Confucius says: “Do not be boastful about children who sleep and siblings who are not jealous. You will be cursed with a sleepless, jealous house.”

If only I’d known. I’ll just say Hadley and Bode have done a complete 180 from my last post, despite Hunky Hubby’s encouraging words on his blog. Enough said.

Confucius says: “Mommy Time Means No Time”

Now that I’m pretty much mended from birthing a watermelon, I’m slowing easing back into my regular activities. This is proving to be tougher than anticipated. With Hadley, I carved out a half hour of “Mommy Time” with aerobics/strength training before breakfast and we’d then go hiking or walking every day.

That was then. This is now. As I prepped for my first big workout yesterday, I did something kinda requisite: I actually put the child down. Sadly, he would have NONE of it. I tried to rationally explain: “No, Bode, y’see, this is ‘Mommy Time.'”

Unfortunately, his definition of “Mommy Time” means just that: His Mommy Time.

Again, I won’t get into the sordid details. Just know the final score: Bode: 1 Me: 0. Enough said.

But today is a new day and a new battle. My revised strategy is to have the kid play while I workout. You know. Do fun things like stare at the wall or slap himself silly with those crazy new things called arms.

Kinda sad to think I’m losing to that kind of competition….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Bode has been a member of our family for more than a month now. While he definitely has his moments, overall he’s a sweet little guy. Of course, it’s still early and I am cognizant that things could turn the corner. I am just hoping that corner won’t occur for, say, another 18 years. And then he can go turn someone else’s corner.

By this time with Haddie, I was about ready to enter a mental institution. I lived off of three hours of sleep for months. Bode, on the other hand, only wakes up a couple of times and even slept seven hours straight the other night. SEVEN FREAKING HOURS. Do you know how long it took for Haddie to sleep that long? I think every family needs to have one Haddie so they can realize how FREAKING MIRACULOUS it is when a kid actually sleeps. I mean, if I had only easy babies, I might be disillusioned enough to think I had this parenting thing figured out. But I know better.

The Hurricane
I can’t stand when people tell me the reason why Haddie was so colicky is because I was a first-time mom and they then attribute Bode’s easy-going nature with the fact that I’m more relaxed now. Guess what: that’s a load of crock. For one, I will never be anything less than an unrelaxed-anal-retentive-type-A mom. So there! And two, from the moment those kids left the womb, they were just different. We couldn’t calm The Hurricane and we couldn’t ever wake The Slug. Different. Just different.

One area they are the same is their need to be constantly held. For Hadley, it wasn’t because she particularly liked us but because heaven forbid she should miss out on anything that was going on. And where else could we have a front-row seat of her marathon tantrums about the injustices of this harsh, evil world?


The Slug
Bode, welp, he’s a lover/snuggler not a fighter. And he won’t let you forget about it the moment you dare to set him down when his temper is unleashed. I just hope the kid manages to cut the cord sometime before he gets married because there’s nothing uglier than a mama’s boy. Especially one who’s still obsessed with her mammaries. I watch Desperate Housewives so I know how that is.

The Sibling Revelry
Many have asked how The Hurricane is doing since her brother’s arrival and overall, she’s great. She genuinely likes the little guy and is extremely helpful. She hasn’t exhibited much jealousy, either. Until last Friday. Until he posed a threat to her most prized possession: Grandma.

Y’see, she spent the day with Jamie’s mom. Her Grandma. That night when Linda dropped her off, she made the grave error of picking up Bode. I won’t get into the sordid details but there was drama i.e. “HOW COULD YOU FORSAKE ME?” There was manipulation i.e. “Grandma, Haddie poopy. Change now!” And there was desperation i.e. “Grandma, Mommy needs Bode.”

Yeah, right. Heaven forbid the day when he actually starts doing more than sleeping, fussing and pooping. Though if he stays true to his gender, that day may never come….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

• Never before has the dishwasher magically unloaded itself (natch: Hunky Hubby never does it).

• I will now be outnumbered (2:1) during the day.

• I will no longer be able to send my early-bird Hadley to wake up Grandpa while I go back to bed.

• We can no longer be “accidentally” devoid of cash when we invite other folks out on the town.

• I will have to go back to my 30-second showers. For those without screaming kids or toddlers who dismantle the house the moment you become indisposed: 30 seconds is barely enough time to even lather.

• Whatever happens here, stays here. I mean, where else can you be this politically incorrect? Case in point:

Me: “How’s your cousin these days?”
Mom: “Pretty good. He’s been building and selling houses. To The Gays.”
Me: “Err…’The Gays’. Gee, Mom. I didn’t know there was a market for them.”
Mom: “Yes, their people buy houses too, I guess.”

• And most importantly, I will no longer be learning something new and enlightening every day….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

When Hunky Hubby turns a simple activity like drawing on the driveway into one that will send the innocent passerby into therapy….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Today is Bode’s four-week birthday. You haven’t seen any pictures of him lately because he has hit early puberty. (Translation: his formerly flawless skin is now covered in big, pussy pimples.) And not the fun kind. (Translation: fun kind being those I can actually pop. Yes, I’m sick like that.)

Now, don’t go lecturing me that I should be taking tons of pubescent pictures. I did that with Haddie during what I call The Blotch Phase, when her little body was blotchy, sore and red. And you know what? Those pictures still make me cringe to this day. I’m sure she’ll burn them when she’s in her teens because “Like, how totally gross!”

At least that’s what I did (burned all ugly pictures of myself) when I was a teen, though a few did manage to slip through the cracks. “The cracks” meaning my sadistic brothers who sent the worst picture ever to my new fiance. Some of you may know him. A man some call James. A man with a sick, twisted sense of humor. A man who posted Said Blackmail Picture on our front door the first time he welcomed me home to our new condo.

