Local

If you live in the Northwest Arkansas area, I wanted to point you over towards my friend Kristin's blog Another Gray Day.  She is helping out with a blanket/food drive for children in need in the area.  Spring Break can be a tough time for kids who depend on the school lunch program for meals.

Also, it's almost Rhea Lana time!  The sale starts this Thursday at the John Q. Hammonds Center in Rogers.  I am so excited!  I pretty much clothe the Pea with all Rhea Lana items, and I usually sell enough stuff on consignment to pay for at least half of his wardrobe.  Wa-hoo!

Really, PETA?! Really?!?

I realize that (a) I haven't posted anything over here in quite a while, (b) I haven't posted a "Jumped the Shark" Friday bit in even longer, and (c) it's not even Friday.

But it is Groundhog Day.

So all I have to say is...come on, PETA!!  Are they serious?  They want to replace Punxsutawney Phil the groundhog with a robotic animal.  And as far as I can tell, they're not kidding.

Aside from the fact that Phil is one of the most spoiled little marmots on the planet (which he has earned), I'm just not sure I could get behind celebrating "Groundhog-like Cyborg Day".

Okay, I'm done ranting.

No Eggs for the Pea

Yep.  He's allergic.  I had a hunch after a whole lot of puking every time he ate anything with egg in it.  There's only so many times that you can say, "What a co-inky-dink!"  And yet again, I find myself thinking, "Trust your mom gut!"  The nurses and doctors brushed off my concerns the first couple times because there was no hives or anaphylaxis (thank you, God!).  But I just had this deep down feeling that he was allergic to eggs.

Looking over his list of "hidden egg items", I was a little surprised by a few of them...bologna?  Turkish delight?  (Not so much surprised that turkish delight has egg in it...although I didn't know that...as surprised that they would bother putting it on the list.)

The good news is that egg is an allergy that most kids grow out of.  The bad news is that an already overprotective mommy has now been given more reason to be.

Couple Pea pics:

Funny conversation in Chick-fil-A last Thursday:
Me:  Thank you so much!
Nice Lady Helping Me With The High Chair: Oh, you're so welcome!  You have a beautiful little boy.
Me:  Why, thank you.
NLHMWTHC: With those curls, he would make such a beautiful little girl.
Me:  We're getting them cut off tomorrow.

The Run-In

Me: Oh, hi! (Awkward pause) It's been a long time.

Blog:  Yeah...a really long time.

Me:  Indeed. (Even more awkward pause) Yeah, I've just been very busy.  And stuff.

Blog:  Yeah, me, too.

Me:  Really?  I mean...yeah.

Blog:  I heard you went to Disneyworld.

Me:  Yes...that is...where we went.

Blog:  Well, if you ever want to share any of those pictures, just...call me...or...

Me:  I will.  I mean it.

Blog:  Great.  And you, umm, you look good.

Me:  So do y--look, let's not do this.

A Word of Advice for Dating in the Dark Contestants

Just show up on the balcony.

He may be shorter than you. She may have a big forehead.

Isn't an awkward hug with a limo ride better than the "...but his teeth weren't straight enough" walk of shame? It's not like you're agreeing to marry the person. Just ditch them by e-mail a week later. If they end up being a stalker, you can sue the network. There you go, a win-win.

The only excuse that doesn't make you look like a shallow harpy? He was too handsy/she was moving too fast. Or we had nothing in common...I wouldn't care if he was Brad Pitt.

Seriously. Just show up on the balcony.


On a related note, Glee, your fall premiere cannot come too soon.

Dogpatch U.S.A.

I had a random memory as Bill and I were driving back from seeing Wicked Saturday night. (It was okay...if by "okay" you mean "FRIGGIN' AWESOME!!!!")



We got on the topic of band experiences. Bill was kind of hot snot in a hot snot Atlanta band. By his senior year, he was the drum major. I grew up in Arkansas. His band went to places like New York City and Sea World. Our band went to Dogpatch U.S.A.** If you're never heard of Dogpatch, there's a reason. If you HAVE heard of Dogpatch, you probably grew up within a one hour radius of me.

Dogpatch dreamed of being "the next Disneyland". The only problem was that they (a) built it in the middle of Nowhere, Arkansas; (b) based it on the capers of Lil' Abner; (c) y'know, I really can't think of a (c)...I feel that (a) & (b) are more than sufficient reasons for failure.

And we didn't just go to Dogpatch, we PLAYED at Dogpatch. For whom? I'm really not sure. Our parents and the other three poor souls who actually paid to go to the park that day? The park finally closed for good in 1993. I can't remember the exact year we went, but it had to be within 1 or 2 years of its closing. The only thing I remember that was left open was the ferris wheel, the train (which you could easily jump off of mid-ride), and some random retired circus elephants.

Does anyone else remember this? Sara?

And does anyone have any good memories of Dogpatch in its heyday? That would make me feel a little better.

Oh, and you can watch a simultaneously hilarious and depressing news story about it. Please don't judge the entire state by this. Please.

**In our band director's defense, we also went to Washington D.C. my junior year and played on the Capitol steps.

Piddle Puddle

Why, why, why do I stray from Pampers Cruisers?  WHY??

I noticed on my last trip to Sam's that the cost per diaper difference between Pampers and Huggies was noticeable.

Mistake #1:  "How different can Huggies be?"

Immediately, I noticed that they didn't have that Pampers fresh smell to them and didn't quite hug him like the ol' Pampers.

Mistake #2:  "Well, that's just aesthetics.  I'm sure they work just as well or they wouldn't be a top-selling brand.  I like their wipes."

Flash-forward to this afternoon when I decided to kill a little time with the Pea in a new doggy boutique while Bill sold back some DVD's to Vintage Stock. 

Mistake #3: Okay, I don't even know how this happened.  All I know is that one minute, I was looking at custom doggy thongs (DO NOT ASK!!), and the next minute, there was a puddle of Henry's pee-pee on the floor and my pants.  The bizarre thing was that the diaper wasn't all that wet, and he didn't pee on his clothes at all.  Thankfully, with that many quivering little dogs around, there was already a lot of mopping going on.

And I will never buy anything but Pampers again.  This time I mean it.

A Lock for the Whosie Whatsie?

It is a whole new world in Chez Pea on the babyproofing front.  And I don't just mean "it's a whole new world now that he's mobile" (which he is).  It's a whole new world since the last time I ever looked at so much as a baby gate (hmmm...when my little sister was 2 years old?)

Did you know there are toilet locks now?  Toilet locks.

And outlet covers that have a little push button in the middle so you don't have to ruin your nails.

Oh, oh, and ridiculously expensive retractable gates that allow you to guard your wonky stairs.

Toilet locks.  Seriously.

Cool T-shirt for a Great Cause

http://zachanderin.blogspot.com/2009/07/new-t-shirt-design.html

Some friends of friends are selling these way cool t-shirts to benefit an orphanage in Malawi.

This is the design, available in different colors:

Get a shirt, you all everybody!

Dixie-Chicked

Last night, Bill and I were driving around singing old Michael Jackson tunes (and who hasn't for the last week?)  The conversation evolved to trying to remember the names of all the Jackson 5:  Michael, Tito, Jermaine, Shmerm(cough)...and the other one.

Bill thinks the band Dixie-Chicked (and he's trying to coin the phrase now, thank you very much).  Basically, any time the focus on a band's lead singer takes on such a life of its own that the remaining members become a vague buzz in the background, the group has officially Dixie-Chicked.  No Doubt.  Genesis.  Oh...old school...The Band.

Obviously, Michael Jackson took it to the extreme.  Which bands do you think Dixie-Chicked? 

What Would You Do Differently...

If you could re-do your college years?

