

I did get a chance to get out tonight, and I got in maybe a mile and a half before I gave up and headed home. Out of practice, gotta taper back up slowly. In the past, I've always started running and gotten frustrated with it and given up. I think the key (or one of the keys) is to take it slowly and stop when it's not fun. So that's what I did tonight. Slow shuffle around the track until I got bored. Then I headed home. I'm hoping that once I finally get some cold-weather gear, I can run on the great running trails we've got nearby. Change of scenery will do me good, methinks....and I need new running music again! I had some really great mixes made for me when I was training for the Komen 3-day, but I think it's time for a new rotation. (hint hint)
Oh, and I want this...

but I want them to install a kick-ass camera in it, first.

If he's cryin'...he ain't dyin'...

That has become our mantra around here. Connor is going through a needy phase. No, not "needy"...he doesn't need anything. He's "wanty". Poor Nick can't get more than 2 steps away from him without hearing "Daddy" and the pitter-patter of feet. Now, you might be thinking "How cute", or "Aaaaw, Connor loves his daddy"....yes, both true, but both...short-sighted. It is cute that Connor loves his daddy but...when his daddy can't so much as pee without whiny accompaniment...it stops being cute.

See, in addition to his wanty-phase, he's also in a daddy phase. In fact, he's a daddy's boy through and through. He likes his mom, and I'll do in a pinch, but if Dad is around, I may as well be an old shoe. Most days that doesn't bother me. Like today....he needed a nap and had no plans of taking one for me. So we took him to the biology building on campus. They've got a big atrium, and we figured we'd let him ride the bike that Auntie Jenn got him for Christmas. The weather has been terrible, and he can't ride it outside. Well...bad idea. He basically sat on his bike yelling for Nick, or he stood next to Nick yelling "bike bike bike".

In an effort to let Nick get some work done, I decided that Connor and I would climb the stairs (or the "up up ups" as Connor calls them). So we went up up up, and down down down...up up up...down down down...lather, rinse repeat. So after a few times, he decided he didn't want to hold mom's hand anymore. So he dramatically pulls it out of my hand while mid-step. WHACK. Hits his melon on the hand rail and flops down on his butt. He was fine, but MAN was he pissed. Big honkin' welt on his forehead and he yelled like mad. Needless to say, we came home. He's in bed right now. Finally napping. So is Nick. Can't say as I blame him.

Sometimes it's hard not to be your kid's favorite parent, but sometimes...it's not. :-)

...and another thing...

Hey, I've got a great idea. Let's start an exotic feline rescue center in Indiana. Yeah, and we can keep lots of cougars in pens with no fencing on the top. I'm sure it'll be just fine.

Now, I'm not the kind of person to say "I told you so", but...well...the guy that runs this...well...I told him so. He basically told me where I could shove my advice.

My favorite part of the article is the part...wait...why don't I just go ahead and cut and paste it...
"Even though the cougar escaped its roofless pen on Friday afternoon, operator Joe Taft did not contact authorities until Saturday morning, when he told an employee of the Indiana Department of Natural Resources who in turn alerted conservation officers..."

Why on earth would the fine folks at the EFRC forget to tell the DNR when the animal actually went missing? Couldn't be because they were afraid of the publicity, could it? Looks like they'll be asking for folks to donate some chain-link fencing, eh?

Wow...I AM in a crappy mood. :-)

Mr. Yuck feels my pain.

I feel like crap. I have some vile bug living somewhere between my throat and my lungs, and believe it or not, complaining about hasn't helped whatsoever. I've tried whining, I've tried grumbling, hell, I've even tried moping. Man, I've tried nothin' and I'm all outta ideas.

But, I still got off my bum and went to the Y tonight...made myself do a little running and I'm hoping for a second wind. Like...maybe my endorphin rush is just a little late, and it'll hit me while I'm laying in my recliner...here it comes....wait for it...nope, just a yawn. Ah well...it's almost 9pm...that's a respectable time for a 30-something to be in bed, isn't it??
CRAP I'm old. Guess that comes from living with the little Petri dish sleeping in the crib in the other room. I swear, that kid's nose has been running since he was born! Good thing he's cute, because he's a biohazard. Poor Connor, I blame him for every sneeze, now. Hell, I work in a microbiolgy lab and I'm a clutz, I could've innoculated myself for Chrissake.

So I've been training for my first 5K race, which is actually training for my first 10K race, which is actually training for my first 15K race, which...is actually training for my first half-marathon. I plan to run/walk the half. No way I'm running it, not this year. I walked it last year, so maybe I'll run it next year...baby steps.

...or maybe I'll just sit here and get drunk...

