Here goes nothing...

I have always been one of those people that go on and on about how I will NEVER drive a minivan because ewww and shit. Who needs all that room? Who wants to look like a douchebag? I mean, minivans are for moms and old people with lots of grandchildren. "I won't give in!" I say. "I won't lose my cool!" There's "plenty of room in my Jetta!" "SUV's are totally enough!" You get the idea.

I 'pshawed' the car dealer when she suggested that I check out a Routan when I surprisingly declared how super tiny the Tiguan crossover was. "Nope. Never. Don't even talk to me about it" I said. After a little coaxing and a huge "what the hell!" I hopped up into the mom-mobile. "At least this will shut them up" I thought.

You know what? It wasn't so bad. The seats were leather...and soft. The touchscreen was FUN! I love touchscreens! It has how many DVD screens? You can watch 2 videos at once, you say? The doors do WHAT with the click of a button? Damn. Look at all that room! I could fit all of my photography equipment in here PLUS leave Mason's carseat and still have tons of room. There's plenty of space for another baby (when we have one) and a bigger stroller. It's comfortable. I don't feel like I am sitting on the dashboard and simultaniously smelling the backseat passenger's breath. It has a V6. It drives like a car.

Was I *gasp* losing my cool? Was I going to drive a minvan. Was I going to look like a mom? Wait.

Hold it.

I am a mom. I run a business that requires me to lug around all sorts of equipment and chairs and reflectors and props. What's the problem? Suddenly, I couldn't even tell you why I thought minivans were so bad? A "soccer mom" stigma? Maybe. But again, I am a mom. Doesn't everything have a stigma? You drive a 4 door sedan...you must be slow. And old. You drive an SUV? You must hate the environment. You drive a big truck? You must be overcompensating. You drive an expensive car? You must be snobby. Why do you need a HUGE SUV when you are a childless couple? Yadda yadda yadda.

No. I think you drive your car because you like it. Imagine that. My husband never bought a sportscar because he was going to take it somewhere and race it. My in-laws didn't buy Mini Coopers because they plan on re-enacting a scene from the Italian Job (that I know of). My mom didn't buy an SUV because she is short and couldn't see the road in a smaller car. Love you, mom! And your T-Rex arms!

I guess I never thought about all this before. I thought I knew what I liked. Maybe I was trying to hold on to someone that I am not. I am a mom, but I am still Tiff. Just because I drive a bigger car that has self-opening doors doesn't mean I am someone different. I still like to drink wine! I still like to dance and watch bad reality shows! I am the same boring, child-toting, vertically challenged, cackle-laughing person...I just drive a car that has more room for your judgemental ass. So hop on in! Pop in the Hangover and let's go out on the town! I will even let you take a nap in the back if you like!

Just a little sleepy.

There isn't too much going on over here. We are dealing with allergies now, because the other sickness has moved on, so you know, there has to be something new. We can't ever just be healthy. Not until at least May...Anyways, here is kind of what has been going on:
Just your typical Luc narcolepsy.


Hope everyone else is doing better than the bubble family!

Slow down, you're moving too fast.

I guess I can update my blog now that we are officially moved in with my parents. I know, freeloaders. I am not going to lie and say this was totally easy for all of us. I mean, with the pouring rain on moving day, the croup outbreak, missing the old house, old gym, friends, family, life, etc. but it is for the best and I know it will get easier. Mason is having a great time...well, minus the croup. Did I mention he has croup? Yeah. Something that we had to go to an urgent care facility to get perscriptions for considering we are now an hour away from his pediatrician. It was in that same urgent care facility that he had a major meltdown after skipping a nap and refusing to follow the NO EATING, NO DRINKING, & NO CELL PHONE rules...okay, I broke the last one.

I went and got a gym membership today at a place that I used to belong to...in high school. It is still the same, which almost made me cry because I realized how spoiled I had become and how instead of trying to catch up with a new, faster life, I must now learn how to slow down, minimize, and relax. Perhaps even find my happiness again. Now, before you go getting all confused, it is not that I am unhappy, but  I have certainly become hardened with life, age and responsibility. I am hoping that returning to my roots will find me in the same mindset that I had before college, cheating boyfriends, bad job experience and post-partum depression. I am also hoping that being within walking distance to family members and friends will help me drop the guilt of not being close to them, and them not getting to watch Mason grow up.

I think we will all be fine. I can do this. It just takes time and patience - which I am pretty bad at, but I can do this.

Therapy with Tiff

Two posts in two days! I know, right? It's like the old me is back.

You know how people who work in post offices are always incredibly unhappy? You do. Don't lie. Unless you work in a post office ::waves:: then YOU my friend, are the most delightful person I have ever met. No, wait! Don't leave!! Anywho, so these people. They are always soooo miserable. I have always wondered why. Why oh why USPS peeps, are you so down on life? I have a plan. Let's talk it out, I will give you some talking points, you let me know if I am right.