I ran into two former classmates from my small, liberal arts alma mater (Go Gender Neutral, Ethnically Ambiguous, Non-militaristic Warriors!) this afternoon. One was a doctor. The other, his receptionist. As I drove away, I realized that there is absolutely nothing that I would change about my life right now. But if I could go back in time and relive those college days, I would:

1. Major in History, not Psychology
2. Start a petition to improve the cafeteria food
3. Put on my big girl panties and ask a few guys out my senior year (no, I'm not telling who)
4. Lay out in the sun and read every waking moment more
5. Join Phi Beta Kappa when I was invited (don't ask: it's a long, annoying story)
6. Watch more movies in my friend Finley's room (he had a ginormous T.V. and this crazy newfangled thing called a DVD player)

What about you? What would you do differently?

Thank You, Mr. Google.

Over Christmas, my little sister introduced me to the joys of Google Reader. I had absolutely no idea what "RSS feeds" were before then.  And, to be honest, I still have no inkling how they work...gnomes?  Evil movie computers?  Don't know.  Don't care.  All I know is that I can read 5 times the number of blogs than I did before in half the time.  Even as I write this, baby zoo animals and drama queen dolls could be delivered to my reader.  And then, if something tickles my fancy, I can easily e-mail it to others or share it with a comment.

Good work, gnomes!

Of course, she also introduced me to bubbleshooter, the biggest time blackhole of them all.  Boo hissy, Sara!

Ouch.

I went by Plato's Closet this afternoon to sell back a few clothes that no longer fit, post-Pea.  My sister had warned me that they're picky about what they'll take, so I only took in things that were in good shape and (what I thought were) good brands.  J. Crew, Banana Republic, Gap, Harold's, Express, Guess (okay, that one might be stretching it by a decade or two, but it was a super-cute jean jacket!).  Looking back, I should have gotten a clue when the guy walking in before me was wearing a trendy t-shirt with a band that was doing a reunion tour before he was born.  But I toddled in with a 20 pound Pea on one hip and 20 pounds of clothes in the other.

Second moment I should have gotten a clue...
Snooty 19 year-old guy checking me in (not to be confused with snooty 19 year-old guy standing in front of me or snooty 19 year-old guy standing behind me):  You're supposed to bring your items in lying flat in a bag or basket.

Me:  I'm sorry.  I didn't know.

S19YOGCMI:  Meh.




Final moment of shame (after running to Wal-Mart and back, with ice cream melting in the car and the Pea melting down in my arms)...
Snooty 19 year-old girl checking me out:  Ummm...yeah, we looked through your stuff, and we can't take any of it.  The styles are just so... (she trailed off with a look of disgust).

Me:  (((mortified look of shame)))

S19YOGCMO:  They were just so outdated...

Me:  (((praying she will STOP TALKING)))

S19YOGCMO:  Ummm...if you wait a little while longer, you might be able to bring the jeans back in as "vintage"...

Me:  (((grabbing the clothes...contemplating leaving them in the parking lot for wild animals to nest or burrow in)))


Oi.  That process made a form rejection in the publishing world look like a kiddie pool full of marshmallows and kittens.

Whatever happened to, "I'm sorry, but these items don't fit our inventory needs right now"?

There's a Post a Brewin'

I'm curious what other people's writing styles are.  When I write anything (a blog post, a story, a letter, an anything), I mentally write it out in my head several times before I ever commit it to paper (or cyberspace).  Then, I air-type it (much as I air-type dialogue in a movie if I'm bored with it).  Then, I actually sit down and write it out or type it.

This is actually the first post I've written in a long time where I sat down and just started writing.  Hence, it's pretty dull.  Sorry about that.  But I really am curious about other people...do you just sit down and start writing or do you think the wording out beforehand?

It's Contaminated

I have a bad habit of leaving half-finished glasses of water around the kitchen and bathroom.  Bill has a bad habit of putting said glasses into the dishwasher even if I'm actively drinking them ("Clearly this half-finished glass of water is fresh and that half-finished glass of water is from last night!").

