I am a menace...

Hello Internet Friends and Strangers! We survived our time with Intrepid Spouseman away and he returned(despite my best efforts to run him over with our car...more on that later) safe and sound. Levi is in heaven, now that his best friend in the whole world is back, but none too pleased when Isaac leaves for work in the mornings. At least he's only gone for a few hours and when he comes home Levi is just beside himself with glee. It makes me happy. However, all of this happiness nearly did not happen since I nearly squished Levi's best friend in the entire world in a parking lot on post. In my defense, it was 100% an accident. That, however, is my only defense and Intrepid Spouseman is alive and well only by a small miracle (that miracle being that I slammed on the brakes before squishing him). You, dear internet friends and strangers, are probably wondering what on earth I was doing in a parking lot near enough to I.S. to nearly squish him,  if I.S. was supposed to be away at survival training. An excellent question. I shall explain.

I was driving down the road towards the gas station on post. This road happens to go right by the cafeteria which is used occassionally by those in training. As I drove past, I saw two big busses, of the sort used to shuttle various training classes hither and yon,  parked in the parking lot and realized that the only people who would be at the cafeteria in big busses at that point would be Intrepid Spouseman's class. I about had a heart attack and then drove around the block six times trying to decide what to do. Since they were inside I knew they'd have to come out eventually and I really, really wanted to see I.S.  BUT. I didn't want him to see me. He was still  in training and I didn't want to distract him. On about lap number 4, I decided to be stealthy. After 2 more laps, I had a fool-proof plan. Sort of. I parked in the parking lot behind a large, puffy shrub. I know, I'm so brilliant. What could possibly go wrong with such an intricate and well-thought out plan? We waited in the car, Levi and I, and soon enough they all came out and there he was!  I was feeling quite proud of myself and my amazing undercover skills. Quite pleased with myself, indeed. Right up until I realized that Spouseman was going to walk right in front of the car and see us. I kind of panicked and pulled out, intending to turn to the right to drive out of the parking lot away from the guys coming out of the cafeteria. Only, I wasn't really thinking clearly and I turned left-directly in front of him. Much slamming of breaks. Much screeching. Near-heart attack. Of course he saw me (which was exactly what I didn't want) and I panicked again. My brilliant solution? I kept driving (DON'T JUDGE.). But, I was so totally freaked out that I wasn't watching closely and nearly ran over a second group of guys in Spouseman's class. More slamming of breaks. More screeching. More heart-attacks. They'd survived ridiculously difficult training and I nearly took out a half-dozen of them in one fell swoop in the stupid cafeteria parking lot shortly before they were meant to go home. Clearly, I was not meant to be a spy. Or an undercover cop. Or anything else that requires me to be even marginally stealthy. By the time I made it out of the parking lot (without killing or maiming anyone) I was so completely out of it that I drove straight home. I'd been home about 20 minutes when realized I never did make it to the gas station.

Despite this brush with death, he finished the training, made it home and all is well! Yay for us!

Tuesday Thoughts

Subtitle: The Disjointed Ramblings of a Situational Single Parent

At the end of this unbelievably long day which started at 6am and is just now winding down, I am filled with many thoughts and so, because I am too exhausted to put the sheets on my bed so that I can actually go to sleep, I am sitting on my rear-end typing a basically pointless, kind of whiny blog post until I can muster the energy to move more than my fingers and get myself to bed already. Doesn't that introduction just suck you in and leave you breathless with anticipation for the literary genius which must be forthcoming? Well, read on friends and strangers, read on. Don't blame me if you are disappointed, though.