1. Those lights. They are YELLOW. And not "happy sunshine" yellow. God-awful pee-stained carpet yellow. I would probably lose the happy as well.
2. The most exciting part of your job is when a new line of stamps come out. And you get first dibs. Star Wars, anyone?
3. You repeat words like "perishable" and "liquid" all day.
4. It smells of carbon-copy paper in there. Ick.
5. You cannot accept credit cards without a valid signature. No, you cannot even accept cards with "PLEASE ID" on the back accompanied with the correct identification.
6. Every piece of paperwork you encounter is overly complicated. And the people filling them out are stooopid.
7. Your place of employment always has a dusty and dingy feel to it.
8. You are the only person that can work the counter. EVER. There is never anyone there to help you dwindle down that line that is now out the door. And if there is a second worker that day, it's Maude. The 80-something bored lady that smells of moth balls and applied for this job just to bug you and operate in the SLOWEST fashion EVER. ::big breath::
9. There will no doubt be a line that extends out the door at 5pm.
10. People bring their car-obsessed, super-tantrum throwing 18 month-old children with them and procede to keep asking you to repeat yourself as you try to explain how the PO Boxes work. This person also has to keep running away to chase said child as he darts for the parking lot.

Now. Why would you ever hate your job so much that you would make every person that comes into contact with you want to swerve into oncoming traffic after visiting you? I guess I will never know.

Dear Mason - 18 Months

18 Months

Dear Mason,

I know. I am behind. You must understand though, that I have been very busy packing up our lives. Our big, crowded, hoarder lives. How does a family of barely three completely fill a 2,000 square foot house? GREAT question. I will refer that one to you, little man. It seems I cannot take a step with hearing Elmo's voice, or one of the Yo Gabba Gabba characters, or the annoying children and adults that record all of the Fisher Price toy sounds. No matter how sneaky I am about putting your toys away, you will stop what you are doing, walk over to the closet and throw them all over the house. The only time you do not is at night, before bed. I tell you it is time to put your toys away, and you oblige me. Thank you for that.

At your 18 month appointment, you weighed 24 pounds, 14 ounces. A true testament to your wonderful eating habits. Just this morning, you knocked down 3 adult sized pancakes, a pear cup and an entire cup of milk. Well done. Now, you will smell of maple syrup until your next bath.

The weather has been really warm, well above 50 degrees for the past two days. We have been taking walks, our last walks, through the neighborhood. You scream, and flap your arms like a bird every time you see another child, or dog. Your true joy brings a smile to my face every time. I know you don't know how to fake happiness and I hope you never have to learn how. That is my mission: Mission Happy. My mission always fails though, when it is time to go inside. You scream bloody murder and somehow dislocate your shoulders so that you slide right out of my arms.

Your doctor and I had a little chat about the tantrums you love to throw lately. I have pretty much tried it all: yelling, ignoring, time outs, putting you in your crib and shutting the door, threatening day care...none of it was really working BUT a combination of time outs/ignoring you. I guess it slipped my mind that you wanted a reaction out of me. You were WINNING. I am smarter now, son. I know this game. Bring it on.

You recently started calling your toy school bus a BUS instead of a CAR. Maybe you really are listening to us when we tell you, "That's a bus/truck/etc." every time you say "CAR!". Maybe someday you will even make your Papa happy and say "Porsche" instead of just car. You will learn. Porsche's are way more than just cars.

We are moving soon. I think you are going to have a blast living with family for the next...forever. No, I promise it won't be forever. Maybe close to it though. And after forever, you will have a new house. And hopefully still-married parents. I'M KIDDING! DON'T CRY! Mommy and Daddy love eachother very much...yes, even when he elbows her in the head in her sleep.

I always say I don't know how you can get any cuter, funnier, or smarter. You keep blowing my mind every day. Slow down a little bit, okay?

I don't want my kid to be a pussaye.

I am trying not to raise a puss of a son. So when I don't immediately run to him and coddle him when he trips over a piece of dust and either says "WHOA!" or starts to whine-ish/cry a little, please don't look at me like I am the poster mother of child abuse and neglect. How's THAT for a run-on sentence?

Toddlers fall. I think that's kind of where the whole "toddle" part of toddler comes from. But I'm not latin. Or an English major, so I'm not positive. Mason falls A LOT. He is my child, I am clumsy. Yeah, a clumsy former-ballerina. Since he falls at least 12 times a day, I try not to exert too much effort to run to him as soon as I hear a thud. I mean, that would constitute me putting down my Bonbons, pausing Oprah and lifting my fat ass up off of the couch, which is tiring and way too much work.

