Spaghetti Westerner

Do you want the good news or the bad news?

2012-02-27T19:05:00.000-08:00

Well..the bad news is that that's my leg right there.

The good news is that I survived my knee surgery.

The best news is that I am now being taken care of by two of the most handsome nurses in the world (my husband and my baby.)

But one of them keeps stealing my crutches...I won't name any names...

To give to the homeless...or not?

2012-02-19T21:00:00.000-08:00

Given that this is the season of love, with Valentine's Day just behind us and all, I tend to pay greater attention to the needs of others this time of year. One of those needs that seems more front and center all the time - as Nevada's economy continues to take a beating - is the homeless in our community. I work in a downtown building, and it's safe to say that I get asked for money...a lot.

Blessing Bags via KWAVs

Usually, I make up an excuse about not having cash on me or I give the person all the change I have in my pocket. Recently, I saw these "blessing bags" on Pinterest to keep in the car to give to the needy, and thought they were pretty clever.

Seeing as how I don't actually get around to doing 99% of the things I find on Pinterest, I haven't actually made any of these "blessing bags."

One day, though, I was in my car, and I pulled up to a stop light. Out my window, I saw a lonely looking man in a beat-up raincoat. Something about his silver-gray beard or his particularly earnest cardboard sign tugged at my heartstrings a little.

I patted my pockets, and I actually didn't have any cash on me. For real this time. I couldn't very well write the guy a check. What to do? I looked around my car.

And then I saw it. A bright yellow banana left over from lunch. "Hey, it's better than nothing," I thought. I rolled down my window and extended the banana to the man.

"I'm sorry!" I said. "It's all I have with me."

He nodded and took the banana. I rolled up the window, smiling slightly to myself and feeling pretty good about having helped someone in need...even if it was only a small gesture. The light turned green, and I looked up in my rear-view mirror to see if I could catch a glimpse of the man.

I caught a glimpse alright. A glimpse of the guy tossing the banana right over his shoulder into a bush!

The nerve of some people. Seriously. He could have at least waited until I'd driven down the block.

Now I'm conflicted. Do I let this one bad experience turn me into a jaded and cynical person who'd rather not help at all if my help's not appreciated? Or do I chalk it up to one ungrateful person who doesn't reflect the true needs of these guys (or gals) with their cardboard signs on the street corners?

What about you? Do you give to the homeless...or not?

I think I'm making my kid neurotic

2012-01-23T17:42:00.000-08:00

Last night, it snowed. Now, I love the snow. I love waking up to my city blanketed in a soft, peaceful white snow. I love making the first footprints in the backyard. I love how fresh and clean snow makes everything feel.

But this year has been....disappointing. We've had all of 1/4 inch of snow since October. Maybe.

So when I woke up to snow this morning, I was so excited to get Little Spaghetti out into it. He's been pretty excited the two times he has seen snow so far, so I was just grinning thinking about how cute he was going to be when he looked out into the yard.

"Look! Look!" I said to him, "SNOW!"

He looked out the window, looked back at me and said definitively, "Poop."

"What?" I said, utterly confused by the fact that he wasn't just giddy over the snow like I was.

"Poop!" he replied, insistently. "Poop!" He pointed out the sliding glass door.

Sure enough, there on the pretty white ground, the dog had left a little brown present for us.

"Yeah, yeah, ok. I see. Jackie pooped. But look at the snow!"

"Poop," he said. "Accident. Mama! Help!"

And that was all he'd say. Over and over. Until I went outside and picked up the poop.

As I was out in the freezing snow, wallowing in my disappointment while I retrieved the poop, I reflected on what had happened. I'm a big enough person to admit that he *might* get a few of these tendencies from me. He likes things to be just right. He doesn't like to be dirty. He makes me wipe his hands while he's eating. He picks up little fuzzes of the ground and proudly brings them to me. He goes to other people's houses and asks for a tissue...so he can dust their furniture.

My conclusion? I might be making my kid neurotic, but if that's the worst thing I do in this great parenting experiment, then I think I'm doing alright.

*Just to be clear, when I say neurotic, I mean it in the light-hearted Urban Dictionary way, not the clinical or disordered Webster's way. I don't actually think my kid suffers from diagnosable neuroses. Thanks for the concern, though.*

How not to go to the bathroom

2012-01-15T23:46:00.000-08:00

I've had a revelation:

Take this weekend for example...

I was doing a little bit of shopping at the local mall when my (now fully potty trained) dear little boy told me, "potty!" Naturally, we abandoned what we were doing and rushed to the nearest bathroom. As we were nearing the little hallway to the restrooms, I dropped one of the bags I was carrying. I bent down to pick up what had fallen out of the bag, and I let go of Little Spaghetti's hand for a split second. I looked up, just in time to see him disappearing into...the men's room.

"Noooooo!!!" I cried out in overly dramatic slow motion. I couldn't have imagined how many panicked thoughts would run through my head in the span of the next few seconds. What if he decides to roll around on the floor? What if he reaches into a urinal! What if he reaches into a toilet!? What if he decides to grab some unsuspecting gentleman's behind while he's just trying to pee in peace?!? Oh, the germs! The embarrassment!

But what was I to do? Find a male security guard to send on a search and rescue mission? No, that would take too long, and I wouldn't chance leaving my kid alone in a bathroom for any amount of time. Knock gently on the wall and ask for someone to kindly return my kid to me? That could work, but what if nobody picked him up right away? Imagine how many things he could touch. Or lick.

Just as I was getting ready to duck and cover and sprint into the men's room with my eyes averted as best as I could while frantically searching for my toddler, he turned around and wandered back out to me. I let out a huge sigh of relief at the awkwardness I'd so very narrowly avoided.

So, today's parenting lesson: when you're within 500 feet of any bathroom with an open door, don't even think of letting your grip on your child's hand loosen. Not even for a second.

On the plus side...he seems to have learned to pee standing up all the sudden. I'll count that as one in the win column this time.

New Year's resolutions are for suckers...so here are mine

2012-01-06T20:39:00.000-08:00

I was watching one of the New Year's Eve in Times Square specials last week in an effort to keep myself awake until midnight. Some celebrity or another was interviewing people, and the question was, "What is your New Year's resolution?"

As I listened to what the people were saying, I couldn't help but feel sorry for them. They all had such high and lofty goals. And while I'd very much like to see them succeed, the truth is that I wouldn't put my money in their court if we were betting whether or not they'd keep their resolutions. They were all some variation of this: "I'm going to transform myself into an all-around better person by eating healthy/exercising/spending less time on Facebook/insert life altering choice here."

The problem is that the ideas were so big and undefined...and the results were so dramatic - the very best version of themselves they could imagine. It's no wonder that most people seem to have given up on their New Year's resolutions before Valentine's Day.

So, my new theory on New Year's resolutions is not to get carried away. Pick very specific and achievable things. Then do those. So here's what I've got on my list for 2012.

1. Make cheese. From scratch. Probably mozzarella.

2. Integrate the use of the phrase "and so on" into everyday speech. Instead of trailing off when I'm talking to people because I've not formulated an articulate and complete thought, this phrase will make me sound smart and put together...and so on.

3. Send Birthday cards. Who doesn't like getting mail? And, I may be bad at having regular phone calls with friends or even returning emails, but there's nothing like a good, old-fashioned birthday card to let them know that I actually do still like them.

4. Blog better....alright, alright, in terms of "lofty, undefined goals," this one probably tops the charts. (Good thing my New Year's resolution wasn't to stick to my new theory on New Year's resolutions, right?). But, it isn't all that unspecific. You see, last fall, I got really caught up in the numbers game of blogging: How many followers do I have? How many visitors do I get in a week? What's my Klout score? Has anyone mentioned me on Twitter in the last twelve minutes? Have I read all 586 blogs in my Google Reader? Have I responded to each and every person who comments on my posts and made a relatively thoughtful comment back on their post - even if it means I don't actually have time to write on my own blog today?

And...perhaps not surprisingly...I got totally burned out. Blogging wasn't fun. It became a task and a chore. I forgot that the reason I started blogging was just to write, and it didn't matter whether anyone read what I had to say or not. So, that's what I want to do: just write. Hopefully I'll entertain or inspire along the way. Hopefully I'll repair the bloggy friendships I damaged when I abandoned the blog world all at once. Hopefully I'll make even more friends. But, mostly, I just want an outlet.

So, I apologize in advance if you leave a comment and I don't comment back. Know that I appreciate each and every one of you who reads what I have to say. And I do read your blogs. You guys are awesome.

Alright, enough blabbering for today. How about you: Did you make any New Year's resolutions?

Did you know that U is for Umbrella Bird?

2012-01-02T22:57:00.000-08:00

Well, Christmas has come and gone. On one hand, it's hard to believe it happened so fast. On the other, I'm surprised it ever ended considering we celebrated three weekends in a row with various different groups of our family and friends. Turns out that almost-two-year-olds are highly in demand around the holiday season.

Overall, I'm declaring Christmas 2011 a success. Though, as always, there were a few hiccups. My favorite mishap of this year was this:

Looks fairly harmless, right? Just a boy playing happily with his shiny, brand new laptop? But, take a closer look. You see anything weird?

I'll give you a hint: read the bottom line of letters. That's right...some genius put the W and the U in the wrong place. Which means that U isn't actually for umbrella bird, W is. On a side note...anybody know what an umbrella bird is?

Anyway, I got a good laugh (right up until I returned this failure of an educational toy), but I do have to wonder how many of these laptops made it into the hands of unsuspecting parents this year. I hope it was just a fluke, but I worry about other kids who many not have parents who ~~play with their toys more than they do~~ are as scrutinizing as I am that will forever be confused about the location of U and W in the alphabet.

So, on their behalf, I uant to uish yow a very Happy Neu Year and all the uell uishes in the uorld for 2012!

The unoffical theme of Christmas: Balls

2011-12-14T22:08:00.000-08:00

Balls are an essential (and perhaps under-appreciated) part of Christmas. There's the colorful balls you hang on the tree. The balls made of snow that you get to throw at unsuspecting and unprepared family members. And the balls that make their appearances at holiday parties: cheese balls, meatballs, rum balls...

But I have for you today, my friends, the best holiday balls of all: Oreo Balls. I'm not sure where this recipe originated, though I'm sure someone claims credit (and, to whoever that person might be, I am ~~not at all~~ greatly apologetic for not giving you your due). My sister taught me to make them years ago; her roommate showed her...you get the idea.

This recipe contains three ingredients. That's right, THREE. It also requires no measuring. And, these tasty little buggers blow people away every time I bring them to a party. Though, when I bring them to a party, I usually try to class it up a little bit and call them something like "Oreo truffles" or "Oreo cheesecake bites."

The truth is...they're balls. Cheap, easy, fast. But, oh, so delicious. (And, also, perfect for any time of year. Though if I allowed myself to make them year-round, they would be a staple in my diet, and my waist would not thank me.)

Here's what you need: Oreos, cream cheese, and almond bark (you buy it in the same place you buy the chocolate chips). If you want to get fancy, you can also buy white chocolate almond bark for decorating.

Put the whole package of Oreos in a bowl and mash them up. I used a potato masher (mostly because it made for a better picture than a spoon). They can still be pretty chunky...the goal is just to not have any whole cookies left.

Next, add a whole block of cream cheese.

Then, mix the cookies and the cream cheese with a hand mixer. At first, you're going to say, "What the heck is she talking about?!? This was a terrible idea! There's no way the hand mixer is going to do anything except cause cookie bits and cream cheese to fly about my kitchen!!" But, keep going. Eventually, they will combine. I promise. Also, you should have used a bigger bowl (I make this mistake every time, and don't realize it until I am at this step).

You'll know you're done when you have this horrid looking brown goo. It's ok if there are still some chunks of cookie, as long as they're not THAT big.

Now, you take the brown goo and roll it into balls the size of walnuts. Roughly. I put mine on a baking sheet lined with wax paper.

Now, put them in the freezer for an hour or two. (Full disclosure: I never do this because I'm usually running late and don't have the time to do this before I'm supposed to be at the party. It works fine anyway.)

After the balls get nice and hard (in the freezer...what did you think I was talking about??), melt some almond bark in a bowl. I usually use six cubes at once, and melt it in the microwave for 30 seconds at a time, stirring in between, so that I don't scorch the chocolate. Lesson learned the hard way.

Dip each ball in the chocolate, coating it thoroughly (or mostly). I use two forks to finagle the chocolate-coated ball onto a new sheet of wax paper to dry without messing up too much of the chocolate shell.

I'm not very careful about how I dip the balls, so they usually end up with these goofy little wingy things attached to the bottoms. I just break those off once they're dry. And voila - nice looking Oreo balls.

You could stop here, unless you want to be the super-impressive, over-achieving potluck attendee whose food contribution puts everyone else to shame (of course!).

In that case, melt some white chocolate almond bark, and put it in a plastic baggie with the tip of the corner cut off. (Don't melt the chocolate in the baggie....again, lesson learned the hard way).

Drizzle and swirl to your heart's content to pretty up your balls. When you're done, you'll be so sad that the drizzling is ending, that you'll want to doodle smiley faces and write "I love you" in chocolate on your wax paper. What's that? That's just me? So be it...

Once they dry, put them on a pretty platter, and you're done! Now eat one. Seriously. You won't regret it.

My Special Special is ready to go

2011-12-05T11:39:00.000-08:00

Each morning, I wake up and instead of lounging lazily, snuggling with my baby, we rush out of bed and into the bathroom. (And here I thought potty training would make my life easier...) Even before he's done peeing, it starts: "Go, go go! Toot, toot! Go, go, go!"

He's incessant. He pushes on my legs, leans his whole 25 pound mass against me, and urges me, "Go, go, go!" He isn't satisfied until I've set up all three of his train tracks, and put the appropriate battery-powered engine on each track. Then, he sits back and sighs in relief because all is right with the world.

For the next twelve hours, those little engines will chug around their tracks dutifully. Throughout the day, he'll go back to them and play for a bit, then he'll wander off. But if I dare to turn them off, even for a few minutes, he's right back at it, "Go, go, go! Toot, toot!"

I made the unfortunate mistake of buying a "Talking Thomas" train engine the other day. Now, the soundtrack of my day consists of, "I'm Thomas, the number one blue engine!" and "Cinders and ashes!" Then there's this one: "My Special Special is ready to go!"

Perhaps if I'd ever watched Thomas the Tank Engine, I would know why he says such a thing. But I haven't, and I don't. Instead, I can only wonder what on earth a "Special Special" is. And, it could be that I'm slowly losing my mind as a result of the never-ending train noises in my house (or as a result of the anxiety attacks I feel coming on hourly as a result of my completely unresponsive real estate agent...but that's a story for another day), but every time I hear, "My Special Special is ready to go," I can't help but hear some kind of weird, sexual innuendo. But, on the bright side, it makes me giggle every time!

P.S. Sorry for my long absence, friends. Life has gotten the best of me these past few weeks, but I'm back. Hopefully for good!

P.P.S. Thanks to aforementioned trains, we now go through four batteries a day. A day! I'll give you one guess what the only thing on my list for Santa will be this year...

My initiation into motherhood

2011-11-07T09:37:00.000-08:00

Last night, I became acquainted with the last of the bodily fluids parents have to deal with: vomit. It took me totally by surprise because I'd basically already given myself a pass on this one. You see, I thought spit-up counted. Oh, was I wrong.

Spit-up, in retrospect, is kind of cute and endearing compared to actual vomit. Actual vomit that coats your baby's crib, the floor, your sheets, your duvet, your shirt, your pants, and your socks all in one shot. Actual vomit that has a stench that lingers through the entire night no matter how much you try to clean. Actual vomit that has remnants of what your child has last eaten, and those things are string cheese and olives, not breastmilk and more breastmilk. Actual vomit that I was left to try to clean up myself with a shaking, puke-covered toddler clinging to my chest because my husband was out of town for work.

Suffice it to say, last night was a long one in the Spaghetti household. And today will be filled with load after load of laundry followed by a hot shower as I try to erase this memory for all of us

But, I feel like my induction into this club called motherhood has been fully completed with this last round of hazing. Sure, there will be plenty of surprises to come, but dealing with bodily fluids won't be among those surprises.

Please tell me I'm right about that, won't you?

The only good thing about snow in October

2011-10-16T22:19:00.000-07:00

I am proud to bring you the much-awaited video! See, I told you the fourth time would be the charm. Sadly, I don't know that this video was actually worth waiting for. I mean, it's cute and all, but don't be disappointed if you're...well....disappointed.

The thing is, once I'd failed to upload the video THREE times, it was more a matter of principle than a matter of thinking you really needed to see this video. Alas, here it is.

I've decided there is only one good thing about snow in the first week of October. And this is it:

What I'm doing when I'm not blogging

2011-10-14T10:58:00.000-07:00

If you haven't noticed, I've been kind of quiet on the ol' blog recently. So, if you're still here, thanks for sticking around!

I wish I could tell you that I was off sky diving or exploring remote caves in South America or something while I wasn't blogging. I even wish that I could tell you that I was just too busy cooking, cleaning, and taking care of my family to have time to blog. At least that would be a good excuse.

You want to know what I was really doing, though, while not blogging? Watching soap operas. And drinking Salted Caramel Mochas. But mostly watching soap operas.

When I was a kid and got to stay home sick from school, I used to dread daytime TV between 12:00 and 3:00 p.m. because there was nothing on but soap operas. Now, I wish I could reclaim all those years that I was missing out. In fact, I've decided that one of the greatest things about being a stay-at-home mom is that the best soap opera (I'm talking about none other than General Hospital) happens to coincide with nap time. Seriously, smart move, ABC.

It's not that the acting is particularly wonderful or that the story lines are even remotely believable, but I think that's what makes them so great. I also think that the people who write these things have to be geniuses because I hadn't watched a soap opera in nearly two years, but as soon as I started again, I knew exactly what was going on. It was like I hadn't missed any episodes at all.

