Shark Jumpin' Friday

Okay, I'm all for treating animals ethically and with respect, but, PETA, I am putting you on notice. You have officially jumped the shark. Oh, I'm sorry. I mean, you have officially jumped the furious sea kitten.

On a not-completely-unrelated side note, I've finally found my fish. I kept trying to make myself like tilapia (plech) and salmon (ehh). MAHI MAHI!! I love you, mahi mahi.

While I Still Can...

There will come a day in the not-so-distant future when I can't dress my son in adorably humiliating outfits without him protesting.

Until that day, I give you...

SOCK MONKEY!!!!

(and super shout-out to "Aunt" Jaime and "Uncle" Craig for the oh-so-awesome sock monkey ornament which is now hanging in the Pea's nursery)

In Which I Chill Out About Naps

Sleep has been my "thing" with the Pea.  Growing up, waking a sleeping baby was a the cardinal sin in our household.  My little sister is 7 years younger than me, so I have no idea how Mom managed to pull that one off, but she did.  And I have my own sleep issues (I'm too lazy to look up all my past posts on my weird, hypnagogic hallucination sleeping issues, so just trust me on this one.  On top of the hallucinations, I've always leaned towards insomnia as well, even as a child).  All this adds up to me being more than just a little obsessive about all things sleep-related.

So I was sooooo proud and smug when my son started sleeping through the night around 9 weeks old.  Ha!  HA!!!  I've decided that if you ever need a dose of humility, just announce that your infant is sleeping through the night.  Because if there's anything I've learned, it's this:  It's not YOU!  It's him (or her).  I had to accept that if his sleeping through the night was somehow a testament to my fabulous parenting skills, then his new waking is a testament to my lack thereof, and I haven't changed.  He's still a decent sleeper...this is not a complaint post.  He goes to bed early without too much fussing.  I just realized that I can't say he's sleeping through the night anymore.  His wake up has slowly drifted a half hour earlier and earlier from 6:00 a.m. until last night, he hit 12:30.  It was so subtle and slow that I didn't even realize it at the time.  Up until a week or so ago, I was still answering "yes" to the often-asked "through the night" question.  Then I realized, "No.  No, he isn't."  When did that start happening?  And I can trace it to the epic hotel stay of 2008.  If I was crammed into an uncomfortable mini pack & play for a week straight, I'd want to wake up at 3:00 a.m. and yell at someone about it, too.

But I realized that I'd gotten a little too obsessive about the naps, specifically about getting him onto a napping schedule.  I kept trying to push back his first nap closer and closer to 9 a.m.  And I was trying to stretch out his awake time to get closer and closer to 1 p.m. for his 2nd nap, per Weissbluth's ideal nap schedule.  The result?  The Pea getting overtired and turning into Mr. Cranky Pants, making it harder and harder for him to fall asleep for those naps and making those naps shorter and shorter.  So yesterday, I decided, "Ehh...maybe some babies can handle staying up that long at 4 1/2 months.  Mine can't."  And there were no nap-time battles.  His first yawn, I whisked him to his room, read a book, sang "You Are My Sunshine" and announced, "It is time for you to take a nap."

No fussing.  He just...went to sleep.

Let the Pea take note:  I am not bragging about this as a parenting skill!  There is no need to prove me wrong.

The Great Equalizer

-You may co-sleep or your child may have been in a crib from day one.

-You may send your kid to public school, private school, home school, or you may have apprenticed him out to a shoemaker.

-You may be a member of La Leche League or you may have a love-hate relationship with your bottle sterilizer.

-You may feed on demand or you may have been working on getting your child on a schedule in the hospital.

-You may have had an oopsie or you may have struggled with years of infertility.

-You may have been at your child's birth or you may have travelled to the other side of the world to first see your child's smile.

-Your child may know every song ever sung and danced to on the Backyardigans or you may not own a toy that doesn't have the Mensa stamp-of-approval.

-Your child may be in jammies from Wal-Mart, Baby Gap, or Nordstrom when it happens...


But as I discovered this morning, every woman earns her mom stripes with her first blow-out diaper.  (Although, after this morning, I must say...Praise God for sleep sacks and giving me a strong stomach!)