I can tell if a fall is bad. If it is, I will go to him, scoop him up, kiss his booboo and tell him it's okay. I haven't encountered bloody stumps, stitches, or gaping wounds yet (I am sure that is coming...minus the stump part?). I am not completely heartless. He usually only cries for a minute or two, then continues on his quest to end world hunger with a bruise. News flash people: bruises are okay, and if this child is anything like me (YES) he will bruise easily. Again, not abusing him. Don't look at me like that.

Back to my point: I don't want my son to be a pussaye. I don't want him to cry at every little trip. I know this is working because half the time he yells "WHOA!" when he falls, gets up and keeps going. There are those couple times where he may be tired, hungry or just in a bad mood and completely loses it at that tiniest fall. I casually tell him to shake it off and he usually does. This is when the judging begins. Judgy-judgers always give me "those looks" like I am ruining my child. Trust me, he is just fine. I won't let him flip out forever. Usually all it takes is me saying "You're okay!" and then he is. We all are. We are all fine.

Take your pick.

What's worse? A sick child, or....a sick child husband?

Paul has been sick for a week now and I think it is causing more problems than when Mason gets sick. Let's weigh both sides, shall we?

A sick Mason does not typically sleep through the night. Neither does a sick Paul.
A sick Mason makes for a very tired Tiff. A sick Paul makes for a very tired Tiff as well.
Mason whines all day when he is sick. So does Paul.
I constantly have to chase Mason around with the booger sucker. I actually used the booger sucker on Paul last night.
Being sick makes Mason extremely grumpy. You guessed it.
Paul can help me with a sick Mason. Mason does not help with a sick Paul.
And when they are BOTH sick. Look out.

I guess Paul being sick doesn't completely outweigh Mason being sick, but either way. No fun.
This is where I would usually go into how big of a baby Paul is when he's sick and suckitupdude I was in labor for 30 hours, the last 5 being extremely painful. Shit, I was PREGNANT for nine months. You wanna talk about not being able to sleep? Try sleeping with an extra 25 pounds awkwardly strapped to your stomach. And don't forget to try to roll around with the lump everytime you need to go pee, which is every hour.
But I won't go there. I love my poor, sick husband too much.

Nonononono

I would post more. If I could.

If I wasn't chasing a small person around all day yelling NO NO nonononononono.

If I had time. If I wasn't stretching myself too thin*.

If I didn't need to clear off my memory card because of my upcoming trip to Boston.**

If I wasn't preparing my child for bike rides in the Spring, which is what, 27 months away?

Or teaching him how to take himself for walks in the snow.

Or cleaning up after things like this:

Or watching him meticulously line up the little car parts that he perfectly matches MATCHES every.time. He iz genius.

Or catching him climbing the coffee table cliff-hanger style. So this is why my table will never be clean.

Or giving him more presents. And watching him do his best Forest Gump impressions.

Or clapping along while he holds ho-downs with Papa to the tune of Old MacDonald.

Or just simply loving the shit out of him at all hours of the day.

*I have lost 6 pounds since 12.28.09 (I like to put it that way because it seems SOOoooo long ago). Check out my journey, and the journey of 3 other bad-ass chicks here.

**I am going to Boston, BOSTON soon. Never been. So excited. Packing snow suit.

Do you know the muffin girl?

So far, so good. I stocked my fridge and pantry with the good stuff and pushed aside all the bad stuff. I should throw it away but then there's always the starving children with their puppy dog eyes in those evil commercials flashing in my head.

Recipe numero uno comin' atcha.

Roasted Chickpeas
1 can of chick peas (garbonzo beans), drained and rinsed

Heat oven to 350 and roast for 50 minutes or until they happily dance around on your baking sheet and clink together.

This makes 4 servings (I usually make two cans at once for 8 servings), a serving equals roughly 1/4 cup.

I munch on these suckas for a snack and they are pretty damn good. They should be crunchy, not mushy. I imagine you could season them with something NOT SALT because salt iz bad but I haven't got that creative yet.

I have resumed my Zumba practices 3x a week and started running again. I took it slow on my first run because of my knee, which ended my short-lived running career in the first place. I also did some weight training today. Gee was that fun. Muscle definitely disappears WAY too fast if you don't keep poking them with a proverbial stick. I weigh myself on Monday so  AFTER New Years Eve and about 5 bagazillian glasses of wine and *blue drinks.

Happy New Year internets. Be safe and try not to pass out early like I am sure I probably will.



*Be patient, young grasshoppa. You shall see soon.

Survivors and a Big Ol' Cliche

We made it! We did it! Christmas is OVA. I made it all the way through without throwing anything, and I think that deserves at least a hefty pat on the back. I put up with annoying people, an unruly child and sometimes grumpy husband. AND they all put up with me without any fist fights. HORRAY!