The last 2 days have been challenging. Intrepid Spouseman is off learning new and exciting ways to stay alive in the increasingly hostile world at large (despite what you may think, that was typed without even a hint of sarcasm. He really is off learning myriad and sundry survival techniques. That's why it's called survival training.). While he will  be gone for a mere 21 days, I am finding his absence to be slightly more challenging than when he left for almost 5 months to play GI Joe. In addition to the fact that this time we do not get to communicate with Intrepid Spouseman at all while he is away, Little Levi is much more mobile and demanding of my attention and he is obviously missing his very best friend in the whole world. You see, most days, Levi wakes up and immediately visits with Isaac in the bathroom while Isaac gets ready for work. Then, they play during lunch time. And again after dinner and again after his bath until bedtime. Well, today little Levi toddled over to the bathroom door as usual and, finding it closed, proceeded to bang and yell.  As you can imagine, when this failed to produce "DA!!!!!!!!!!" poor Levi was not happy. Not happy at all (neither was I, for that matter.Sad face.). Repeat this scenario several times during the day (waking from naps and peering expectantly around corners for DA!, running to the door at the sound of a car etc...) and you have the perfect recipe for a sad and confused little toddler. Poor little Bug. It seems that my normally good natured baby is handling his distress by becoming fussy, clingy and demanding. Which does not surprise me, but does make it very difficult to get my work done. And done it must get because I have major, immoveable deadlines this week. Because of work issues (at both the full time day job and the part-time adjunct job) and Levi issues today, I often felt as though everything was just inches away from complete disaster. Hence, the exhaustion. But we made it work, Little Levi and I. We worked a little, played a little, napped a little (well, those under the age of 2 napped), rinsed and repeated until everything got done. We took a break to have dinner with a  friend (whose husband is also away being trained in the intricacies of survival. Thanks for rescuing my carrots and celery, A! ) and tomorrow I'm packing for a mini-vacation to visit another friend (I am so excited. Seriously. I have been looking forward to this for months! Months, I say!). All is well, even if all is a little chaotic. We are tired, but we survived. Isaac says everyone who finishes SERE should get a tee-shirt that says "I Survived SERE" (haha! Surviving survival training! Hmm...Now that I think about it, that might be a joke that is only funny to military people...or maybe only to me...wouldn't be the first time.). and I'm beginning to think that  spouses and children should get them too. We'll see how the next few weeks go, but for now I'm off to cross another day off the calendar before I go to bed. Only 19 days to go.

I apologize in advance for the extremely rant-y nature of this post

I have a lot to say these days, but very little motivation to actually, well, say any of it. Mostly I compose extremely rant-y blog posts in my head, take a deep breath and then move on with my life. But today, since the Spouse is still at work, Little Man is happily playing with an empty container of oats (What? You don't give your kid trash to play with? What's wrong with you?) and a wooden spoon (Ditto above but with kitchen implements) and the laundry is (mostly) done, I thought "What the heck? Let's rant in public for a bit, shall we" and so, we shall.


Rant #1: I am just so unendingly tired of people talking about the NBA "labor" dispute. Does anyone, anywhere care even the slightest little bit that a whole bunch of multi-millionaires are not getting their "fair" share from a bunch of multi-billionaires? No? Then let's move on, news media. There are starving children in Africa. Heck, there are starving children in Iowa. Let the poor little rich kids handle their playground dispute in private. MOVE ON.


Rant #2: I love the People of the South. Really, I do. I love that they are friendly and funny and, mostly, not scary. But, BUT, can I just say that I do not love it when People of the South touch Levi? I have to bite lips and sit on hands to stop myself from swatting people. Seriously. I get that he's pretty much the most adorable little person ever. I know that he's extremely social and will chat with you in his little baby voice and reach out his little hand as if to invite touching but PLEASE, dear People of the South, do not share your germs with my baby. I may have to make a little shirt that says "NO TOUCHY" and only let him out of the house when he wears it.


Rant #3: The ice cream currently sold by several major manufacturers is no longer ice cream, but is instead a mysterious concotion they are calling "Frozen Dairy Dessert". I am just so disappointed. I recognize that the reason for the name change is because their "ice cream", in reality, contains little or no cream and how sad is that? I say that it is indicative of pretty much everything that's wrong with industrialized food production in this country. That's right people. The lack of cream in our ice cream is merely a symptom of a larger problem and you can just take that to the park and protest it. Furthermore, I'd just like to go on record and say that I'd happily pay more to have some cream in my ice cream. I'm pretty sure most people would. I look forward to pumpkin pie ice cream all year but now that I've made this unfortunate discovery, I can't bring myself to purchase and consume Pumpkin Frozen Dairy Dessert. There are, I know, several brands of ice cream that are actually ice cream and/or I could, theoretically, make my own but 1. None of the true ice creams have a pumpkin flavor and 2. I am super lazy. Sad panda. (side note: in the grand scheme of things-like starving children in Iowa-I realize that this is a small problem, but this is my party and I'll rant if I want to)


Rant #4: Could some please explain to me the laws of the universe that have dictated that no matter how carefully I set the timer and no matter how watchful I am over them, I inevitably burn at least 1 tray of cookies each and everytime I bake cookies? There has to be some sort of rule that I am breaking or some sort of universal vendetta against my cookie making. Perhaps both? Help me out here, surely this is not just me? Is there some sort of support group? Remedial cookie baking education? Something?