Oh well. What goes around, comes around and tonight, he got just a bit of payback. I’m sure most of us have dreamed of coming into a large inheritance from a wealthy great uncle we never knew. Jamie’s was named Uncle Jesse. OK, so maybe he wasn’t exactly rich or even related but Jamie befriended this older man last year. I think Jesse had a man-crush on Jamie because he called him (at minimum) five times a day. While tiresome, my sweet husband never whined or complained about it. That was always my job.

Our phone stopped ringing a few months ago when Uncle Jesse passed away suddenly in a tragic car accident. Sweet Hubby delivered his eulogy and never once expected anything out of it. But tonight, we discovered just how overrated money truly is. Uncle Jesse did leave one of his most prized possessions for Jamie: his old, ratty set of golf clubs, which Jamie tested out this evening.

Trying to be supportive as he swung away on our front lawn, I commented,
“You know, it really is sweet of him to bequeath these to you.”

Jamie mumbled some words of gratitude as he practiced his swing. After a few attempts, he walked over to the old leather bag and started going through the pockets and retrieving the contents.

“A Colorado Rockies jacket!” He announced. It looked and smelled like it had never been washed, neither of which stopped my father from claiming it.

“Golfing gloves!” Those were at least new.

But then came the clincher as Jamie paused and reluctantly pulled. “A diaper?” he queried. And then the sad truth was revealed: ’twas an adult diaper. And there wasn’t just one, but two. How’s that for an inheritance?

And so the quest begins for a long-lost uncle but now the qualifications have been altered. In addition to being rich without any posterity, we are preferably seeking one with bladder control.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Many people associate Mormons with our health code i.e. no tobacco, alcohol, drugs, etc. Those are the biggies (the addictive ones) and they’re pretty black-and-white.

While certainly devout, Jamie and I aren’t what I’d consider zealots. But there are a few grey areas when it comes to another contraband substance: “hot drinks.” These are generally interpreted to mean stimulants such as coffee and non-herbal teas. Since I don’t like any of ’em, this has never been an issue for me. Until recently.

I was blissfully stuffing my face with my favorite new breakfast, Kashi’s Heart to Heart cereal, when Jamie queried,

“Are you sure you should be eating this?”
“Why not?”
“It has green tea listed on the ingredients.”
“I’m sure it’s baked out.”
“Tea does not bake out.”
“Sure it does. Besides, how’s that different from when we eat something that has the alcohol cooked out?”
“I repeat: it does not bake out and it is not the same thing. So, what’s next? Marijuana muffins?”
“Just so long as I don’t inhale.”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

In honor of yesterday’s post, here’s an oldie but a goody. I like to call it
“Hadley reveals her true thoughts about her parents….”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I am not against using a pacifier. It was one of the only saving graces for surviving our first year with The Hurricane. However, it also became our downfall because she would drop the stupid thing. All Night Long. I spent more effort trying to plug her up than I would have if she just learned to self-soothe. She also became so addicted that her withdrawals were like dealing with a little cocaine addict. The whole thing has left a bad taste in my mouth. A bad plastic kinda taste.

I have been losing the Binky Wars at our house. Bode really hasn’t taken to it like Haddie, which makes me inclined to just skip out all together. Jamie and my parents, however, have been trying to stuff that thing in his mouth at the first squawk he makes.

During a discussion on the matter last week, Jamie revealed his true intentions. Y’see at the time, I was camping out in Bode’s room at night. You know. Before I was “generously” invited back into our bedroom to start on baby #3. Yeah, right. Anyhew, the conversation:

Me: “I just don’t think it’s worth it. He’s not nearly as fussy as Haddie and we’ll just have to put it back in his mouth over and over again.”

Jamie: “Just to reiterate, who is going to put the binky back in his mouth?”

Me: “I am, since I’m sleeping in his room right now.”

Jamie: “Exactly. And that’s why I think we should do it.”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I know I’m a minority in the female persuasion by saying that I hate shopping. Always have. I blame a mall-obsessed mother who used to drag me around for hours. To this day, I cannot enter a fabric store without getting hives.

And so guess what my mother wanted to do within 24 hours of arriving at our house this weekend? Yep, you guessed it. While I enviously watched the men drive up to the mountains to hike, I was stuck on estrogen duty thumbing through clothing racks of clothes that no longer fit. Talk about fun.

Chaos ensued the morning we were supposed to meet my mother-in-law (another shopper..AWK..I’m surrounded!) Not only did it take my beloved high-maintenance mother three hours to get ready (a new record), but Bode threw an all-time fit and Hadley locked herself in the bathroom.

Sensing I was about to be committed to the psych ward (did I mention I only got three hours of sleep?) Mom gave me an out and offered Super Target as an alternative to the mall (one I would have gladly taken.) But I blame Hadley when she proclaimed: “No Super Target. MALL!” Unfortunately, she has the shopping gene. I just hope Bode is on my side.

I won’t expound upon the shopping trip. Just know that we were there for a couple of hours. And hit only two stores. Yes, people: that means I was in each store for one entire hour. Did you know one hour is enough time for a Hurricane to completely dismantle everything in her wake?

I’m ashamed to say that I left my mother there. At the mall. No, don’t think ill of me. She had plenty of food and water to last for weeks. Plus, my MIL offered to take her around, an offer I strongly encouraged my mother to take. Y’see, I know I can’t be very fun to shop with because if I hate shopping with me, why would anyone else enjoy it?

Oh well. At least Bode’s baby blessing went well (the reason why the entire clan was in town the first place). Well, if you don’t count Hadley’s little bout of projectile vomit moments before we got started. After that little episode and the inevitable disasters that will likely ensue the next couple of weeks while my Murphy’s Law family is in town, maybe the mall ain’t so bad after all…

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog