Thursday Trick for a Mommy

So here's a must have tip for every mom of little ones. Parker had so many ear infections... that led to antibiotics... that led to, well, let's just say the end result of what the antibiotics led to was a NASTY diaper rash. After 6 ear infections and 5 sinus infections in about 18 months, I consider myself a professional at managing an eliminating a diaper rash. That said, when he got Hand Foot Mouth, I finally met the rash I couldn't control. Bleeding, cracking skin... crying and shaking during each diaper change. If you have a little one and you haven't had this experience, you truly are lucky. The pediatrician gave us a prescription called Vusion. Worked like a champ! The problem is, my copay was $50/tube. Ridiculous. So a nurse taught me this little trick... and now I'm sharing it with you. Thanks to Logan and his food intolerance issues, I'm back making this stuff in bulk. 

Mix Desitin (the purple tube) with whatever anti-fungal ointment you want. I have approximately 5 tubes of Nyastatin so that's what I use but you can use Lotrim AF. Add a little Mylanta (the liquid anti acid will neutralize the pH on tiny hiny's and sooth the burning) and stir thoroughly. Works like a champ.

The writing on the wall.

I grew up in the South and even though I'm presently exiled in Yankee territory compliments of the US Navy, I'm a Southern Girl.  I grew up going to crawfish boils, fishing, playing at the pool all summer for survival from the heat, playing tennis, learning to cook and sew.  Yes.  My parents made me start cooking dinner 2 nights/week when I was 7 or 8.  I learned to make a fantastic Hamburger Helper.  You know teaching their daughter to cook was important if they were willing to endure that culinary train wreck on a weekly basis.  Ha.  

I begged my parents to let me take ballet lessons at one point.  My dad's response?  "Put her in the kitchen and teach her life skills!"  When I decided to join the Navy my dad was amused... probably because I waited until he had paid for 4 years of private college before joining.  I remind him that had he just let me take ballet, maybe I wouldn't have gone in the military and taken such a liking to firearms.

But I digress.  Each summer, my mom kept us busy with "classes" or lessons.  There was softball, tennis, swimming... and the summer I was 8 years old, sewing classes... because a good Southern girl knows how to sew, right?  Ha!  Boy did I prove them wrong.  I have no skills when it comes to sewing.  NONE!  During that 2 week class we were suppose to learn how to read patterns, cut out material and (theoretically speaking at least) sew a straight line.  Fail, fail and epic fail!  At one point in that class, I was sewing a pair of shorts.  I got disoriented, didn't know what I was looking at and sewed the leg of the shorts shut. Seriously. That was quite the seam to have to pop back open. Thank the Lord home economics wasn't required in high school or I know what class I would have struggled to pass.  

The problem is that I automatically think I can sew because I'm a Southern girl... because in my warped mind, the 2 are suppose to be interchangeable.  Given that I'm barely 5'4", most pants don't fit me and need to be hemmed.  Now lets be honest.  Hemming pants isn't rocket science.  It requires very primitive math to figure out how much to cut off, minor ironing skills and the ability to sew a straight line.  Remember what I said about epic fail?  Yeah.  I can't sew a straight line for the life of me.  However, I have a sewing machine and continue to live under the delusion that I can sew.  

Which is what brought me to last night. I should have seen the writing on the wall.  Years of failed sewing projects.  I sewed the short leg shut for goodness sakes!  But no.  I decided to try and hem some pants at 9pm last night.  A bad idea with terrible timing. The last time I tried to sew something it led to a huge fight with Justin (the night before we were leaving town... because waiting to the last minute is always a good start) as the project didn't go "well" and he didn't understand why I keep trying these projects that (truthfully) are more ambitious than my skills allow for. 

Here was my practice sewing before trying to sew the hem last night:

Wow wee!  My luck has turned! Looks good, right?  The lines are even straight!

Such skill! I was feeling pretty confident... but then I flipped the test material over...

Say what?!?  That's not what it's suppose to look like. I kept trying to adjust the settings on my sewing machine (pretending like I actually knew how to fix this)... and I created this:

Lovely birds nest, isn't it?  

So here I am at 10:40 at night, cussing at my sewing machine.  I think the problem was that I was using top stitching thread (in order to keep the style of the hem similar to what was there) and a needle that wasn't big enough.  The problem was I felt pressured.  We're about to leave for the Gulf Coast and I haven't worn non-maternity shorts in years since I started having babies.  Needless to say, the shorts I own from before I got married don't fit well at all.  With our trip so close I'm feeling the pressure to get these capris hemmed so I have something other than jeans to wear on this trip... but it just wasn't going well. 

Of course, I was unwilling to give up my pride long enough to admit I didn't know how to fix this.  I'm a Southern girl!  I took sewing classes!  I can sew a hem line.  And then it happened.  My husband asked if he could try since I was having miserable success.  Lol.  Poor guy was just trying to help me get to the end objective... and he probably didn't see my response coming... but it was less then gracious or grateful and more along the lines of "Don't you dare accuse me of not knowing what I'm doing! I took sewing classes!! Have you taken sewing classes?  Hmm??"  Like I said, I should have seen the writing on the wall because I've NEVER been good at sewing... but I didn't.  And I think it's possible that I hate my sewing machine more than I hate the scale.

Father's Day

After a week that felt like it was full of mommy fails, yesterday I somehow managed to get everyone ready for church EARLY.  And I mean early.  30 minutes early!  Wow!  So we had time to get Father's Day pictures with our favorite daddy. This is my favorite one...

So thankful... that our boys have such a loving and devoted daddy.  I love watching Parker squeal with delight when he hears the front door open each evening. I love watching Logan "chase" his daddy down and whimper until he picks him up and plays with him.  We are blessed by his serving heart that seeks out ways to love and care for us.

Early Mornings

I am not a morning person.  That's a massive understatement.  I don't do mornings.  I need 2 cups of coffee and a good 30-45 minutes to sit, sip and slowly get mentally prepared for the day.  My love is another story.  He wakes up, heads straight to the kitchen for breakfast and the day is off and running.  I'm quite proud that Parker has been well trained to play quietly in his crib until mommy is ready to get him... in the morning, after naptime... even timeouts (but that's a post for another day).  Parker takes after me.  He needs to be allowed to wake up before we get him.  The Chernobyl style meltdown that will occur if he's gotten too soon... well... we RARELY risk that any longer.  It helps that Parker naturally doesn't wake before 7am which gives me adequate warning/time to wake up.

Logan is another story. Logan is his father.  He wakes way too early and immediately begins squalking for me to arise and fetch him.  Seriously, he could be part rooster he's so good at waking the house.  Lol.  So this morning I heard the summons begin around 0515.  I kept waiting, praying that Justin would go settle him back down.  The yelling and continued complaints about the poor service continued. Where is Justin?!? I rolled over and tried to press through... but Logan has a touch of my stubbornness and wasn't backing down.  Sigh.  0615.  My reward for not turning off the baby monitor and going back to sleep was an extra cup of coffee.  (insert entertained rolling of eyes)

But there's something interesting I've discovered about the wee hours of the morning... something that I find charming.  The sun is soft.  The birds are chirping.  The potential for the day is just waiting to be discovered.  It's somewhat intriguing and captivating.  So perhaps my early morning baby is the Lord's kind way of showing me the wonders that I miss out on so many mornings... but don't tell Logan, lest he get the crazy idea to make this a regular thing.

10 Months Old!

Logan Michael is 10 months old.  His 1st year is passing so quickly!  He is on the go and into EVERYTHING!  He loves "chasing" after the cats and pulling handfuls of fur out (if they're foolish enough to let him get that close).  Seriously. He squeals with delight and waves the handful of fur around.  Haha.  He is army crawling all over the place and has such perfect form that I swear the Army could make an instructional video based on Logan's perfect form.  I'm hopeful he'll figure out how to get up on all four soon... but then again, I kind of enjoy his mobility being more restricted.  