I've also decided that my blog would be WAY more interesting if my life were a soap opera. I could write things like, "OMG, guys! I totally found out today from my third cousin's telepathic dog that my neighbor's baby isn't her husband's. In fact, her husband isn't even her husband! He's a serial murderer who had plastic surgery to look like her husband and then took his place. And, to top it all off, he's my brother who I never knew existed! But I can't tell anyone! I don't want him to go to prison; he's family after all!" Soap-opera Me apparently uses an excessive number of exclamation marks...

Alas, all I have to tell you about is my utter failure as a youtube user. You see, I have this super cute video I was going to share with you, but I can't for the life of me upload it.

The first time I tried to upload it, I fell asleep, and the computer battery died. The second time I tried to upload it, I got bored half way through and decided to check my personal email (which is also a gmail account), but by signing into that email, I signed out of the youtube account where I was uploading the video and didn't realize it until several hours later when I went to post the video and it had been stopped in the middle. Then, I uploaded the video for a third time. Success! Except that I hadn't signed out of my personal google account, which meant I'd uploaded the video to the wrong account.

Fourth time will be the charm. Soon. I promise.

P.S. For all those who asked about my little robot...it's a Mint floor cleaner. Mine's the basic model, but I love him all the same. He sweeps and mops, but doesn't vaccuum (which is ok by me since I have no carpeted rooms in my house). But I would recommend this guy as an addition to your Christmas list if you hate mopping as much as I do. And, I'm in no way affiliated with the company, other than that I own one of their products, which I purchased myself.

Who doesn't need more robots?

2011-10-07T16:22:00.000-07:00

If I doled out love and affection based on who contributed the most around the house, my baby would have to fight pretty hard for a position on my lap. And my husband would have to say sayonara to cuddling in bed because he’d have to move to the guest room.

Who would take their places you ask? This guy:

My floor sweeper. That’s right. I might even say that he does more work around the house than I do. When I go out for a cup of coffee, he’s diligently chasing dust bunnies. As I am sitting on the floor building block castles for my toddler to knock down, he’s busy cleaning up the cheerios from breakfast. Long after I go to sleep at night, he’s mopping away so there will be shiny floors waiting for me when I wake up.

The best part is he’s always cheerful about his work. There’s no whining or complaining or procrastinating. He tackles each job with a happy little tune and a series of dancing blue lights. It’s like he’s having a little party for himself each time I tell him to clean the floor. If only my husband reacted the same way when I gave him orders…

When I got my little sweeper, my mother was pretty skeptical. “I just don’t see how a machine is going to clean as well as you would.” Now, let’s be clear that she meant a general “you” not a specific “me.” Anyone who knows how well I clean would never doubt that a machine would do a better job. After all, some cleaning is better than no cleaning.

Anyway, “It can’t possible clean as thoroughly as a human,” she contended. And you know what I said? “Mom, I bet people said the same thing about washing machines and dishwashers when they first came out, but I don’t see you hand-washing your underwear.”

I figure if there’s a machine to do my work for me, I’d be crazy not to let it. And since he never expects any affection in return, it’s really a win-win situation. Now, if only I could get my toddler to understand that hugging and kissing the floor cleaning robot is not necessary - and is in fact detrimental to his ability to do his job - we’d be in business.

I anticipated gray hair, but I never thought my kid would make me bald

2011-10-02T23:12:00.000-07:00

Some kids have blankies while others have teddy bears. Mine has hair. Specifically, my hair, though he'll also accept his Grandmother or Aunt's hair when he has to.

Little Spaghetti has fiddled with my hair for as long as I can remember. I even chopped off my long, beautiful hair into a short mom haircut when he was four months old or so (something I SWORE I'd never do) in an effort to get him to stop playing with it.

There was even a brief time when his love of hair focused specifically on my eyelashes and I wondered whether I'd ever find a mascara to cover up massive chunks of missing lashes.

This week, I finally got to the point where I couldn't take the hair holding any more. You see, I have gotten my little guy to sleep in his own bed (woot! that's a huge accomplishment. I'm just sayin'). He'd stay there until about 4 am, at which point I let him get into bed with me.

Each day, his hair addiction was getting worse and worse. It got to the point that he started spending three hours each morning just rubbing, twirling, and pulling my hair, but not actually sleeping. Then, it would culminate around 7 each morning with him wrapping his entire arm in my hair, followed by his foot. As he wound more of my hair around more of his body, he - without fail - would end up laying on top of my head.

So I cut him off. Ok, that's a lie. I found a surrogate. My mom had this doll that used to be mine. She has hair. Lots of it. And he doesn't seem to mind the switch. See?

Nothing more peaceful than a sleeping baby

In the morning, though, this is what we get.

Someone had a rough night!

She looks how I used to feel. Luckily, I don't feel that way any more. But I do spend thirty minutes combing out this doll's hair each day so that it doesn't become a total disaster.

Though, with the amount of hair she loses each time I brush it, I'm afraid she's going to be bald by his second birthday... Although, at least it won't be me!

This is the proudest moment of my motherhood

2011-09-28T22:52:00.000-07:00

There were a lot of things I didn't expect before I had a baby...locking myself in the bathroom to get a little peace, having someone rip out my eyelashes, being plagued by sleep crawling. But what happened today has been the biggest surprise of all. The joy I feel at this very second has been so unexpected that I must record it for all posterity.

This is the proudest moment of my motherhood so far. It kicks the pants off of rolling over and walking. I am actually quite shocked that this milestone is not listed in every baby book on the market. Heaven knows it should be.

Today, friends, is the day my son learned how to blow his nose. Like actually move air forcefully enough through his nostrils to cause boogers to come out of them.

It was a beautiful moment; I wish you could have been there. As he was getting out of the bath tonight, I held up a tissue to his sweet little nose, and said, "blow." Dutifully, he blew. But much to both of our surprises, stuff came out. A lot of gross, green chunky stuff.

He looked at me with wide eyes, then smiled and proceeded to blow over and over and over again. I almost cried.

This is a skill I have been wishing he would learn pretty much since the day he was born. You see, I find boogers to be the grossest of all the substances that come out of an infant. So gross that the only time I've found something gross enough as a mother to gag, it was a booger.

But today, with great pride, I can retire the trusty little green snot sucker that has been the bane of my existence for 18 months. You've served us well, ol' bulb syringe. Now, put your feet up, have a beer, and relax. You definitely deserve a vacation.

I bet you didn't know I was a poet!

2011-09-24T22:32:00.000-07:00

Do you ever get so busy that you feel like you don't even have time to think? That's been my life lately.

As I sit here typing, there are toys strewn about my house, there is a load of wet laundry just waiting to grow mold in the washing machine, and there's a half gallon of milk that's been sitting out too many hours for it to be safe to drink any more.

So, I'm going to share a poem I wrote several months ago. I don't share my poetry much...it's mostly a private enterprise. But I like writing it. Hopefully you like reading it.

Also, I should note that I am the kind of poet who only knows how to write one kind of poetry - the kind that rhymes. I know there are other kinds, and I have nothing against them. But I don't write them. So, you'll have to put up with my obsessive need to rhyme.

Just after the baby falls asleep

I've never known a stillness
like the quiet in a mother's home
just after a baby falls asleep
and she finds herself alone.

Her ears still ring with the sound
of a baby's little hand
pounding on the coffee table
like the proudest drummer in a band.

Echoes of tiny giggles settle
like a dusting of snow on the ground,
and shouts from a mouth of toothless grins
fade to a new peace found.

The suddenness with which it comes

makes this quiet quite a shock:

as if the world forgot to spin,

and time stands still on the clock.

It is in these moments of deafening silence

before my mind turns to laundry piled
that I worry most – and wonder most –
what this life will hold for you, child.

Mommy Fail #141: Taking my toddler to a sports bar

2011-09-20T16:52:00.000-07:00

I generally try not to take my baby to places that aren't really for kids. But sometimes, I don't have a choice. Like a couple nights ago: we got busy, and then had to run to a friend's house who is in the middle of serious renovations. Before we knew it, it was 8 p.m. and nobody had eaten. So our friend suggested the place that's right down the street from his house, which happens to be a sports bar right across from the local university.

I was a little surprised to see that they had high chairs, especially considering that all of the tables in the entire place were bar height with stools.

Little Spaghetti wasn't too thrilled with his short seat, but I found it very convenient to just be able to push him under the table when the server came with the food. That way I didn't have to worry about hot food getting spilled on him.

Don't worry: I took him out of there to eat dinner. I'm not THAT mean.

My laundry utopia

2011-09-17T09:13:00.000-07:00

I mentioned a little while ago that I was up to my elbows in taupe paint because I was remodeling my laundry room (I may have referred to the shade of paint as "u-taupe-ia," if you can believe that). Anyway, I want to share with you the fruits of my labor.

As a (mostly) stay-at-home mom, I get to play pretend a lot. I pretend to be a teacher, a maid, a gardener...But my favorite thing to pretend to be is an interior decorator. Though, a handyman comes in close second. You see, I've had LOTS of practice at those two jobs since we've basically renovated our entire house since we bought it just over a year ago. For proof, check out the time I transformed the "bruise wall" into a magical sunroom retreat.

Back to the laundry room: it was old and horribly gross, but I knew a couple cans of paint and some new floors would fix it right up. Take a look!

The wood laminate flooring is a huge upgrade from the cheesy linoleum that was supposed to look like bricks. And was suspiciously missing a piece so you could see the subfloor.

The cabinets were updated with a fresh coat of white paint. And the handles that did not match with each other at all were replaced with handles that were all the same.

I love how it turned out! Now I have my own personal laundry utopia.

And, the best, most awesome part of this whole remodel? Making my own stainless steel countertops.

Did you even know there was such a thing as stainles steel paint?? Or someone crazy enough to paint it on their counters? Oh, yes, I did.

But, to see the details (and the stunning results) of my countertop transformation, you're gonna have to check out my guest post at Momma Bird. Hope you enjoy! (And say hi to Michelle while you're there. She's awesome. And crafty. And reads stories on video.)

Why are you offended by my GPS?

2011-09-14T16:39:00.000-07:00

I have a GPS. And I use it. Not to get to the grocery store down the block or my son's pediatrician, but if I'm going to a shop I've never been to or an office in a different part of town, you better believe that thing's up and running.

Especially when I'm out of town, I have a tendency to program every destination into my GPS when I'm the driver. Lately, I've noticed a trend that I find quite confusing among my friends and family: there are a lot of people who seem to be offended by the GPS. They sit in the passenger seat, sneer at the pretty little black screen a few times, and then say something like,

via

"Wow, that's a really stupid way to go. I NEVER would have told you to go that way," or

"You could have just asked me, I knew where this place was all along," or

"I know my voice might not be as charming as your British robot's voice, but I can give directions."

They act like I'm insulting their knowledge and expertise just by using my turn-by-turn navigation. Like I don't trust them to get me where I need to go. Frankly, I just don't get why it's such a big ego blow for me not to ask for directions.

Perhaps I don't understand it because I like to chat with people as I drive, and I'd rather just let the conversation flow than have to ask every three seconds, "Am I supposed to still be going straight?" or "Am I in the right lane? No, I know I'm in the left lane. I didn't mean the right lane, I meant the correct lane."

via

Or maybe it's because almost every time I'm responsible for giving directions, I get too busy jabbing away at the driver and we end up going two miles past our on-ramp before I declare, "Oh crap! I should have had you turn a while back. I guess we'll be taking the scenic route."

All I know is that I like my GPS. And I don't plan on giving it up any time soon. So, should you ever be in the position where you need to ride with me and I type in the address to your house when we get in the car, just let it go. If you're nice, I'll even let you change it to the sexy Australian girl's voice instead of the British guy. Cheerio!

Can you explain something to me?

2011-09-12T22:13:00.000-07:00

Would you believe that me winning Blogger Idol was not a good enough reason for my son to stop the obnoxious habit he's developed of finger-painting whatever happens to be for dinner on the table? Then when I told him he better get with the program and learn to use the big boy potty or I'd put my people in touch with his people and the results would not be good, he smiled at me and peed on the floor. Finally, I had to come to grips with the fact that this new-found stardom was not going to be my personal easy button when I woke up at six this morning with a 25-pound toddler sleeping on my head. On top of my head.

So, it turns out that it's back to real life for me. And I'll be the first to admit that there are just as many things I don't know now as there were four days ago. I'm hoping some of you have the answers to life's deep questions, though.

First, there's Katy Perry's new song: "Last Friday Night." It's not the song itself that I take issue with, just a couple lines. You see, she says, "Think we kissed but I forgot," but just a few lines later, "Then had a ménage à trois." My question is this: how do you remember a threesome, but not a kiss?

Next up we have drivers (particularly those from the great state of California) that drive in the left lane. All the time. Even when there are no other cars for miles except me driving behind them, wanting to pass (in the left lane like the law says). Are they actually unaware that they are supposed to drive in the right lane? Or are they just being jerks? Or is there some joke that I'm not cool enough to know about?

Last but not least, how does Mother Nature know exactly when I'm getting sick of my summer wardrobe? This morning, the temperature had dropped about 25 degrees, the smell of fall was in the air, and I got to bust out my sweaters that I'd just started fantasizing about. The timing could not have been more impeccable.

Can I say thank you again or will you stop reading my blog?

2011-09-09T11:53:00.000-07:00

I'm going to keep this short and sweet because I've been so nervous that I haven't eaten in three days, so I'm desperate for a sandwich right now. Between this and the cotton candy, I think I might have a marketable diet plan on my hands here.

Anyway...It's official, folks! The Spaghetti Westerner is the 2011 Blogger Idol (and, it just so happens, the first Blogger Idol ever!) Woot!!

You can watch the official announcement video here. It's long, but there's some super funny vlogs from the other contestants included, and it's worth a watch if you've got the time.

I really and truly mean it when I say that I could not have done it without the support from all of you. I'm not just trying to give some cheesy speech where I pretend like I care about everyone who needs to be thanked...I honestly just really DO care about everyone who DESERVES to be thanked. And that's all of you. So, thank you. I want to give a special shout out to The Mommy In Law, who called me after I watched the video because she figured I'd be alone (I was) and want someone to celebrate with (I did)! How awesome is that?

I'd love to be able to give back to any of you that I can, so let me know if there's a way I can help you...now or down the road. And, in the spirit of giving back, if you have a few minutes to spare, check out this post. The organizer of Blogger Idol is helping a family in Pennsylvania who lost everything in a flood a couple days ago, and I wanted to help spread the word!

And now, I'm getting a sandwich. But, I promise to be back (and to actually have the brain capacity to write on my own blog now that Blogger Idol is over!)

Oh yeah, did I mention: THANK YOU!!!

If I were a hooker, would I be worth more than $25?

2011-09-07T10:06:00.000-07:00

There's at least one person in this world who doesn't think so, but I'm not going to tell you any more about that. If you want the whole story, you're going to have to go read my post on Blogger Idol this week. And don't forget to vote for me while you're there!

You ready for more shameless begging? To be honest, I'm surprised nobody took me up on my offer to pluck their great aunt's eyebrows from last week. I promise I'm a whiz with the right pair of tweezers!

Seriously, though, I am honored and humbled to have made it to the FINALE of Blogger Idol. I am one of just TWO contestants left standing, and I know with 100% certainty that I wouldn't have made it here without you guys. Thank you. I am not joking when I say that I want you to let me know if there's any way I can ever help you in return.

So, one more time...will you please vote for me? And share the link with your friends, your neighbors, your secretary, your dog (hey, his vote counts too as long as he has his own Iphone). You can vote once per device per browser (laptop, cell phone, ipod, desktop, Firefox, Safari, Internet Explorer...the combinations are endless!) Make sure you vote in both polls. And polls close at midnight on Thursday, central time.

If you're curious what I had to write about this week, I've got great news for you! I had to write on two topics. First, I had to write a letter to my future blogger self. One judge said it was totally uninspiring and only good for "mommy bloggers." Do you agree?

Then, I got to pick whatever topic I wanted. I chose to write the highlights of my dating history (like the guy who offered me the $25...). There's also a picture of me in my dance costume from the fourth grade. If that's not enough to get you to read it, I don't know what is!

And, finally, because I'm trying to think about something other than Blogger Idol...Have you ever grown potatoes in the garden? This was my first year, and I loved it! I got to dig in the mud for treasures like a kid yesterday to find all the pretty little potatoes buried deep in the dirt. I've come to the conclusion that potatoes are the most satisfying of all plants to harvest. Look at these little beauties! Now what should I do with them??

Mommy Fail #132: Using the dryer

2011-09-05T23:58:00.000-07:00

I let my son wear Crocs. I know that some people consider that a fail in itself, but it's not the one I'm going to address today. No, the story I'm going to share today involves a pair of shoes my son will never wear again.

He had this adorable pair of orange Crocs, but they started getting quite dirty. Someone told me that I could run them through a cold wash, and they'd clean right up. Being the kind of person who avoids work at all costs, it sounded like a great idea.

And it was, they came out all squeaky clean. Well, one did at least. The other was wrapped somewhere in the king size sheets I'd washed it with. I decided to just run the dryer for a minute to see if the missing shoe would come loose instead of digging around in the damp, twisted sheets (did you catch the part about me avoiding work at all costs?).

Except...I forgot to turn the dryer off after just a couple of minutes. Instead, the poor little shoe went through an entire dry cycle. This was the result.

That's no camera trick. One shoe is significantly smaller than the other.

Well, at least I can hope I save someone else from the same mistake. Learn from my fail: don't put your Crocs in the dryer!

You probably think this post is about you...

2011-09-03T23:07:00.000-07:00

First, thanks to everyone for your support this week: I made it to the top two in Blogger Idol! Next week is the finale, and it's going to be an intense showdown between me and Justin from Daddy Knows Less.

Now, onto the good stuff. This post is a follow up to a post from a few weeks back called, "Nevada, why are you so vain?" (Hence the title...come on, sing it with me!)

I think I might be a little loopy from the paint fumes. You'll have to bear with me. You see, I decided that now would be a good time to remodel my laundry room. Perhaps I really have been going through withdrawals since I'm no longer party planning.

For the paint in the laundry room, I went with a color called "perfect taupe." But the longer I spent in that tiny room painting, the more I started thinking that if you're going to declare a color to be the perfect shade of taupe, you really ought to call it "U-taupe-ia."

Get it? Where's my 17-month old to crack up at my corny jokes when I need him...

