Ahem...

I'm not sure if any of you read the comments - but ummm, there is one comment in particular you should all read from my last "playpen issue" post....and please FEEL FREE to respond accordingly!

Opinions Wanted...

I've been stumbling upon alot of hot button topics in the mom world lately...and I would love to get any readers points of view on this one.
Today I came upon one issue that I didn't even realize was really an issue. I realize that there are a million different opinions out there about things like breastfeeding and spanking, etc, etc.....but I had no idea how many people have a problem with playpens. PLAYPENS.
Apparantly - one side of the fence thinks they're practical and useful items - and a whole different side of the fence thinks they are bad because it imprisons a child. Here is a quote I found:

I would NEVER use a playpen for my daughter, she is a person, and is allowed to go where she wants to and make her own choices

but seriously, can you really make your own choices at 10 months old? I mean, my kid doesn't even know when he's picking his own nose, so I'm thinking he's probably not capable of making his own choices at this point in the game. Hence the reason I feed him and clothe him and wipe his butt.
Here's another:

I've never used a playpen - that's what doors are for

Allrighty...I mean, yes - our living room and two front bedrooms are pretty much babyproofed. and I vacuum every single day to get dirt off the floor. But STILL - adam finds little pieces of lint and things to put in his mouth or he'll find some way to bang his head on something or he'll crawl into a corner and get himself wedged somehow. I can't rely on simply closing the doors in my house - unless, you know..I didn't have any furniture and it was just a big empty room. Actually, scratch that - an empty PADDED room. ha!
and another:

I think anyone who uses a playpen is too lazy to look after their own kids. It's our job as parents to watch our children, not put them in cages.

Hmmmm.
I can see some of their points...I mean, obviously it's not good parenting to leave your kid in a playpen all day - by any means. Especially if you're on the couch hitting a crack pipe.
But I'm surprised at how strong the opinions are opposing using one AT ALL.
I personally have a pack-n-play. It's been set up in my living room against a wall for probably about 5 months now? I use it at least once every day. If I have to leave the room for a bit, I can put adam in there and I know he's safe. If I have to cop a squat - then at least I'm not sitting on the toilet giving myself a hemorroid while trying to be quick because my kid is roaming around the house unsupervised and heading for almond roca in the cat box or something.
If I have a task I need to complete for work? Or if I'm cooking on the hot stove and I don't want him underfoot? Or anytime I just need to leave the room and can't have my eye on him for a minute or two? IN HE GOES. He's happy in there - he can play with his toys in there - and he's contained in a safe environment. I think a highchair or an exersaucer or a car seat is more imprisoning then a playpen...and honestly? I have no idea how mom's these days survive without one! (not to mention they are great for tossing all the toys into when it's quick-clean up time)
So tell me ladies...or guys if there is anyone of the male species reading this thing....what are your thoughts on the playpen topic? I stated my stance on the whole thing - but I fully respect everyone's right to their own opinion and I love to get both sides of the coin...so please, tell me your opinions!! What side of the fence are you on?
And if you're on the opposite side - what do you do with your kids when you just need a minute to pee?

It's all about the hair

The hair. The boy has got a massive head of hair....it's one of the main things people comment on. I've been putting off a haircut because he just seemed too little- and it was getting these curlies at the back of his neck and they were so cute, I just couldn't bring myself to cut his hair yet. But lately he's been looking a bit more like a raggamuffin, and the hair was getting "helmety", so I took a deep breath and admitted defeat. It was time to cut the hair. Only I had no idea where to take him to get it done, and the more I thought about it - I didn't think that him sitting on my lap while some stranger messed with his head would go over very well with him. I figured there would be screaming...lots of screaming. And I didn't want to pay for screaming because I'm cheap like that. So I decided to do it myself (dun-dun-DUUUUN). I watched a few videos online, bought some actual hair cutting scissors, a comb and a spray bottle, and figured if I messed it up really good, we'd at least have some good pictures of his hair before we had to buzz his head...haha. We brought his high chair into the office and popped in a video of Veggies Tales, Jonah and the Whale. He LOVES Veggie Tales and gets super focused when one is on, so we figured that would be a good distraction. I got snacks and a sippy cup of juice and took of bunch of before pictures:Hubs took some "during" pictures:And here's the AFTER pictures:To me...he looks like he's ready to sling a backpack over his shoulder and head out the door to school while calling out "see ya mom!" as he lets the screen door slam. Seriously, when did my baby turn into such a little boy???????????????????
He's 10 months old today by the way...ay-yi-yi

