Wrap it up

Last weekend we went to Zachary's first birthday party. Our neighbor's little girl turned one and we were excited to celebrate with her. We went out and bought her a gift and though it would have been easier for me to throw it in a gift bag and call it a day, I took the time to wrap the Mr. Bubble bath crayons. (Umm, can I take a minute to talk about these bath crayons? It's my blog, so the answer is yes. They looked awesome and I totally can't wait until Z is older and he can play with them. I guarantee bath time will be longer because Zachary's mommy will be playing with his toys.) Now, this little girl probably got a lot of help from her parents and older brother when it came time to open her presents, she was only turning one after all. So, I know that perhaps wrapping the gift may have been more time consuming, but as a general rule, I always wrap gifts to kids.

I remember when I was younger and still had birthday parties, the best presents were the ones that were wrapped. You could always tell by the packaging if you were getting a Barbie, a board game (hopefully Mouse Trap or Operation!) or a VHS of a Disney movie, but I loved it. I loved the bows and ribbons that were on the gift - I always saved the really pretty ribbons. I loved the different wrapping paper patterns, especially the shiny ones or the ones that had the little fuzzies on them. And of course, I loved ripping the heck out of them and exposing my gift. The best ones were the oddly shaped boxes. They always had you wondering what could possibly be inside and those were generally the ones I picked first to unwrap. I would of course have some presents that were in bags, but they weren't much of a thrill for me. You pull out the two sheets of tissue paper (colored, if you're lucky) that hide the goods and you're done. No anticipation, no guessing, no fun.

Baby Hank - not a fan **

So I was surprised when we went to the party and people kept coming in the door with gifts for this little girl in bags. I would silently think to myself - "fail." I think now would be a great time to mention that Zachary has not opened any gifts yet so I am not sure how a baby actually does opening gifts. My friend, Ashley's son did not seem too thrilled about his wrapped presents at Christmas last year, so these "Bag People" may be on to something with the wee little babes; however, I continued to secretly judge the lazy wrapping of my fellow party goers because I am clearly an expert if you read between the lines of this post.

Even as a grown up, I will be honest and say I love presents. Personally, it truly is the thought that counts for me. In my mind I think it is sweet that you were thinking about me at a random moment and thought I might like whatever treasure you found. I don't think it's wrong to like getting presents either, especially because of my reasoning for liking gifts. That being said, while I would be elated to find a little gift bag with my name on the tag, I still love wrapped gifts. I still love the oddly shaped wrapped gifts. I still love the the patterned wrapping paper, yes the shiny and fuzzy ones are still my favorite (though now that I am buying them, they are also the more expensive ones). I still love the bows and save the really pretty ones. And I still love to rip them open to see my spoils. Hopefully Baby Hank will this Christmas too.

** Thank you Ashley Schwartz for letting me use this picture of baby Hank. It is hilarious and adorable at the same time!

Facebook Etiquette

The year was 2005. I was a senior at Bethel University in St. Paul, Minnesota and that spring, my

I did find time to graduate

mission was not to graduate or pack up my room. My mission was to get Bethel University on Facebook. Yep, you read that right. Back in the old days, Facebook was only for college students. You had to have a college e-mail address in order to have an account and Facebook had to enter your college's information in order for you to be able to join. Small colleges, like Bethel, were not exactly on the forefront of Mark Zuckerberg's mind but you could request that your school be added to the list. I was a part of a small team of seniors who were constantly requesting that Bethel be added and that spring our diligence paid off. . . Bethel University was added to Facebook. All you Bethel students, you're welcome.

Look at us young pups, back in our dating days

Facebook was awesome. You could upload pictures and show off how awesome you are or what cool thing you were doing. You could look up the mean girls from high school and see that they had partied too hard in college and gained a spare tire. You could announce to the world the the status that was the end all, be all of relationships - "single" or "in a relationship." In fact, my husband and I started our dating relationship on Facebook. We had known each other since we were kids, but after I graduated from college and moved back to Chicago, he and I would send each other message via Facebook since he lived in Minneapolis. One thing led to another and -bam!- now we're married. I mean, do you see the power that F-book possesses?

It is only physically possible to have a relationship with a quantifiable number of people. What that quantifiable number is . . . I don't remember, but I read that somewhere, so you're just going to have to trust me. Social media, like Facebook, made that number larger. When I was pregnant with Zachary, I learned that a friend from high school was also pregnant. I had not spoken to her since graduation, but we have exchanged jokes, comments and advice on Facebook after our sons were born. We probably wouldn't have reconnected because we live in different states, so it was cool to be able to interact again. It has also been fun for our family and friends who live all over the country to be able to see pictures of Zachary and learn about his latest accomplishments by posting these events to our statuses. Things like that make me love Facebook.

However, there are quite a few things about Facebook which has made me want to break up with this wildly popular social media. The more people who join Facebook, the more faux pas are running rampant. So in true Pam fashion, I have complied a list for you of my opinion on Facebook etiquette:

1. No kids allowed. When Facebook started out, a lot of the appeal was that there was something cool about the fact that only college students could have an account. However, now that I am out of

college, I can see the benefit of expanding this online club to adults too, but I have a hard time understanding why anyone under the age of 18 should be allowed to have an account. While I can remember feeling frustrated with high school teachers/projects/rules/chores/parents/homework/etc. and voiced them to my friends, the audience that heard these complaints was small. Teens post something on Facebook about how they are mad at their parents because they have to clean their room and now everyone can see how petty their thoughts are. News flash, we don't care. If a clean room is your biggest problem in life, you have a long and hard road ahead of you. Besides being used as a media to share earth-shattering problems like not wanting to write a five paragraph essay, Facebook has also become an avenue for cyber-bullying. Not only are kids being mean to each other face to face, they are doing it on the internet too. Best way to fix it - all Facebook members need to be at least 18 years or older. At that age you can vote, go to war and buy a pack of ciggies. Let's add one more privilege to the mix.