Rant #5: I would like to find the person who decided landscaping with rocks was a good idea and beat him (of course it was a him) with a few rocks of my own. This past weekend, in a haze of joy at having my "own" yard (which is really not mine at all, but is instead owned by a rather large and mysterious government contractor and which is technically shared between myself and the residents of the other half of the twin home in which I currently reside but which I call my "own" because, really, typing out what it actually is everytime is time consuming and disheartening), I purchased, with the intent to plant, many bulbs. Many, many bulbs. There were tulips and irises and fresias OH MY!
I thought (silly me) that this would be a simple process-clear pine needle mulch (ick), dig holes, plant bulbs, water and trust the fates of the universe. But, alas. This plan hit a snafu when, upon moving the pine needle mulch, it was discovered that some idiot, erm, person, had previously filled the entire flower bed with decorative rock. Let me reiterate: someone, somewhere had filled a flower bed with ROCKS. Then, someone else decided it would be a good idea to completely cover those rocks with PINE NEEDLES. I'll just let you mull that one over for a bit.........................................................................................................
Anyway. After sitting about the house sighing deeply and morosely lamenting my fate, the intrepid husband devised a plan whereby the rocks would be moved and the bulbs planted. This plan involved the husband moving buckets full of rocks to the backyard flowerbeds, which are so overrun with rocks (EVIL DECORATIVE ROCKS) and weeds that even I don't want to try and do anything with them, while I scraped the rocks out of the dirt so as to fill his buckets and loudly cursed the person who thought rocks and gardens were a good match. Eventually, most of the rocks were gone, all the bulbs were planted and Levi had only eaten a little dirt. But STILL. Rocks. Pine Needles. For the love.


And that is all. Carry on.

Now We Are 1...

 Presents!

Cake!

I've been meaning to post pictures for the past week, but better late than never!  We had a great little family party with cake and presents and lots of playing with new toys. Yay for birthdays!



An Unfortunate Milestone

Levi. He is very nearly 1 whole year old (insert lamentation about how quickly time passes here...). To this point we have celebrated all the usual milestones: smiling, first teeth, eating solid foods, cruising about etc...So far, we've welcomed each and every development (and let's be honest, every single near-development) with excitment and more than a little praise (You very nearly pulled yourself up all by yourself! GREAT JOB!). However, today we had a milestone that I wasn't too keen to celebrate.  See, Levi likes to chew on stuff. Pretty much anything will do and usually this isn't a big deal but sometimes, he'll chomp down on something he really, really shouldn't chew on. Today, it was the electrical cord for a lamp. So, I went over there and pulled him away saying, as usual, "No, no, no". Usually, when I stop him from doing something he wants to do he'll protest, loudly even, but then move on to do something else. Today however, he yelled (as he usually does), looked right at my face then leaned over and bit me. Hard.
It was 100% clear that 1. He was really annoyed and 2. He chose to express his annoyance by biting. Not. Cool.  Alas, I think we have hit another milestone: Acting out. On purpose. With intention. and I am none too pleased about this development. Hopefully, he gets over this need to express annoyance by biting pretty darn quick, because yelling I can handle. Crying, no problem. Physical violence, however, is a 1 way ticket to eternal timeout...and he's too young to be grounded for life.

What's Missing?!

NO MORE HELMET!!!!!!!!!!!

(Seriously, is this not the cutest picture you have ever seen? I die.)

No more helmet means that today we begin the, rather unfortunate, process of learning that bumping our head HURTS! We have already bumped into 2 walls, the piano and a door but we are learning!



Blah, Blah, Blah

So, Levi. He is starting to talk for reals. Not like this time, but actually using his little mouth to make sounds that have meaning.

His favorites? "Mama" and "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO".

See, you have to say "no" like "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" when you are almost one. I am not sure why.

Also, we never say "Mama" around here. We say "MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA!" until someone (could be me. could be Isaac. Levi's not too fussy usually) takes care of whatever problem prompted the MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA! in the first place.

Problem is, since we only have 2 words so far, whomever is responding to the call of MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA! frequently guesses Tiny Man's needs incorrectly. And then we hear:

 "MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMMA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

It is awesome to be scolded by an almost 1 year old. Awesome, I tell you.