A Day at the Park

On Friday morning it started HAILING...which was so crazy it looked like SNOW which is unheard of here on the coast

So on Saturday, even though it was cold and windy - the sun was shining and so we headed off to the park. Does this kid love the swings or WHAT? My new favorite picture...notice the tongue, what a crack up

Sleeping

This is how my kid sleeps....and it's EXACTLY how I used to sleep - hilarious!
And look what I found on Friday morning...I walked in and saw this:He suddenly figured out how to pull himself up and STAND in his crib. I was so shocked, I just had to grab the camera for evidence so hubs would believe me.

Reflecting

I am 8 years old. I am on the playground at the school across the street from my house. I am with my friend Jenny and we are sitting on top of the metal bars, something we are not allowed to do during school hours. We are comparing blisters on our hands when we hear voices. We look up and see two older boys walking across the grass in our direction. I look around and notice that the vast schoolyard is unusually empty. My stomach twists like something is wrong. The boys continue to walk towards us and stop at the end of the grass with their arms folded across their chest.
"Hi" the taller one says
"Hello" we both mumble back
I am studying the metal bar, running my hands over the worn places that are discolored.
"What are you girls up to?" the younger one says
"Nothing, just talking" Jenny says
"Why don't you come here and talk to us?" the older one says
"No thanks" she says and jumps off her bar into the sand below.
She turns around and looks at me with big eyes that say we need to leave. I look at the boys standing there and they are whispering to each other...I normally wouldn't jump off such a high bar, but I take a deep breath and drop myself into the sand.
We start walking up onto the grass and then onto the blacktop.
They follow and again we hear "Hey...hold on a second"
For some reason, we stop - turn - and look at them. They are standing about 10 feet away and the taller one says "how about we take you girls into the bushes and get fresh with you"...
My stomach flips around and my throat feels tight and I know we're in danger.
"yeah right" Jenny says...and she grabs my arm and we start walking back across the asphalt. Soon we are on the grassy field. We stop and glance back to see that the boys have followed.
Jenny looks at me and whispers "we're gonna have to run...on the count of three...."
"One..."
the boys are catching up to us
"Two..."
I can't breathe. I'm looking at my feet and hoping they know what to do...
"Three..."
I am frozen. I am watching Jenny run across the big schoolyard towards my house. Away from the boys...away from the danger. My feet are stuck...and I feel like things are going in slow motion.
The ground finally loosens it's hold on me, and just as I start to run, I feel a hand on my arm. I turn and open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. The taller boy grabs both of my wrists hard and bends my arms in front of him - between us. I'm trying to twist and flail my arms out of his grasp and I hear tiny squeals of struggle escape my lips. In my head I am screaming and panic-stricken. The boy just grips my wrists tighter and sneers at me with a sideways grin on his face. He has dark red hair and a smattering of freckles on his face. He is calm and controlled and smiling. The smaller boy with dark hair and a hat, watches this all take place, and laughs.
He starts walking backwards, pulling me across the grass. I am filled with an immense sense of terror and urgency and I start kicking my legs and thrashing around. At some point I connect hard with his shin and he lets go of my wrists. I turn and run as hard as I can towards home. I see Jenny has made it across the street and is running up to my front door. I don't even remember crossing the street. Suddenly I am home, and out of breath, and there is Jenny gasping for air and trying to tell my mom what happened. I see my mom's eyes are wide and her face is a combination of fear and distress as she hears what we have to say. She takes a deep breath, and grits her teeth. She looks out our big living room window to the schoolyard and I can see her jaw muscles moving on the sides of her face. She tells us to lock the door behind her and she will be right back and then we will call the police. Jenny and I look at each other when we hear the word police. At that moment, I realize how terrified I am. We both start to shake and we climb up and lean over the back of our sofa to look out the big window. We watch my mom swiftly moving across the big yard towards the playground. We hold hands and I am scared that the boys will do something to my mom.
The playground is empty.
My mom walks all over and never finds the boys. She comes home and calls the police and tells us everything will be okay. She seems angry, and there are tears in her eyes. She is a mama bear, and somebody has messed with her cubs.
The police come and ask alot of questions. They seperate Jenny and I and ask more questions. They bring out books with pages and pages of men and ask us to point to some that resemble the boys. I point to a few and the policeman asks "are you sure?" and I look at his face and think maybe I don't remember the details like I should. Things are getting fuzzy. I feel like maybe somehow we've done something wrong, only I don't know what. One of the policeman says to me "you are lucky you got away". And my mind plays that sentence over and over and I know he's right, but I can't help but think of the what if's. To think of the girls who didn't get away. At some point it dawns on me that the boys saw us run home. They know were I live. My bedroom is at the front of the house...with windows accessible from the street. They know where I live.