2. We don't need to know your every thought. Most of the time, I love what people post. I get excited for you when you announce you got that promotion, you're pregnant or you want to move to Cincinnati to be closer to the Carlson crew! But I think we can all agree that some posts are . . . . lame. You want to get your nails done tonight? You are bored? You're at Taco Bell right now? Thanks for letting me know how you are feeling by inserting an emoticon! Here's a general rule of thumb; if your post is something that you think others would find amusing, then post away. If not, then get a diary . . . or a hobby.

3. For the love of Pete, stop "vague-booking." How many posts have you read that go something like this: "OMG!" or "I am so mad!" This is an epidemic on Facebook called "Vague-booking." Vague-booking is when you post something that leaves everybody wanting more. We all know what you are really saying with your vague-book. You are really saying "Please comment on my post so that I can continue to be coy and vague without really telling you what you want to know." I feel like a fish swimming around a hotdog on a hook. Just quit it already. Tell us what you want to share or don't, but be warned, I may call you out on your vague-booking in the future.

4. Save the debates for the Town Hall meetings. Here's a little secret for you . . . we all have different opinions. (GASP!) So, if someone posts something that you disagree with, you don't need to take it upon yourself to have a throw down WWF-style on Facebook. You also don't need to post things that you know will get a rile out of people. Example: election time. (Collective groan) I have learned so much about my "friends" on Facebook during this season. Some of it is down right nasty. I don't care if you are a Democrat, a Republican, a member of the Green or Tea Parties, if you're a hippie or are planning on running off to Canada, but think before you post. I have hid some of my friends from my news feed because based on what they were posting I was clearly an incompetent monster for believing what I do. If you want to have a debate, call up a friend from whom you can get an objective point of view or if you need an ally, call someone who thinks the same way you do. Don't alienate your peers by being closed minded, even if you think you are just trying to "inform" people.

5. Be wary of questions in status posts. I have also seen posts where people want honest feedback on a topic and someone comes around and decides to unload on anyone who thinks differently than that person. I recently got in the middle of this. A friend had posted a controversial ad and wanted feedback. That little voice in my head told me not to do it, but I thought, surely this is just a discussion topic. I wrote out a respectful response, read it, reread it and made sure that it did not point fingers at anyone or couldn't be twisted into something negative. Then I hit the enter button - big mistake. A few hours later, I was blasted by the person who posted the ad, along with others who had a similar point of view to my own. How foolish of me. I thought we were grown ups and this person wanted to know a different perspective. I quickly deleted my comment and hid him from my news feed. I won't make that mistake again.  However, I have another friend who truly wanted parenting advice and not just so she could store up some ammo for later. Everyone who replied gave good feedback to her, which I am sure she found helpful. Then one person decided chastise everyone for not having more faith in the mom who was posting.So I guess the moral of this point is . . . you can't win. Maybe don't answer questions at all unless a friend or family member calls you. Hmm, that can still be tricky. Okay, I don't have any good advice for this one.

6. It's cool to have good grammar.  I will be the first to admit that I am the world's worst speller. My husband will also tease me about how I write posts or texts and then hit send without proofreading. I always have a ton of auto-correct mistakes. I am sure you found an error as you read this blog so this advice certainly can be applied to me too. However, there are a few broken grammar rules that I see over and over again and I feel like I am taking crazy pills. If I had a nickel for every time I saw homophones used incorrectly, I would be a millionaire. Here's a quick lesson:

to, two, too
to - use as a preposition before a noun or as an infinitive to a verb.
I want to go to the dance.

two - number 2 written out
I have two pets.

too - can be used as a synonym to "also" and used to indicate exclusiveness.
I want to shop too.
I ate too much.

there, they're, their
there  - refers to a place
I put the mail there.

they're - a conjunction for "they are"
They're going to be late.

their - shows ownership of a group
Their dog ran in our yard. (The dog belongs to them)

your, you're
your - referring to something you own
Your books are on the table

you're - conjunction for "you are"
You're so funny!

It would also be good to note that "alot" is not a word. In fact, as I type this out, a bright, red squiggle line is reverberating under that word because it should be "a lot." I am sorry and embarrassed to say that I knew a teacher who made posters in her room and had this error on her poster. Every time I saw it, I felt like it was calling out to me, begging to be fixed. It felt so permanent - glued down and laminated. I just wanted to cry. I never did have the guts to tell the teacher about the mistake.

I told the hubs that I was writing this blog and he asked me if I was sure if I wanted to post it. I am probably breaking my rules by even writing something like this because most of my readers get to this blog via Facebook. I might be a walking contradiction, but I needed to get this off my chest; besides this blog is called Nonsense, so maybe that is all this really is.

Inanimate . . . or Alive?

I am convinced that the main reason why the Toy Story franchise is so popular is because almost every child wonders if their toys really come to live when no one is around. When you are not around, you know your teddy bear and Barbie doll are having a tea party, or your G.I. Joes are building a fort with your Lincoln Logs. There is something magical about your special toys and you just hope that they are in fact REAL. Well, I am all grown up now and my toys are no longer Barbies and stuffed animals, but sometimes I wonder if maybe there are some things that come to life when you're not looking, unfortunately, they seem to be the kind of acts of vengeance that Sid's toys had for him.