I See a 6 Percent Commission in Your Future...

Okay, world's worst marketing ploy ever:

I opened up our mailbox earlier this week, and there sat a little box.  A present?  For me?  But then, I flipped it over to see who it was from, and it was from Stupid Local Realtor (not the actual name, but it might as well have been).  So I opened it with mild curiosity only to discover...a fortune cookie.  Really, Stupid Local Realtor?  Really??  This struck me as dumb for so very many reasons--

reason (a.) Fortune cookies immediately make me think of leaving things to chance or luck.  Is that really the message you want to send a potential client?  "Hey, list your house with us and you might get lucky and sell it!"
reason (b.) Bill and I just moved into our house a year and a half ago.  What possible database of potential buyers or sellers could we be in?
reason (c.) The postage alone on the thing was $1.54.  The message inside the cookie (which was something stupid like, "See good fortune in your future by calling www dot StupidLocalRealtor dot com") was customized, not to mention the packaging and man hours to send it.  Each little cookie had to represent something like $3-$4 when all was said and done.  Again...really, Stupid Local Realtor?  Really??
reason (d.)  I do not eat unsolicited food that I receive in the mail.  Not that I've received much or any unsolicited food in the mail (unless you want to count the pickle slice stunt that my friend Clayton pulled in college when he was running for Student Body President).


Okay, I'm done ranting.  Except for one completely unrelated rant...my hair is falling out.  I guess it's just the post-partum hormone plunge, but seriously, I'm shedding like a lap dog.

Shark Jumpin' Friday

I would just like to say that Bill and I were mocked, nay, ridiculed by our friends and "loved" ones when we came up with this very same idea (only with pee pee pads, kitty litter and a small sandbox) for the Santino a few years ago, but someone is now marketing it for $39.95. I should note that it didn't actually work. Sunny eventually just started sleeping in the sandbox, and we used the kitty litter to sop up the urine on the garage floor.

I'm putting this under the Shark Jumpin' category because:
a.) it is ridiculous.
b.) it is overpriced.
c.) it holds "up to a gallon" of urine "allowing multiple uses". Blech.

It's a Small, Small World

Okay, I'm going to have to get over my obsession with my sitemeter, looking at locations of people who've read my blog.  But, c'mon!  How cool is it that I had people reading my blog from Finland, Israel, and Italy yesterday??  And while my Finnish knowledge is a bit limited (so, so sadly to pretty much what I've learned watching Conan O'Brien's educational snippets from his trip to Finland to meet with President Halonen to whom he has a surprising resemblance...see below), hyvää päivää  to you!

Also, dang American squirrels!  They really are quite aggressive.  I wanted to petition to have our college mascot changed to "The Fighting Squirrels" because the squirrels on campus were so mean and belligerent.



ETA:  Heavens to Betsy--my international readership has grown immensely in just the last few hours.  My U.S. readers are down to 79%.  I'm going to need to give a shout-out in every native language.  I'm just like that.  Here we go:
To my Finnish reader(s?), hyvää päivää.  To my Malaysian friends, selamat tengah hari.  For those from Israel, Shalom.  Hola, those from Chile, Spain, or Venezuela (apologies if I messed it up in your dialect).  Ciao, my Italian friends (my older sister actually lived in Florence for a year).  Szia, to those of you from Hungary.  Grüß Gott, my Austrian friends.  Hmmm...India...tricky...I think that this might be my cousin and his wife or one of my friends who lives in India, so I'm just going to say "hi".  And the same to my Canadian and UK readership.

And now the Pea is awake.

Goats for Hire

I always love to hear interesting, quirky things about other places in this world. Especially from new transplants to the area, for example...my little sister living in Washington state. Other people I know who live in the Pacific Northwest (who have lived there their whole lives) just take certain things for granted. Like slugs and the weather. But Sara is an observer, and I just loved hearing some of her stories over Christmas.

One that I particularly loved is that there is a blackberry overgrowth in her area, and people (even the public parks system, etc.) hire other people's goats to come and eat the blackberry bushes and keep them at bay. All the more reason for Bill to finally let me get a baby goat.