Reverse Psychology in 2007

I used to hate new year's resolutions, because I'm incapable of keeping to them-until now. After some careful thought, it occurred to me...I've been doing this all wrong. Every year I resolve to eat well, exercise more, etc., and what hapens...I eat junk food and lay on the couch (okay not really, but I certainly don't stick to my resolutions). The solution? Reverse Psychology. Don't know why I didn't think of this sooner! So, in 2007 I resolve the following:
1) I will not exercise at all.
2) I will rush through life, taking everything for granted.
3) I will overreact to every small bump in the road.
4) I will be a lousy parent, ignoring my son's milestones and and shoosh him frequently so I can hear my reruns of Law & Order.
5) I will smap at my husband a minimum of 6 times a day.
6) I will not blog regularly, and will never send emails to my friends and family.
7) I'll do the worst possible job at work, and I'll strive to obsess about my job long after I've come home. Ideally, I won't sleep, because I'll be replaying the workday in my head.
8) I won't clean my house. Ever.
9) At least 1 meal per week will consist of 100% trans fats.
There, that outta do it. Looks like 2007's going to be a banner year!

Your dog died, will that be cash, check, or charge?

It's been a while in coming, but as I predicted, Rubik died yesterday. (No, I didn't predict the day, just the upcoming event in general). He died in the kennel, which is kind of a mixed blessing. On one hand, I didn't get to see him one more time and he died in a lonely, foreign place, but on the other hand, I was spared having to find him and figuring out what to do with him. Their general manager, Brian called me and let me know; he said he'd seen Ru just the day before and he was happy and running around, then the next morning, he just didn't wake up. I was glad to get the news from Brian, though. He's been there for eons, and even though I've had my issues with the kennel in general, it's always beein in relation to policies and pricing, never with personnel.

We went in today to 'take care of his affairs' (settle the bill and decide what to do with his remains). They initially treated us like a family member had died, but once they realized we were okay, we even laughed a little bit. I thinked them for keeping the flag at half-mast on Ru's behalf (never mind Gerald Ford that was all for Rubik!) Kinda wish they'd said they'd eat the cost of kenneling him for the week prior to his...departure, but hey...I guess they've got a business to run. And they didn't charge us for the day he...um...didn't use.

Of course we'll miss him, but he was 10. He's up in doggie heaven, eating a big fat turkey that he got out of a trash-can. And know what...nobody yelled at him for taking it.

Delicious breakfasty-toast!

Granny Herrmann (Nick's mom's mom) made this delicious recipe. I liked it so much I thought I'd share. It's a lot of work, but Granny swears that kneading the dough is "very satisfying". I don't know about that, but eating it sure was!!! It's yummy warm with coffee, or toasted with butter. Deeee-licious.

Ethiopian Honey Spice Bread (makes 2 loaves)

4 1/2 to 5 cups flower (divided)
2 packages of yeast
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 tablespoon ground coriander
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
3/4 cup milk
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup honey
1/4 cup butter or margarine
1 egg

In large mixing bowl combine:
2 c . flour, yeast, salt, coriander, cinnamon, and cloves.
Mix well.

In saucepan, heat milk, water, honey, and butter until warm (120 - 130 degrees). Butter does not need to melt. Add this to flour mixture.

Add egg and blend at low speed until moistened, then increase to
medium speed and beat another 3 mins. Then. by hand, gradually stir
in remaining flour to make a firm dough.

Knead on floured surface 'till smooth and elastic (about 5 min.)

Place in greased bowl, turning to grease top of dough.
Cover and let rise in warm place until light and doubled. About 1 1/2 hours.

Punch down dough. Divide into 2 parts. Shape into round balls and
place in greased 1lb coffee cans, greased cookie sheet, or into
greased loaf-pans. Cover and let rise in warm place until light and
doubled; about 30 mins.

Bake at 375 for 30-35 min. until golden brown. Remove from baking
container, brush with butter if desired and cool.

Connor has officially survived his frirst haircut. He was sure it was going to be his undoing, but he pulled through like a trooper. We took him to Nick's barber, Jeff. He had a customer when we got there, so Connor got a chance to watch someone else getting his hair cut, and watch Jeff moving around and talking. He was having a ball until he realized that the booster seat in the chair was for him! Thankfully, Jeff was great with him; he just did his thing despite the fact that Connor was wailing like mad. I'm sure it helped, because ultimately, he realized: 1) the haircut wasn't stopping and more importantly, 2) the haircut wasn't killing him. After he was finished, Jeff gave him a lollipop and they were friends again. That was also his first lollipop, so he wasn't quite sure what to do with it at first, but THAT's the kind of new experience he was made for!

aaah, the guilt begins...

If you're reading this, you got my email...please think about it!

Separated at birth? (maybe not)

I see a slight resemblence in the first guy (whoever he is) but Nick Lechey?? Kyra Sedgewyck? WTF? I've also been told he looks a little like this guy...