Epic Fail

When we left Utah to come to the great state of Alabama, we left behind a great many people. One such person was Bailee the Wonder Colorist (sidenote: there are a lot of people named Bailee in Utah. A lot. And they all spell their names differently. Once, I had a student who spelled her name BayLeah. The first time I read her name I thought it said "BayLeaf" and I almost asked, outloud, why her parents named her after an herb. Luckily, I caught myself, but everytime I talked to her after that I had to consiously remind myself that her name was BayLeah not "BayLeaf". True story.) and, having now gone approximately an eternity without coloring my hair and, having been told by no less than EVERY member of my immediate family that when I do not color my hair I look like a 50 year old grandmother (apparently this was all said "out of love". Whatever.) and, having been repeatedly assured by my myriad and sundry sisters who also look like 50 year old grandmothers if they don't color their hair that coloring ones hair by ones self is "So easy!" and, because I have not yet had a chance to find a replacement for Bailee the Wonder Colorist, I decided to take the plunge and attempt to color my hair my very ownself. "12 year olds at slumber parties do this all the time!" I thought. "What could go wrong with a product that goes so far as to proclaim itself "Nice" and "Easy"?", I thought. "If your mother and sisters can do this, so can you!" I thought. "You have a master's degree! How hard can this be?!" I thought.  I should have ignored all those thoughts and listened to the very quiet, nagging voice in the back of my mind which said "There is a reason you are not a cosmotologist YOU IDIOT!"

You see, I managed to dye a great many things; the bathroom counter, 2 towels, the toilet seat, one of our bath mats, my left arm, both ears, the back of my neck, the bottom of my right foot, every single one of my fingernails, my hairbrush, my shampoo bottle, the shower curtain, 2 barretts and the door to the bathroom but did not,as luck would have it, successfully manage to dye the one thing I was actually interested in turning a "dark auburn": my gray hair.  I followed the directions exactly. I even timed the shaking of the bottle because the little instruction sheet said "shake for at least 20 seconds." So, I timed myself shaking for 30 seconds. Which is, as anyone knows, at least 20 seconds. I set a little kitchen timer for 10 minutes  I "started at the roots" and saturated my hair "all the way to the ends". I rinsed until the water ran clear. I conditioned with the little tube of conditioner. I now have brown hair with, in addition to the grey streaks, orangish brown streaks. It is not an improvement. Not to mention the fact that the roots of my hair are at least 2 shades different than the rest of my hair. EPIC FAIL.
Clearly, hair coloring needs to join espionage and brain surgery on my list of tasks best left to the professionals. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go make an appointment to have someone much more talented than I fix my hair.

My Favorite Room

So. I have this post I've been working on, complete with a million pictures of the house, the baby and our Alabama adventures. It's taking me a while to get it all done, so in the meantime I thought I'd share a picture of my favorite room in our new little house.
Are you ready?
Here it is:

Yes, it is true. My favorite "room" is not a room at all, but the closet in our office. I love it. So. Much. In every place we've lived previous to this little house, my sewing stuff has been migratory, moving where ever it would fit and then moving again to be "out of the way" when we needed the space it occupied for something else. I have longed for a permanent place to keep my sewing machine and all my many sewing books, tools and other things. When we started to organize our things, it became apparent that this little closet wasn't needed for actual storage and so I commandeered it and it became my sewing room. I have all my books, my patterns, my tools and projects IN ONE PLACE. The only things that don't fit in this tiny little closet are my giant bins of fabric, but they are just outside the door in the hall closet. It is AWESOME.

On one wall, I can hang my rulers. Observe:

On the other, I have an organizer for my bobbins, little tools of various kinds and scissors ( I have a lot of scissors):

The little lamp down at the bottom of that picture is sitting on a little table upon which also sits various things I am using for my current project. A little table. With a lamp. That doesn't have to move every time I need to use the dining room table. AWESOME, I tell you.

Sometimes, I come into the office just to look at the little closet and all my things neatly stowed away in their permanent home. Because it is so awesome.

And that is all for this Tuesday.

I Stand Corrected

So. As anyone who knows me knows I don't often admit that I am wrong (this is largely due to how rarely I actually am wrong, but that is beside the point). However, I have recently come to the conclusion that I was wrong about one very important issue and I am now admitting this fact. Publicly. Well, as publicly as my little blog which is read by approximately 10 people, can be considered "public". Anyway. I was wrong and I can admit it.

You see, almost 2 years ago Isaac got this brilliant idea that he was going to be a Warrant Officer Aviator. Brilliant, except for the little detail that becoming a Warrant Officer Aviator would require him and us to live in Alabama for an extended period of time. This little detail made me feel more than a little bit queasy. I have lived in many places in my life and have managed to never, ever spend a significant amount of time in the "Deep South". Since discovering that I would likely have to spend almost 2 years living in the "Deep South", I have loudly, frequently and with great passion decried the weather, the culture, the people, the politics, the craziness etc... and, well, I was wrong. About almost everything.