Sleeping, that's where he is. Which is where I should be, so I'm going to stop talking and get on with the vanity license plates. I'll catch you on the flip side! And by flip side I mean tomorrow...not the afterlife. Just so we're clear.

Spiteful wife or obedient husband?

Well, I suppose you do.

See, now some people do know how to be clever...

I can't think of anything classier, actually.

I might have believed you were British...if you weren't driving a Geo Tracker.

Just goes to show that no matter what regulations the Nevada DMV
puts in place, people will still find ways to have X-rated license plates.

Do you have any good photos of vanity license plates to share? Send them to me, and I just may feature them in my next edition of the license plate game!

Photos courtesy of my good friend Dan. Thanks, Dan!

Get on the horn!

2011-08-31T11:29:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago when we took our road trip to southern California, my husband and I were discussing our plans for the evening. We were driving to meet some relatives, and I told him we'd be having dinner with them,but that we hadn't made specific plans yet. To which he responded, "Well, get on the horn! Find out what the plan is because I'm starving."

"Aye aye, captain!" I said, all the while thinking, "really? Who in the heck says something like 'get on the horn?'"

But! I am now giving you the same call to action: get on the horn! But by horn I mean computer. I know, I'm not using the phrase correctly at all, but give me a break, huh?

And why should you get on the horn? To help this girl get to the finale of Blogger Idol, that's why. I really need your help this week. Like really really really need your help. So I'm begging you (because I'm not ashamed to beg), pretty please ~~won't you vote for me~~ (voting has closed. Thanks for your support!)? I'll walk your dog or mow your lawn or pluck your great aunt's eyebrows...~~just vote~~!* I'd also never say no if you offered to blog about it or ask your facebook/twitter followers/entire office staff to vote either.

This week, I had to give an election speech of sorts, so if you need more convincing about why you should vote for me, read this.

Don't forget to floss! See, good hygiene starts early.
Actually, I think he just likes the minty-ness of the floss.

Finally, I'll leave you with a few random thoughts and a cute picture because my nerves are so frazzled right now from worrying about whether or not I'm going to be the next Blogger Idol, I'm lucky I can put together a sentence, no less a paragraph.

-I think it's a bad sign when you order your morning coffee, and the Starbucks chick says, "With an extra shot of espresso, right?" Is that the nice way of telling me I look like I need a nap?

-Is it just me or is "get on the horn" a really weird expression? Do you use it? Do you know where it came from? I should probably ask my husband...I'm sure he'd have its origin filed away with all the other useless facts he knows.

-I think my son was trying to tell me something this morning: while I was getting ready, he started putting my dirty clothes in the trash can. Maybe mommy needs a new wardrobe.

-I have this probably insane desire to go buy finger paints for my 17-month old because it seems like he'd have a lot of fun with them. Can you talk me out of the disaster that will surely come of this if I go through with it?

*Offers only valid if you live within a 30 minute drive from me. Or if you want to pay for my plane ticket. Either way.

Dear Recession, Go home!

2011-08-29T23:40:00.000-07:00

I'm not exactly sure where “home” is for a recession. The 1930s? The Weimar Republic? It doesn't really matter as long as it's anywhere but here.

I don't know if anyone's told you this, but you're not really wanted here. Haven't you heard that saying? Fish and house guests stink after three days. Well, it's been way longer than three days, and you've more than worn out your welcome.

I mean, it might have *seemed* like we were inviting you with all of our out-of-control spending, our insanely inflated housing bubble, and our eternal optimism of perpetual growth. Truth is, your name definitely wasn't on the list for this soiree. And you know what that makes you? A party crasher.

And not the fun kind of party crasher who starts a late-night, drunken karaoke competition, professes his love for everyone at the table, and proceeds to pass out in the bushes. No, you're the kind that shows up, drinks all the free booze leaving everyone else sober, insults the party hostess by calling her a fat cow, and gets the cops called for disorderly behavior.

Speaking of etiquette, didn't anyone ever tell you that if you're going to crash a party, you should at least bring a present? And by present I don't mean pink slips, foreclosure notices, and plummeting 401k valuations. Those kind of presents are about as popular as a savings bond at a five year old's birthday party, but without the promise that “in twenty years this will be worth 50 dollars even though I only paid $25!”

I think it's clear we're all pretty sick and tired of your shenanigans. You can feel free to pack your belongings and get out of town. Or, actually, leave your belongings because I know someone who might need to sell them at a yard sale next week to make the mortgage payment.

Love,

Me

How about you; what would you say? Feel free to add your own p.s.

Dr. Seuss Party: Revealed!

2011-08-26T22:33:00.000-07:00

First off, I need to say thank you again for your support with Blogger Idol. I am officially in the top three. The TOP THREE, people!

I will need all the help and support I can get next week: vote for me, pimp me out on your blog or Twitter, pass me a bottle of tums as I watch the elimination video on Friday (I swear I'm going to have an ulcer by the time this is over).

I'm so proud to have made it so far, but even more proud of YOU, my awesome readers and friends who have gotten me here.

Alright, I've talked and talked (and whined) about this party, and now it's over and I don't know what to do with my spare time. So, in an effort to make the glory last a little longer, I bring you at long last: the Dr. Seuss baby shower.

My dear friend is having twins, which is something I can say that I never hope to experience. But, to help her celebrate (and prepare), I threw a Thing 1 and Thing 2 shower.

Overall, I think it came out really well. Minus a few mishaps like letting all the cotton candy melt in my car. It was a fun day, and she looked radiant, as any woman growing two babies should.

We had a photo guest book. Everyone wrote messages to the mom or babies, then we took their photo with some cool props: an old frame I'd painted to match, a boa, a Cat-in-the-Hat hat. I'm going to put the pictures all in a book for my friend to have record of all the attendees.

I LOVE decorating with paper lanterns. They make a big impact in any space. And they look pretty Dr. Seuss-y.

Because I was throwing this shower in the home of a person I'd never met four hours from where I live, I didn't want to show up and put nail holes in her walls and ceiling to hang up the lanterns. So, I filled some big vases with glass beads, and used those as the base to support some garden stakes I picked up from the dollar store. These were the perfect way to hang the lanterns quickly, easily, and without permanent damage.

I hung Thing 1 and Thing 2 onesies with these fun, giant clothespins I found at the craft store at Easter time. I dyed plain ol' white onesies red with Rit dye, then printed out and ironed on the decals.

This is the only picture I managed to get of the custom water bottles I worked so hard on!

I cut red and white circles of various sizes out of craft foam, and used them to decorate all of the tables and flat spaces I could find.

Wow, that's a lot of presents!

We played a few traditional games like Guess How Big The Pregnant Lady's Belly Is. Isn't she cute?

And we had a few "passive" games, like this one, where people had to guess the number of jelly beans in this jar that I made to look like the Cat-in-the-Hat hat. How many jelly beans would you guess?

And then, there was the food. The food was my favorite part of this shower; I had so much fun with it.

Brown bar-ba-loots Truffla Fruits from
The Lorax

Poodles Eating Noodles from Fox in Socks
Macaroni Salad

No Seuss party is complete without Green Eggs and Ham
Green deviled eggs and ham cream cheese roll-ups


Homemade Yertle the Caramel Turtles

Oobleck
Spinach Dip


My favorite shower food: Swedish fish .

Hop on Pop(corn)
Cinnamon and sugar popcorn

Yot in a Pot - saucy pineapple meatballs
from There's a Wocket in my Pocket

Fox in Socks Three Cheese Trees: Colby Jack, Swiss, and Cheddar

Yink Pink Ink Drink (raspberry lemonade)
from One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish

A crumb that was even too small for a mouse from How the Grinch Stole Christmas
because even baby showers can have a sense of humor

And the crowning achievement of the party: Thing 1 and Thing 2 cupcakes - red velvet cake, cream cheese frosting, and blue cotton candy hair on top.

And finally, me! Enjoying myself putting the hair on the cupcakes. Notice the Dr. Seuss apron. I made it myself!

Mommy Fail #127: Using the English Language

2011-08-24T11:41:00.000-07:00

First, I owe you all a HUGE thank you. You, my dear friends, have kept me in the Blogger Idol competition to the top FOUR. I really do owe it all to you. I'm not kidding. So thank you.

Second, I am going to tell you a story about me failing. It isn't really a mommy fail, but if you want, I could blame it on sleep deprivation or all my brain energy being taken up by avoiding the Duplo block minefield of my house or simply the fact that I have a child. That would be lying? Ok, you're right. This one was just plain me.

To start this story, I'm going to ask you to ~~vote for me in Blogger Idol~~ because it is actually relevant to what I'm about to tell you (voting has ended; thanks so much for your support!). This week our task was to post about family, specifically family traditions. I wrote a post called, "My family traditions may have come from the trash," which should have been followed with, "but that doesn't mean they aren't as good as yours," but it wouldn't fit in the box.

And here's the fail: When I first submitted this post, the title read, "My family jewels may have come from the trash."

I showed my husband the post yesterday, after I'd turned it in. I was talkin' myself up, telling him how awesome I was, explaining to him that this may very well be the best piece I've ever written (no, not really). So he agreed to read it. Upon reading the title he said, "I bet your dad would be pretty insulted that you think his balls came from a dumpster."

Well...I suppose you have a point there. I don't really know why it didn't click, but for some reason "family jewels" to me sounded like "heirlooms." But even dictionary.com admits that family jewels are, in fact, male genitals.

At least if I get voted off this week, I can blame it on testicles. But, instead, why don't you ~~go vote for me~~ so I don't have to do that.

Once you join my diet plan, you'll never go back

2011-08-22T16:50:00.000-07:00

I'm alive! The Dr. Seuss party is over (with lots of pictures to come, I promise).

In all honesty, I learned a lot this weekend. And, most of the things I learned were about cotton candy.

For example, did you know that cotton candy left in a car in 90 degree heat melts? I didn't. I also never knew how hard it could be to find a place to buy cotton candy at 8 p.m. on a Friday night in a small town when all the cotton candy you brought with you melted in your car.

The answer: the Subway inside the local Walmart. Apparently they have a cotton candy machine in the back just for the rare occasions that a desperate party planner comes in begging for as much blue candy fluff as they can make. I almost kissed the Subway guy. He looked a little freaked out.

But, the most important thing I learned about cotton candy is that it's my new diet food (or it would be if I was on a diet). The entire tub of cotton candy has a mere 100 calories. You're telling me that I can either have a little pouch that contains 9.8 crackers or I can have an entire gallon of cotton candy? Sure, the tub isn't quite as handy to stick in your pocket as those little 100 calorie packs, but the contents are far more satisfying.

So what about you? How was your weekend?

Dr. Seuss is taking over my life

2011-08-17T11:09:00.000-07:00

I think I went to sleep yesterday counting Sneetches instead of sheep. I was up until the wee hours of the morning writing goofy poems, making custom water bottle labels, and doing other assorted baby shower related tasks. Despite the fact that I'm going to be totally wiped out come Saturday evening, I'm really looking forward to throwing this shower for my friend. She's having twins so we're doing a "Thing 1 and Thing 2" theme.

There's two things that this should tell you about me. First, I LOVE throwing parties. Because, really, who makes custom water bottles for parties? Only crazy people like me. Second, I am a serious procrastinator. I leave this afternoon (the shower is four hours from where I live), and I hadn't really done anything until last night.

My procrastination also makes me a chronically late person (I know, I hate me too). My friends know to expect me about seven minutes after I say I'll arrive. Somehow, I've managed to get so good at being late that I'm always the same amount of late. Maybe someday I'll fix this annoying little habit.

In the meantime, will you ~~vote for me in this week's Blogger Idol~~? Voting has ended; thanks for your help. If I get through this week, I'll be in the top four. And I'll owe it all to you guys. This week's topic was to get on our soap boxes and tell our readers something we care about. My post is called "Children are not an inconvenience. They are people." Feel free to agree or disagree with me in the comments section of that post!

Warning: This is a "mommy blog" post

2011-08-16T12:50:00.000-07:00

It's August. That's going to be my excuse for why I still haven't gotten my suitcases put away. Or cleaned my floors. Or followed up on a single business card from BlogHer. But you don't really care about that, do you?

Instead, let's talk about boobs. Specifically, my boobs. I'm ready to reclaim them. It's been nearly 17 months since I gave birth to my little, beautiful baby and started nursing him. It's been crazy and painful and horrible and wonderful. But now he's a big, beautiful boy, and his mother is desperate for a full night's sleep. I know it's been a while since I've complained about sleep, but if you want to catch up, read this, this and this.

I think I've finally hit that point that all the mothers I knew told me I would: I'm ready to have my body back.

We're down to nursing only once in the wee hours of the morning, and that's just because I'm too lazy to actually get up and start my day at 5:00 a.m. Letting the boy have the ol' boob affords me another two hours of sleep. Even still, it's gotten to be too much.

So, tonight is the last night of nursing. It's bittersweet, and you'll have to hang in there with Mrs. Sappy Mom this week as I admit that my little boy is growing up, but I'll try not to bug you about it too much.

Wednesday night, the little guy has to stay over at my mom's house (the first night I'll have every spent away from him) because I have to go out of town to throw an awesome baby shower; expect cool pictures next week. Hey, you might even get a shot of my soon-to-be Dolly Parton-esque cleavage as my milk tries to figure out that it needs to dry up. I know you're excited about that!

How to get a husband

2011-08-12T15:07:00.000-07:00

My husband and I are celebrating our fourth anniversary. On the one hand, I can't believe we've been married for four years. On the other, sometimes it seems like we've done as much in four years as we thought we'd do in ten.

We started reminiscing about the beginning of our relationship, and I was trying to convince him that this has all been part of a well-laid plan that began almost 11 years ago. He didn't buy it.

Either way, I figured I'd share my husband-snagging tips, just in case they're useful to anyone out there.

1. The first date: make sure it's something embarrassing, so that you can both pretend it never happened. Example: Go to Homecoming at age 15 wearing a faux snakeskin dress paired with the ugliest shoes you can find. It's also a good idea to get your purse stuck in the seat belt of your date's mom's minivan on the way to the dance forcing you to abandon your emergency lip gloss and other teenage girl essentials.

I'm not even going to make any excuses for this.

2. The second date: don't bother with this one. Just stay "friends." I'd also recommend getting a job together at, say, a library. Make sure your mother is your secret crush's boss. Nothing like a little preview of what life with the in-laws might be like to make a guy stick around, right?

3. While at this job, try to woo your future spouse with clever techniques like pretending you can't water the houseplants that decorate the bookshelves. I know pouring water out of a jug into a planted pot sounds like a pretty basic skill, but 16-year old girls are apparently incapable of such things. Either that or the only way they know how to flirt is by playing the dumb and helpless routine.

4. Move three thousand miles away from each other to go to college before deciding you actually want to be more than friends.This ensures really good communication so you don't do things like accidentally continue to date other people because you didn't understand that you were actually stepping your relationship up from "just friends" to "100% exclusive" given that you never had a face-to-face conversation about it.

With a foundation like that, how can your relationship be anything but smooth-sailing?

Just a couple years later, we got married.

We got this dog.

We had this baby.

We bought this house.

And, I can tell you with certainty today that I wouldn't change a thing about our life's story. It's made us who we are, and I'm proud of the life we've built together. Four years is just a drop in the bucket compared to the 60 that I hope we have to come.

I'm a bad blogger, but will you love me anyway?

2011-08-10T10:10:00.000-07:00

Our 12-day road trip (and recovery from said road trip) is totally kicking my butt. I'm still swimming in laundry, have a stack of business cards to sort through from the BlogHer conference that's a mile high, and am trying to teach my son that mommy only uses smarties to stop him from screaming when he's in his carseat, not just in everyday life.

So, all I've got for you today is a plea: will you vote for me this week in Blogger Idol? We're down to the top six and every single vote counts now. Every one. Yours too. This week's topic was to write about a day in your life as if you were a vampire. See what I had to say ~~and vote here. (Voting runs from noon today 'til midnight tomorrow).~~ Voting for this week is now closed. Thanks for your support! Check back next week.

I know I've been a very neglectful blogger. I promise a real post for tomorrow. I have been trying to read and keep up with all of you - even if I don't have time to leave comments - but later this week, I will be back to my regularly scheduled blogging. Thanks so much for sticking with me!

Sometimes my life is like Jeopardy

2011-08-06T10:11:00.001-07:00

My husband is a wealth of useless interesting facts. These little bits of trivia often find their way into our every day conversation. The other day, we were in the car, and he said to me, “I was reading an article about American companies that are working on alternative energy and biodiesel. The article said something that I've seen in a lot of news stories lately that really bothers me.”

“Oh yeah? What's that?” I asked him.

“Well, they keep referring to 'companies using canola oil' as an alternative fuel source. But what they really should say is that they are using rapeseed oil,” he explained.

“RAPEseed? Like rape rape?” I said.

“Yeah, rapeseed. There's no such thing as a canola plant,” he said sarcastically.

“There's no such thing as a canola plant, but there is such ting as a rapeseed plant?” I wondered aloud.

“The oil comes from rapeseed. Canola is really just an acronym anyway. It stands for Canadian oil of low acidity. So if they want to be technically correct, they should refer to it as rapeseed oil,” he said.

“Why on earth do you even know that?”

“I don't know!” he said defensively.

“Well, as someone who works in marketing, I can tell you that I wouldn't try to sell something called rapeseed oil if you paid me. Rapeseed oil is a PR disaster waiting to happen,” I told him.

“Oh,” he said, pondering my response briefly. “I just think they could do a little better fact-checking.”

“The more you know...” I said, picturing the yellow star drawing a rainbow across a black screen.

So there you have it. Did you know the origin of canola oil?

If you scratch my back...

2011-08-03T10:00:00.000-07:00

It's that time again: ~~voting is open for~~ Blogger Idol. This week is a DOUBLE elimination,so your votes will earn you a double appreciation from me. Voting is over for this week; thank you for your support! ~~So - please! - vote now.~~ This week's topic was "What do you want to be when you grow up." Here is what I had to say about it.