(the singer from Blink182) Dunno...maybe a little???
Good thing he doesn't read my blog...

Screw you, sentimentality!

Disclaimer: I'm not normally prone to being overly-sentimental. Sure, I like a cute kitten as much as the next girl, but generally I express most of my feelings with sarcasm. Since sarcasm really isn't appropriate for sentimentality, it's generally an emotion I skip altogether.

So I'm driving home from with Connor this morning after about an hour or two of Christmas shopping and we're yelling, being silly, and and generally carrying-on in the car. Then some unknown, twangy, country-Christmas song comes on the radio and it's all about going home and seeing your family for the holidays. Feel-good kinda song with a catchy chorus, so we're singing along, (Connor is making up his own verses and choruses as we go). Having fun and I'm thinking about the week we just spent in New York with my family. Okay, warm-fuzzy, but nothing rediculous. Since I've landed on a country-music station, the next song is the deal-breaker. It's all about a dad who overhears his little girl praying for an abused girl she knows. Yeah. So by the time I pull into the garage, I'm bawling. Thinking about how lucky I am, how wonderful Connor and Nick are...generally being a puddle of girlie-girl. Poor Connor doesn't know why the hell I'm all sniffly and watery as I take him out of his car-seat and give him a bear hug. He probably just thinks I'm insane.
THEN...
We walk into the house. In my absence, Rubik clearly discovered something delicious-smelling in the garbage can and he seems to have been removing everything in the can and depositing it allllll over my kitchen floor. Poor mutt was standing at the door with an "oh shit" look on his face. I just had to laugh. Nothing else I could do at that point, I just walked over, opened the door and let him outside; he ran like his tail was on fire, I might add.

Ho-ho-effin-ho.

I'm outta (t)here!

So this is it...Cook Pharmica. The terrible world of "INDUSTRY". Academics think industry-types are automatons that are obsessed with secrecy. I doubt it. Academia has its problems, and I'm sure industry does too, but all I know is I'm ready for a change. The lab I work in is great-the people are wonderful, but the work is less than stimulating. When I heard about this opportunity at Cook, I jumped. I start Monday; I guess I'll finally be using my degree in an official capacity. I'm still a little hazy on the exact details, but basically I'll be doing quality control- making sure that things are sterile. Whatever those "things" might be. :-) Looks like I'm leaving academia for the dreaded *industry*; I guess we'll see what lies ahead!

Tryptophan or just plain tired?

Are we there yet?
Originally uploaded by Imamamma.

Finally a few minutes of down-time! Since Dad's not a flyer, and the drive is too long for him to come out to Indiana, Nick Connor and I packed up and flew home for Thanksgiving. 6 days of craziness followed by 3 days of work craziness; now, almost a week after turkey-day and I finally have a chance to put my feet up for a bit. The house is a wreck, suitcase is barely unpacked, and God only knows what's incubating in my refrigerator, but hey...that's what weekends are for. It's just good to be home, however smelly and cluttery it may be.

The Very Arab Caterpillar

Connor learned some Arabic last weekend. Okay, I'm willing to accept the fact that he probably didn't retain very much, but it's a beginning. Our local library has a room specifically designed for little guys where they have fun games, story-telling and some neat toys. Every Saturday at 10:00 is an arabic lesson. They read us The Very Hungry Caterpillar (complete with hand-puppets!). Connor wandered around and wasn't terribly interested but the cool thing was that he found a group of older boys speaking Arabic amongst themselves. He wandered over to them and kinda watched them talking. They were clearly arguing (2 older boys were, I think, trying to ditch the younger one) but hey...hearing ANY language by native speakers is always a good thing. Even if he only learns how to curse!

...with visions of [chickens] dancing in their heads.

Poor Rubik, he's getting so old. 10 years this August...or is it 11? Jeez, time flies. In some ways he's really showing his age, but in others he's still a spry, at least middle-aged, dog. I've found a a golf-ball-sized tumor on his shoulder, and it popped up pretty suddenly, which tells me that it's probably not good news. Also, he's got one on his chest, near his armpit...I'm assuming dogs have lymph nodes in the armpits, like humans do? If so, tumors near the lymph nodes are never good. He's not eating nearly as well as he used to, so he's lost some weight, but he's truckin' right along. Started eating trash out of the garbage (charming) and diapers out of the pail (is charminger a word?) so he's still got energy for mischief. Sometimes I feel guilty for not taking him to the vet to have the tumors checked out, but honestly at his age would we put him through chemotherapy even if we could afford it (which we can't)? I think we'll just have to watch him and love on him while he's still not in pain. He's a helluva dog, even when I want to beat him about the head with the now-empty diaper pail.