Have you ever been working on something and it all seems to go wrong? It is almost as if that inanimate object has a personal vendetta against you. It seems like there are days when I have this battle. A battle between me and inanimate objects. For whatever reason, these objects seem to have a mind of their own and seem to want to "fight" me. I always have this issue with sports bras. I know that they are tight because they need to hold the girls in place, but I swear, every time I put one on, it fights me. It's almost like the bra doesn't want me to wear it. My hair gets all tangled up in the spandex, it rolls up in the back which is next to impossible to smooth out - I will probably need rotator cuff surgery because of this - and sometimes when I finally get it in place, I feel like I have already finished the workout which needed the sports bra to begin with!

I had another attack yesterday. I was putting up our outdoor Christmas lights and we have some pre-lit garland that I wanted to drape above our door. The garland had never been pulled out of the box. I bought two boxes of it about three years ago at an after-Christmas sale and have only used the one until yesterday. It was a 25 foot strand of garland that was compacted into a 2x2x4 foot box. This was my first annoyance because as I pulled out the lump that was compacted at a molecular level - I knew I would never be able to get the garland that tight again when it came time to put it away. After what seemed like an eternity of unrolling the garland, I finally was able to get to the task of getting it up on the molding and adjusting it to the right swag. I literally got up and down on that ladder 15 times to get it right and each time I realized the other side needed adjusting, I swear that garland was laughing at me. I finally won the battle and the garland looks nice, but for a split second (okay, maybe more like a solid minute) I wondered if that garland was secretly out to get me for leaving him in the box for 3 years.

I know that it sounds crazy, but there are little moments like that were I wonder if these things are purposefully not doing what is expected from them just to tick me off.  I always thought I was a nice person. Not at all like Sid from Toy Story. I treat my things nicely. Why are they attacking me? Am I alone in this? 

Alright, so they probably aren't attacking me . . . . it is most likely user error, but maybe I should just go upstairs and give my sports bras a few compliments, just in case.

Badges and Gold Stars

Remember when we were kids, how we were surrounded by positive reinforcement? I remember having sticker charts everywhere I turned. We had one at home for chores - when I cleaned my room, I got to put a sticker up on our chart we had hanging in the laundry room. We had one at school - when I read a certain number of books, I got to put a sticker up on the chart in our classroom. We had one at church - when I recited my Bible verse for the week, I got to put a sticker next to my name. It was great. All those charts led to a bigger reward, albeit a small allowance, a paperback book or a piece of candy, but really - I just loved the sticker. If that would have been the whole reward, I would have been just as happy. I especially loved it when I got to choose the sticker. The smilie faces were fun; I always liked the "girl" looking faces with big lips and eye lashes. Sometimes there were stickers with different phrases which were nice because they were bigger; but my favorite stickers were the metallic stars. They came on a sheet with four different colors, red, silver, blue and gold. I always chose silver or gold first, then the red and lastly the blue. The blue ones didn't seem as shiny. Of course my OCD would kick in, even as a kid and it would drive me crazy if I had 5 gold stars, one blue and then 3 more gold stars. I thought about asking if I could peel off the blue sticker and replace it with a gold one, but even as a child, I knew this was weird.

As a grown up, I have often wished that sticker charts continued to follow us as we navigate through our day. How many times have you been bogged down with a ton of assignments in college or at work and actually got them all done? Wouldn't have been great for your professor or your boss to tell you to go to choose a sticker from the sticker bucket and stick it next to your name? How satisfying would that be? I am telling you, it would definitely boost employee moral.How about those times when you get all those little chores that you have been putting off finally complete. Like you actually get the old magazines out to recycling, or organize that closet you have been putting off. Where is the reward for that? Nobody even notices your work!

Me and Z when he was only 1 week old.

Never have I wanted a sticker chart more than when I became a mom. The plan was always for me to go back to work after Zachary was born. Troy knew better, but being a the smart and sensitive hubby that he is, he let me continue to live in this fantasy world while I was pregnant and ranting on and on about how I was a "career woman" and I didn't go get my masters to just "sit at home". Oh. My. Goodness. Pre-pregnant Pam and Post-Pregnant Pam were two very different people. I learned how wrong I was because after Zachary was born, I have never experienced that kind of emotional and physical exhaustion in my life. You hear people say all that time that being a parent is the hardest job in the whole world, and it's true except you don't get paid and you never clock out, so the term "job" doesn't really do it justice. It's more like a life sentence - but in a good way - well, sometimes.

The first two months of parenting were brutal, but then we got into a routine and I fell in love with my new role. I realized that my maternity leave was rapidly coming to an end and I started to have little panic attacks about going back to work which would usually end in tears. Zachary would always look up at me and give me a look like "Mom, why does your face look all scrunchy and why are your eyes all wet?" I decided that I needed to figure out a way to stay home to care for our son so I connected with a family who needed part-time day care for their son who is three weeks older than Zachary. I will admit, this is the hardest "job" I have ever had. I basically have twins for two and a half days. I desperately want to give each boy one-on-one attention but I can't always. It seems like every time I am feeding one of them, the other has a hissy fit. One will spit up and just when I finish cleaning it up, the other one decides to spit up too. On the days where I have both boys, most of the day, I am busier than a one-armed wall paper hanger. (That is one of my dad's favorite clichés.) But even when I get overwhelmed, I can always look over and see my sweet Zachary and I think to myself, 'I could be at a job right now where I don't get to see him at all,' and somehow the good Lord gives me a little boost and we make it out just fine. Most of these days, I wish I had a sticker chart. I would give myself a shiny gold (or silver) star for a lot of the accomplishments of the day.

