And we're home...

We're back from the Lake. And Baby B has a temperature. So, like any mommy, and despite the fact that this is not Baby B's first temperature, I googled infant + fever and am now in a panic over the many possibilities that this fever could potentially morph into.

Google should automatically disable itself if and when anyone tries to search for an ailment or symptoms of an ailment - be it the common cold or a hang-nail because, inevitably, the search will ultimately lead you to believe that the only plausible outcome to said ailment is death. Let's petition for this google feature. Agreed?

So anyway, I've checked on sweet precious umpteen times, administered rounds 1 and 2 of infant tylenol, plus motrin in the interim, and still feel like I'm at fault for whatever germies he's contracted. Thank goodness I only have 5 days left with the kindercritters. As long as I am a teacher, they will forever be the scapegoat for whatever illness befalls me or my family.

But, back to our weekend. Saturday was beautiful and we ventured to the Mills Springs Cornbread Festival where B wore Baby B in the Baby Bjorn for the first time since he weighed +20lbs (read: we forgot the stroller. doh.). Baby B thought he was part of the Mills Springs greeting committee and proceeded to wave to man and tree alike, babbling on about how sweet it was to ride forward facing on his daddy's chest. Both father and son were a sweaty mess post-Baby Bjorn ride, and even an ice cream cone didn't cool them down. I hope I am creating a great mental picture for you here, since, in addition to forgetting the stroller, we also forgot the camera. Figures.

Yesterday, Baby B took his first boat ride, and put his new life jacket to good use. It really didn't seem to bother him, fortunate for us since he loved to crawl around on the pontoon. Of course, B and I were within centimeters of him at all times, and it was a rather pleasant day, if not a bit long for those of us with little ones.

The SophDogg is sporting her life jacket body suit and pink crocs, and pulls both off way better than most of us could.

I hope y'all had a lovely Mem Day!

PS. Just because I wanted to convince you that Trouble Baby B is keeping his momma busy, please observe my son unfolding every stitch of laundry that I just folded and put into the basket. The only reason I let him do this was because I was on the phone pleading for air conditioning by this Friday.

And now I will go check on sweet precious for the 174th time since 8:00pm.

I guess I'll go eat worms!

Remember this post?

Well, the 80 degree weather has returned and, once again, it is hotter than hades at the Babbling household. And the air conditioner is being all tempermental and isn't working.

And - wouldn't it just figure - B's car is acting up and is on its way to the shop as we speak.

A little break, that's all I ask for, just a little one. Like, maybe just one or two months where we can just save money for the next impending financial drama. We're just on the verge of being debt free (with the exception of our student loans - blah!), so I should have figured that we were destined to have to fix, repair, or replace something. Adulthood seems to work that way. Sigh.

In other news, Baby B and I took a lengthy walk today which proved to be rather lucrative. First of all, I found a pedometer just laying on the sidewalk. It's a cheapo one, but it works. Then, I found two quarters. Can't beat being paid 50 cents to go on a walk, huh? And, lastly, and most importantly, I found a lovely, slimy earthworm that I couldn't help but show Baby B. Having never experienced the wonder and amazement that was his first earthworm, I made sure to document the whole experience so that I could blog put pictures in his baby book about it. He's holding the creepy crawly in the second picture after snagging it out of my hand.

Somehow he managed to squish the worm into two pieces while I wasn't looking (fooling with my camera maybe?), and I think I got earthworm pee all over both of our hands, but, hey, whatever. It was fun and squishy and earthwormy.

We're headed to The Lake for the extended weekend, so we'll be a little MIA for the next couple of days.

Oh, and because I think everyone should eat their dinner off of their head, I will leave you with this...

Happy Memorial Day Weekend, BFFs!

Trouble, thy name is Baby B...

Before and after photos depicting Baby B eating, er, dumping his dinner...

You would think I would have had time to blog in the past two days, but I've been busy cleaning our house for the impending arrival of our Very First Houseguests and chasing after Baby B. But mostly just chasing after Baby B. That kid is in to everything. Maybe when I change his nickname from Baby B to something else, I can just start referring to him as Trouble. Though, I would mean it in the most endearing way. Because, despite his exploratory nature, that child is pure sweet precious. 100% of him. Here are some examples of Trouble at his best...

I am now going to go organize my coupons because goodness knows I can't do that when Baby B is roaming the plains...

Wait...is that Jay-z or Spencer Pratt? I'm confused...

!newsflash!

Spencer Pratt is going to be a rapper. SRSLY. And, I quote, "I'm the white Jay-Z in the game. I'm doing the baller thing. I'm more for the streets." Again, SRSLY. Uh, Spence, what "streets" are you familiar with? I'm pretty sure that Rodeo Drive doesn't count. Not that I'm all gangsta or anything, but your privileged white boy status isn't really helping your cause. Just sayin'. I guess if this fails, he can just go back to producing music videos for his wife. Success is in the stars for Speidi, is it not?

Had to get that off my chest. I'm sure it totally matters what I think.