I can't tell you how much your support means to me. If you vote for me, please let me know if there's any way I can help you in return. Follow your blog? You got it! Like you on Facebook? No problem! Buy you a brand new Lexus? Probably not. But give you a shout out on Twitter? I'll even give you two. Or if you just want to vote out of the kindness of your heart, I will think you're super awesome.

And, because I'm supposed to be on vacation, I'll stop typing and just leave you with a picture. And with what I've learned so far on Little Spaghetti's first vacation: Vacations make babies tired. Which makes vacations more vacation-y for parents. Who knew?

I'm having an affair...

2011-08-01T15:57:00.000-07:00

...with sub sandwiches.

What were you expecting? Racy details of my secret trysts with the sexy mailman? Come on, if I was having that kind of affair, do you think I would post it on the world wide web for all to read? (For the record, my mailman isn't sexy. Actually, she isn't even a man.)

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Back to the sandwiches. I think some people call them hoagies, but I'll stick with subs. Mouth-watering turkey, delicious Swiss cheese sliced fresh before you eyes. Mustard and mayonnaise mixed together into a savory concoction that's like crack on a bun. A perfect combination of crispy lettuce and spicy onion. Sometimes there's nothing better than a good sub.

True story: I am so in love with sub sandwiches that I almost named this blog “Olives and Pickles.” I decided against it because I worried I'd end up weighing 400 pounds as a result of craving a sub sandwich every time I sat down to blog.

My sub sandwiches and I were living in bliss until a few weeks ago. My husband came home and saw a drink cup from one of the local sub places on the counter.

“How many days a week do you eat sandwiches?” he asked innocently.

I got flustered and broke into a cold sweat. I could feel my cheeks and neck turning red. I swallowed a lump in my throat and took a deep breath. My heart was racing. “I don't know,” I finally managed to say. “Maybe like twice or something.”

Six or seven times a week would have been more like it. But some part of me didn't want to admit it. It's not that my husband even would have cared, but I was like some kind of addict, clinging to denial that I did not have a sandwich problem.

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The next day, I went to the king of sandwich shops: Delitowne USA. (Note the extra “e” on towne, which makes it just that much classier.) It's deceiving, this sandwich shop. Its mascot is a dancing pickle in a tux, and the restaurant itself is located inside a gas station, but – I kid you not – this is THE place to get sandwiches. The kicker is the bread. They make the bread daily, and bake premium sandwich ingredients into the crust for an out-of-this-world sandwich experience. Jalapeno cheddar, three cheese pepperoncini, and – my favorite – Swiss onion. It's perfection.

I took the sandwich home and savored each bite. But when I was done, I got this nervous feeling. I didn't want my husband to come home, see the sandwich wrappers, and call me out on my “twice a week” answer. So I wrapped all the trash neatly into the sandwich paper and tossed it in the trash can outside.

As luck would have it, that would be the one day a month my husband decided to take out the trash without me nagging.

“How much do you think you spend each year on sandwiches?” he asked with a sneaky smile.

“What?!?” I said, “It's not that bad. I was in a hurry today and just had to grab something to eat while I was out.”

After that, it got worse. I'd crush up the trash, throw it away inside the house, and then cover it with dirty diapers just to make sure he wouldn't find it. I'd get cash back at the grocery store so I could have a sandwich fund that wouldn't show up on our debit statement. I'd scrub my hands and brush my teeth after lunch to make sure none of the delicious scent of sub sandwich lingered.

Finally, it got to be too much, and one night, I broke down. “I eat sandwiches pretty much every day,” I blurted out as we were watching The Bachelorette. “I'm sorry.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I know. Lucky for you, I'll probably never make you choose between me and sub sandwiches.”

Darn right because the only thing that might sway that ultimatum in his favor would be our wedding vows.

Kidding...I like him more than sub sandwiches. Most days.

Want free money? Send my husband a scam email

2011-07-27T11:58:00.000-07:00

Before I share this awesome story with you, can I ask you a favor? Will you ~~vote for me in Week 5 of Blogger Idol?~~ (Voting for Week 5 is closed. Thanks for all your support!) No gimmicks, no videos, no bribes...but please vote. I can't do it without you! This week was "Idol Gives Back Week," and we had to feature some of our favorite blogs. See what I have to say about Momma Bird, Mom Next Door, I Need a Playdate, Absolutely Narcissism, and My Own Private Idaho. There were SO many more of you that I would like to have featured; I hope to share more Bloggy BFF love on my blog in the future!

Alright, back to how to get free money from my husband:

You know those emails that most people delete without even reading the entire subject line? The ones titled “Confirmation Letter from Irish Lottery Board” and “Concerning My Proposed Investment Inquiry in your Country?” My husband likes them. Enjoys them even.

A couple months ago, he came to me with three pages of computer paper in his hand. “I got the funniest email today, and I printed it out for you,” he said and handed me the document. “URGENT RESPONSE NEEDED” the subject line said.

“This is a scam,” I told him, handing the paper back.

“I know, but it's hilarious!” He proceeded to read me the ENTIRE email stopping to highlight his favorite parts of the absurd “business” proposition presented in broken English. “The funniest thing,” he said after he finished, “is that this guy is claiming to be the Director of the FBI, but he has a yahoo email address. Like it's just sooo hard for the Director of the FBI to get a dot gov email address.”

Then, we were in the car the other day, and Mr. Spaghetti said, “You know those scam emails I like so much?”

“Yeah...” I said reluctantly.

“I got one from a Mr. Zellerman today. He found a suitcase full of money and wants to share it with me,” he said like he was talking about an old buddy. “He said he didn't actually open it, but that he is guessing by the weight of it that it contains three or four million dollars.”

“I wish I knew how much three or four million dollars weighed,” I said.

“He signed it 'The Legal Diplomatic of Your Package Box,'" he laughed. “I think I should start using that as my title from now on.”

“I'll get you business cards,” I answered.

“You know,” he said after a minute, “I almost sort of feel for those guys. They apparently have no marketable job skills, so they have to resort to using the English language poorly to swindle people out of money.”

“Well, I feel better knowing that you're smart enough not to fall for a scam like that, just that you might send them money as an act of charity.”

He pulled a jump drive out of his pocket and handed it to me with a sinister look on his face. “Here follow my instructions,” he said.

“Is it a scam email? Are you gonna make me read it?” I whined.

“No!” he said, “I just want to listen to some music...”

My husband wanted me to add this disclaimer about his love of spam letters: Nigerian scam emails are like spy novels written for ten year-olds. They’re foreign and little bit exciting and they’re harmless so long as you recognize that they aren’t real.

Mommy fail #126: Losing your car seat

2011-07-24T22:51:00.000-07:00

The family and I went out of town this weekend so my husband could take a much needed fishing break and I could visit some friends.

My husband left for the lake early Saturday morning while the baby and I were still asleep. Once we got up and moving, we decided we'd go out to breakfast with the friends we were staying with. As soon as we got out the door, I realized that my car was not there. Which meant my car seat was also not there.

Desperate not to be stranded, the wheels in my head started turning. First I called my husband, just to be sure he hadn't taken the seat out and left it somewhere. He didn't answer. He was fishing.

Then I wracked my brain trying to figure out if I might know anyone in town with a car seat. After an hour and several phone calls, we finally located a spare seat.

I know what you're thinking: That doesn't sound too bad, and it actually sounds more like a “Daddy fail” than a “Mommy fail.” And you're right, if only that had been the end.

A couple hours later, I went to see the bathroom remodel another friend was working on. The woman whose husband was fishing with my husband also happened to be there. I started telling them what had happened with the car seat.

I didn't get very far before the woman said, “I'm not sure if I should tell you this, but your husband didn't take your car fishing. It's parked in front of my house; they took our SUV.”

That meant the car seat had been only a couple blocks from where we were staying the entire time.

When my husband came home, I told him about the fiasco. “Didn't you hear what I said last night?" he said. "I told you that I was leaving the spare key in your purse and the car parked at the house.”

With no one left to blame, I had to accept my own short-comings: faulty memory, selective hearing, and an excellent ability to create a crisis where none exists.

How about you? How was your weekend?

I've got an offer you can't refuse

2011-07-20T15:56:00.000-07:00

And, yes, it has to do with voting for me for Blogger Idol...

Let's get down to business. Here are the terms: I have a hilariously cute video of Little Spaghetti from about six months ago. It is so cute that whenever I'm having a bad day, I watch it and can't help but smile. So, I'm going to share said video with you on the one condition that if you - while watching the video - smile even just a little bit, ~~you have to go vote for me this week.~~ Voting for this week has ended, so the video is just yours to enjoy! Thanks for all your support.

This week's topic was: What writing means to you. One of the judge's comments was kind of mean (hence why I had to bust out the video and cheer myself up). So even though she didn't like it, I hope you do! Read it here. ~~Vote here (pick Mama Spaghetti)~~. Thank you a thousand times!

Also, my post this week features the photography of the amazingly talented Adriana Iris at La Dulce Vida. Her words and photos inspire me, so I was thrilled when she agreed to let me use some of her pictures for my post. I think she has a very unique way of capturing life's beauty.

If you vote, let me know so I can thank you or give you a shout out on Twitter (leave your Twitter handle, just in case)!

Nevada, why are you so vain?

2011-07-20T14:26:00.000-07:00

Here's a little known fact about my great state: Nevada ranks fourth in the nation for percentage of people with vanity license plates.

I suppose that's not such a bad top ten list to be on. Better than top ten states for unemployment...or home foreclosures...or dropout rates.

Wait? What's that? Nevada *is* on all those lists? Well...those statistics aren't nearly as entertaining in a blog post as vanity license plates.

Indeed, I've found that Nevadans have a lot to say on their license plates. Sometimes they're clever. Other times they just confuse me. Here are a few of the best ones I've seen recently.

Well, I suppose it is. You couldn't think of anywhere better to spend your money than on a special license plate admitting your car's a piece of junk?

Roses are red? Thank you, Captain Obvious! Someone is very serious about the color red here.

I have no idea what this is supposed to say. (Any guesses?). At first I thought it said "Carpe diem," except that it actually looks more like "crap a diem," which I'm pretty sure would mean "crap a day." Maybe I'll use that to greet people I don't like from now on.

Fate happens. Isn't that kind of what "fate" implies? It's hard to be so profound when you're....not.

You took the words right out of my mouth. It really is considerate of you to give others something to say about your driving.

What about you? Do you have any favorite vanity license plates?

Also, I greatly appreciate your concern about my safety. Just know, I don't take pictures while traffic's moving. Even if it means missing a really great license plate.

Mommy Fail #118: Teaching a kid how to pee

2011-07-18T23:22:00.000-07:00

I know my baby is only sixteen months old, but here's the thing: I'm sick of diapers. Shocking, I know.

So, I had a brilliant idea. I thought, "Let's start potty training!" I'm not going to lie to you because you're good people...potty training at this age is more about training me ~~not to be lazy~~ to be attentive than it is about Little Spaghetti actually understanding the concept of pottying.

I did a little reading about potty training before I started, but all I really learned is that I am not going to refer to my child's urine as "te-te." People actually say that? Yes, apparently, they do.

"Pee" or "pee pee" is what we will say in my house, even if my high school English teacher thinks that word is crass.

Anyway, we started the potty training. He's actually doing very well. He sits on the little potty that goes on the big potty (because who wants to clean out those little plastic potties?), he makes a "shhhhh" sound, and then - about 75% of the time - he pees. After lots of hollering and hugging about how awesome he is (I do the hollering, not him), he grabs a little piece of toilet paper, wipes himself, and pushes it into the potty. Finally, he gets up, flushes the potty, and claps.

I've been calling it success, even though the whole charade hinges on me bringing him to sit on the potty approximately every twelve minutes which effectively removes my ability to do anything else in life.

But then, tonight, my dad called.

"Mom was telling me about how the baby goes potty," he said.

"Yeah?" I responded, not being able to figure out why he sounded so weird about it.

"You're ruining him! He's going to get beat up when he goes to school! Boys don't wipe for crying out loud!"

So there you have it...that's what you get for letting a woman teach a boy how to pee.

Step away from the computer and (probably) no one will get hurt

2011-07-15T00:01:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that I often blog instead of doing other more responsible things like cooking and cleaning. In fact, if finding excuses not to do housework were a sport, I'd be the MVP for sure. But, I'm also a big enough person to admit when I have a problem.

Like when I find myself wishing the dog could learn to feed herself so she didn't have to interrupt my twittering. Or when I convince myself that Little Spaghetti would be fine without a bath for just one more day because I haven't been on pinterest in hours. Or when I start thinking it's ok to bribe my toddler with chocolate chips so I can just get fifteen more minutes to ~~stalk~~ comment on blogs in peace.

So, this weekend, I'm taking a cue from Little Spaghetti (and sharing the video with you, too, in case the cuteness inspires you to do the same).

I'm going to stop and smell the roses. I'm going to unplug.

I blog for me, but I live for him. If I'm not careful, one day I'm going to turn around and he'll be giving roses to a girl all right, but that girl won't be me. (And he'll be begging me for the money to buy those roses...the nerve!)

So savor the summer this weekend, friends. I'll catch you all next week!

Vote...or my baby will get you with his scary face!

2011-07-13T21:58:00.000-07:00

Alright folks, one more plea to get in your vote for Blogger Idol (ends Thursday night at midnight CST). Do it now...it only takes like three seconds. Go here, click the little bubble next to "Roni and Mama Spaghetti", then click vote. If you don't, I'm going to send my kid after you making his scariest face. Scary....see...

Also, major props to my awesome partner for the week, Roni, at Mommy in Law. I thought our interview was pretty darn entertaining.

And I want to thank MJ at A Girl Named Michael for nominating me for a Versatile Blogger Award. She is a great bloggy friend, and I'm glad to have met her recently! So, here's my seven facts and some blogs I recommend checking out.

Finally, I convinced my husband to let me go to BlogHer in San Diego coming up August 5-6. I am SO incredibly excited and also SO incredibly freaking out. But, mostly, I'm wondering if any of my friends out there in Blogland are also going. I'm hoping to be able to meet some great new people, but also to put some faces to some names of "old" friends. If you're going, let me know!

And finally (for real this time), I get to meet Ree Drummond, the Pioneer Woman during pathfinder day. I hope I don't pass out. Or throw up on her. She's pretty much the reason I started blogging, so I'm going to try my hardest not to embarrass myself. Anyone got a good joke I can tell her or something to make her think I'm awesome?

Well, at least you didn't marry me for money.

2011-07-13T10:34:00.000-07:00

We were sitting at the dinner table the other night, when my husband looked over at me sweetly, took my hand in his, and said:

"I've been doing a lot of reading lately, and I'm beginning to think that I didn't really marry you for any of the reasons I thought I did."

Me: "Oh really? Please tell me more."

Husband: "Well, I read this interesting article about people who had been in accidents that damaged the parts of their brain that control emotions. They end up spending so much time and energy trying to reason things out that it causes them to not be able to make any decisions about anything."

Me: "That is interesting...but what does it have to do with why you married me?"

Husband: "When I married you, I had all these logical reasons, but it turns out that logic relies pretty heavily on emotions, so I think I married you just as much for emotion as for reason."

Me: "So what you're saying is that you didn't think you married me for love, but it turns out that you did?"

Husband: "Well, it doesn't sound very nice when you put it like that. It's just that consciously, I thought I was making a choice for certain reasons that made sense, but I think my subconscious mind knew how I really felt about you and made sure I made the right choice in marrying you."

Me: "So what you're saying is that it took your subconscious mind to talk you into marrying me?"

Husband: "Oh, never mind! I really married you because I had a huge crush on you in high school, and I just never could get over it."

At least there was ONE good reason. I'm kidding...the truth is, even though I like to give him a hard time, I love him even more when he says things like that. That's the nerdy, cerebral, wonderful man I married, and I wouldn't trade him for the world.

P.S. Voting is now open for Blogger Idol Week 3; this week is an interview with one of the other contestants. I got paired with the fabulous Mommy in Law. Vote Roni and Mama Spaghetti! Click here to vote.

Photo by Chris Doerr

Did that really just come out of my mouth?

2011-07-09T12:07:00.000-07:00

As my baby gets older, I find myself talking more. Sure, I talked to him when he was little, but it wasn't the constant play-by-play of my internal dialogue that seems to come out of my mouth these days. Perhaps the lack of being around other human beings who can say more than just a couple words in English is finally getting to me.

Whatever the cause, I say some pretty entertaining things. Here's a few of my favorites:

1. "There's really no reason we *need* all of these clothes. They just have to be washed."
2. "So THAT'S what Desitin tastes like."
3. "Look! Look at the horse going pee pee! He's going pee pee just like you'll do someday. Pee pee in the river, which is basically just like the potty."
4. " I'd much rather you try to eat a binder clip than a marble. It's a lot harder to swallow a binder clip."

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5. "On Saturday, the caterpillar ate through one piece of chocolate cake, one ice cream cone, one pickle, one slice of Swiss cheese, one slice of salami, one lollipop, one piece of cherry pie, one sausage, one cupcake, and one slice of watermelon. Boy, that sounds like mommy on a Saturday. I wonder if he's a boredom eater, too?"

What about you? Do you say things that might make loved ones worry about you if they were around to hear them?

If my kid does a cute dance, will you vote for me on Blogger Idol?

2011-07-06T13:05:00.000-07:00

Well, you're in luck! Because today, I just so happen to have a video of Little Spaghetti...dancing. To the Blogger Idol theme song, no less.

This is the song that plays in the background of Blogger Idol every video (i.e. the elimination videos). It makes me break into a cold sweat whenever I hear it. My little guy, though? No sweating. Apparently this song inspires him to do some of his best dancing. And shouting.

This week's assignment was "If you could be the opposite sex for a day..." Here's what I had to say about it.

So please, won't you vote for me now? Otherwise, he'll have to learn to cry when this song comes on instead of dancing. And nobody wants that. [Note: Scroll to the end of the post to vote; voting ends Thursday at 11:59 CST]

And, yes, sometimes I do put clothes on my baby. Though, more often than not, they're on the couch like they are in this video...

Want to know more about Blogger Idol? Here's what I had to say about my debut last week ("What having ants in your pants can tell you about yourself"), and here's the audition that got me selected for the top 12.

