Lookin' Good in Hollywood

Or not so good if you happened to watch the Oscars. I can't believe I'm going to even acknowledge the that awards show in this post, since it was the most giant hosting fail ever. Luckily I loved The King's Speech, so I was happy to see it win the big awards.  But the only other highlight, was a red-carpet one:  June Bug laughing and waving at all the lovely arrivals.

He even threw in an extra smile when his BFF's mom walked in, smart boy that he is. He also realizes how hard they work to squeeze into those skimpy dresses and slim tuxes. June Bug, like any Hollywood baby has to keep up that physique for future star-filled-run-ins, and Mama Bug is practically like the paparazzi...

So off to the gym we go, My Gym to be exact. I learned of said gym from one of my favorite working mom's. They're little (or not-so-little anymore) B-Bug loves it. Needless to say, so does June Bug. He's quite the little showoff climbing here, there and everywhere. I'll end with a few "workout" photos to erase the image of last night's Oscar train wreck. 

Mr. Moo & dinner for two

Well, really for 3 (4 if you want to count Mr. Moo, June Bug's guest.)

Two months ago I would have clutched my pearls in horror had you told me I'd allow my 8 1/2 month child to feed himself avocado slices pulled off a burger. When it came to starting solids, I was OCD, by the book, crazy, one-of-those moms.

We dutifully followed the pediatrician and waited until after June Bug's 6 month check-up and then away we went. Closely following the 4 day waiting period between new things, no finger foods until 9 months...until June Bug decided he had his own plan.

This kid is just like his mama and a true DIY-er. Unfortunately that also includes diaper and bib removal at inopportune times. But we figured we should take advantage of the little guy's love of self-feeding and go on a date, or the closest thing we're going to get for now.

So we took advantage June Bug's DIY attitude and went out to dinner. Seeing as we live rather far from family, the hubby and I haven't had a  "proper" date since our pre-baby days. And I'm not really sure I'd call this a "real" date, but I'll take what I can get.  So dolled-up in his Sunday finest, secured in his booster seat with a pile of puffs and baby friendly food, June Bug happily chomped away, while Mama Bug and Daddy Bug enjoyed their own meals. Dad even so kindly shared the avocado slices off his veggie burger making June Bug an extra happy baby as he frantically clawed at his favorite green food. The nice but clearly childless waiter tried to give him crayons and a paper place mat, aka another "food" for June Bug to eat. I'm fairly certain crayons are not the most easily digested food.

Organizing his place mat with Mr. Moo

Unfortunately Mama Bug forgot a bib, and baby-led weaning is not the "cleanest" process. How long before June Bug learns to do his own laundry?

Practice what you preach

I preach balance, which means I'm eating those words as of late. And it's too bad they don't have nutritional value since I somehow failed to eat food for the better part of yesterday. 

Where did I leave my sense of balance?  Probably in one of the many piles that I sorted and filed in a really safe place that I've already forgotten. And instead of taking a moment to breath, I'm attempting to see-saw with an elephant and frankly I'm scared of heights.

So after over 8 hours of no food, I was not particularly pleasant by the time I crawled home and dug something out of the fridge. I can't seem to feed myself, but yet somehow our cats have a "weight" problem per their vet, which coincidentally was a Ryan Seacrest topic on his morning show.  Can I help it if one cat hisses at the other so she can eat his food?  Unfortunately my skipping my lunch neither slimmed the cat nor helped me get any extra work done, it just elongated the to-do list full of "little things".

The good news, there is no baby weight left to lose.  The bad news, I was still stupid enough to go for a jog with June Bug only to discover mid-run that the BOB jogger was recalled due to a stupid string.  Serves me right for checking work email while waiting for a stoplight. 

I knew I should have taken a nap and eaten cookies instead.

Though many thanks to my favorite soccer mom for the heads up. I seem to hear all news about 4-5 days late...though listening to Ryan Seacrest radio might have something to do with that.

Here's June Bug NOT enjoying veggies, he'd rather have a cookie too.

Order of Operations

I'm a follow-the-rules type of girl. I like structure and organization. Which brings me to my problem:

For 9 years of teaching, I have noticed a worsening trend when it comes to the chronology of "exercise and shower". Since my high schools days there has been a sizable increase in physical activity at the high school level. Unfortunately the amount of showering is directly disproportionate.

I am all about a lot of exercise. I am the crazy 33 week pregnant lady you saw jogging in the rain, 37 weeks dancing in your Zumba class, and 1 week past due hiking up giant hills. Selfishly, my favorite baby-related item, is my BOB. June Bug and I love long walks on the beach and a jog in the rain. But we have never confused what follows: June Bug gets a play date with his pack n' play and Mama Bug gets a shower.

So where did the confusion start?