Yes, it is incredibly hot and humid here. But, it is also beautiful, with amazing, huge trees and plants and flowers and lakes and the ocean just an hour away. It's lovely. Aside from one unfortunate encounter with a snake and a squirrel (shudder) I've spent a great deal of time in absolute awe at how pretty everything is here.

Yes, there are some very interesting people here. But, I have never met people who are, as a whole, more kind, considerate and loving. I am not, as a general rule, a "people person" and yet I cannot help but chat and visit with people wherever we go. This is, of course, partly due to Levi being adorable and the world's biggest flirt, but people are also just genuinely friendly. I'm learning to adapt. I have been asked with absolute sincerity, more times than I can count(by complete strangers no less), if Levi is okay and, often, if there is anything they can do to help. Some days, this happens more than once. Almost always our short conversations about Levi and his helmet end with promises to pray for us. Sincere promises.

Yes, the ward is tiny. But, they have welcomed us like no where else I have ever been.We, quite literally, had a dinner invitation for every night of our first week here. When people at church found out we were still waiting for our furniture to arrive, several families offered to loan us furniture they were using (like the couch from their living room-"Take it! We're never home! It just sits there!") just so we'd have the things we needed. I took Levi to his first 'play group' just 3 days after arriving here because the women at Church wouldn't take "no" for an answer when they invited us to join them ("You have no furniture! You must be so bored! Levi needs friends! You must come. I'll be over at 10:30 and we can go together!" And she was. And we did). It was a little overwhelming, but also kind of amazing that complete strangers would take such an interest in our well being.


For nearly all of the past 2 years I have felt quite certain that living here would mean gritting my teeth and "enduring to the end". But, I was wrong.  I've lived a lot of places, and very few have felt like  "home". Our tiny house, on a tiny Army post, without family or friends nearby, in Alabama of all places, feels like home. I was wrong and I am glad I was.

Operation: Birthday Surprise!

Mission Accomplished!

We (Levi and I) flew into Alabama last night so we could surprise Isaac today. It was a great day and we loved getting to spend the day with him. Just 2 more days and we'll all be in the same house again!

Happy Birthday Isaac!

P.S. Remember that Friends episode where they all go the Bahamas? And Monica's hair explodes? Yeah. That's why there are no pictures of me. We're going to need to invest in some industrial strength gel. Or, go the Monica route and embrace the cornrow...



Join the Movement!

So. A while back, when I lived in Hades Phoenix, I realized that my committment to jeans as the only acceptable "bottom" (except at church and other dressy occassions) was going to get me killed. See, it's a million degrees in Hades Phoenix and jeans are not known for being hot-weather attire. I was melting. Slowly, but surely, I was going to die of heat stroke if I didn't do something drastic. Problem is, I have a deep, abiding and immoveable loathing for shorts and capri pants. Like, I cannot even describe to you how much I hate them. The fire of a thousand suns doesn't even come close to describing my loathing. Clearly, I had a dilemma. Around this very same time I randomly happened across a post from a person much more fashionable and (clearly) intelligent than I advocating the return of the "casual skirt". This, I thought, was a movement I could get behind. Skirts are not hideous like shorts and capri pants (disclaimer: I know many people who wear shorts and capri pants and do not look hideous. I am not one of them. I have pictures to prove this. I will not be sharing.) Skirts are significantly cooler than jeans. Skirts can easily be made at home (remember my aversion to shopping? It extends to all clothing types, including skirts). I was going to JOIN THE MOVEMENT.

I bought fabric.

I bought patterns.

I got pregnant.

Annnnnnnnndddddddddddddd, all I wanted to do was lay around on my couch moaning about how tired I was and how much I hated Hades Phoenix and how hot it was ALL. THE. TIME. My motivation to sew was quickly replaced by a much stronger desire to eat ice cream. So. The skirts were never made.

Fast forward about 18 months. Baby is here. It is now getting hot in Utah (nothing like Hades Phoenix, but hot enough to question my return to the jean.). I'm about to move to Alabama. It was 98 degrees in Alabama today. I was sweating just thinking about that. And, in what has to be kismet, my sister has ALSO decided to join the casual skirt movement and has been sewing up a storm, making impossibly cute skirts (with pockets!). So, when she offered to take the fabric I had previously purchased and make a skirt for me, I did the happy dance! Happy DANCE! Step one in my grand plan to neither melt nor ever purchase shorts EVER AGAIN is underway.

THEN-imagine my jubliation when a store which shall not be named just down the street from me started selling knee length skirts for reasonable prices. Next to the bananas! NO TRIPS TO THE MALL, people. NO TRIPS TO THE MALL. It's like the universe was smiling on my decision to join the casual skirt movement. So, I actually purchased a skirt (with pockets!) and love it. I am on a roll, internet people!


Today, skirts! Tomorrow, THE WORLD.

Shameless Contest Entry Post

Click me! http://ohhappyday.com/2011/06/goes-to-paris/

Enter to win a trip to Paris for 2!

Gratuitous picture of adorable baby!

 (Unrelated to the contest,but provides some sense of purpose to this otherwise pointless post)

He really likes strawberries. A lot.

Well Hello!

Hello Internet-
How are you? I'm good, mostly. It's been kind of a crazy couple of months, but overall I'd rate them a 6 on a scale of 1-10. What have we been up to? Well, I'm glad you asked, Internet, because we've been all sorts of busy around here. Quick rundown-
1. I've been rocking the "single working mom" thing. No, seriously. I should write a book. Can you feel the sarcasm, even through the vast nothingness of space, Internet? I sure hope so. In truth there have been days (I will not disclose how many) when I have lain (layed? laid?) in my bed at night and the only thought I had the energy to muster was "When was the last time I brushed my teeth?" For serious. For the record: parenting is at least a 2 person job. I totally understand the full-time nanny/mother's helper situation obscenely rich people have going on. If I am ever obscenely rich, I'm totally investigating that. 2 extra hands around all.the.time?! YES, PLEASE!
2. Despite the fact that many days are lived in a rather hazy state of half-wakefulness (I'm pretty sure I just made up that word and I LIKE IT), I am enjoying spending my time with the Cutest Little Human Ever. I'd post a picture to prove he's the Cutest Little Human Ever, but I don't want anyone to come steal him. Because of his cuteness and all.
3. My brother-in-law married pretty much the cutest girl ever and the CLHE and I got to spend time with them and the rest of the extended family for the wedding and the weekend. Super fun! We missed the Husband, but he was busy being GI Joe so, what can you do?
4. We (the CLHE and I) got to spend a grand total of, wait for it...20 hours (non consecutively, of course) with the Husband! It was fantastic until the whole getting on different planes and flying in different directions part of the visit. That part sucked rocks. And that's all I'm going to say about that.
5. While spending our 20 hours with the Husband, the CLHE and I also got to spend more time with my in-laws, who are made of awesome. That part of the visit did not suck rocks.
6. Work, while tiring (and sometimes tiresome) is not all that terrible these days and I am grateful that I have a job that allows me to be both a full-time employee and a full-time mom. Which means I have 2 full time jobs and a part time job. Which means I pretty much don't remember what sleeping is. But, neither does the Husband, who only has 1 full time job but whose days frequently end at 11pm and begin at 4:30am. (I'll take my jobs any day, thankyouverymuch. At least when I do sleep, it's in a bed and not a cot or on the ground.), So even though we are 1900 miles apart at the present, we have that in common.
7. We are approximately 2/3rds of the way through our time living in separate states! I only have 6 more weeks of single-parenthood (this time, at least). So, YAY!

Ermm...I think that pretty much covers it!

Lots of love, Internet!
-Me

I am obsessed...

This is very bad. Very, very bad. I have a hard enough time concentrating on my work as it is, but this is making it darn near impossible.

Isaac's BCT class has a facebook page. With pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. This is pretty much the most fantastic thing ever. This shouldn't take up very much time, but most of the pictures are group shots, so I have to really look at them to see if I can find Isaac. It's like a scavenger hunt, only this isn't really a party and I should really be doing something much more productive. Alas, I cannot. I realize it doesn't make a hill of beans worth of difference whether I know the precise activities they are doing each day, but I am incapable of not checking 50 times a day. I told you, I am obsessed.

Being able to see pictures and read updates about what Isaac is doing made for a super fun conversation on the phone yesterday .I about gave him a heart attack when he called and the first thing I said was "You look tired and sick. Have you been sick?" After he recovered from the aforementioned heartattack, he was very confused and said he'd had a sinus infection and a nasty cough and wondered how on earth I could possibly know how he looked.  I almost told him I'd developed the ability to astral-project and I was watching him, but then I figured he'd never buy that so I told him about the pictures.  I was also able to ask rather specific questions about what they'd learned in first aid ("How on earth did you know we'd done first aid?!" Status updates, husband. Status. Updates.) and 'combatives' (hand-to-hand fighting; hilarious pictures. Hilarious). It was great. I wish I'd figured out a cover story before he called, because I'd have liked to be able to keep up the appearance of omniscence a little while longer.

I love it.

In Which I am Grateful...

In a rather miraculous turn of events, the back issues that have made me miserable since Saturday are gone. Like, 100% gone. Much like the cause of the problem, there is no explanation for this change, but I am grateful. The world is looking much brighter today.

Hooray!

In Which I Complain...Bitterly and Without Remorse

1. I have done something to my back. Bending, moving, sitting, standing, etc... leads to major pain. I have a 25 lb baby who likes to be held. You can imagine that this does not go well. I want to cry a lot. I don't cry because it scares the baby. But I want to. Oh, do I want to.
2. I am trying to decipher the stupid Tricare handbook and I have misplaced my urim and thummim, making this task virtually impossible. If anyone has a Tricare Rosetta Stone, please send it my way. I'm about to go a little nuts over here.
3. Have I mentioned that I have done something to my back? I have never had back problems in my life and now I can't really move...it's a serious problem.
4. If I have to tell one more person, one more time, at work that I DON'T KNOW WHEN/IF MY PROJECT PROPOSAL WILL BE APPROVED SO STOP ASKING ALREADY, I might actually throw something. Something big. Out a window, perhaps.
5. Plane tickets are outrageously expensive. Stupid airline industry. If I was a person who cussed, you'd be blushing, airline industry people. Sailors would be uncomfortable with my language...if I was a person who cussed, of course.
6. So, I've managed to hurt my back. Severely and without apparent cause. Poor Levi does not understand why mom moves at the speed of a sloth. He has needs, darn it. Sloth-mom is not meeting those needs nearly fast enough.
7. I do not manage people. I manage products, which is why my title is "Product Manager". If someone could please explain to me why I am being required to attend training specifically for managers, despite the fact that I DO NOT MANAGE PEOPLE, I would greatly appreciate it.
8. I cannot, for the life of me, convince one of my students that 9/10 is exactly the same score as 90/100. He is certain that they are different and that I am somehow intentionally lowering his score and making his grade lower. I've explained that a 90% is an A-, whether he's earned 90% of 10 points or 90% of 100 points and he.just.doesn't.get.it.
9.  I would like it to be spring for real. Not this schizophrenic "spring" that cannot make up it's mind about whether it wants to be spring or winter. Give me sunshine, DARN IT.
10. My back is killing me. Killing.me.

That is all. Carry on.

Levi, the...Prodigy?

The Setting: Target
The Cast of Characters: Erin, Levi, Random Woman
The Scene: Erin and Levi are shopping. Levi, as usual, is chatting with anyone and anything who will listen. He's very chatty. Doesn't say much, but likes the sound of his own voice.

Erin: Hey, Little Man, we still need to get you some pants!
Levi: AHHHHHHHHHHH, MAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, hysterical laughter, more unintelligable sounds....
Erin and Levi begin walking to the baby clothes as Random Woman walks by.

Levi: HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Random Woman does classic double take.
Random Woman: Did he just say HI to me?! HOW OLD IS HE?!
Erin (Somewhat uncomfortably): Erm....he's 5 months old, but he's not really talking, he just likes to make noise.
Random Woman: No, I'm pretty sure he said HI! (Looks at Erin like Erin should be astounded and thrilled by this news)
Erin (100% sure that Levi did not, in fact, say anything to this woman): Well, that's great, he likes to make new friends...erm...
Random Woman: Wow! That's really young to start talking... (looks expectantly at Erin...perhaps she is expecting cartwheels?)
Erin:  Ermm....well, he's um, he's um, pretty chatty...we'd better go get those pants.
Random Woman (in awe): He said HI to me!
Erin walks away murmuring quietly to Levi: She's what we call a "crazy person", Levi and we try to avoid them if at all possible...

End scene.


I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

Miscellaneous Goings-On from the Past 6 weeks: A List

1. Levi is now 4 months old. Apparently this means that he no longer likes to sleep. After about a month of sleeping through the night, he's back to waking up every 2-3 hours. We have super fun 1am, 3am and 5am parties at my house every.single.night. He's also still above 100% in height, weight and headsize. Go champ!