Bath Time! I love it when Z shows off his lips!

Even on days when it is just me and Zachary, it is still a lot of work. I want to be present during his awake times so I am on the floor playing and cooing with him. While he is napping I need to get the endless laundry taken care of which has grown exponentially because we use cloth diapers. ( P.S. cloth diapers are awesome and I cannot sing enough praise about them. Plus, we are not dropping all the cash on disposables!) I also need to do whatever cleaning I can squeeze in and try to feed myself (which sometimes doesn't happen) and attempt to get dinner ready. One day, I washed Zachary's laundry and diapers, hung the diapers to dry, made my homemade spaghetti sauce from scratch, baked brownies using a recipe I found on Pinterest, folded and put away Z's clean laundry and found time to be with Troy in the evening instead of going to bed early. Where was my gold sticker for that? I felt so accomplished getting all that done - in ONE day! (This is not an everyday occurrence, post baby but I am working on my juggling skills.)

A few Four Square Badges

This idea of having a grown up sticker chart isn't really all that strange. There are tons of apps on smart phones today where you get badges after accomplishing something. Troy and I were really into the Four Square app for a while and still check into places now and there are two reasons why we loved this app. First, we often get good deals when we use the app, like a free drink, a half price appetizer or something to that nature. Secondly, you get badges. There are badges for everything from going to so many coffee houses to being out late on a school night. We try to collect as many as we can. Why? Because when you check into a place and unlock a new badge, it feels like you're in elementary school again. You get to put a sticker next to your name that announces to everyone, I WAS AWESOME! 

Some day I will have a sticker chart hanging in my home with Zachary and company's names written down the margin. They will earn stickers for responsibilities Troy and I expect them to do to be an active part of our family. Don't be surprised if you see my name at the bottom of the chart with gold stars next to my chores. And yes, if we run out and I have to use the blue stars, my OCD is still going to flare up, but at least I will have still earned my star and got to put a sticker next to my name again.

Fan Mail - The VanDonkelaars

I have eleven followers (I know, I know, I basically can't even leave the house, lest I am bombarded by paparazzi) who read this blog religiously and are genuinely disappointed when I am absent from my craft. These people give me a huge head and make me feel super cool. Two of those people are my sister, Laura and her husband, Eric (well, technically, Eric isn't an official follower of my blog, but he probably asks me the most about future writings and generally tells Laura that there is a new posting, so I'll let it slide . . . for now). Laura and Eric will always comment on a new blog and also nagged me about writing more when I was on my maternity hiatus. I thought I would reward them by writing a blog all about them and since I am a fan of making lists (as the last two blogs have shown) I thought I would make a list of a few of the things I love about them as a thank you to being devoted followers. Laura and Eric, this one's for you.

1. The VanDonkelaar Language – If you watch Laura and Eric interact, you will probably hear a few words that you are unfamiliar with or thought meant something else. An example conversation may look something like this:

Eric: “Wow, I can’t believe you painted all these rooms while I was gone!”

Laura: “I know, do you like the colors?”

Eric: “I think they are really dank.”

Now, if you heard this conversation, you would probably think that Eric doesn’t like the new colors because to most people the word ‘dank’ means dark and damp, but according to Laura and Eric, this word means awesome. Rule of thumb, if you are every confused by what they are saying, look up the word in question on UrbanDictionary.com. Or you could ask them what it means and then feel really old when you hear the answer because it is apparently what "all the kids are saying."

2. Boom-Boom Chicken – About a week after Zachary was born Laura and Eric came down to visit us and wanted to make a dinner for us. They gave us three options and we chose the Boom-Boom Chicken. It is so delicious. Eric got busy frying up some chicken while Laura concocted the Boom-Boom sauce. If you haven’t had Boom-Boom sauce, it is a delicious combo of sweet and spicy and it is oh-so-good. I ate way too much that night and after that Laura and Eric have had a ton of requests for this meal. It is really time consuming though so they aren’t always thrilled to make it; however, they love to please a crowd. We were recently told that there would be a hold on the Boom-Boom chicken for a while, but I am hoping this little shout out makes them change their mind.

3. Hosts-with-the-Mosts – Troy and I went to visit Laura and Eric at their old apartment last winter and they pulled out all the stops for us. They made the guest room cozy and inviting; they had towels easily accessible and they went shopping to buy treats we would like. When Troy and I got up in the morning, we found a mini breakfast buffet waiting us. The coffee pot was all ready to brew with the touch of a button. There were coffee cups sitting out for us to use. The toaster was on the counter and next to it was a loaf of whole wheat bread, a new container of Nutella and a plate with a butter knife. Troy's favorite cereal was out and displayed and delicious creamers were available to accompany the coffee that was ready to be brewed. They made us a delicious dinner and showed us around town. We had a great time and are looking forward to our next visit.

How cute is this?

4. Height Factor – Ever since we were kids, Laura has pretty much always been taller than me. In fact, everyone thought she was the older one, which I use to hate and now I wouldn’t mind so much. Then she married a man who was even taller than she. When Laura was dating Eric, one of the pros was that she could wear heels with him. I personally love how tall Eric is. When I go to hug him, I think my head comes to his armpits and I feel like a little kid hugging my grandpa. That's a random one, but it's the truth.