I'm going to point a finger. That's right Sandra Boynton, I'm pointing at you. I love your books, I think most of them are cute and clever. But when you send your critters down to take a bath in one big tub and brush-and-brush-their teeth...do NOT send them back upstairs to exercise!!!!

It drives me crazy! Worse, it's June Bug's favorite part; must be the Y-chromosome.

I could stop reading the book, but of course June Bug loves it (proven by the giant chunks of missing cardboard that he's gnawed off). I have considering altering the order in which I read the pages, but then it doesn't rhyme, also a problem.

So alas The Going to Bed Book remains in the nightly line-up, but I'm open to suggestion. In the meantime here's a clean June Bug, sadly outgrowing Mama Bugs favorite towel.

At 2 months and 8.5 months!

S.L.E.E.P

S.L.E.E.P  (Sleep Loss Era, Exacerbated Postpartum)-- the period of time extending from first trimester until some future time I have not yet reached.

I'm fairly certain the topic of "sleep" has dominated 95% of all conversations since my first trimester. It's the baby equivalent of talking about the weather. I wasn't quite so candid when people told me I should sleep while I could. But let's be realistic:

During the  First Trimester, I found the bathroom tile to be only so comfortable and it seems by the time the perils of 1st tri wore off, I was in my 3rd trimester. I'm not sure what happened to the 2nd. And I would like to meet the 1-week-overdue-mom-to-be that can comfortably sleep. I would safely say I slept the most when June Bug was a newborn because he did "sleep like a baby".

But then the newborn stage fades away and infancy brings everyone's favorite question: "Is he sleeping..is he sleeping...is he sleeping?  If I dare say yes, he will invariably make a liar out of me and  if I say no I will receive copious amounts of advice a la:

a. you should put rice in his bottle...he won't take a bottle
b. you should give him a bottle....he won't take a bottle
c. you should give him rice cereal...it's a myth
d. you should...I have stopped listening

And when the nap-fighting ends and June Bug does succumb to sleep, I frantically race around doing the housework I swore I wouldn't do and lie awake at night planning the to-do list for tomorrow's naps mainly because I find A&E's Hoarders to be horrifying.  So even if June Bug is or isn't sleeping, Mama Bug most certainly isn't getting a ton of it.

Any volunteers to push me around in a stroller? I promise to fall asleep without any fuss.

While I wander off to find my own time for rest, here's June Bug "sleeping like a baby". 

Ahh, back when June bug would sleep anywhere, anyhow...

Rejecting the swaddle and earning the nickname Snuggle Bug

Still a Snuggle Bug, but also happy to sleep like a yogi in child's pose

"You cannot over communicate"

I'm borrowing my title from a fellow mommy and as a foreign language teacher I couldn't agree more. Currently I'm learning my 4th language:
               
                                    Baby Babble 101

Learning any  new language requires daily immersion and lucky for me June Bug has clearly discovered his voice and loves to use it. So I'm getting lots of practice.

A typical walk around the block, which you'll see is a popular daily activity,  involves a great deal of chatter. I like to think he's responding to my commentary but the Baby Whisperer would probably tell me otherwise:  

Mama Bug:  look at all the trees and pretty bird!!

June Bug: nananananananana               Baby mind reader: milk milk milk milk milk

Mama Bug:  oooooh cars and lights and people!!!


June Bug:  dadadadadadadada             Baby mind reader: milk milk milk milk milk

A WALK!!!! ::shrieking::

I was fairly certain all communications was lost on him at the moment (or on me); until yesterday!!

June Bug threw us a curve ball. Instead of crawling away and ignoring me during our usual session of:

"hi" wave "hi" wave "hi" wave

He WAVED back!!!!
Suddenly we became screaming, shrieking, just-elected-prom-queen girls as we "Hi'd" and "Wave'd" for the next 10 minutes. He was one proud little boy and I was one proud mama!!

Basking in his post-wave glory!

BEFORE finger painting with an 8 month old...

Remember:

1. Finger paint is not edible 
2. The white kitty probably doesn't want to add color to his wardrobe
3. Mommy's new pink and purple streaked hair is an 80's throwback and not in a good way
4. Finger paint does not make for good make-up alternative
5. Wet paint + crawling baby= slippery baby
6. Dunking your 8 mos old in the shower to remove excess paint is apparently not fun
7. An 8 mos old likes to suck on paper; paint is not a deterrent
8. Finger paint...fruit puree...it all feels the same and therefore must taste the same right?

             Which brings me back to point #1 Finger Paint is not edible

I'm pretty sure my running shoes will be forever stained in with lovely shades of Valentine's pink and purple; I'm hoping it'll make me run faster.

What? Am I doing it wrong?