2. Levi also enjoys Veggie Tales and chatting with the ceiling fan. It's really, really funny. He tries to sing along with Veggie Tales and seems to enjoy his conversations with the fan. I'm pretty sure he thinks he's really talking. Hilarious. One of these days I'll get it on video.

2. I have been using the treadmill fairly regularly and eating fruit at an alarming rate. I've gained 12 pounds. Something about that just doesn't seem right. Or fair.

3. Isaac leaves for BCT this month. He had his "final" pre-ship (talking about it that way makes him sound like a FedEx package...) PFT (physical fitness test) today and did disgustingly well. Apparently the treadmill only hates me. Go figure.

4. I'm now, in addition to being on the Compassionate Service committee, teaching the 4th Sunday Relief Society lesson. This will be a grand adventure since Isaac won't be here when I start teaching this month. I'm hoping Mr. Chatty Pants will stay in the Moby wrap while I teach, otherwise I may have to send him to nursury just a little bit ahead of schedule. :-)

5. I really like instantly streaming movies from Netflix, Hulu etc...I never really watch TV anymore. It's 10 kinds of awesome.

6. At his 4 month check-up, Levi (a.k.a. Gigantor-NAME THAT MOVIE!) dazzled the PA with his awesome sitting up skills, but baffled her and the doctor with his unwillingness to roll over. Turns out, he's got a case of torticollis (stiffened muscles in one side of his neck/shoulder) and will be making friends with a physical therapist next week. Sigh... Hopefully fixing the torticollis will help him turn his head and (fingers crossed, people!) then he won't need a little helmet next month. He's built like a linebacker, it's true, but I think he's still a little young to start full-contact football, so we're trying to avoid the helmet.

7. Work is making me a little crazy. Since January, I have been instructed to start and stop and then start again on the same project no less than 3 times. Make up your mind, people! MAKE UP YOUR MIND.

8. Isaac, Levi and I are going on "vacation' next week before he leaves for BCT. It'll be fun! I'm looking forward to the break from work.

9. I finally read the Mistborn series. I know, I'm months and months behind the rest of the universe. It wasn't my favorite. I might have skipped vast chunks of the third book and then it ended exactly as I thought it would. Oh well.

10. I need something new to read. Any suggestions?


That is all. :-) Happy Friday!

A Public Service Announcement

So. You know how dishwasher detergent doesn't have phosphates any more? And, you know how if you live anywhere with even slightly hard water everything comes out of the dishwasher covered in a film of white crap? And, you know how this makes your dishes look and feel dirty, even though they've been through the dishwasher? And the more they go through the dishwasher, the more said white crap builds up? And, you know how the "rinse agent" that's supposed to help does absolutely nothing to resolve the white filmy crap on your dishes problem? And trying to scrup the white filmy crap off your dishes is entirely unsuccessful? And you consider using CLR on your dishes but then decide that that's probably not the best plan since you, you know, eat off those dishes and all? And this whole situation just frustrates you to no end (or maybe that one's just me...)? Well. I have found a solution and as a public service, I am sharing it with you (although I recognize that perhaps you have already figured this out and I am just really,really slow. Maybe everyone already knows this and I just didn't get the memo. Don't tell me. I'm kind of feeling like a genius right now. Don't spoil it.)

The solution?

Diet Coke.

Not. even. kidding. Time for a small-ish chemistry lesson: Diet Coke has phosophoric acid in it. Phosphates are just a salt of phosophoric acid. Which means that, because a lack of phosphates caused this problem in the first place, the phosophoric acid in Diet Coke will get that white crap off your dishes. Visual proof:

See the bowl? See the dull, white, filmy crap? I took that bowl right out of the dishwasher! GROSS.

See the plate? Came out the same dishwasher cycle. It was covered in the same, white, filmy crap. It took a Diet Coke bath and...drum roll please...now it's sparkling, clear and clean. HAPPY DAY.

You're Welcome.


P.S. I used cheap, generic "Diet Cola". It's, like, 75 cents for a 2 liter bottle. I bought 4.

P.P.S. I seriously filled my sink up with it and soaked my dishes.

P.P.P.S. I keep touching my plates and glasses because they finally feel clean. Good thing I wash my hands a lot. I'm doing all my little rubbermaid containers next. I can't wait.

P.P.P.P.S. Make sure it's Diet Cola, otherwise you're going to end up with sparkling, sticky dishes. Which sort of defeats the purpose.