I'm thankful that I have a husband who cares about our house and helps clean up on a regular basis.

Bill will be thankful when the hostile aquaphobic aliens invade our house, and we have ammo.

I Can't Believe I'm Actually Saying This...

But I kind of miss the early days of nursing the Pea.  Well, maybe not the very early days, but the pre-solids days.

I'm just terrible with food.  I feel like I've been faking it for the past however-many-years I've been feeding myself.  And then Bill.  And now the Pea.  It was nice to know those first few months that I was providing him the exact nutrition that he needed.  Now, I feel like I'm guessing.

I try to feed him lots of veggies and fruits, whole grains, yada yada yada.  But I find myself slipping into my same old "open up the fridge/cupboard and stare blankly for 5 minutes" pattern that I experience choosing foods for myself.  And there's this lowgrade, constant undercurrent of guilt (much like with  my own eating habits).  Is he eating too many Cheerios?  Am I ruining his speech development by letting him use a sippy cup (not very effectively at that) without a straw?  Should he still be eating this many purees?  Should I make more of my own baby food?

My mom has a refreshingly laissez-faire attitude.  Her opinion?  Keep a baby food grinder at the table and just put whatever I'm eating through that.  If he eats it, great.  If not, shovel some Gerber into him.

Apparently, no one ever told her that if you feed babies anything but homemade organic baby food, they'll explode into a fiery ball of nutritionally deficient pesticides.

My Plant

I have an atrociously brown thumb.  As in, Bill has asked that I never attempt to grow tomatoes or keep a houseplant alive ever again.  But for purely sentimental reasons, I took a clipping from my Aunt Joy's hoya plant (which was grown from a clipping itself from my grandmother's hoya).  I put it in a glass of water by the window and, well, pretty much forgot about it for 4 months.

Lo and behold, that crazy little clipping survived and thrived.  I went out and bought some soil and a pot for it, then forgot about it for another 2 months.  Bill finally asked that I either toss it or put it in the pot.  Which I did. (put it in the pot).  That crazy little clipping has become a crazy little growing plant.

Now that I think back on it, I seem to remember my grandmother making a comment about how nothing could kill that crazy little hoya.  Apparently, even her granddaughter.

The Blahs

I've been in a blah mood the past couple of days.  Not a bad mood.  Just kind of blehhh.  I haven't felt super creative or inspired or motivated. It will pass.  Just gotta wait it out and keep reminding myself that this is the only time in my life when I'm going to be someone's favorite singer, dancer, poet, comedian (okay, actually, that one goes to Bill hands down), chef, teacher, cruise director.  All rolled up into one slightly frazzled package.

So on these days when I feel like my son eats too many cereal puffs and not enough cauliflower, I'll just keep that thought in mind.

ETA:  Sorry for all the Pea-centric posts this week.  I promise I have a life and interests outside the bambino that I will write about soon.  :)

The Noodle Stops Here

It's interesting to me just exactly where the Pea has decided to draw the line food-wise.

Things that I would be...hesitant to put in my mouth, he loves.  Pureed brussels sprouts?  Faboo.  Mushed up cauliflower?  He sends his compliments to the chef.  Plain yogurt straight off a spoon.  More please.

Pasta with melted ricotta cheese?  Nnnn.  Nnnnnnn.  Nnn. (You'll just have to envision the Pea with his lips pursed, shaking his head from side to side giving me the stink eye.)

Now, I'm not a huge ricotta cheese fan.  I could kind of take it or leave it.  I prefer cottage cheese in my lasagna.  But the Pea acts like it is a foul substance created by evil minions to slowly poison him.

And avocados.  He hates avocadoes.  HOW can he hate avocadoes??

At least I've discovered that if you mix bananas in, he will eat anything.

Baby Pants Pockets

Why??

I've wondered this since the Pea was wearing newborn clothes.  What on earth are they supposed to carry in those little pockets?

And the pockets are so tiny that the only things they could actually put in them would be choking hazards.