The Pea is currently lying in his crib, happily fighting a nap, cooing and squealing. Here are some Christmas shots:

Hello, feet.

So there is a new obsession in our household, and it is the Pea's feet (his obsession, not mine...although they are pretty dang cute). And when I stopped and thought about it, yeah, if I woke up one day and had suddenly discovered a new body part, I'd be pretty obsessed with it, too. Oh, the joy when I take him out of his sleep sack and, behold, there are his feet again! Pure, unadulterated joy.

Blehh.

Well, some nasty little germ/virus has invaded our household, and Bill, the Pea and I are all sick, along with Aunt Sara. And Sonny's even been cranky for the last couple days. Naps are currently in shambles, and I'm just utterly exhausted. Blehh.

On a bright note, the Pea has discovered his feet big-time, and they are his new favorite thing ever. Especially while changing his diaper. All of a sudden, putting a new diaper on him is like trying to wrestle a gleeful, spastic chipmunk.

And on an even brighter note, Aunt Sara has been taking some awesome pictures. I'll post some once they get downloaded.

Shark Jumpin' Friday

Oh, no no no. Phantom of the Opera is poised to jump the shark...big time. Some might argue that Gerard Butler was riding that motorcycle with Emmy Rossum in a sidecar when it jumped. But, no, I'd have to say it's going to jump over Coney Island.

And so I give you a little song my husband wrote to commemorate the occasion, sung to the tune of "That's All I Ask of You":

No more talk of nachos

Forget your wild-eyed beans

I'm here...nothing will harm you

These rides will twist and turn you

Let me buy you soft drinks

Let me dry your spills

You're safe...each ride's inspected

From "The Rocket" to "Satan's Rejected"

Then saaaaaaaaaaaaay you'll ride with me

You're at least forty inches

Leeeeeeeeeeeeeeet me hold your purse and sun-glasses......

Share each picture with me...snapped on each ride

That's all I ask of you.

Oi.

Well, the Pea had some shots yesterday, and heavens to betsy, that child did not feel well today and let me know it.  He pretty much fussed from the second he got up until the second he went to bed.  At one point, he was oscillating rapidly between laughing and crying when my little sister was singing songs from "Oklahoma!" to him.  Poor thing didn't know which end was up.

But, at the same time, I praise God for vaccines.

Last Post o' the Year

Well, apparently, the Pea just loves it when Bill and I leave the premises. We went out for a date night (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button = Decent Flick) and while we were gone, the Pea went into hysterical laughing fits at my dad. Side-splitting, gasping-for-air laughter. When I called mid-date to check on him (yeah, I'm that person), Dad said that he was "enchanted" by the Pea. I think that is officially the first time that I have ever heard my Dad use the word "enchanted". And then, Mom and Dad threatened to take him with them back to Arizona tomorrow.

Oh, and the Pea had a well-baby check-up this morning. He's doing great! He's stayed right on the 50th percentile in weight (97th in height!) from his most recent weight check so...yay.

Where's the Beef?

The Pea and I went with my parents and little sister to visit my two paternal aunts & uncles and my cousin, his wife, and two kiddos.  A good time was had by all.

My Aunt Carolyn and I got on the topic of conversation of feeding babies.  She told me that when she went to her two week appointment for my oldest cousin ("when" being 45 years ago), the doctor told her to start him on rice cereal immediately.  She then proceeded to tell me how she had her son eating meats by the end of the first month or so.

After I wiped the look of horror off my face, this is what I said:
"Wow...now they tell most people to wait until around 6 months to start solids.  Then, after rice cereal, start with veggies, then fruits, and eventually meat."

What my Aunt Carolyn heard:
"Wow...now they tell most people to wait until around 6 months to start solids. Then, after rice cereal, start with veggies, then fruits, and then chili meat."


Hee hee hee.

Hello, my name is...

Well, I've been contemplating a blog name change for awhile, and my father's comment a couple days ago of "you probably get some unsavory sorts on your blog [desperately seeking sudafed]...like people researching how to make crank" sealed the deal.  (And, yes, my dad actually said "make crank".)  The Sudafed was an homage to my constant battle with all problems allergy-related, but after getting weekly allergy shots for a year straight a couple years ago, I really haven't had problems with them lately.  As much.