I don't remember telling my dad or my brother what happened. I don't remember the few days immediately following. I just remember I was suddenly afraid to sleep in my own room. I was suddenly afraid of the dark. I was suddenly afraid to knock on my neighbors doors and sell candy...or collect money from my paper route. I was afraid because I thought perhaps one day, that sneering face would open the door.
I got away.
But in my mind...I was still sometimes trapped by the fear I felt. I knew I was too old to be sleeping on the floor in my parents room. But my fear of that controlled, and smiling face in my bedroom window beat out all the reasons I had to sleep in my own room.
Even living in a small town - I never saw those boys again. A few years later we moved out of that house...and as much as I didn't want to leave my friends or my school...I finally felt safe. They saw where I lived - but I got away.

Sickies and Stats

Soooo, it's been coughing/runnynose/fever/barfing central over here for about the last week. My munchkin is sick. He has a nasty virus and an ear infection to boot. Tonight was the first night he's actually kept food down in about 4 days. I'm tired and my poor little man is miserable. We've been to the doctor twice and I think he's starting to hate that place. Doesn't it just suck when little tiny people who can't talk yet are so sick??? I swear he spent almost a whole day just sitting on my lap and moaning. I would switch places with him in a second.
Anyway - that's what's been going on in my house. But we had his 9 month wellbaby appointment last week, so I have some stats to report!
He weighs 20 pounds exactly (40th percentile)
He has EIGHT teeth...and more on the way. Somebody get this boy a steak! (by the way, he loves steak)
If you tell him to say CHEEEESE - he shows all eight teeth to you: He is 27 1/2 inches long (25th percentile)
His head is off-the-charts big...(97th percentile - Charlie Brown Status)
He always crosses his feet: He is extremely tickelish...especially when I'm doing it with my toes: He's about ready for his first haircut...otherwise this is quickly going to be a mullet and I will never hear the end of it:
And we're having way too much fun with the different hairstyles:
This is The Caesar
The Combover
The Mad Scientist
I haven't yet found a food that he refuses to eat (well, except for ALL food this week during the sickies) and I've discovered that a handful of cheerios on his highchair tray will entertain him just long enough for me to either load or unload the dishwasher. He points with one finger (and oh yeah, tries to stick it up your NOSE)
A couple of days ago, he very distinctly said "DAD" and pointed at hubs who had walked down the hall to the bathroom. (I fully expect him to say every single family member's name before he says mama because he's a big STINKER)
He LOVES Veggie Tales. He watches more episodes of them that I'd like to admit. And Sesame Street is a close second.
He is thrilled by our cats and our dog and consistantly tries to bury his head in their fur
Houston we have crawling! Well...sort of. His own military style "my house is full of barbed wire" crawling anyway. Observe (after the attack of the giant ball): *I absolutely HATE how I sound on camera, so please ignore my yapping and chuckling in the background*

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