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Sunday, March 27, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Naples with Grandparents
While there were at least 100 pictures taken of the kids during their visit with the grandparents in Naples, I have just a few...
In between all the coming and going, we celebrated Ben's birthday with all the grandparents this weekend in FL. A few pictures of the visit before I took off for JAX.
The beach on a chilly day, though Ben still jumped in the big drink. Another of Ben walking the property in nothing but his PJs shirt and Thomas undies. Gigi and grandpa Joe.
They had the best time ever. Of course.
Enjoy the pics :)
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Quail Hunting
The boys went quail hunting while we were on vacation. Put aside the inhumanity of hunting for a minute while I tell you about the fantastic dinner we had as a result...
30 quail, prepared by a local JAX chef. Grilled and fried. With an andouille sausage sauce, and buttermilk cream sauce. Cheesy grits. Asparagus. Collard greens. Bread pudding for dessert.
Pictures are a little blurry, likely due to heavy wine consumption as a part of my relaxation therapy.
It. was. amazing.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
My Personal Vacation
I had a meltdown in Florida.
In hindsight, the signs of it coming were pretty obvious.
For days on end I was desperately seeking an infusion of patience, as the kids were pushing my every button. That never happens. I found myself frustrated with everyone, even the cat, who's biggest offense is breathing. I was totally at the end of my rope.
Probably a result of several weeks of going at it too hard. The flu, the half marathon, a pretty bad cold, sick kids, hubby traveling, work, whatever. Life is busy but it had gotten the best of me.
I landed in Florida and totally broke down. Huge fight with hubby. Once he was gone, I took it out on my parents and sister.
Ick. It was not a pretty side of me. I've apologized, but frankly am still a little embarrassed.
Hubby must have anticipated it too, long before the signs even started appearing, because he sent me on this trip to Jacksonville. A night alone in a hotel, with a morning of spa treatments before he joined me following a hunting adventure with some guys from work.
And I was pissed. It was a logistical pain in the ass. I was already sooooooo tired.
And then I was leaving the kids with my parents (who couldn't have been more thrilled), when I really just wanted to play with them at the pool and relax.
It wasn't until I was flying there that I realized the brilliance of his plan (so annoying, he is always right).
It was so quiet. I napped on the plane.
I desperately needed a break.
To have no where to go. Nothing to wake up for. No one needed me. It has honestly been years.
I slept in. I found a little boutique in town and bought some cute stuff. I laid at the pool. I hung out with a wife of hubby's colleague and swapped notes on all the crazy, exhausting, amazing, ridiculous things about being a mom. I got a massage. And a facial.
Hubby got to the hotel and we went to an amazing dinner party (separate post).
It was simply glorious.
24 hours later I was completely refreshed and ready to go at it all over again.
Oh, and we flew back to Naples on his boss' private plane, pictured here. I am officially ruined from flying commercial.
Monday, March 14, 2011
(a few more) joys of breastfeeding
We're going on vacation while on vacation. The itinerary is so complex, I'd have to convince you it will be relaxing, and frankly I'm not yet sure myself.
However the trip involves almost 24 hours of alone time for me which sounds equal parts ridiculous, selfish, and glorious.
In order to pull off this insane agenda, I am leaving the kids with my parents for 2 days. Weeks ago I thought I'd just feed Gigi formula for a couple days but since she's proven so flexible in her feeding (not) I conceded to the fact that I'd need to bring milk with me.
Planning how many ounces she'll eat while we're apart, translated into 4 oz storage bags, requires college-level mathematics which I do NOT have.
So here we are at airport security, the line has already been unforgivably slow and we're going to have to run to the gate anyway when the agent pulls the cooler off the line and indicates it needs extra screening. Fine. Whatever.
But she then proceeds to unpack every. single. carefully. packed. bag (all18 of them) to wipe each down. Then she wipes me down. Then she wipes the cooler down. And then Litmus tests the fresh milk.
Really?
(We made the plane but not without me running ahead, Juliet in Bjorn, as they were calling final boarding)
Today I'm at a different airport, flying out to meet hubby somewhere else in FL and I'm standing in the bathroom stall pumping...thinking for the millionth time how unglamorous this all is.
Someone is smoking in the bathroom. Seriously. People still do that? And then someone knocks on my stall door to see if I'm OK.
Frankly I'm surprised this hasn't happened much sooner given the heightened airport awareness and all the weird noises the pump makes.
But more concerning than the broad across the isle lighting up?
And as I was cleaning all the pump parts in the sink, someone hurried into a bathroom stall while catching vomit in her hands. At that moment I decided to stop keeping all this great content to myself and start sharing.
The joys of breastfeeding they don't mention in the books...
However the trip involves almost 24 hours of alone time for me which sounds equal parts ridiculous, selfish, and glorious.
In order to pull off this insane agenda, I am leaving the kids with my parents for 2 days. Weeks ago I thought I'd just feed Gigi formula for a couple days but since she's proven so flexible in her feeding (not) I conceded to the fact that I'd need to bring milk with me.
Planning how many ounces she'll eat while we're apart, translated into 4 oz storage bags, requires college-level mathematics which I do NOT have.
So here we are at airport security, the line has already been unforgivably slow and we're going to have to run to the gate anyway when the agent pulls the cooler off the line and indicates it needs extra screening. Fine. Whatever.
But she then proceeds to unpack every. single. carefully. packed. bag (all18 of them) to wipe each down. Then she wipes me down. Then she wipes the cooler down. And then Litmus tests the fresh milk.
Really?
(We made the plane but not without me running ahead, Juliet in Bjorn, as they were calling final boarding)
Today I'm at a different airport, flying out to meet hubby somewhere else in FL and I'm standing in the bathroom stall pumping...thinking for the millionth time how unglamorous this all is.
Someone is smoking in the bathroom. Seriously. People still do that? And then someone knocks on my stall door to see if I'm OK.
Frankly I'm surprised this hasn't happened much sooner given the heightened airport awareness and all the weird noises the pump makes.
But more concerning than the broad across the isle lighting up?
And as I was cleaning all the pump parts in the sink, someone hurried into a bathroom stall while catching vomit in her hands. At that moment I decided to stop keeping all this great content to myself and start sharing.
The joys of breastfeeding they don't mention in the books...
Monday, March 7, 2011
Monday morning
Everyone sleeps in. Glorious start to the day.
Get Ben out of bed and into cutest new outfit I just got him from Gilt. Pick up Gigi, change diaper.
Ben pees his pants. We’re fully potty training now, so this actually happens all the time, but I’m sad because he had his adorable outfit on for 5 minutes tops. I strip him down to just (clean) Thomas undies.
I start to nurse Gigi. It’s the only time of the day she’ll still do it, presumably because she’s so hungry and even then she barely eats.
Ben comes in and points to his bottom, which means poop. I try to get him to walk up the steps to sit on his potty. He won’t. Unlatch Gigi, put her on the floor (is it any wonder she doesn’t want to eat with me?), scoot Ben upstairs. He sits. No poop.
Get Gigi upstairs, try to get her to eat more. Moment has passed, she's all smiles and no longer interested in eating. I start to pump.
Ben pees on the floor. I wipe up, while pumping.
Ben, now completely pantless plays at train table.
Pees on the floor again. I wipe up, still pumping. Points to bottom. Goes to sit on potty. Nothing.
Gigi spits up all over herself (thankfully I at least had the foresight to not yet put her in the cute outfit I picked out because this is very predictable). Clean her face, still pumping.
Ben points to his bottom, turns red in the face. Poops on the floor. About six inches from the potty.
Pick up poop. Deliver to toilet. Talk about how we like to poop IN the potty, rather than next to it.
He sits. He poops and pees in the toilet.
It’s 7:25. I’ve been up for 35 minutes and this is already the longest day ever.
Get Ben out of bed and into cutest new outfit I just got him from Gilt. Pick up Gigi, change diaper.
Ben pees his pants. We’re fully potty training now, so this actually happens all the time, but I’m sad because he had his adorable outfit on for 5 minutes tops. I strip him down to just (clean) Thomas undies.
I start to nurse Gigi. It’s the only time of the day she’ll still do it, presumably because she’s so hungry and even then she barely eats.
Ben comes in and points to his bottom, which means poop. I try to get him to walk up the steps to sit on his potty. He won’t. Unlatch Gigi, put her on the floor (is it any wonder she doesn’t want to eat with me?), scoot Ben upstairs. He sits. No poop.
Get Gigi upstairs, try to get her to eat more. Moment has passed, she's all smiles and no longer interested in eating. I start to pump.
Ben pees on the floor. I wipe up, while pumping.
Ben, now completely pantless plays at train table.
Pees on the floor again. I wipe up, still pumping. Points to bottom. Goes to sit on potty. Nothing.
Gigi spits up all over herself (thankfully I at least had the foresight to not yet put her in the cute outfit I picked out because this is very predictable). Clean her face, still pumping.
Ben points to his bottom, turns red in the face. Poops on the floor. About six inches from the potty.
Pick up poop. Deliver to toilet. Talk about how we like to poop IN the potty, rather than next to it.
He sits. He poops and pees in the toilet.
It’s 7:25. I’ve been up for 35 minutes and this is already the longest day ever.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Trickery
Why, why, why has it taken me so long to get creative with mealtime?
Ben used to eat everything.
Like cuddle-fish-in-Chinatown-everything. It was awesome. Mainly because he was so entertaining to take out, and waitresses marveled as he sucked down bowls of clam chowder, ate salsa with a spoon, shoveled in hummus, there was literally nothing he wouldn't try.
Then somehow we slipped into the cheese phase. Where for probably two months all he would eat was cheese. Not macaroni and cheese, or grilled cheese, just cheese. Slices, cubes, spreads. As long as it was cheese.
Thankfully we've landed somewhere in between now, but I still long for my adventurous little eater. And of course there are the nutritional concerns too. Docs say view the week, rather than day, so you don't obsess over fruits and veggies constantly. But I struggle in pretty much every category outside of dairy (he's a milkaholic and still loves his cheese).
So why did it take me so long to figure out that I could strategically plan my meals with a little trickery in mind?
Last week, after a total bust on steamed broccoli and cheese, I decided to smash steamed broccoli into his mashed potatoes. He loved them. No questions asked.
Imagine the possibilities here...I can totally mask fruits and vegetables into all kinds of things with a little focus.
How do you get your kids to eat their fruits and veggies?
Ben used to eat everything.
Like cuddle-fish-in-Chinatown-everything. It was awesome. Mainly because he was so entertaining to take out, and waitresses marveled as he sucked down bowls of clam chowder, ate salsa with a spoon, shoveled in hummus, there was literally nothing he wouldn't try.
Then somehow we slipped into the cheese phase. Where for probably two months all he would eat was cheese. Not macaroni and cheese, or grilled cheese, just cheese. Slices, cubes, spreads. As long as it was cheese.
Thankfully we've landed somewhere in between now, but I still long for my adventurous little eater. And of course there are the nutritional concerns too. Docs say view the week, rather than day, so you don't obsess over fruits and veggies constantly. But I struggle in pretty much every category outside of dairy (he's a milkaholic and still loves his cheese).
So why did it take me so long to figure out that I could strategically plan my meals with a little trickery in mind?
Last week, after a total bust on steamed broccoli and cheese, I decided to smash steamed broccoli into his mashed potatoes. He loved them. No questions asked.
Imagine the possibilities here...I can totally mask fruits and vegetables into all kinds of things with a little focus.
How do you get your kids to eat their fruits and veggies?
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