If it were up to me, your kid would never need another shot

2011-07-06T07:35:00.000-07:00

If I ran the world, things would be a little bit different 'round these parts. Specifically:

*Immunizations would come in the form of delicious, watermelon-flavored suckers instead of sharp pointy needles. And I'd never have to pull another bloody, Donald Duck-covered Band-Aid off my poor, sweet baby's thighs again.

*Screw three day weekends; I'd just reverse the whole system. 5 days of weekend, 2 days of work week.

*There would be fairies. Lots of them. The bedtime fairy would bathe kids, brush their teeth, and put them to sleep. The laundry fairy would wash, dry, fold, repeat. The foot rub fairy would...well, that one's pretty self explanatory.

*The combination of poop and a diaper would cause a magical chemical reaction that would turn the whole darn mess into solid gold. The downside is that my kid's pants would weigh a ton several times a day. The upside is that I'd never try to pawn off changing him on anyone else ever again.

*I'd find a way to bottle the joy in my baby's smiles and laughs, and the result would be like the fountain of youth. That way being a mother could keep me young instead of giving me gray hairs, an achy back, and a faulty memory.

What about you? What would the world look like if you were in charge?

I hope you celebrated the Fourth of July like my Dad

2011-07-04T23:50:00.000-07:00

This weekend was a long one - and not just because it was three days. Between the heat, family in town, and a to-do list that was (who am I kidding...still is) a mile long, I've had no time for anything fun (by which I mean blogging).

So, I thought I'd share a little story, instead, to wish you all a Happy 4th of July:

My dad to the bartender at dinner: "So, you've got two sizes for beer, huh?"

Bartender: "Yeah, a 16 oz. and a 22 oz."

My Dad: "I'll take one of each."

Bartender, looking skeptical: "One of each? Alright..."

My Dad: "Yeah, my left arm's weaker than my right one, and I don't want it to get tired while I'm double-fisting."

Oh, Dad. You know how to party. Actually, he was ordering one for my mom, but it was funnier not to let the bartender know that.

Anyway, I hope you had a two-beers-at-once kind of holiday weekend!

And now, because a blog post lacking quality can always be made up for with cute pictures, I leave you with these:

My kid loves shoes. He picks out his shoes every morning, and if I don't put them on, he follows me around whining until I do. Lately, he picks out his snow boots. Pretty much every day. And he's so proud of himself!

This was taken late this evening. He looks how I feel. Mom, can this weekend be over yet?

PSA: In case of fire, hide under a frying pan

2011-07-01T21:03:00.000-07:00

Why are some nursery rhymes so creepy? And why haven't we figured out how creepy they are and ditched them for pete's sake!

Tonight Little Spaghetti and I were reading through a set of little board books he has, and I came across this gem.

Oh lady bugs! Cute!

Ah! I think I remember this poem. Though...I don't think I know any more than the first two lines...

What?!? That's very unexpected. And horrifying!

Who is the narrator of this story? And why doesn't he or she have a soul? This is just cruel..
.

Are you kidding me? Under the frying pan? This is the worst ending ever.

That is quite possibly the saddest lady but I have ever seen.

Seriously...I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing that story.

And don't even get me started on the oppressive, anti-feminist undertones of this seemingly harmless story.* I mean, really, just because she wasn't at home, in her kitchen, all the sudden it's her fault that her children have perished in a terrible fire?

*(That's sarcastic...I don't really think this book is trying to brainwash our kids. And I really don't want to start a feminist debate of some kind...)

I laugh at my husband. Now you can, too!

2011-06-29T21:54:00.000-07:00

My husband provides me with endless hours of entertainment, most of which I blame on the fact that he's an engineer, which makes him say ridiculous, sort of nerdy things.

So today, I thought I'd share some of the hilarity with you. I hope it makes you smile.

Exhibit A: I apparently know nothing about fruit flies...
We have a fruit fly problem. I don't know why. It's not like I even go to the store often enough to have fresh fruit sitting around. Somewhere, I heard that you could put out a glass of apple cider vinegar to trap and kill the fruit flies. So I tried it. This was the result:

See how there are no flies actually IN the vinegar, but there's like a billion flies climbing around the outside of the glass drinking the vinegar like it's some kind of sweet nectar, which is apparently providing them with the strength and liveliness to breed like rabbits (or maybe the saying should be “to breed like fruit flies”) and take over my house?

Yeah, so not effective.

Which I mentioned to my husband. He walked over, took one look at the glass, and got a smirk on his face. He look at me and shook his head slightly as if to say, “You silly, girl. You don't know how to do anything, do you?”

Then he said, “Of course it's not working. It has to have a positive meniscus.”

A what now? The only time I'd heard that word was in reference to some cartilage inside someone's knee. And I sure as heck didn't know 1. Where I would find such a thing and 2. What the devil it had to do with fruit flies.

Turns out a “positive meniscus” means I have to *almost* overflow the glass so the vinegar sort of forms a bubble on the top, which traps the flies. I guess you learn something every day.

Exhibit B: I might need to rethink my technology...
When my husband and are both at work, we like to email back and forth – like instant messaging, but through email.

Lately, I've been working on our semi-annual newsletter, and I brought it to the professional print shop to print this week.

While I was at work, my husband called me, but I ~~hung up on him~~ cut the conversation short when I saw the representative from the print shop in the hallway. After I'd talked with him, I emailed my husband.

“Sorry…my printer stopped by and was standing outside of my door staring at me.” I said.

He sent back, “That seems like odd behavior for a printer. Was it an HP?”

And that's why I married this man.

Blogger Idol debut! (And, vote for me, please?)

2011-06-29T13:18:00.000-07:00

So, I don't want to bore all of you, my wonderful readers, over the next several weeks (hopefully twelve, if I make it to the final round) with this Blogger Idol thing. But I do want to make sure you all have a chance to check out Blogger Idol and to read all the great stuff the talented contestants have written.

Here's my performance, entitled "What having ants in your pants can tell you about yourself." I hope you read it. And that you vote for me. Pretty please? With a cherry on top? 'Cuz without you guys, I don't stand a chance.

With that said, here's my promise: I'll keep the self-promoting on the blog to a minimum, and I'll continue to update with "regular" content for your enjoyment.

And if you get sick of me talking about Blogger Idol, you can just go ahead and skip posts with "Blogger Idol" in the title. Pretend they don't exist. Whatever makes you happy and keeps you coming back here, because when all this is said and done (and whether I win or lose), I still hope to be a blog you like to read.

My other promise: If I win, I will not to let all the glory and fame go to my head and become a total diva. Maybe a little bit of a diva...but not a big one. Also, in that case, my coattails are open for riding, no ticket required. Though, I've already promised a spot to long-time reader, K. So, I hope you don't mind sitting next to her.

Thanks, peeps!

So, you think you're cooler than me?

2011-06-27T20:55:00.000-07:00

Ever since Little Spaghetti discovered that crawling could take him places, it seems that just about everything in the world is more interesting than boring ol' mom. Now that he's walking: Forget about it! Sure I'm still good for a little milk now and then, especially when he's feeling tired or bonks his head on something, but otherwise there's just too much else going on in his little life. This new independence of his seems like it happened so quickly; I can't believe how big he's getting already.

There's a song on the radio lately that I find myself singing to Little Spaghetti as we go about our day-to-day business, and as I spend more of that time chasing him from room to room.

"Cooler Than Me" by Mike Posner

If I could write you a song and make you fall in love

I would already have you up under my arm.

I used up all of my tricks; I hope that you like this

But you probably won't; you think you're cooler than me.

You got designer shades just to hide your face and

You wear 'em around like you're cooler than me.

You never say "hey" or remember my name

And it's probably 'cuz you think you're cooler than me.

I have a strange feeling this may be the first of many times I say to my son, "So, you think you're cooler than me?"

I take small solace in the fact that he does - actually - sometimes remember my name. And hearing him say "ma ma ma" is one of the sweetest sounds I've ever known.

Blog Bash Winner!

2011-06-27T20:10:00.000-07:00

First, I want to say thank you to all who entered! I hope you'll stick around; I'd like to get to know you!

And...what you all want to know...the winner of the Spaghetti Westerner's first giveaway ever is:

#162
Mary

You are awesome, too, Mary!

Blogger Idol: Will you be in my "Vote For The Worst" club?

2011-06-24T11:35:00.000-07:00

I wasted a lot of time this week totally stressing: watching seconds tick by on the clock, obsessively checking Twitter, breathing into a paper bag to calm myself down...ok, not that last one, but I thought about it a couple times. What was I stressed over?

I auditioned for Blogger Idol 2011. And then I had to wait. And wait. And wait. Until they announced the results today. As I watched the awesome video they put together (check it out) my heart sank a little lower into my stomach as each name flashed up on the screen, but wasn't mine. And then, at 2 minutes and 10 seconds into the video, I saw my name in lights.

I am so flattered to have been chosen as part of the top 12 (the judges are a group of awesome writers), and I am honored to be among the other amazing bloggers.

But now, my dear friends, I have to ask: Will you be part of my voting club? I hope it's not really a "Vote For The Worst" club, but I'd rather have your support as the worst than be alone as the best. The contest starts this week at Blogger Idol (don't forget to follow the blog there or follow @BloggerIdol on Twitter!) I'd love it if you joined us, and I hope that you find my blogging worth voting for each week. (Voting starts on Wednesdays and ends at 11:59 p.m. CST on Thursdays.)

And for those who are curious...here was my audition:

When I was eight, I wanted to be a best-selling author. That's my first memory of dreaming of doing something big. Of making a splash. Of being somebody.

After a big-name publisher rejected my first masterpiece, I decided to stick to my Lisa Frank diary, kept safely under plastic, purple, butterfly-shaped lock and key.

And so it went. When I was eleven, I wanted to be an Olympic gymnast. When I was in high school, I wanted to be a Broadway star. When I was in college, I wanted to be America's Next Top Model.

There was always something in the way, though: I was too young, too tall, too tone-deaf, too nervous.

I went on with life. I got a solid degree, followed by a respectable career. Then, one day, I found myself staring into the eyes of the guy who makes me be my worst critic, but is also my greatest inspiration: my weeks-old son. I felt a little bit like Derek Zoolander staring into a dingy puddle in the gutter asking my reflection, "Who am I?" (Though, my son is a little more beautiful than an oil-smeared, watery reflection of Ben Stiller).

The problem wasn't actually that I don't know who I am. I am a wife, but I'd never cut it in Stepford. I am a mother, but Carol Brady could teach me a thing or two. I like to craft, but I don't hold a candle to Martha Stewart. I find some good deals, but I'm no extreme couponer. I'm a Do-It-Yourself designer and decorator, but Paige Davis would kick my butt in a design-off. I enjoy cooking, but Paula Deen would be embarrassed by some of the things that come out of my kitchen.

The true problem was that I didn't know what to do with the fact that I'm a lot of things, but I'm not defined by any of them. In the end, what I have to offer is *me.* My genuine - if sometimes cynical - passion for my fairly unremarkable life instead of my singing and dancing. And, so, I write.

On my blog, The Spaghetti Westerner, I like to look at life as entertainment with my loved ones as the characters. Sometimes it's a sitcom, occasionally it's a drama, and there's no shortage of bad reality TV. I want to inspire and to commiserate, to support and to rely, to share and to learn.

Here's the cherry on top: I am so obscure a blogger that you don't even know who I am.

After all, isn't that what Idol is about? Taking someone that nobody's ever heard of who pours their heart and soul into what they do with a little bit of talent and a lot of charisma and introducing them to the world?

It isn't about what I've already done, but what I'm going to do. That's why – even if you don't know it yet – I am your 2011 Blogger Idol.

Yours Truly,

Lisa aka Mama Spaghetti

Do you want $100 CASH?!?

2011-06-21T21:00:00.000-07:00

I don't really do giveaways. It's not that I have anything against them, and I enter them all over bloggyland, but between frying cheese and leaving love notes for my husband, I just don't seem to find the room for giveaways in my busy schedule.

But when I heard about Blog Bash 2011, I decided to change my ways. The great thing about Blog Bash is that there are more than 125 blogs participating, and each blog is hosting a giveaway worth at least $100. It's like a big ol' party. And if there's one thing I know, it's that I love me a great party.

So, I bring you the Spaghetti Westerner's very first giveaway ever! If it goes well, perhaps I'll do more...

Now, a lot of people got sponsors for their giveaways, and I'm sure you'll find some really great reviews of really great products from really great companies. But you'll see none of that over here.

You see, I decided that what I really want is friends. That's why I blog. (I hope that doesn't make me sound desperate...) To find cool people and have a community. So I'm offering $100 CASH to one of my bloggy friends. Well, not really cash, but a VISA cash card, which is pretty much like cash (and way safer to send in the mail).

While it may *seem* a little bit like a bribe, I like to think of it as a gesture of kindness. And really, who doesn't want to be friends with someone who's willing to give you a hundred bucks for no reason?

Entering is super easy...just follow my blog (on Google Friend Connect) and make sure you leave a comment (be sure to leave your email so I can reach you) and let me know that you are following (otherwise I'll have no way to actually pick a winner). Already a follower? I wouldn't leave you out! Just leave a comment and say that you already follow me.

That's it. No extra entries. No running around telling me what products you want. Though, if you want to tell me which post of mine you think is most awesome, I'm not going to stop you.*

Check out the list of participants below. Good luck, and I hope you win something cool! And, most importantly, I hope you stop by again soon.

*There's no extra credit in the giveaway for telling me that I'm awesome. Though I'll return the favor and make sure I pay you a super compliment!

~~To recap:~~

Mandatory entry: Follow on GFC and comment that you're a follower. Include your email so I can get in touch with you.

This giveaway is now closed. Thanks for participating!

Open to US and Canadian residents. This giveaway will end on June 26, 2011 at 11:59 p.m. PST. Winner will be chosen by Random.org, emailed, and announced on my blog shortly after giveaway ends. The winner has 72 hours to respond to my email or I reserve the right to declare a new winner.

How to get things done, or the Costco follow-up...

2011-06-19T11:57:00.000-07:00

I wrote recently about the ugly scene I unintentionally caused at Costco. I was so upset about it that I kept finding myself sitting and stewing about it. So I wrote a letter to my local Costco.

I tried not to complain (too much) about what had happened; I really just wanted to bring light to the fact that the seating situation was causing problems. I'd struggled with it, and I'd seen others with strollers or wheelchairs having similar issues.

I mostly just wanted to get it off my chest and let it go. Let's call it healing.

But then, a miraculous thing happened. I got a phone call from the manager of the local warehouse. He was truly sympathetic (has twins himself, and we swapped stories about how hard it is to get around in lots of stores with strollers and kid gear) and apologetic.

I shared my few suggestions with him (wider aisles, move some of the trash cans from the ends of the aisles where people could sit with strollers), and he acknowledged them and thanked me. I figured that was the end of it: He'd done his duty to make me feel heard and hopefully smooth things over so I didn't abandon my bulk-buying ways.

Then, a couple days later, I went into the Costco. And I was SHOCKED. They had totally rearranged the food court. They'd gotten rid of some tables to widen the aisles. They'd moved trash cans. They'd cleared out an area across from the tables for people to park their carts. It made a huge difference.

I bought a slice of cheese pizza just to try it out. And there was plenty of room. Best of all, nobody yelled at me.

It turns out that the manager had been truly concerned with doing what he could to correct the situation. He wasn't just aiming to please me; he actually wanted to make the store a better place. And you know what? It felt good.

Usually I'm completely non-confrontational. I'm a people-pleaser to the core. I don't complain, and I don't write letters. If this hadn't involved my son and my job as his mother, I don't think I would have had the guts to do it. But I've never been happier to step outside of my comfort zone. It may not be life-altering, and it's almost certainly not the answer for world peace, but I do feel - in some small way - that I've made the world a better place.

If this is the person motherhood is making me, I'll take it!

Whoa! New Blog! Check it out...

2011-06-17T00:01:00.000-07:00

Well, folks, I promised you a redesign, and a redesign you got! I'd put together my first blog design pretty quickly and without much thought. So after lots of hand-wringing and mind-changing, I finally settled on my new look. And here it is! I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, but I hope you like it.

And a big thank you to my pal, Mary, at I Need a Playdate for her help and encouragement with all this.

So, how'd I decide on the new look? I'm glad you asked. Here's the story behind the Spaghetti Westerner (which will live in that handy tab at the top called "What's a Spaghetti Westerner" in case you ever find yourself in need of this explanation).

When I decided to start a blog, I had a heck of a time coming up with a name. My husband suggested the Spaghetti Westerner, and it seemed to fit.

As I kept blogging, I thought more and more about this name and its (lack of) relation to my namesake: Spaghetti Western films. I'll be honest: I didn't actually know much about Spaghetti Westerns when I started blogging. So I turned to my old friend, Google.

Turns out, I have more in common with Spaghetti Western films that I first thought. Let me show you:

A "Spaghetti Westerner" is described as a low-budget movie produced by a European (especially an Italian) film company about life in the western United States during the period of exploration and development.

My life is a low-budget endeavor produced by a self-professed Italian (American) that takes place in the western United States (Nevada). You could say that my blog captures the essence of my exploration and development as a human being.
Also, the tagline for one of the best-known Spaghetti Westerns, A Fistful of Dollars, is "In his own way he is, perhaps, the most dangerous man who ever lived!"

Though in my case, it's more like "In her own way she is, perhaps, the most delirious woman who ever lived!"
Clint Eastwood's character in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly is The Man with No Name.

My character might be called something to the effect of The Woman with No Shame.
I think I even look a little bit like Clint Eastwood...(refer back to comment about the most delirious woman who ever lived).

You see? Tons of similarities. And so, I embraced my roots as the Spaghetti Westerner.

I may be more of a devoted, long-winded, sarcastic, whisk-wielding housewife than a rogue, mysterious, stoic, gun-slinging cowboy, but I hope you won't hold that against me.

Clint Eastwood photo via.

I finally understand all that ice cream and tv I got when I was sick

2011-06-16T11:39:00.000-07:00

Growing up, getting sick was like being upgraded to royalty. I had people waiting on me hand and foot. I got to watch as much tv as I wanted. It was perfectly acceptable to claim that they only thing that sounded good to eat was ice cream and cookies.