5. B.F.F.s – Laura and I are super good friends, so when Troy came into the picture, he knew he had to get in good with Laura in order to stick around.  When Laura and Eric started dating, Eric not only had to get in good with me, but also with Troy. It turned out great and the four of us are really good friends. We love spending time with the VanDonkelaars and wish we lived closer so we could hang out with them more. There are lots of airports around the Cincinnati area . . . (hint, hint.)

There are obviously a ton of things I love about Eric and Laura that this blog simply could not contain. But since they are always giving me a big head, I thought I would return the favor to my number one fans. Thanks for making up 18% of my followers. To Laura and Eric!! Cheers!

Laura and Eric VanDonkelaar - Nonsense Fans

No Butts About It

However inappropriate this comment may be, I am just going to go for it. My husband has a great butt. I was once one of those people who thought it was gross when people would comment on how great a butt was. I thought that butts were strictly for utilitarian purposes – I think we all know what I am talking about here. Then I married the man with a shelf on his lower back side, and it is fantastic. I am pretty sure it’s okay to think about butts as long as they belong to your spouse. I am also pretty sure that my spouse would prefer me to get to my point of this blog rather than continue to divulge in the conversation of his rear end. So, I will move on . . . .

Aren't these two adorable?!

. . . To my son’s butt. He has the cutest little baby tushie and I love it. In my previous blog, I mentioned that Zachary has the same bedtime routine every night to help him get ready for his “long sleep.” Part of that routine is bath time. We take off his clothes and diaper and walk over to the bathtub. This is my favorite time of the day….nakey baby time. We always make a big deal about Zachary’s cute and chubby rump which he clenches en route to the bath. There is even a song that goes with this ritual. That is what happens when a cute baby butt is exposed. We were visiting my family at my parents’ lake house for Labor Day weekend and we even showed off his cute backside to his Uncle Eric and Aunt Laura, who also thought it was adorable – because it is.

That being said, I made a comment to Troy one night about how cute Zachary’s butt is to which he commented that I have – and I quote – “a very healthy butt-addiction.” It’s true, though only when it applies to my men. It’s not like I am thinking about random men’s/babies butts. To be honest, admitting my “healthy butt-addiction” is kind of a weird confession that I was not sure I should even blog about at all. I mean, who commits to writing a whole blog about butts? Well, I suppose I do so if I am going to do this, let’s do this right.  We were all made in different shapes and sizes and the “desired butt of choice” is different for everyone. Let’s talk about a few;

1. The Baby Butt – This butt is at the top because it is probably the cutest. Who can’t resist two tiny cheeks that normally don’t get to see the light of day because you are really flirting with danger by allowing a baby to freestyle.

2. The Significant Other Butt – This category has a large spectrum. This is basically the butt that catches your eye. Hopefully it is attached to your spouse, otherwise you are gonna get into trouble.

3. The Hairy Butt – Yep, I went here. I don’t think I really need to explain this one.

4. The J-Lo Butt – This is the butt I wish I had. This butt can fill out jeans like nobody’s business and looks great on a dance floor.

5. The No Butt – I would fall into this category. For some reason, my sister Laura and I got this gene. We don’t have butts. I like to say my butt is really just the tops of my legs. It seriously hurts if I am sitting too long because of a lack of padding. We get it from our grandpa who also is a No Butt and has to sit on a pillow.

I am sure right now you're thinking, "This blog could use some Sir Mix A Lot." And you would be right, so I found "Baby Got Back" compiled from different movies. You're Welcome.

Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This

Welp, we did it. Troy and I became parents. Zachary Troy was born at 3:33PM on May 30, 2013 and he shares a birthday with his Grandpa Paul who turned 60 that same day. I will be using this post to shamefully share pictures of our handsome little boy. This week, he had his three month birthday and I feel like I have learned so much since pre-parenting days and I thought I would bestow some of that wisdom onto you.

There are so many things that I thought I knew going into this whole child-rearing thing that turned out to be utterly wrong. When my mom came to stay with us to help Troy and me, we laughed about all the things I told my mom while I was pregnant. She said she would get off the phone after hearing how I was going to do things, and tell my dad about how I was just going to have to figure it out the hard way. What a nice mom for doing it that way and not laughing in my face! Seriously, she totally deserves a gold sticker for everything she did for Troy, Zachary and I while she was here. Which brings me to my first lesson learned:

1. I needed my mommy. Before Zachary was born, Troy and I decided that my mom would only come for a week. After all, babies are small. All they do is eat, poop and sleep. We can handle it. My mom thought that we would need her for two weeks, but we knew better. So we made the arrangements with my parents for my mom to stay with us for a week and that was the plan. As that week started to come to an end, my mom called my dad to figure out when he would come to pick her up and I started to get panic attacks. Finally in a fit of tears, I asked - nay, begged - Troy to allow my mom to stay another week, to which of course, he said yes. My mom was very gracious and glad to stay another week. There were still plenty of tears when we had to part though and I continued to call her with questions.

 

This sweet boy loved to sleep during the day, not the night.

2. The first night home is like pulling an all-nighter in college, but the test date never comes. When we were in the hospital, Troy and I took advantage of the nursery. Every three hours, the nurse would wheel in our beautiful baby to eat and then I would ring the call button and the nurse would bring the baby back to the nursery and I would sleep until the next feeding. When we got home, we spent our first night alone. Both of our parents were still in hotels for the weekend and Troy and I figured we could handle things for a night. WRONG. That sweet, adorable, little baby didn't want to have anything to do with sleeping while it was dark. He wanted to cry and fed and be held - all-night-long. We ignorantly thought he was blissfully sleeping while in the nursery at the hospital (HA! HA! HA!). We were such fools.

I am super embarrassed by this photo, but I post it for you.

3. I will still look 8 months pregnant when I leave the hospital. This one was a real downer folks. I spit out an 8 pound, 5 ounce baby, and because I was induced and pumped full of liquid, I was actually MORE swollen when I left the hospital than when I got there - which is saying a lot because my feet resembled that of Fat Bastard's from Austin Powers before I even delivered. I have included a picture just so you get the idea. I look at pictures of myself when we brought home Zachary and it's gross. Now some ladies, leave the hospital gracefully with a mild post-preggo-pooch, like Kate Middleton. Some ladies leave the hospital looking how they did in college, like my friend Krista (Krista, I am sure you'll protest, but you looked smokin' hot after giving birth and you should embrace it.) I however, was not in that small group . . . there was nothing small about me.

4. "Exhausted Mom" jokes have a new meaning and will suddenly become cruelly hilarious. I have never experienced true exhaustion before. Let me tell you, it turns you into a crazy person. Straight up, cra-cra. I would sit on the couch and be fine one minute and start bawling for no reason the next. A lot of that has to do with the insane hormones that are raging through your body and the fact that you just performed something short of a miracle - birth, but a lot of that comes from lack of sleep. I would wake up in the middle of the night for feedings and I would hate everyone I knew who was sleeping. My only friend was my sister who works the night shift at her dispatch job at the airport. When I would hear people without children say they are tired, I wanted to punch them in the face. Not figuratively either, but I would literally clench my fist and get a solid foot stance ready.

5. I will inevitably parent in such a way that makes me look like a monster to "someone" "somewhere." Every Thursday night I have a weekly Skype date with my dear friend Becca. Not only is she one of my closest friends, I consider her an emotional and spiritual mentor. She and I are very similar and so I often ask for her advice because most of the time, what she has done is a great option for me. When Zachary was two months old, he was still feeding and sleeping whenever he wanted to, which made scheduling anything impossible. I was Skyping with Becca then and just broke down in tears due to my #4 lesson. She basically gave me a prescription on what I should do to get Zachary on a sleeping schedule, which was very similar to Baby Wise. You know what, it worked like a charm and Zachary slept all night long! Of course, that first night Troy and I were half asleep all night, just waiting to hear an explosion of cries that never came. Baby Wise is controversial because for some parents, they believe that "crying it out" is cruel, but other parents (like myself and Troy) can see the benefits of babies learning how to soothe themselves back to sleep. Regardless of which camp you're in, you will always get flack from someone on the other side, which is unfortunate because let's be honest, if you're a parent, you need all the support you can get, so why can't we all just get along? :)

Reading Z his Baby Bible before bedtime.

6. I needed the Lord . . . more.  I would be leaving out a HUGE lesson if I didn't mention this. When Zachary was born, I became so much more aware of mortality, which is morbid, I know, but it's true. At every feeding I would pray that the Lord would watch over my sweet, little boy and that he would grow up to be happy and healthy, but more importantly, that he would grow up to love the Lord too. I would also pray for myself that I would have the strength to get through the day with my lack of sleep and that my husband would know how much I loved him even though I wasn't able to give him much attention. Some nights, Zachary and I would cry together, not knowing what was wrong with the other person and I would look to the Lord for comfort. Having a baby has proven to be the most challenging thing Troy and I have ever done and together, we have turned to prayer for guidance and support. It gave us peace that cannot be matched. Here are some of my favorite verses that I recited during this time:

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." Philippians 4:6

"Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, "Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest."" Mark 6:31

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest in your souls." Matthew 11:28-29

7. My baby is obviously the cutest baby on the planet. When I first saw Zachary for the first time, I loved him immediately and thought he was so cute. Not in the all-babies-are-cute kind of way, but I thought Zachary was so cute that it was obvious to everyone who ever laid eyes on him. People would comment on his cuteness and I wouldn't even be gracious about it, I would just say, "I know!" My mom warned me about this. She said that after I had kids, I would wonder how I ever thought any one else kids were "the cutest." She was right. Zachary is the cutest and I am going to throw down the gauntlet and challenge anyone to show me a cuter baby. I will of course judge Zachary's cuteness with his competitor. I will probably be biased. You will probably lose.

Love this.

Love this, too.

 8. I love my husband more than I thought I could. Here's were it gets a little mushy, friends. I have known Troy forever and if you would have told Little High School Pammy Kohler that she was going to get to marry Troy Carlson, she probably would have done an awkward giggle and started sweating profusely but she definitely wouldn't have believed you. Troy is my very best friend and I am so blessed to be married to him, but after having our son, it has been even more fun to see him in his new role. When I was pregnant, he was very protective of me. I remember getting a lecture on the importance of being careful going up and down our rickety basement steps. After Zachary was born, he would have a glass of water ready for me at every feeding, do all kinds of housework and hug me when I was having a moment of the "baby blues." Since acts of service is my love language, I felt very loved. When I see him with Zachary, it just melts my heart. The other night he read Zachary his bedtime story, and I as I watched my favorite men snuggling close to each other, my eyes started to water. Every night, we take turns praying over Zachary and when it is his turn to pray, my heart gets a little warmer. Basically, what I am trying to say is that Troy was smokin' hot before he was a dad, now he is pretty much exuding a nuclear-like heat. Ow! Ow!

9. What to Expect When You're Expecting should not be used as a syllabus. I read that book like it was the childbirth Bible everyone claims it to be. Each milestone month during my pregnancy, I would bone up on how my baby was growing, what I can expect from my body and doctor's appointments and how to make my husband feel like he is more involved in the process. Then the last chapter was about what I can expect once the baby is born and what the first week will look like. Let me tell you . . . they left A LOT of stuff out. Like how the week after you give birth, you could be one of the lucky ones who is in so much pain that getting in and out of chairs makes tears spring from your eyes. Or how sometimes circumcisions don't "work" and your child will be one of the lucky ones who will have to have his REDONE when he is one. Or how that gross line that runs up your belly will take FOREVER to lose, along with your baby weight. Who am I kidding? When I am pregnant with baby #2, I will read it again.

10. I am still a neat freak, OCD and an A-type personality. This can be seen by the fact that I needed to have an even number of lessons learned in this blog and 10 seemed like a good number. When I was pregnant, people would always tell me that I would change when I became a mother and that I couldn't be as "rigid" as I was before. You could call these people the messy, B-Type personalities who don't understand me anyway. To a certain extent, this is true, however, I am still me and I still like schedules, plans and things in order. Look at it this way, if you were standing at a riverbank and wanted to change the flow of the river, all you would have to do would be to throw a pebble in the river. It would change the flow because where the pebble is now, water once was able to flow freely. The river is still flowing in the same direction, the pebble just made a slight change in the flow. That is how I feel about motherhood. Zachary is my sweet little pebble. He has changed some things, obviously, but the river doesn't suddenly start flowing in the reverse direction, and I haven't changed who I am at my core, which is a neat freak, who has OCD and an A-type personality, I'm just a mom now too.

Even though being a parent is the hardest thing I have ever done. It is the best. That little boy melts my heart multiple times a day, every day. I love how he has truly made us a family. I know there will be many more lessons to learn as we go.

City Slicker

When I was young, and even now, I loved to listen to my grandma's stories about what it was like for her growing up. Besides the decade and current events being much different, the geographic region was much different. I grew up in the south suburbs of Chicago. My grandma grew up and lived all over Missouri and she was a farm kid. I was always intrigued by the kind of chores she had and the animals she saw all the time. I had heard about cow tipping from the kids at school. Apparently, this is when you go out into a field, late at night when the cows are sleeping. Since they sleep standing up, all you have to do is push them over. This is apparently supposed to be great fun. I asked my grandma about it one day and when I did, she just laughed and called me a City Slicker. She must have seen the look of confusion on my face because then she asked me if I knew how much a cow weighed and that it would take quite a few people to tip over a cow and not only that, the cow would wake up once you touched her. I learned two things that day. The first being that you can't tip a cow, well without an army and without the cow knowing. The second thing I learned was that my grandma was right, I was a City Slicker.

I don't think being a City Slicker is necessarily a bad thing. I wear that title like a gold star. I don't want to kill my dinner before I prepare it. I don't want to have to wake up super early to milk cows and feed animals. The only time I get self conscious about it is when I am at a county fair - I swear those 4H kids are laughing at me. I think if I had to, I could maybe blend in with the country folks for a short amount of time anyway. (I can see Troy and my parents laughing at that line and completely disagreeing.) There would be one thing that would give me away though . . . my amusement of wild animals.

Yep, I am one of those people who gets excited to see a cardinal in the backyard. In fact, my whole family is that way. My parents used to take a certain road on the way to church to see if the resident ground hog was out. We would gawk at deer in a field. One time, my sister Rebecca and I saw a fox at a park and we followed it as it trotted down a bike path. Even Troy has been known to pause the TV to point out a woodpecker in the front lawn. But last week, I saw the mother of all wild animals - well, that can be seen outside of a zoo in the mid-west at least.

The stone archway on my route to school.

I was on my way to work and the neighborhood where my school is happens to be surrounded by woods. The drive through the town is charming. There is this adorable stone archway that only one car can pass through at a time. I actually love to drive to work; it is so relaxing. One morning, I was driving a little bit slower than usual. I had just gone under the stone archway when a WOLF darted from the woods, across the street. That's right, straight out of the Twilight books, Jacob flew across the road with pieces of his ripped denim shorts still in the tuffs of his fur. This City Slicker's mouth must have been gaping wide open; I have never seen a wild wolf before! The minute I parked my car at school, I excitedly texted Troy about what I saw and then went in the building to talk to another teacher about it. At this point I was second guessing myself. Maybe that is not what I saw, but she confirmed that there were wolves in those woods. The City Slicker in me was amazed. That night, Troy and I Googled pictures of wolves so I could show him what it looked like.

The wolf sighting made me think more about being a City Slicker. I am sure that country folks would have thought the wolf was at least mildly amusing, but I thought it was awesome! Maybe my 'burbs upbringing has made me appreciate wild life more. 

Just as long as I am seeing it from the inside of my car.

Nutella

This was take post-Nutella experience. Hence my smile.

The year was 2005. I was studying abroad in Europe for the month of January. Part of our grade was to plan a "free weekend" where we got to go anywhere in Europe for the weekend but we had to meet up with the rest of our group in Paris at a certain time. My friends and I decided to go to Rome. It was awesome. When we made our travel plans to get ourselves to Paris, we decided to take the Euro-rail and sleep on the train. We went to a market to buy some snacks and things to make sandwiches to munch on as we rode. We thought we'd make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches because we wouldn't need to refrigerate anything, but when we got to the market, we couldn't find any peanut butter. Our train was about to leave, so we grabbed a nutty protein that I had never heard of before and ran to our platform. Once we found a car that would fit all of us, we settled in and started the operation of putting together the sandwiches. The peanut-butter replacement was good. It was sweet and chocolatey. That was the day that my life was changed. That was the day I first tasted Nutella.