Blue [Eyed] Valentine

So Hallmark has given us an excuse to indulge in something sweet and something you love. Love Bug had a weekend full of indulgences.  He was all about feeding himself. So instead of fearing the finger foods I let him feast. And feast he did, enjoying sweet potato fries, yogurt snacks, mum mums and by his decision string cheese when he swiped it from my hands.  He was quite pleased with himself to say the least. He's becoming quite the little food connoisseur and I'm enjoying the slow progression towards making one meal for everyone!

So in the spirit of Valentine's day,  I plan  to indulge in these blue eyes. Lucky for my post-baby-get-fit plan, they're low in calorie.

(Oh and for the record  I've never seen the movie Blue Valentine and with an infant on hand coupled with my hate of going to the movie theater,  the probability that I'll see it anytime soon is incredibly low. So my reference ends with the title.)

Happy Valentine's Day!!

you called me what??!!

Why do people love to hate nicknames?  I know I was not particularly fond of mine for a good 24 years and around the same time I learned a love of cleaning, I also realized I actually **gasp** liked my nickname.

So is a good nickname really hard to find or does it get better with age?

I've been stuck in a perpetual name game for at least 17 months but probably longer. By the time they shipped my semi-truck-sized-8-days-over-due butt to Labor & Delivery my May Bug turned June Bug had 38 potential names, and we knew he was a boy.

How does one actually select a single name from such a ridiculous list? <<insert image of an exhausted, just gave birth after 27 hours of labor mama>> and ask her what her top picks would be.  I didn't receive much argument. For the record, there will be no picture. In fact, don't even use your imagination, just picture me at my best.

And what is the result of narrowing a list of 38 names to one?  38 nicknames.  Poor June Bug probably doesn't even know his real name because he has been called at least three dozen different things from Love Bug, June Bug, Doodle Bug,  to Chunk-a-monk, Monkey, Punky, Tiger... even I can't keep them straight.

I have, however,  caught some grief from numerous people for June Bug. You'd have thought I named him "wicked ugly child of the west." But I was informed that a "real June bug" is some giant ugly scary bug. Aren't all bugs giant, scary, ugly and many other things unless depicted by Disney and Pixar? So,  please erase any terrible images from your mind and enjoy a much cuter June bug baby; he doesn't require extermination and is drawn to water not light.

He does however crawl on all fours and is a Chicago Cubs fan. Some things can't be helped.

For 10 minutes...

I was BFF's with an Oscar nominee, but only for 10 minutes.  On a recent trip to Target for a few baby basics, a nice gentleman held the elevator door for June Bug and me.  He told me about his 9 month old daughter and we did the usual baby chit-chat and then moved on our merry way.

Fast-forward to the baby food aisle where a lovely woman pulls her cart up to mine and asks if it's okay for the kiddos to interact. Of course!!! June Bug loves a new friend and he and his adorable new girl friend proceed to giggle, coo, smile and flirt (there was even some hand holding in there). Nice man from the elevator also appears, who turns out to be the cute little girl's dad.

We stand around and chat "baby" for a good long time and somewhere in that 10 minutes I realize that the nice elevator man failed to mention (not that he really would have) a very key detail...the lovely mother of said 9 month old daughter is the oh-so-talented  Amy Adams. And she is every bit as sweet, kind, and adorable as you would imagine her. So is her equally-adorable little Aviana, who proceeded to call June Bug "Boon," her word for all her favorite things; the girl's got good taste.

So for 10 minutes I'll pretend Amy and I were BFF's and our kids were going to get married, or at least be very good baby friends.

I leave you with another sweet image, June Bug and his sweet potate "fries" (since I thought it would be tacky to snap a picture of Aviana and June Bug).

A precocious 5 year-old

"When I grow up I want to be a mommy, and I would like to marry a pediatrician, who would take care of babies and children too. We would have two children of our own. My mom says three are hard, and four are even harder to take care of all the time, so I'll stick to two!

I would be an 'at-home Mommy' and not work. I would take my little boy and girl to the park and to the movies. My husband would take us out to dinner, and movies too.

In my spare time I would shop for pretty clothes, and have lunch with my friends. I will NOT do housework. I'll have a maid, and a gardener too. The maid will do all the cooking!"

This is what my 5-year-old brain was plotting for me. Unfortunately, I do not have a gardener or a maid. And while my husband does a lot of our cooking, I do in fact do a great deal of housework. Mainly because I became a neat freak sometime after the age of 24 but definitely not before that; my college roommate and my mother can confirm this.

But one thing is for sure, I am a mommy and I'm doing my damnedest to let the cobwebs gather and spend as much time with my crazy little June Bug as the day allows, which does include lots of "pretty clothes" shopping while he's not old enough to rat me out.

I don't have any pictures of 5-year-old Mama Bug, so the little guy will have to do.