Logan views anything in his path as nothing more than an obstacle to be scaled.  He especially loves climbing over Parker when I'm changing his diaper... or maybe a more accurate description would be he loves climbing on top of Parker, pulling the paci out of his mouth, grabbing his blanket and crawling away with his loot in tow while Parker lies there helplessly waiting for me to finish getting his diaper on and asking me if I saw what baby just did.  "Parker's paci. Parker's blankie.  Uh oh!  Parker's!"

Logan also has discovered the adventure known as stairs. I had run upstairs to grab something and as I ran back down the stairs, there was Logan, coming up them. Lord have mercy.  I'm going to need to start coloring my hair soon. We live in a 3 story townhouse with LOTS of stairs... and now lots of baby gates.  Lol.

The lovely goose egg on his forehead in this picture is compliments of the baby monitor... which he pulled off the kitchen counter and it came crashing down on him.  Like I said, he's into everything.

He has such a cute smile. The spot next to his left eye reminds us of a puppy dog's spot.  Between that and the puppy dog eyes he gives us whenever he's mad or been corrected, we call him our puppy baby.

Messy dinner time but boy does this little boy love his food!  He eats every 2 hours and if we make him wait more than 2 hours... he takes matters into his own hands.  Paper, crayons, any bits of food laying on the floor.  It's pretty much a free for all.  He can literally eat for 45 minutes steady... which is somewhat comical given at 10 months old I think he just cleared the 17lb mark.  Lol.  Such a little peanut.  I think he's the 5% for weight.  I've discovered that they make "skinny" cut jeans for babies.  Crazy, huh?  He kept crawling out of his 6-9 month pants.  No really.  He would be crawling around and I would find him pantless. I had to go buy 3-6 month swim trunks this weekend... which he barely keeps on but the 0-3 month are too short for him.  Haha. Oh my goodness does this little boy keep me smiling and laughing!

His personality is developing so quickly.  He loves babbling and imitating us... and he loves joining his brother on Skype dates with the grandparents.

Our lives are overflowing with joy thanks to the Lord's kindness in giving us these 2 boys.

Nap time

Naptime. A time of the day that only mother's can truly appreciate. A seeming oasis in the desert (or in my case, a break from the steady stream of tantrums, crying and general cheeky behavior that lately has forced me to remind myself to "breathe"). And while i need to do laundry so I can pack for yet another trip to Chesapeake for what will hopefully be our last court hearing against our previous jack wagon landlord, instead I'm enjoying this as my lunch/I survived treat.

My Strong Willed Child

Dash-1 (aka- our first born) is such a fun, happy 2 1/2 year old.  Did I mention he's strong willed?  As in "Dear God!" strong willed.  He is absolutely the funniest combination of compliance and strong willed defiance.  He genuinely desires to please... really.  He can be the most polite 2 1/2 year old with the cutest little dimple smile.  The thing is, there's no telling when or over what topic his compliance will turn to strong willed defiance.

The past few weeks he has been issuing a steady stream of requests (always using please Mama)... only to refuse whatever the requested item was when I finally bring it to him.  The end result was this last night...

Yup.  See I wasn't expecting him to dig in and launch into a solid hour tantrum (a pathetic performance compared to last week's 3 hour tantrum)... and while I have plenty of wine in the house (which should not surprise anyone who knows Parker), none of it was chilled.  My aunt has been in town the last week visiting and well... Parker had worn her down yesterday. End result? My beautiful crystal vase was given a new role last night... ice bucket for the winos.  And what precipitated said tantrum? This...

He asked for a strawberry so I cut one up and gave it to him.  Oh no!  Now he wanted juice... and he wanted to be rocked and he wanted a hot dog... and on and on the list of demands went. And when I insisted he eat the strawberry that he had so politely requested... well, that was entirely unacceptable and so began last night's tantrum.  An hour later, the entire strawberry was consumed, half the bottle of wine was consumed and the 3 adults were sprawled all over the family room, exhausted and wondering he was going to tuck the little boy into his bed.

I love my strong willed child.