And so I give you "The Snarkington Post", where all things sassy shall be celebrated.

Oh, and a Pea shot just to help you get over the post-Christmas blues and because you've been so good:

Hooray, Hoorah!

All my family is here! I probably won't blog much in the next week or so, but big changes are coming to this here blog come the New Year. And now that you're trembling with excitement, I bid you adieu for now...

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas from Karen & Bill & the Pea!

Aunt Sara got here safely last night (four hours late at the wrong airport without her luggage, but here). Pea pictures should be improving in quality and quantity very shortly. Huzzah!

I Cry Over Spilt Milk.

Ummm...yeah...so when you have to fight for every half oz. that you can pump out of the old tata's for the child that's plummeted from the 90th percentile on the growth charts to 45th in a matter of 6 weeks, you do indeed get a little misty-eyed when you wake up in the morning and you forgot to take the pump parts off the tops of the storage containers to seal them up and said milk is spilled all over the yogurt containers and queso jar. And, yes, I realize that there was absolutely nothing grammatically correct about that sentence.

The sad thing is that the amount that was spilled (spilt?) wouldn't be enough to trouble most lactating women, at least those who have a normal supply. It was just overwhelming to wake up to Lac St. Leche knowing that I couldn't just pump an extra bottle here or there because I already pump after every. single. feeding.


On a completely unrelated note, one of my favorite bloggy things to do is go to my sitemeter and see which countries my visitors have come from. Of course, something like 96% are from the U.S., and I have a few Canadian visitors (Hi, Hillary!) But these were the countries that fascinate me...India, Singapore, and the U.K. So India is perhaps my cousin and his wife. Singapore might be Thanga or Li-Ern (some friends from college). The United Kingdom...??? Inquiring minds want to know!! I'm so curious now. How does one end up on my Captain Random blog from India if one is not my cousin?

The Party at Which I Reveal that I'm a Big Nerd and A.J. and Jon Reveal that They are Not

So we had our church small group's Christmas party last night. Fun was had by all (although that is the last time that I attempt to keep the Pea out that late...it was World War 3 trying to get him to sleep, 2 hours past his bedtime...I'm a horrible mother)

Anyhoo, we played boys vs. girls Catchphrase (if anyone is unfamiliar with this game, it's like a cross between Password and Hot Potato. Your team guesses the word your describing, and you pass on the little machine. Whichever team is stuck holding the little machine, the other team gets a point. If the other team can guess what you were describing, they get an extra point). Bill had the phrase "Nimbus 2000", and he described it (very well) as Harry Potter's broomstick. So I'm thinking "Nimbus 2000" or "Firebolt". And I'm just writhing to yell them out. He managed to get them to say "2000", so I'm now just squirming to yell "Nimbus 2000! Nimbus 2000!" Blank stares from absolutely every other person in the room. Time runs out, and Bill sighs and says, "It was Nimbus 2000," before I had a chance to yell it. "I KNEW THAT!" Bill sighs again and gave us the point because he knew that, yes, indeed, I did know that. So, yeah, I'm a big dork (and secretly a 14 year old girl).

But the funniest moment of the evening came when it was Jon's turn. I think this is better written out in dialogue form:

Jon: Okay, I think this guy was on Star Trek."

A.J.: Uhhh...David Spade!

Jon: No...

All the Other Guys: Leonard Nimoy, William Shatner, Spock, Captain Picard, ???

The word was "Alex Trebek".

To his defense, A.J. said that he just yelled the first name that came to his mind. I'm not sure that Jon has a good defense on this one.

Shark Jumpin' Friday

I decided to change my "jump the shark" posts to Fridays.

And I believe that this story is proof that, yes, indeed, your Chuck E. Cheese franchise has jumped the shark when you have to install metal detectors at the door, and the biker bar down the street doesn't.




On a completely unrelated note...
Overheard in my head yesterday at Wal-Mart:
"I'm sure that the Great Value sausage biscuits are just as good as the Jimmy Dean ones that I normally buy."

Overheard from my mouth this morning:
"Not as good!  Not as good!"