And I always just thought it was because my parents wanted me to feel better. Now that I have a child of my own, though, I realize I was sorely mistaken. I now believe that the do-what-you-want-just-don't-complain attitude was a defense mechanism left over from years of having dealt with sick kids.

You know what I'm talking about: the super clingy, super fussy toddler that drains the very life out of your soul each day a cold lingers on. The screaming every time you try to wipe their boogers. The rejection of every. single. food you put in front of them. The sleepless nights that make every minute of the following day feel like hours.

Have you figured out yet that Little Spaghetti's been sick?

I was at the end of my rope trying to diffuse the whining, trying to make him comfortable, trying to distract him from the misery that is his sinus congestion. Then, he started playing with his cup of water and the banana I was trying to feed him. All the sudden, he was content. There was no screaming. There was no sniffling. There was no pleading.

I sat there while he shoved his banana peel into the water glass, and it was like something inside of me broke. I couldn't bring myself to stop him from making the gigantic mess I knew he was about to make because even cleaning up would be easier than fighting with a sick baby.

It dawned on me that after years of dealing with sick kids, of course it was easier for my parents to just let us do whatever would keep us happy. Just to survive until we were well again.

And so I let him make a mess with his water and his banana. I didn't even mind that he splashed the water all over my lap so it *almost* looked (and felt) like I'd peed my pants.

Until I made the mistake of checking back into my life and looking at the disgusting banana cocktail my little boy had whipped up.

The sight of the gray, gooey water coupled with the smell of the slightly overripe banana was too much. And for the second time in my motherhood, I gagged. I'm not usually a gagger.

And so my training has begun. But I'm a quick study. Next time Little Spaghetti gets that tell-tale cough and his nose starts to drip, ice cream and tv it is!

It's a social parade: Follow on Friday

2011-06-16T11:00:00.000-07:00

Every now and then I try out a blog hop. I'm still figuring out which ones I like, and today I'm joining up with the Social Parade: Follow on Friday. So welcome, fellow hoppers!

I love finding new blogs to follow, and who doesn't love getting some new followers? Here's a little more about me if you'd like to get to know me better. I hope you stick around!

If you leave a comment and let me know you're following, I will be sure to follow you back, too!

The never-ending cliffhanger...That's my blog

2011-06-13T07:28:00.000-07:00

I have this bad habit of bringing up subjects and then never mentioning them again. Sometimes, I even promise an update and then leave you hanging...for months.

But you're in luck! I bring you: Updates About Things You Didn't Know You Cared About!

First off, night-weaning. Do you remember when that started? I sure do...'cuz it was my birthday.

How's that going? I'm glad you asked! It's going...decently. It was going great for a couple weeks. Then Little Spaghetti got sick, and I ~~got lazy~~ felt bad for him, so I let him nurse in the night. Big mistake! He was worse than ever. So I got back to it, and within a couple days we pretty much had it licked. I'm happy to report that I am no longer nursing my one-year-old like a newborn!

Don't get me started on the sleeping, though. The chronicles continue...

Next up: My husband's inability to put dishes in the sink. Or the dishwasher. I know you're DYING to know if my lovely note worked. The answer is yes...for the most part. There are still bad days, but for the most part, he now gets the dishes at least into the sink.

It wasn't going that well until one day when one of "the guys" was coming over to help him do some work in the yard. He made me put the note away so as not to embarrass him, and I think it was the guilt that did him in. After that, he was much better about it.

The note's still tucked in a drawer in the kitchen, just in case I start to see dishes pile up on the counter. But we've had an unexpected turn of events...and I, apparently, should have made the note apply more broadly than just the dishes. Because now we have a problem with other things on the counter. Like my husband's dirty socks.

And finally, there was this time six months ago when I promised to show you the fruits of my renovating labors when I started painting our sunroom. I wish I could say that I just forgot to do post about it, but the truth is that it took me all six months to finally be done painting and redecorating the room. But, here are the results.

We went from this:

To this:

And here are some more pictures of the room, just because I love it so much!

We use the cool hutch as our bar: To store all our booze!

I LOVE having my morning tea at this table.

I've got a thing for birdcages lately.

I reupholstered this chair all by myself. Not to shabby for an amateur.

I've got a couple herb gardens in the windows.

The color - soothing green tea - was feeling a little bold as we put it up on the walls, but now that all the furniture is in, I can't imagine a better color. Seriously, one of my favorite rooms in the house!

And, for the sake of full disclosure, here's the pile of crap I had to move out of that room to photograph it. I wish it looked more like a room in a decorating magazine all the time...

I'm a people pleaser. Sometimes it sucks.

2011-06-11T11:54:00.000-07:00

I like to please people. That's like...my thing. I loathe unpleasant situations. I hate confrontations. And I absolutely never want to be the reason that someone is uncomfortable. It's a personality flaw, for sure, though I'm almost 100 percent positive that the only person who minds is me.

When my husband asks what movie I want to see, my response is always, "I don't care, what do you want to watch?" When in reality, what I want to say is, "I want to see Eat, Pray, Love, but when you get bored halfway through and start whining about what a girly movie is, my guilt over having ruined your Saturday night will eat away at me to the point where I won't even enjoy the movie." So, Transformers it is!

When my in-laws ask me what I want to eat, I almost always say, "Oh, whatever you feel like eating is fine with me," instead of, "Well, I'm really in the mood for a good Chimichanga, but if we end up at a restaurant with a bad batch of guacamole and everyone spends the rest of the weekend with food poisoning, I will pretty much want to die."So, leftovers it is...again.

This people-pleasing has not served me well.

When I was 11, I had my first round of braces taken off my teeth. I am also unfortunate to have no enamel on my two front teeth (my parents blame too many antibiotics when I was a kid). So when they popped the braces glue off, they also pulled off the fake-y enamel stuff they paint on my teeth so that the roots aren't exposed. But the tech didn't know about this sad lack of enamel, and she thought the brown color on my teeth was because I hadn't kept up with my brushing and flossing routine instead of just the fact that it was the inside of my teeth. So she ground on it with her little polisher thing for what felt like HOURS trying to get the "stain" off. And I sat there, not saying anything because...I didn't want to make her feel bad that she was causing me inordinate amounts of pain.

In retrospect, that was insane.

Another case in point: during college, I dated a guy for several months because he'd written me a poem and bought me an expensive necklace. I was really not interested in him, but he was VERY nice to me. So I dated him because...I didn't want to hurt his feelings or seem ungrateful.

In retrospect, that was also insane.

So why am I telling you about this now?

This week, I had my house cleaned by a house cleaner (a very thoughtful and awesome birthday present from my mom). When I got home, I found out that house cleaners had broken the plate that goes on the little spinny-around thing in the microwave. (Those things are hella expensive to replace! I had no idea...) And they also broke the cup we keep in the bathroom. But you know what I did? I tipped them. I actually tipped them EXTRA because...I felt so bad that they felt bad about breaking my stuff.

Once again, insane.

The moral of this story? Being a people-pleaser makes me insane. Though, it still beats hurting people's feelings.

Raise your hand if you think I'm selfish and just need to use my head

2011-06-09T12:47:00.000-07:00

Ok, please don't actually raise your hand because I'll feel really bad about myself.

But if you wanted to raise your hand (which I hope you didn't), you might be happy to know you're not alone.

I'm not even going to get into the details because it makes my blood boil. And it would take me like four hours to type the story of what happened in just a few minutes, and I'm sure you don't want to read a post that long.

But the Reader's Digest version is that I was yelled at publicly by not one, but two middle aged men in Costco for the fact that my son's stroller was blocking the insanely narrow aisle between the tables at the food court. Which makes me the worst mother ever. And the worst human being ever. Apparently.

I'm talking about grown men shouting at me from three rows away. Loudly.

Now, I was blocking the aisle. But in my defense, there was nowhere else for us to sit. There were carts and other diners blocking the wide spaces at the ends of the rows where we would usually have sat. There were also plenty of other aisles that people could use to get in and out of the rows, so it wasn't like I was blockign the ENTIRE food court. And the tables are laid out really poorly. This isn't the first time I've had trouble finding seating at this particular food court.

I wasn't trying to be selfish. Or stupid. Or rude. Or presumptuous. Or any of the other horrible things these men yelled at me while I was just trying to sit for five minutes and feed my son some cheese pizza. It was so totally unnecessary for them to call me out on it. Of all the battles in the world to fight, why harass some woman and her baby in the food court, you know?

I'd wondered about my Costco pizza eating habits before, but maybe this was the universe's way of telling me I really shouldn't be eating cheese pizza at the Costco food court!

Mommy Fail turned Mommy Win! Plus a secret, just for you.

2011-06-06T22:26:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that I'm bad at housekeeping. I use my drying rack as a second closet. I use my stove as a cabinet. I retile my kitchen with a busy-patterned tile so that you can't see the dirt and food and spills.

Alright, alright! Enough with the details of what a bad housekeeper I am...I'm starting to feel like a slacker!

Anyway, one of my particularly bad domestic habits is not putting away the laundry. I've even been known to leave it for days on end in the dryer.

Usually I feel bad about that, but tonight it was one of the best decisions I've made in days!

You see, my husband and I have this new routine where he goes to bed with the baby, and I get to stay up late and ~~blog~~ do my chores and run my household. Then he gets up early in the morning and does p90x while I sleep. (Are you catching on to who the lazy one in my house is?)

So, most nights before they get into bed, I rush around in the bedroom gathering up all my supplies and stashing them away for the winter like a squirrel. But some nights (like tonight) I don't get in there in time, and then I have to make the ever-difficult decision about whether or not to risk waking my sleeping baby by creeping into the room to get something. Usually the answer is not.

But tonight, as I was sitting down to read my favorite blogs, I was kicking myself for having to sit on the couch in my work clothes instead of my comfy pajama pants and fuzzy socks.

Then I remembered that the laundry was still in the dryer! And wouldn't you know it? I'd just done a load of darks. Comfy pajama pants, fuzzy socks, and all.

And while I'm here in my most comfortable pants, blogging all by myself, feeling a little bit like a kid at a sleepover (minus a dozen thirteen year old girls playing Light As A Feather, Stiff As A Board) and just because I like you: I'll share this deep, dark secret with you. Late at night, when I'm in my most comfortable pants, blogging all by myself, I fry cheese.

That's right. I put it in a pan and fry it up. I don't add anything or do anything to it. Just fry it. Sure, it may not be Heart Smart Diet-approved, but I figure it's no worse than eating a string cheese for a snack. And I'd do that.

Usually I use parmesan because it cooks up into delicious little crispy wafers of pure heaven, but sometimes - like tonight - I run out of parmesan and try out other kinds of cheese. Note to self: the cheddar produced less than stellar results.

That's all the madness I've got for you right now! I hope you'll come back to my sleepover another day...

Because I have nothing better to do...

2011-06-01T22:48:00.000-07:00

My brain is all over the place this week. So, instead of trying to rein myself in and put together a cohesive post about something, I'm just gonna go ahead and let it all out. I was going to call it "Random Thoughts Thursday," but that seemed too structured. And like something I should do more than once. Heaven knows I can't have random thoughts every Thursday!
So, here's what's been going on lately.

Do you notice something wrong with this picture? The Outdoor AdVANture? Is that like where we all pile into a dirty old VW van and head out into the woods? Maybe this fairly mainstream clothing brand sold at big box stores everywhere needs a spell-checker. Or a proofreader.

But, of course I bought it. How could I not? My kid will grow out of it before there's any permanent damage done to his spelling abilities. I hope...

And then there's this:

And this:

Someone has been painting pictures of Angry Birds around town. I happen to work in the same building that houses our City Hall, and it seems the birds are causing quite a stir. Sadly, I don't think most people actually understand the meaning behind the birds.

Thankfully, I am an Angry Birds addict (like my girl over at INeedAPlaydate) and thoroughly appreciate seeing the little fellas around. It kind of makes me want to drive around to see if I can find the rest of them. If only life gave out three stars for that kind of effort...

And I'm in the middle of redesigning my blog. I've said this before, but I'm serious this time. I want it to be more...something. See the problem I'm having? I can't even tell you what's missing. How the blazes am I supposed to fix it. Oh well, I'll give it a try and hope for the best. More on this to come, I'm sure.

Finally, I'm trying out a blog hop. I haven't gotten into blog hopping, but it comes highly recommended by some bloggers I've come to really like, so why not give it a try? So, if you're here from the Thirsty Thursday Blog Hop: Welcome! I hope you'll stick around. I'm always looking for new friends and new blogs to read.

If you want to get to know more about me, here are a couple posts that will give you a taste of what I'm about (here, here, and here). Hope you like them.

Mommy Fail #102: Poor Planning = Abstract art experiment

2011-05-29T13:14:00.000-07:00

My sweet baby boy who used to love to take a bath with his dear old Mom has decided it's way cooler to bathe alone. Which is fine. Except the part where I have to choke back tears at how fast my baby is growing up. And except for the part where the bathtub is slippery, and Little Spaghetti has a tendency to bonk his head on the faucet, the wall, and the soap dish because of it.

So, I, like any good mom, went to the store and picked up a package of tub treads shaped like cute little yellow ducks. See. They're cute. And yellow.

Also, I'd like to take this opportunity to point out my very much from the 1960's dusty rose-colored bathtub. You might recall her biggest rival: the salmon-colored kitchen sink. Rumor has it they used to love each other. Enough to spawn this brown beauty in the kitchen, and then after that the relationship kind of fell apart.

But, I digress...

Oh, but before I undigress too much, I want to let you know that there is no electricity to that lovely brown double oven. It didn't work when we moved it, and I had them cut the wires to it when they installed my new stove. I didn't want you thinking I was some kind of safety-disregarding floozy that stores flashlights and rolls of drawer liner in her oven waiting to catch on fire.

Back to the ducks! I stuck them to the bottom of the tub and...they only covered like half the area I needed to cover.

"No problem," I naively thought. "I'll just go pick up some more."

As luck would have it, there were no more at the store. But I needed a solution! I'd scrubbed my tub and it needed to stay clean and dry for a whole TWENTY FOUR HOURS to give the darn things a chance to "bond to the tub." It was going to be a stretch to keep my water-loving toddler out of there for one day, no less two or three until I could get more ducks.

So, I picked up what they had: some blue fish and some wavy white lines. Since I'd already stuck the ducks down, I decided it would look totally weird if I had a cluster of yellow ducks and a cluster of blue fish all awkwardly placed on their respective sides of the tub.

Which led me to get creative. And, let me be the first to tell you, I'm not that creative. The result of my abstract bathtub art experiment:

Yeah...I even tried to build "clouds" of out the white waves there at the top.

Is it any better from this more artsy angle?

*Sigh*...ah well, I planned to replace the tub someday anyway. Someday...

Totally inappropriate...and my husband apparently won't defend my honor

2011-05-27T16:41:00.000-07:00

We spend a lot of time in various home improvement stores: Ace Hardware, Home Depot, Lowes. The usuals.

Last weekend, we were - unsurprisingly - at one of said stores. I was feeling a little carefree: not in a rush to get anything specific, just enjoying a lazy Saturday. So I was browsing: smelling the flowers in the garden center, trying to figure out how to work the weed remover in the garden tools aisle, using a collapsible rake as a back massager...you know.

And I found this:

A rocking garden seat. I was pretty excited about it, so I plopped myself onto the thing to give 'er a try. And, since it's a rocking garden seat, I was rocking - front to back instead of side to side. And I'll admit, I was rocking kind of *vigorously.* I wanted to make sure the thing could stand up to lots of wiggling and tipping.

All the sudden I hear, "That's a garden toy, not a bedroom toy."

I turn around. It's a complete stranger. A middle-aged man dressed in khaki board shorts and a very red Hawaiian shirt. He gave me a very brief creepy smile, but didn't break his stride. Then he disappeared around the corner.

"Did he just say that?" I asked my husband who was ~~pretending he didn't know me~~ perusing the shovel selection.

"Umm...yep. Yes, he did," he said.

"That was really horrible. And totally inappropriate! And I wasn't even *being* inappropriate!! I could have been making WAY more inappropriate gestures with that seat. Aren't you going to do something? You should say something to him. I am your wife after all. What ever happened to defending my honor."

"Yeah. It was inappropriate. But I'm not in the mood to defend your honor today. Let's go check out raised garden beds."

Thanks, husband. Thanks.

Taking back my title as queen of my house - Part 2

2011-05-24T16:57:00.000-07:00

I mentioned a little while ago that I am in the process of reclaiming my title as queen of my house. If you missed the first half of this story (i.e. the root of the problem) you can find it here.

My mother moved to town about four months after Little Spaghetti was born. Since I'd decided that every household task was totally beyond my capabilities as a housewife to tackle, she swooped in like a knight in shining armor. Or a knight-ess? She cooked, she cleaned, she emptied garbage cans, she folded laundry, she washed dishes. Basically, she took care of me the way mommies do.

And as the months wore on, it became harder and harder to make myself empty the dishwasher when I knew my mom would come over the next day and do it if I hadn't. I would decide that the lawn could go just one more day without water until my mom's next visit. I eventually stopped even thinking about the fact that the trash has to go out on Monday nights because my mom gathered it all up and put it out there so reliably.

I know what you're thinking: that doesn't really sound like a problem.

Then one day, I was sitting on the computer ~~watching Teen Mom~~ catching up on important news, and I looked into the kitchen. There was my mother, diligently scrubbing my pots and whisks from making soup the night before. And it hit me: boy, was I failing at being a housewife.

I wanted to take care of my son. And my husband. And my home. I wanted to be the one providing my family with clean socks and washed plates. I wanted my husband and I to be making the decisions about what was right for our family - and not to feel like we owed it to someone else.

And my mother had paid her dues as a mom. I'm a grown woman for goodness sakes! She needs to be rotting my kid's teeth with ice cream and snuggling him up in her lap to read books, not cleaning up after his lunch and washing his diapers.

I didn't even realize how it had truly been making me feel for her to be doing so much. I had started to feel like a bad mother. A bad wife. I'd started to feel like I couldn't run a household, not just that I wouldn't.

And it didn't feel good.

If there's one place I want to feel valuable, it's at home. In my castle, I want to be Queen of the Laundry. Or the Dishes. Or whatever.

In part, I think it made her feel good that I still needed her. The truth is though, I'll always need her; she's my mother. But she doesn't have to be my son's mother, too.

At the end of the day, I just want to be the kind of mother to my son that she was to me. I want to be the mom who makes our house a home, keeps all our ducks in a row, and helps my family navigate the rough waters of life, always making sure that having a clean, ironed shirt is the least of their worries. And all her help wasn't letting me do that.

So I'm taking a stand. I'm done letting her do what I should be doing. I will do it a little at a time; I don't want her to feel unwanted or unneeded or unappreciated. I'm thinking of it kind of like weaning: weaning her off my household chores. First, I won't let the dishes sit in the sink when I know she's coming over. Then I'll stop letting my laundry pile up on my dresser. After that it will be getting out of the habit of putting off sweeping my floors or cleaning my bathrooms until she can't take it any more.

And in the end, I think - I hope - that it will be better for all of us. And I will once again feel like Queen of this household.

Taking back my title as queen of my house - Part 1

2011-05-22T21:26:00.000-07:00

I have a problem. You see, something happened to me between the time my son was born and now, a little more than a year later. Something bad. Here it is:

The seemingly simplest of chores feels like a monumental task that no woman in her right mind would ever try to take on.

Here's a little look at how my mind works:

I really should wash the dishes. Oh my gumballs, I don't think I've ever seen so many dirty dishes. If I wash them, it will take hours - way longer than the baby's going to sleep. And then I'll have to wait for them to dry, which will probably take like two days. Unless I want to dry them by hand, and who wants to do that? And what I am supposed to do with the other dishes that will get dirty between now and then? Not to mention I need a new sponge, which brings me to

Going to the store? Are you kidding me? You can't possibly expect me to load myself, my enormous diaper bag, and my squirming child into the car to drive *all the way* to the store. During which time he'll probably fall asleep, and then I'd just have to come all the way home because heaven knows that I can't shop with a sleeping child. And if he doesn't get his nap, he'd be just awful. All amped up, running around the house, flinging toys to and fro. And then I'd have to

Tidy up the house? Have you seen how many toys are on the floor? I can't possibly pick them all up in one day. And you know how I have those slightly OCD tendencies; it's not like I can *just* pick them up. I have to sort them, and put them in the right place. And he's just going to take them all back out again anyway. Besides, they kind of hide the fact that there's so much dirt and fuzz on the carpet, so if I picked them up I'd have to

Vacuum or sweep the floor? But my kid's terrified of the vacuum. He'll just scream. And if I can't vacuum, then there's really no point in sweeping because the fuzz and dirt will just get tracked all over the non-carpet areas of the house. Though I suppose the bottoms of my socks wouldn't be so gray if I cleaned the floor more often which make it easier to

Do the laundry? I don't think so. Have you seen the three weeks' worth of clean laundry that's sitting in a pile on my dresser? It's a wonder that we even have clothes left in the closet to wear.

And so it goes. Each time I think about doing anything, I work myself up into such a tizzy thinking about how hard it will be that it becomes overwhelming. And so I don't do it. Any of it. And then I spend all my time feeling bad about how I don't do any of it.

I think it started out simple enough. Things *are* harder to do after having a baby. You can't just pick up and go like you used to. And you get interrupted. A lot.

But it isn't as bad as I make it out to be. Every time I actually convince myself that I can, indeed, manage to put the dishes back in the cupboards or write up my list and get to the grocery store, I always find myself saying, "Oh, that wasn't so bad!"

It seems that those times are few and far between, though.

Enter: my mother. She moved to town when Little Spaghetti was about four months old. And this is where the real problem begins.

But in the interest of not boring you with a post that's miles long, I'll save the rest of the story for my next post!

My uterus has a mind of its own

2011-05-17T14:44:00.000-07:00

Since we had Little Spaghetti, my husband and I have had many a conversation about whether or not we'll have another child.

Don't get me wrong: I absolutely love my son. And I love being his mother. Our debate on adding other kids to the mix isn't because "it's a lot of work and some people just don't want to put that much effort in." (Thanks, mom). Our hesitation is trying to figure out what is in the best interest of our son.

We've both had relationships with our siblings that have been very trying at times. I am a middle child, and I hate being a middle child. Mr. Spaghetti has just a younger sister, but even his mother has said that his sister was "just ornery and rotten to him" despite how sweet he was to her.

I'm not saying that having siblings is a bad thing every time; it's just something we're considering very thoroughly before we put another bun in this oven.

Long story short, we've decided to at least wait a while before trying for a second child. I want some time to enjoy Little Spaghetti, and I want him to have me and his dad all to himself for a little while. (Is this a good solution to the sibling dilemma? Who knows! I sure don't.)

Anyway, I *know* that we're not having a baby soon. I can logically tell myself that we're doing what we think is best. But my uterus...boy, does she have different plans.

A couple weeks ago, I was at a craft store. And I saw this beautiful fabric. A little voice in my head (or, more correctly, the lower part of my abdomen) said, "Wouldn't that just make the most adorable baby girl's nursery? It would be so lovely. Just imagine it..."

And, so, I bought it. Despite the fact that I'm not pregnant. And despite the fact that I'm definitely not pregnant with a girl. I bought THREE YARDS of it!

Then, yesterday, I had to have an ultrasound of my uterus for what turned out - thankfully - to be a very minor health issue. But the whole time the ultrasound tech was poking around in my lady parts, all I could think was, "Look at that sad, dejected uterus. She looks so lonely, all empty like that..."

So I know two things: 1) I'm a crazy person who lets her uterus make frivolous shopping decisions for her and 2) I'm now doomed to only every produce male children who will not appreciate their pink and gray birdcage nursery.

Does your husband know how to put dishes in the dishwasher?

2011-05-11T21:35:00.000-07:00

Because mine sure doesn't. If your does, would you like to send him over to my house for a nice dinner and a beer? After which, he can show my husband how truly painless it is to put the dishes in the dishwasher instead of on the counter? Thanks. I appreciate it.

You know how after you get married, you find out those *quirky* things about your spouse that you just didn't pick up on when you were dating? Right now, my biggest pet peeve is one of those quirky things: my husband's inability to put dishes in the dishwasher.

It doesn't matter if the sink is full. Or if the dishwasher is full. Or if the sink is empty. Or if the dishwasher is empty. Or if it's a full moon on Friday the 13th. All his dishes go on the counter.

See:

Sorry, I actually took this picture to show what a failure I am at housekeeping, so you'll have to excuse the fact that the dishes in the background aren't the focus. But see the water bottles, cups, etc on the counter in the background...all put there by my husband.

So, this week, I've decided to reclaim my title as queen of housekeeping in my house (more on that later this week if I think you can stand my ranting). First chore to tackle: getting my husband to put his dishes in the dishwasher.

Last night, I cleaned up the kitchen. All nice and shiny. Then, I wrote a ~~nagging~~ awesome note to try and persuade my husband out of hapless dish-piling ways and taped it to the counter in his favorite dish-piling spot. Like this:

I know, my kitchen is all, "Hey, I was built in the '60s!" I keep trying to convince my mom that salmon-colored sinks and gold glitter-speckled counters are retro, not ugly.

And here's what the note said:

What do you think? You think it's gonna work?

Well, it's going to have to until I can find a husband mentor to teach mine the ways of the world. Or afford a house cleaner.

"Mom" never sounded more beautiful

2011-05-09T14:08:00.000-07:00

...than it did yesterday from the sweet mouth of my little babe.

I wasn't particularly looking forward to Mother's Day this year. Sure, I was excited and all, but we had a lot of yard work to do. And we've all been under the weather with a cold. And it wasn't my first Mother's Day or anything, so it didn't seem quite as special.

Until I heard my little boy say, "Mama." This isn't the first time he's said it, but boy did I hear it differently yesterday. It was the first time my son had called me "Mom" on a day just for mothers; a day on which I will forever celebrate the person I am to him.

Something magical happened to me yesterday. My baby's hugs felt tighter. His smiles looked happier. His laughs seemed more melodic. My heart was fuller. My love for him was deeper. My soul felt more whole.

Last year, I was so new to motherhood that I don't even think I understood what it meant. This year, I got it. I know what it means to be someone's mother. And I think...I hope...that each year for the rest of my life, I will "get it" a little more.

Happy (belated) Mother's Day to all you wonderful Mothers out there! I hope your day was great!

Firecracker Queen!

2011-05-03T21:36:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to thank a couple of wonderful bloggers who nominated me recently for the Versatile Blogger Asxward. Since I slacked on doing that, I thought today would be a perfect time to catch up on some blog business! So first, I am so happy to announce that Jules from A Little Bite of Life, asked me to be her Firecracker Queen this week.

I was incredibly flattered and happy to join the list of wonderful women she's highlighted so far. So check out my feature on her blog, and don't forget to check out the other queens while you're there! Hopefully you'll get to know me a little better :)

Jules is a very sweet gal with a great blog that's definitely worth taking a look at. Between her great recipes, awesome giveaways, and the feature called "Wine Wednesdays," you can't go wrong. And, I have to say, if she knocked on my door asking to be besties, I'd welcome her with open arms to share a cup of tea (or glass of wine!).

Second, I want to say a big thank you to the lovely ladies at I Need a Playdate and Insantiy is Not an Option for the award! Check out my fun facts and the blogs I've recommended in the past here.

And finally, I am so happy to announce that I'm going to be part of Blog Bash 2011 June 22 - 26!

I need to get busy on finding something for my giveaway, but I'm really excited about it. It will be the Spaghetti Westerner's first giveaway! Any ideas or things you'd like to win?? Shops you love that you'd like to see featured?

You never know what you're going to find in your shoe

2011-05-02T17:42:00.000-07:00

Having a toddler (who has recently learned not just to walk, but to RUN) brings a whole new set of experiences into my life.

Like this new game: What's in my shoe today?

A binky? Yeah, I guess that's to be expected.

A little boy's Easter tie? That's what mom gets for not being quicker about putting away the laundry.

A spoon? Well, at least that's *his* shoe.

Easter eggs? Apparently he caught onto that whole hiding the eggs bit...

Cell phone? Have I mentioned that I have a really bad habit of giving my kid things he shouldn't play with to try and distract him while I get things done?

Coupons? Who doesn't like to save money?

And you see that there? Tucked in that slipper? Yeah, that's the extra set of keys for my car. I seriously looked for those for DAYS!

Mommy Fail #95: Unauthorized cell phone use

2011-04-27T22:20:00.000-07:00

Mommy fail = not realizing your toddler figured out how to unlock your cell phone and - amidst random button-pressing - managed to place a call.

Bigger mommy fail = not realizing your child is making said call and proceeding to leave a two-and-a-half minute voicemail that consists mostly of you in the background singing (poorly) to pop songs on the radio, interspersed with "don't put that in your mouth"s, and completed with "oh sh*t! Did you...what the...who are we calling?!?"

Saving grace = that the phone call was to your mother and not your ex-boyfriend who is just one more click down the contact list.

Note to self: I really should delete ex-boyfriends from my phone...

My baby's official last "first:" his first second

2011-04-24T16:43:00.000-07:00

Over the past year, I've gotten so many thrills out of Little Spaghetti's "firsts." I'm not talking milestones here; we've got plenty of those left to cover. I'm talking about holidays and celebrations. His first Fourth of July, his first Halloween, his first Christmas.

And today, my friends, brings my baby's last first because this is his first "second:"his second Easter. For his first Easter, Little Spaghetti was only three days old (Easter was three weeks later this year!).

In fact, for his first Easter, I - like some insane person - decided it would be a good idea to dress my post-partum self up, take my three-day old baby into a ridiculously packed church, sit through a three-hour long mass, and have him baptized.*

Last year, I went to Easter Vigil mass (for any non-Catholics, this is the Easter service held the evening before Easter, and the mass really does go on for 2-3 hours) holding a tiny person that I did not know. I was beyond anxious. He fell asleep on the way to the church, and I was overjoyed. I wrapped all eight pounds of him in a white fleece blanket, and stuck a bottle with the ounce of colostrum, half breastmilk I'd desperately pumped a few hours before into my pocket. I held him for three hours. I was dripping sweat. I was sitting on my stitches, but couldn't move. I was dizzy and weak. I was sure that I was about to bleed through my ginormous hospital pad and onto the church pew. My arm felt like it was going to fall off. But I didn't want to jostle him or disturb him.

And he slept. He slept through the singing, through the bell-ringing, through the water being poured over his head. For three hours he slept. I couldn't have been prouder.

After mass last year...still sleeping.

This year, as he sat and watched everything all around him, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by blessings. Boy, what a difference a year makes!

After mass this year...what a big boy!

I've always liked Easter, but I think it may have officially solidified its spot as my favorite holiday. Any celebration that focuses on celebrating life is a winner in my book.

So Happy Easter to all of you. I hope you have a wonderful day!

Oh, and for the record, I am SO dying for a Coke!

*In reality, the baptism was awesome. Mr. Spaghetti was getting confirmed into the church at the same time, so the fact that they go to do it together was very sweet and special.

I feel seasick, and I think I almost got kicked out of the Verizon store

2011-04-20T18:49:00.000-07:00

Today is one of my work days...my "9 to 5" work days. I work on the tenth floor of a 17 story building. Our city gets a lot of wind. And on days like today, when it's *really* windy, the entire building rocks. The vertical blinds in my cubicle sway. The walls creak. And I start to feel seasick. My head starts to swim. I get nauseous. And I feel so dizzy I don't think I could walk a straight line. I don't know who designed this building, but they should have their designing privileges revoked!

I'm kidding about revoking the design privileges. I'm sure any good engineer would tell me that the swaying is a *feature* of the building, designed to make it more resilient in the wind. Or some bologna. But seriously, it sucks. (On a side note, I hate that bologna is spelled in a way that totally doesn't say "baloney").

Anyway, since I was feeling seasick, I decided I should go look for a new cell phone because my old one was on its last legs. Now, I know this is probably treasonous for someone who is supposed to be tech-savvy and such (i.e. a blogger), but: I don't have a smart phone. I'm on the phone enough as it is; if I had the internet or email, I'd never cook or clean or do any of those other important life things.

So I went into the store and tried to explain to the salesman that I really didn't want a blackberry or a droid; I just wanted a basic phone. He scoffed, and told me how behind the times I was. He proceeded to take me over to the smart phone display and try to make me swoon over their features and apps and abilities to make me breakfast in bed in the morning.

I smiled politely and asked if they had any more "basic" phones.

"I really think you should consider a smart phone," he said.

"I have, and I don't want one," I replied for the twelfth time. I could tell he was getting fed up with me. I sure wasn't helping him meet his quotas today.

"Is it the features that intimidate you? Because we offer free classes for users like yourself where we can help you learn how to use the different apps and stuff."

Umm....no. Do I look like I'm 70 years old? "Really?" I said in disbelief. "No, that isn't my problem. I can figure out how to use a phone."

"Well then why don't you want one?" he huffed.

"It's expensive, and..."

He cut me off, "Oh, no it isn't! We just added a plan where you can sign up for as low as $15 a month."

"Yeah, that's a lot!" I said.

"Fifteen bucks?" He was very exasperated. "That's hardly anything!"

"Fifteen bucks times 12 months" I said, "that's, oh, $180 a year. If you multiply that by 60 years or so that I might have left of my life...that adds up to thousands of dollars!"

"Well, if you look at it that way then I GUESS it seems like a lot," he sniped back at me. "But you don't have to keep it forever!"

Yeah right, Mr. Verizon Cell Phone Guy? At what point in the foreseeable future can you envision everyone just giving up their cell phones? Getting back to a simpler, less tech-y life? That's what I thought.

I know I can't put it off forever, but I'm not giving into the smart phone without a fight!

Count to ten before you lose it or...

2011-04-18T11:01:00.000-07:00

if you're me, say the alphabet. I've started doing that lately...for no apparent reason. But when I'm frustrated, frazzled, tired, or about to lose my cool, I sing the ABC's. And Little Spaghetti almost always stops whatever he's doing that's making me feel like I'm on the edge of a cliff. It takes a little longer than counting to ten, but it's worth it to regain my "mommy zen."

This is going to come in particularly helpful in the next couple days because as of last night we've officially started: NIGHT WEANING *insert cruel, maniacal laugh here.*

Since my kid still nurses every two hours throughout the night like a newborn, I decided it was time. All-in-all, it went ok. We're tired, which is to be expected. He was a little clingy this morning (ok, a LOT clingy), which is to be expected. I spent most of the night on a cot or in a rocking chair, which is to be expected.

None of these things would bug me *quite* so much if today weren't my birthday (Hello, Late-Twenties!). Ah well, once you're a mom, everything changes. Isn't that right?

So, please excuse my lack of wittiness or cleverness or ability to spell or use grammar correctly for the next few days. I'll be getting more sleep soon...I think.

Oh, and did I mention that my "girls" hurt like a mofo today? Thank you, engorgement. Happy Birthday to me.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G........

{Free Printables} Sock Monkey First Birthday

2011-04-14T17:19:00.000-07:00

At long last...the birthday recap post! I will warn you:, there are a ton of pictures here. I had so much fun putting it together, and I'm excited to share it with you all now.

I love the big, fancy parties I see on other people's blogs, but I didn't want to spend a fortune. I did a lot of DIY projects, I baked my own cupcakes (and they didn't turn out too ugly!), I had my husband do our photography (it's not quite professional, but I'm happy with the photos), and I bought a couple big-impact items (like paper lanterns).

I also created all my own "paper goods," which is a bonus for you because now I can offer them to you as free printables to share: there are cupcake toppers, cupcake wrappers, candy buffet signs, food table signs, paper backgrounds, and favor box tags (all in both the red and white stripe pattern and the checkered pattern). Scroll down to the bottom of this (*very* long) post to find the printables.

This was the inspiration for the party: a sock monkey I sewed with my mother when I was 10 or 11 years old. I've now given it to Little Spaghetti, and he really likes it.

Here's a shot of me and the birthday boy!

The hat I crocheted, the DIY fabric-covered birthday hat, and Little Spaghetti's shoes.

Cupcakes I made - half vanilla (recipe) and half chocolate (recipe) with a basic vanilla buttercream frosting. Scroll down for free cupcake topper printables.

A few shots of the birthday boy, plus the balloon wreath and a view of the party area.

The candy buffet. Scroll down for free printable candy buffet signs.

Favor boxes with DIY scrabble magnets and the sign on the candy buffet.

See more about the favor boxes here.

Paper lanterns (from the Paper Lantern Store).

Mason jar drinking glasses with old-fashioned paper straws (from Hey Yo Yo on Etsy). I love these! I especially loved the tiny glass I got for Little Spaghetti (in the front).

Red and brown polka dot balloons were a hit with all the kids. Excuse my diaper-bottomed child playing in the background.

The balloon wreath I made, complete with a sock monkey Christmas Tree ornament I dug out of my Christmas decorations box.

A few shots of the festivities...including me blowing up one of many balloons (don't I look thrilled?) and a nice shot of my apron. After the cupcake, Little Spaghetti's clothes were wiped out (including the sock monkey onesie my mom made for him).

DIY custom-labeled water bottles.

The best shot I could find of the sock monkey onesie my mom made for Little Spaghetti.

Happy Birthday sign on the chalkboard wall of our house.

I took a photo of Little Spaghetti each month sitting with his teddy bear. For the party, I printed them out and hung them by the cupcake display with clothespins. Everyone loved seeing how he'd changed over the year.

The food! The menu included:

-"Monkey See, Monkey Do: Build your own sandwich" (cold cuts, cheese, rolls, lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, and condiments).

-"Ants on a Log" (celery sticks with peanut butter and raisins)

-Banana pudding (seriously, so delicious. Everyone RAVED about this recipe)

-"Monkey Mix" (tropical trail mix)

-Banana chips

-Fruit skewers (pineapple, strawberries, and grapes)

-Pretzels

-Potato salad

The DIY Bean Bag (banana) Toss

Sock Monkey Trivia Board for people to test their sock monkey knowledge. I set this up by the food table so people could check it out while they waited in line to make a plate.

The party set up.

A few miscellaneous things, including the barrel of monkeys race I had for people to entertain themselves with.

And now: the free printables!

Cupcake Wrappers
(click on each picture for full size)

To assemble: Print (I used cardstock). Cut out each wrapper. Line up the two short straight ends, overlapping them a little to create a "cup" for your cupcake to go in. Glue or tape the ends together.

Cupcake Toppers

(click on each picture for full size or click here to download the .doc version)

To assemble: Customize and print (I used cardstock)out twice as many as you need. Cut each circle out (I used a 2" whole punch, and it made the whole process SO much easier). Put glue on the back of two circles. Place a craft or Popsicle stick between the two circles, and glue them together).

Food Table Signs

(click on each picture for full size or click here to download the .doc version)

To assemble: Customize and print (I used cardstock). Cut out leaving extra white space above each sign so you can fold the sign to make a tent card.

Candy Buffet Signs
(click on each picture for full size or click here to download the .doc version)

To assemble: Customize and print (I used cardstock). Cut out leaving extra white space above each sign so you can fold the sign to make a tent card.

Favor Tags
(click on each picture for full size or click here to download the .doc version)

To assemble: Customize and print (I used regular paper). Decide how you want to attach them to your favors. I made scrabble tile magnets and used magnetic strips to attach mine. See how I did it here).

Background Papers
(click on each picture for full size)

Use these however you want. I printed a couple of each on cardstock to use as backgrounds for my 12 months of pictures. I printed a couple and punched out 1.5" circles for people to write their names on and tie to the handles of their drink cups so they wouldn't lose them. Be creative!

A few things to keep in mind:

-These printables are made by yours truly! And I appreciate it if you use them for personal use only. If you really, really want them for something else - just ask me.

-These printables are blank. Why no sock monkey face? Two reasons. 1) Because I bought the rights to use the sock monkey face here (so I can't give them away free). 2) This way the free printables are more flexible: use whatever theme you want! I've been envisioning circus theme with the red and white stripe (it reminds me of a popcorn bucket). Or robots with the checkers. Or heck, you could use the red and white stripe for Christmas!

-You can customize these files however you want. If you want to use the sock monkey theme, it's super easy to stick the sock monkey back in the circle if you buy these (really cheap, great files) or any other files. As long as you're moderately handy with a computer; you can use photo editing software, Word, or even Paint. If you can't figure it out, I'm happy to help - just let me know.

-You can download the .jpeg files or the .doc files (if applicable). The .doc files are already set up with text boxes for easy customization, but remember that sometimes fonts and formats do funky things in Word from computer to computer, so if it doesn't look right, you'll have to change the font type, size, etc. I used a font called Giddyup.

My music choice dilemma

2011-04-11T21:23:00.000-07:00

I've been complaining a lot about music lately, and every time I open my mouth, all I can hear is my mother speaking. Or maybe even my grandmother.

"What kind of crap is that you're listening to?"

"That's not music, it's just noise."

"No wonder the world is filled with teen pregnancy and drug addicts nowadays with this kind of music playing!"

I listen to a lot of pop music. I know, not very deep and meaningful, but the tunes are catchy and the lyrics are funny. But as I'm becoming increasingly aware of Little Spaghetti's attention to the world around him - especially as he's begun to mimic the things Mr. Spaghetti and I do - I can't help but notice how much of the music is just...smut.

I just imagine a few years from now when Little Spaghetti is a walking, talking little kid. I know he wouldn't be the first kid on the playground to say, "Sticks and stones may break my bones..." I just don't want him to be the first kid on the playground to follow it up with, "but chains and whips excite me." (Thanks, Rhianna...)"

You know what I'm saying?

And based on his music preferences already (measured arbitrarily by the music to which he dances most enthusiastically), I've got plenty to worry about: his favorite song right now seems to by Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance."

So what's a girl to do? I do have a couple kid's CDs - and I genuinely do like them. But sometimes I want to listen to grown-up music. And Mr. Spaghetti is definitely not into kid's music.

Do we suck it up and fill our heads with "Pop Goes the Weasel" and "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" for the next decade?

I've considered switching to country music; it seems cleaner. I was a country music fan for a while in high school...I could probably get into it again.

What do you listen to? What do you recommend?

Mommy Fail #83: Thinking you don't need a diaper bag

2011-04-08T14:58:00.000-07:00

The root of this particular mommy fail was overconfidence. Luckily for me, every time I'm feeling like I've got this mom thing under control, the universe takes me down a notch to show me where I belong.

I decided that Little Spaghetti and I could take a quick trip into one of our favorite sandwich shops for lunch. And by quick trip, I mean without the diaper bag and all the other crap I usually take into places with me. I grabbed a diaper and a few wipes, went inside and ordered lunch. All was well until...I heard an all too familiar grunting sound, followed by an all too familiar squishing sound, and I knew it was time to hit the bathroom for a diaper change.

I walked in, and peeked into his diaper. I didn't have to look far because the poop has squished up his back and onto his shirt. This hasn't happened in months. Why now?

Because I didn't have the diaper bag.

I popped his shirt and pants off and looked around. Where's the changing table? No changing table?!? What kind of a restuarant doesn't have a freakin' changing table?

The kind that you go into without your diaper bag.

So I faced a choice: carry my mostly naked, poop-covered kid through an establishment where 90% of people are eating and the other 10% are waiting to eat, or MacGyver it.

I proceeded to take about two dozen toilet seat covers out of the dispenser on the wall and create a makeshift, relatively germ-free changing area on the floor of the bathroom. I arranged the covers just right so that the seat part of one cover lined up with the hole part of another cover, and there wasn't any floor showing. Then I made a second layer.

I won't even get into the part where I had to wet some paper towels to use as wipes since I only had a couple on me...

It worked...mostly. Though it was perhaps not the most eco-friendly diaper change I've ever done.

All I wish is that I'd taken a picture, but wouldn't you know it: my camera was in the diaper bag.

2011-04-08T00:01:00.000-07:00

DIY: Fabric Covered Birthday Hat

2011-04-06T07:38:00.000-07:00

I promise I'm almost done with birthday posts. I'm sorting through a billion photos so I can present the par-tay all at once. But, before I do that, let me share one more tutorial: the birthday hat.

And here's how I did it:
Supplies: You'll need some cheap birthday hats, the fabric you want to cover your hat with, scissors, glue, and yarn. You'll also need (not pictured) tape, a pencil, and any other decorations to finish it off (in my case, a little ric-rac).

Step 1: Disassemble one of the birthday hats to make a pattern.

Trace your pattern onto your fabric.

Step 2: Cut out your fabric. I erred on the side of cutting outside the lines instead of inside, figuring I could fix too much fabric, but it would be harder to salvage too little fabric. I probably didn't need to cut around the little notch, but I did for good measure.

Step 3: Get a fresh hat (you could reassemble the one you disassembled, but I had eight of them, so I got a new one). Glue your fabric to your hat, lining up the edges as best you can. I made sure to put the notch side down first so that the other edge of the fabric would overlap and cover it.

Press the fabric down on the glue nice and good.

Trim off any extra fabric.

Step 4: While the glue is drying, make your pom-pom. Wrap your yarn around your fingers a bunch of times. I used three fingers. If you make it too big, you can always trim it down to size. I wrapped the yarn around 35 times to be exact.

Step 5: Take the yarn off your fingers, and tie a length of yarn around the middle of your bundle.

Pull it nice and tight, then knot it to make sure it'll stay. I left my tails long, which came in handy later on.

Step 6: Cut the loops on each side of your pom-pom.

Step 7: Trim any long stragglers off your pom-pom, and make it the size and shape you want it.

Step 8: Insert the long tails of your pom-pom string into the hole in the top of the hat. I wrapped a piece of tape around the end of my string to keep it from fraying like we used to do back in the day when I was a Girl Scout lacing construction paper shapes. It worked out nicely.

Pull the tails tight inside the hat, and make sure your pom-pom is sitting where you want it to. Tape your strings inside your hat.

I also put a little glue on the tip of the hat right under the pom-pom for extra assurance that it wasn't going to pop off.

Step 9: Add any other decorations you want: I glued on some ric-rac for this hat, but lace could be super cute on a girl's hat. Go wild!

Step 10: Find a model who may or may not be convinced that he should wear the hat you're putting on his head.

Or a model who decides once you put the hat on his head that it is the worst day of his life. "Oh no you didn't, mom!"

Finally, find a model who is much more complacent than your first model - even if said model is a dog - to show off your hat.

And you're done!

P.S. Before anyone goes thinking I'm a terrible mom who disregards safety to try to take pictures of her kid on the kitchen counter, you should know that my mom was standing right there next to him. Safety first.

DIY: Bean Bag Toss

2011-04-05T06:21:00.000-07:00

Until I have time to share with you all the photos and a recap from Little Spaghetti's birthday party this weekend, I'll share a few more projects to tide you over. Or if you're ready to move on from sock monkeys, you might just want to ignore my blog for a few days. As long as you promise to come back!

Today, we have a custom bean bag toss I made for the party.

And by bean bags, I mean plastic bananas. But it would probably work better with bean bags.

Here's how I did it:

Supplies: three foam poster boards, a box cutter, two hinges, a roll of kraft paper (or whatever paper you want to use; wrapping paper could be really cute), string, and masking tape. I also used (but forgot to take a picture of): super glue, white school glue, clear packing tape, contact paper, and whatever you want to decorate with.

Step 1: Cut three circles of different sizes in one of your poster boards. You could do more, or less - whatever you like.

Find something around the house to use as a template. I used the lids from my baking storage jars.

Step 2: Repeat Step one with a second poster board. Make sure your holes are lined up.

Step 3: Glue your poster boards together.

Step 4: Put masking tape around all the edges of the boards you just glued together to hold them together.

Step 5: Reinforce your holes with masking tape. I also figured this would help prevent the boards separating later on if people got rough with their banana tossing.

Step 6: Super glue your hinges to one side of the board. Make sure you don't get super glue in your hinges. Take your third poster board (the one you haven't used yet) and glue the other side of the hinges to it. You want the whole thing to open like a big book, so make sure you get it lined up right/super glue your hinges to the correct side of the board. Wait for your glue to dry.

Step 7: Cover both boards with kraft paper (or whatever paper you're using). At first, I thought about wrapping the boards with paper and then putting on the hinges, but I decided to put the hinges on BEFORE the kraft paper because I figured they'd be sturdier if they were glued to the board and not just the paper, which could rip.

To go around the hinges, I cut notches in my paper and then wrapped the long paper tails around to the other side of my board. I also "reinforced" the paper around the hinges on all sides with clear packing tape to prevent it from tearing.

I made sure to cover my messy edges with a clean, flat sheet of paper on the sides you would see (the front and back).

Step 8: Cut holes in your paper in line with the holes in your poster board. I did this funky thing where I cut flaps in the paper inside each circle, then wrapped the paper around and taped it to the back. I did that so that you wouldn't see any "raw" poster board edges, but you could just cut circles in your paper and call it good if you don't mind the raw edges.

Step 9: You're almost there! I decided at this point to cover the entire front of my board with clear contact paper. Since we plan on using plastic bananas to toss instead of bean bags, I didn't want the bananas to tear holes in the paper. If you're using bean bags or something softer, you could skip this step.

Step 10: Decorate!

Step 11: Punch two holes in the front board near the bottom (I used a screwdriver to do this). Then punch two holes in the back board near the bottom, in line with the holes in the front board.

Stand your board up and decide how you want it to stand. Once you've got it how you want it, cut two strings the length of the distance between the front and the back board. This is going to make your board not fall down when it's standing up.

Tie the strings in the holes you punched.

Step 12: Find a cute little baby to play your game, and that's it! You're done!

Me? Really? Thank you!

2011-04-04T12:34:00.000-07:00

First, an apology for my absence. My son's birthday party swallowed my last week and a half. I feel like I am emerging from a cave this morning.

But! I am so glad that I did because I was greeted with two awesome surprises: My very first blog awards! And I want say a huge "THANK YOU" to the two bloggers who chose me for these awards. Your blogs inspire me on a daily basis, and I feel truly honored to be recognized by each of you.

First: The Who to Hang With Award from one of the cutest blogs I've found: I Need a Playdate.

Seriously, every time I read this blog, I wish my blog put together half as well! I always thought she was a fun mom, but her son's weather reporting skills really won me over. So check her out.

And the Stylish Blogger Award from Jenae at Wildflower.

She's a great photographer, and I know that my husband appreciates that I have her blog in my life because she always has great beauty and style tips (including the most incredible lists of Target finds!). I can always use a little help in both of those departments, so...I'm glad to have another place to turn.

The rules of the award are as follows: Write 7 facts about myself and pass the award onto 7 of my favorite blogs. So here goes!

1. I worked for four summers in a row during college as a frog-catcher in remote parts of Nevada. It entailed a lot of hiking into the middle of nowhere and then mucking around in incredibly disgusting beaver ponds.
2. I carried my engagement ring in my own pocket to the place my husband proposed to me after I went to the store with him to pick it out. The poor guy was so nervous; it was endearing.
3. I love summer, but I don't like swimming. I intentionally failed level 3 of swimming lessons several years in a row because I didn't want to move to the outside pool for level 4. It was way too cold!
4. I am a middle child. And yes, I am a middle child.
5. I used to be a children's librarian, and I really miss Story Time.
6. My favorite color is yellow.
7. I drive a Kia Soul. Yeah, the car from the hamster commercials.

And now the best part: seven of my favorite blogs. Before I share them, I think I should mention that I would have chosen both Wildflower and I Need a Playdate for this list, but I don't know if I'm allowed to send the award back, so I'll pick 7 new ones. Here are a few of my daily reads:

1. La Dulce Vida: AMAZING photographer, and her beautiful posts make me tear up on a regular basis.
2. Chasing Noah: Cute mom who does cute things with her cute kid. She reminds me how lucky I am to be the mother of a little boy.
3. I Do Thee Wed: She reminds me how fun it was to be a newlywed. Plus, she left her camera in the care of a hot dog vendor in an emergency. If I'm gonna have online friends, I want to have ones as trusting as her!
4. My Piece of Mind: Anyone who can turn their children into cleaning minions is a winner in my book.
5. The Unglamorous Mommy: I laugh so hard every time I read this blog.
6. The Great Green Room: A totally creative Mom who comes up with the greatest interactive activities. I steal her ideas so often!
7. Peas and Coos: I don't know what it is about this blog, but I just really like it. Besides, the name is just so cute!

Now it's your turn. Share something interesting about yourself!

DIY Scrabble Tile Favor Magnets

2011-04-02T12:46:00.000-07:00

For Little Spaghetti's birthday, I decided to do a candy buffet, but I wanted to spruce up the boxes a little bit, so here's what I did.

First I made a ton of scrabble tile magnets.

Here's a great tutorial for scrabble tile pendants...I just put a magnetic strip on the back of mine to make them magnets.

Then, I put a magnetic strip inside the box.

Finally, I attached my little "thank you" note (available for free download here) to the box with my scrabble magnet. So simple!

Cue Sentimental Mom Music...

2011-03-30T07:53:00.000-07:00

With Little Spaghetti's first birthday party just days away (are you sick of hearing me talk about it yet?), I was working this morning on a "Happy Birthday Banner." I ran out of brads, and when I looked at where I was, I thought to myself, "This is the banner I needed on this day last year!"

And then it hit me: My baby is one year old. Or just about. I know this is so cliche to say, but I cannot believe how fast this time has gone. My baby isn't really a baby any more.

I'd been planning to use this week to blog about Little Spaghetti's entry into this world and first few weeks of life, but I've simply run out of time. Oh well, there's always next week (I may even get brave enough to share the birth story...).

So, all I have for you today is a look back, from last year to this year:

Here are a few others from yesterday's photo shoot, just because they make me smile:

And now, the sentimental mom music I promised you:

"I hope you Dance" by Lee Ann Womack (or if you're in the mood for funny instead of tear-jerking, check out Momisms by Anita Renfroe).

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder

You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger

May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed

I hope you still feel small
When you stand beside the ocean

Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens

Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance

I love you, my sweet baby boy.