Anyway, I spent all day cleaning. Mainly cleaning out and rearranging and de-clothing closets. You would not believe the amount of clothing that B and I own - yet, I never seem to have anything to wear. Strange.

Part of this task included removing all of the clothes that we no longer wear and somehow getting them down the stairs. My method for accomplishing this was me shoving all of the clothes (literally, thousands of clothes I think) to the edge of the stairs and then gracefully kicking them down until the heap was then at the bottom of the stairs instead of the top. Clever, eh?

My method of cleaning usually involves purging displaced stuff (i.e. clutter) from one room into another, ultimately amassing a collection of random objects in our kitchen that I must somehow get to the basement. The basement is our catch-all and has turned into a scary place. Not scary as in boo-ah!, but scary as in oh-my-goodness-you-may-not-see-the-floor-soon kind of scary.

It's practically begging me to have a yard sale. We have been in our house just two years, married three, and have managed to have a yard sale each year. Insane.

Alright, BFFs, have a great Saturday. And, if you coupon, go getcha a Sunday paper tomorrow because it's loaded!

Anyone? Anyone?

Hi all. B and I are looking to replace our ANCIENT air conditioning unit this summer. I can't seem to find anywhere on the internet that tells me how much this bad boy is going to cost without first asking me to proffer my telephone number, address, and firstborn child. I just need an estimate for goshdarn sake, and no I don't want you to stalk me with harassing courtesy calls during dinner to see if we're ready yet to buy a unit yet.

Anyway, if you could help me out by telling me how much you spent to replace your HVAC, it would be greatly appreciated. Anything to avoid actually calling someone who will inevitably convince me that they need to stop by just to show me a presentation. Know what I'm sayin'?

Thanks in advance :)

I'm not thinking about ice cream anymore...

I guess it's time for a post with some substance, rather than me posting about my ravenous milkshake craving. Which was, in fact, fulfilled by husband today when he brought me home a LARGE chocolate milkshake from Graeter's, and it was absolutely everything I dreamed it would be. I didn't even have to ask. He's great [swoon].

I really wanted to take a mental health day tomorrow, and pretty much do nothing. But, wouldn't ya know, I have a meeting tomorrow morning so I'll be at school. Sigh. Next week is my last full week of school, followed by a three-day week and then a two-day week. I guess I really can't complain.

* * * * *

Did you catch the most recent Momversation? It happened to be about birth plans. Unlike, Dooce, we didn't have a birth plan per se. We did, in fact, have a plan of action that B and I talked about leading up to the birth, but nothing written formally down on paper that I expected to issue to every medical care expert upon entering the labor and delivery ward. My birth plan was to HAVE THE BABY.

I mean, I do like to plan and all, but fine-tuning details such as what music would be playing as Baby B crowned seemed, um, a little ridiculous to me. Though, if I would have chose crowning music, I think the Survivor theme song might have been appropriate. Because, dear God, surviving natural labor was all about surviving.

In my pre-birth stupor, I planned to be a champion baby pusher-outer, opting for a full out au naturel birth. For me, this meant NO drugs and NO epidural. I was scared that I'd be in that sparse population of mother's who wound up paralyzed as a result of not bearing that beautiful pain. So, like an idiot, and with my husband by my side saying encouraging things like Our moms did this without drugs, you can do it! I went the natural route until I was TEN CENTIMETERS DILATED. Again, stupid.

So, it pretty much took me gobbling like a turkey and screaming obscenities to realize that Baby B would not be entering the world unless I was numb from the chest down. What, you never knew that women could morph into a Thanksgiving delicacy as a result of her abdomen being devoured by alien demon pains from the inside out? Oh, totally possible. Ask my nurses. They were probably whispering in the halls about the lady that gobble, gobble, gobbled her way through contractions. I don't even think it was me that was in my body during that time.

After ordering politely encouraging my husband to FIND THE NURSE, the original plan to go epidural-less was nixed and the sweet relief of the epidural allowed me to birth our beautiful child within the hour.

I won't be anyone's hero next time, and will totally have an epidural upon arriving at the hospital. Not that I have any desire to procreate in, oh, the next decade, but ya know. For future future reference.

Despite the horrendous labor pains, the result was pretty spectacular. See Exhibit XYZ below.

PS. If you did have a plan or do have a plan, good for you! I'm so not knocking them, it just wasn't for me. I'd love to hear about your birth plans or lack thereof!

ChocolateMilkshakeChocolateMilkshakeChocolateMilkshake

Recent conversation with my husband while he's edging around the mulch in the front yard...

B: So, I guess I'm going to straighten out this edge here...

Me: Yeah, uh, good idea. So, I've been wanting a chocolate milkshake. For five days in a row.

B: How far do you think I should come out? (motioning with shovel in the general direction of the mulch)

A: (Pointing) There looks good. Five nights in a row, B. Five nights.

B: Hmm?

A: (Walking inside) Just let me know if you find any chocolate milkshakes out there in the mulch.

PMS, anyone?