Entering the Ninth Month

Well we've made it to 9 months. As Michael so delicately put it, Claire has been out of me just as long as she was in me.

She is still growing like a little weed and has gained the nick-name of "monkey" for the way she climbs over and onto EVERYTHING.

Our computer has been painfully slow lately for reasons we can not determine. So I have been horrible about posting pictures to the Flickr site. I just don't have the patience to wait for all that uploading. But I will try to do that soon. In the mean time, here are a few of my favorite pics from last month. Enjoy!

A Perfectly Timed Portion

So Michael and I have gotten on a kick where we are really watching our calorie counts. (We can thank the holiday season for that!!) There is a pretty neat site out there called The Daily Plate that has been a great tool in assisting us in this.

As a result, I find myself examining the nutrition chart on each and every package I pick up lately. It is becoming an obsession. The other day I was making grilled cheese sandwiches and as I was spraying the pan with non-stick cooking spray. I spun the can around curious to see what amount was considered to be one serving of spray. Here is what I found.

Seriously? The serving size is 1/3 of a second? I couldn't help but chuckle as I imagined myself trying to very carefully time my spray so that I could make sure to only get 1 serving of spray. But then I laughed even more when I saw this: Notice all the zeros? So WHO CARES how much a serving is. I would have been so aggravated if I was the factory worker who was given the task of determining how much one serving was. Sitting at the factory with gloves, a mask and a stop watch. Spraying the bottle until it is empty only to find out that it doesn't matter one little bit. If you look closely you'll see that not only did they have to find out how much a serving was, but they had to determine that there were 741 little 1/3 second sprays in the can. And you think your job is boring?

So next time I am feeling really rebellious, I think I'll spray for an entire second, or maybe two. Somebody stop me!

Refrigerators, Screaming and Fecal Matter

Now that I have your attention, I can describe for you one of the most hectic hours of my week. A-hem . . .

Our refrigerator recently decided it was time to retire. So I have been scrambling to find a new one that has all the features we want at a reasonable price. Oh and that can be delivered ASAP. This has proved tougher than I expected.

Claire and I return home after a long day of comparison shopping exhausted and ready to crash. I timed it perfectly though. We arrived home just in time for Claire's lunch and nap. What a master of the clock I am.

. . . Pause while I pat myself on the back. . .

So we walk in to find the house smelling like a Port-a-John. I immediately look to Claire and she shoots back a look that says, "Don't even think of blaming me, I was with you all day."

I cautiously walked into the spare room that houses the dog's kennel to find that our lovely pooch, Padme, has had explosive diarrhea and the kennel is now at maximum capacity.

So now I am faced with a major dilemma of priorities. Leaving Padme in her kennel is not an option, poor thing. She is slipping and sliding everywhere. (You are welcome for the mental picture--just be glad I am not posting an ACTUAL picture!) But I can't let her out while I hold Claire because I am pretty sure BABY + DOGGIE DOO = CALL TO CHILD PROTECTIVE SERVICES.

I look to Claire and get another look that says, "Don't even think about putting me off. I am hungry and tired. If you don't think I can scream for the entire hour it takes you to bathe the dog and burn down the room where the incident occurred, you've got another thing coming."

So I do the only thing I can think to do. I open the kennel door allowing the poor dog to escape and do my best to one-handedly direct her along the shortest path to the back yard as she leaves lovely doggie prints on my floor in her wake. Shudder.

So the final decision here is that the dog stays outside while I feed Claire. Once Claire is down for a nap, I'll bring the pooh-laden dog back inside for a bath and then tackle the foulness of the spare room and floors. Easy choice right? Wrong.

Our dog is extremely opposed to being left alone for any amount of time. When left alone, she doesn't just bark, she shrieks and howls . . . like this:


Photo Sharing - Video Sharing - Photo Printing - Photo Books

So this howling is going on outside for over 30 minutes while I feed Claire and put her down for a nap. My poor neighbors.

So I finally get Claire down, bathe the dog and clean out/sanitize the kennel. After scrubbing down the floors and taking a shower to remove the oogy feeling that comes with dealing with fecal matter, I finally collapse on the couch just in time for Claire to wake up from her nap. Sigh.

A mother's job is never done.

Home Sweet Home

It's amazing how the things I look forward to at Christmas are the EXACT same things I can't wait to do away with afterwards. Let me explain:

#1 Overeating. I always enjoy all the overeating that comes with the season, but towards the end of the holiday? I find myself REALLY wanting to eat well again. My body just feels gross and begs for a cleansing salad.

#2 Christmas travel. I get so excited at the start of a trip. I don't even mind the long car rides because the end justifies the means. But by the end of the trip, (especially with a 8-month-old in tow) I find myself cringing at the thought of even 20 minutes in the car.

#3 Christmas decor. I love to decorate for Christmas. I love the way the house looks inside and out. It gives me such a warm fuzzy feeling inside. But get me home from Christmas travel? It's boxing up time, baby. I completely took down all of my Christmas decor in one evening and what a relief it was!!

#4 Christmas music. Oh how I love all the wonderful Christmas music in the stores and on the radio. But after December 25th, I am ready for regularly scheduled programming on my radio station.

Don't get me wrong. I am not trying to be a Scrooge. I dearly love Christmas and had a wonderful time in all my travels. I guess I am just such a home body that very little pleases me more than getting back into my daily routine.

Poor little Claire doesn't stand a chance does she?