Nutella. I am certain that this delicious treat was found in the garden of Eden, among the fruit trees. Plastic jars of happiness hanging from branches just waiting to be plucked. I am pretty sure the rest of Genesis 2:17 went something like this in the original Hebrew "[the LORD commanded the man] not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, but that Nutella tree, whoo boy! you slap that stuff on everything else!" I think the second part was just lost in translation.

This looks like a good sized serving.

I have been a fan of Nutella ever since that train ride to Paris and can eat it any time of the day. For breakfast, I have whole grain toast with Nutella and a half a banana sliced on top. There have been times when I will spread Nutella on top of apple slices and then sprinkle them with coconut and sliced almonds for a desert. It is delicious in Swedish pancakes and crepes. I have even been known to just dip a spoon in the jar and lick it off . . . alright, so I usually forgo the spoon and use my finger, but I swear I only do that if the jar is almost empty (fine, half full) or I know we won't be having guests anytime soon.

Since being pregnant, my Nutella addiction has become much worse. And yes, I would call it and addiction since I think about it multiple times a day. I eat it all the time. Sometimes, Troy comes home from work and asks me how many toasts with Nutella I have had that day. Today I would answer two, since I had one  for breakfast and one for snack. I am really restraining myself because I would love to have another, but I know I will probably end up making one for a bedtime snack. I should really get a gold star for showing such self control. I am pretty sure Baby Carlson is made up of 50% Troy, 25% me and 25% Nutella. If he comes out smelling like chocolatey hazelnut goodness, I cannot promise that I won't lick his head.

The Nutella Mecca at CostCo.

The other night, I actually had a dream that we were out of Nutella. It was terrible. Troy was playing video games and told me that he would take me to the store to get more when he finished his game. I was so hungry that I had a hissy fit in the dream (which isn't the weird part) and so I ditched Troy and went to Kroger myself to get my Nutella for breakfast. Thankfully, I woke up and realized it was a dream. We had a whole jar of Nutella in the cabinet, just waiting for me to drive into! Troy and I went to Costco this weekend, and just to be on the safe side, we bought two packs, so I have four large containers of Nutella. Better to be safe than sorry.

My Brain Short-Curcuits

I would like to say that the problem I am about to disclose is pregnancy related, but unfortunately, this has been happening long before Baby Carlson was a thought. Alright, here we go. I am about to get real wit-cha-all.

Sometimes I have super random thoughts floating around in my head. I guess they aren't thoughts so much as names and/or phrases. Sometimes I don't even know what it means. I am not crazy; let me explain. 

Thibodeau coaching Rose - or whispering his name for me.

A couple of years ago I was vacuuming and I kept repeating "Tom Thibodeau" (the last name is pronounced "Ti-bi-dough.") I had no idea why this name kept going through my head, but it did. I didn't think about it until a couple of days later when I was doing another mundane task and it happened again. "Tom Thibodeau, Tom Thibodeau, Tom Thibodeau." One night, Troy was watching a Bulls game and I heard the name on the TV. I ran out to the family room and asked Troy who they were talking about and he repeated the name that had been running through my brain. I replied, mostly to myself yet still audible, that I didn't know he was a real person.  Troy looked at me weird and said, "He's the head coach of the Chicago Bulls."

Interesting. I figured that I must have heard that name millions of times and not thought anything of it. My brain must have just soaked up the name, stored it away and pulled it out at random times as though my brain was short-circuiting. Weird. I wish I could say this was the only time it happened.

Oh heaven help us. Nugent and Palin are apparently buds.

A few weeks ago, I was cleaning the bathroom and as I was scrubbing the tub, it happened again. This time, it was a different name. "Ted Nugent, Ted Nugent, Ted Nugent." I didn't recognize the name and asked Troy if he had heard of him. Apparently, he is a guitar player. When I Googled him, I realized that I knew his face. I went to his Wikipedia page and learned that he was born in Detroit so I am figuring that I must have heard of him when my sister was telling me all the famous people who came from Michigan. (She lives in Michigan with her hubs who was born and raised in the mitten state.) Side note: this is the same conversation I had with her where I was chastised after I foolishly announced that I never knew that Tim Allen was the voice of the Pure Michigan commercials. (I am allowing a pause here to let that sink in for any of you who did not yet know that tidbit about Mr. Allen so that you can audibly go, "Oh yeah!") In my defense, anyone who lives outside of the state of Michigan can't place that voice unless it is in distress due to a project gone awry or an insult directed at the one and only Al Borland. But I digress.

My brain has recalled other, random words to repeat, but they are so humdrum that I can't remember what they are. Obviously, names like Tom Thibodeau or Ted Nugent are a little harder to forget. Here's what I would like to know:

1. Why these men? I am not interesting in their hobbies/careers.
2. Why can't I repeat the names of men who are at least a little bit of eye-candy? Let's be honest, these men are not winning People's Hottest Man of the Year award.
3. Why do these names only come up when I am performing a trite task?
4. If I do something more exciting, will a more exciting name pop in my head? For example: should I decide to make a meat dress, will I repeat "Lady Gaga"?
5. Will the people in the white coats be knocking my my door tomorrow to take me away for writing this? Highly possible, yet not probable.


Like I said before, I am pretty sure that my brain is just on the fritz. Some of the hard-wiring just shorts out for a second or two and random information gets recalled. I guess I should be grateful that I only think of weird people's names and don't lose my gross motor functions. I only when I laugh to hard. Crisis averted. Let's just relax to one of Tim Allen's soothing Pure Michigan commercials.