Mason was, for the most part, a picture of perfection for all that we put him through. I mean, with all the missed naps, late bedtimes and incredibly overwhelming PILES of presents, he was pretty well behaved. Of course we had a few minor meltdowns, but I am blaming that on the impending arrival of the dreaded molars.

We ate. A LOT. I am not making that up.I promise that I probably ate enough to feed a small country. My mom made her Thanksgiving day feast on Christmas Day. Yeah. I missed it this year so she was kind enough to indulge me. And help me gain almost 4 pounds in one week. Go me.

SO, there it is. I am HUGE. Thighs are a thunderin' and gut is a gigglin'. My ass needs a major overhaul. I was doing pretty good up until about a couple weeks before the holidays and then BOOM. My body stopped. I was at a stand-still that I could not break. The culprit: carbs. I am a carboholic. I am the queen of pasta. I could eat it all day every day. But that my ass grows and that's no good. I know (because I have done it before) that if I at least cut back on my carb intake, I will drop the pounds in a snap. So here I go again, modifying my meals, whipping out my beloved South Beach cookbook (I hate the diet, but love the recipes) and getting down to business. I need to fit into things comfortably again minus the muffin top.

I guess that is my big cliche New Years Resolution. I am going to get rid of these last 15ish pounds left over from the Mason takeover of '08 and '09. I am going to go nibble on some celery now. As I do this I am going to try to post my recipes for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks in case anyone is interested in some healthy meals for the new year. Hmph. 15 to go.

It feels good if you play with it long enough.

Fun fact: Every time we change Mason, he immediately reaches down and begins playing with himself and laughing. I asked Paul, "Does it really feel THAT good, that fast?" His answer: "If you play with it long enough, yes." He will then, while still squeezing and pulling, point to the blocks on his shelf and say "cocks?". We are still working on the BLLL blllllllllllocks.

Hmph. Well then. I guess I am moving from teaching Mason to say "truck" instead of "car" to saying "penis" or at least "peepee". Which brings me to my next topic: Embracing your genitals (hey, there was no other way to put it). It really irks me when parents get all wierded out by their kid's "play time with themselves". Yes, they should be taught to NOT do it in public, but rather in their room or bathroom but I think it is horrible when a parent starts telling the child they are being "gross" or "wrong" or "disgusting" or just refusing to talk to the kid about their genitals AT ALL. Way to give your kid a complex, genius. Of course I am also of the thought that teaching ONLY abstenence from sex is wrong so there should be no shocker there.

Yes, I am aware that some day Mason will probably read this and give me a big old "MOOOOOMMMMM!!!!" and not speak to me for a while because I told the internets about him playing with himself, but that's what you get when you get stuck with me for a mom. That and Teddy Grahams and Yo Gabba Gabba  math equasions all day.

Bye Bye Blindness

Tomorrow I am FINALLY going in for my Lasik surgery. Afterwords I am going to have a glasses-burning party. Now Mason can't point and laugh at my specs anymore. Everytime he does I just giggle to myself like, "Yeah kid, keep laughing. Someday this will bite you in your cute little ass!". I think the part I am most excited about is not actually the re-gift of almost perfect sight, it's the sleeping for almost 24 hours and the AMBIEN yay AMBIEN! Tiger, gimme a call! I will sell them to you for like 50 million. That's right, I am now advertising my drug dealings on my blog people. Line up.

No, really. I think the whole day of sleep will officially catch me up from the first three weeks of Mason's life. Now I cannot beg Paul for days to sleep in anymore. I guess I will have to start dragging my lazy ass out of bed a little earlier. No more excuses!

The scariest part about all of this? I am not the least bit scared. There might be a tinge of nervousness in me, but not much. I guess I am jaded after being cut open and having a 7lb mass ripped out of me while I lay there AWAKE. Of course there was the almost-peeing of my pants when I read over all of the risks and all but GOD DAMN I am excited more than anything! Do I think I will go blind? Nah. I have complete trust in my doctor and I am not going to some chop-shop - I actually picked someone that has !LOTS OF AWARDS! and !LOTS OF RECOMMENDATIONS! (like that matters). I am sure I will longingly stare at everything I would miss seeing tonight before I go to bed, just in case. But I think I will probably be just fine. I am guessing you will hear all about it, internets.

A Ho, Ho, Hooooo

I present you with my 2009 Christmas list, my WISH list, I would like to stress. For Christmas this year I actually got a trip to Las Vegas and Lasik surgery (be jealy). A girl can dream, can't she? (all prices are from Amazon because, well, you are IDIOT if you shop anywhere else without looking there first)

To remind me of my times in Las Vegas: The Hangover Unrated on Bluray [$15.99]

To cover up the smell of poop, chewed up Teddy Grahams, etc: Ed Hardy - Hearts & Daggers [$55.95]

To keep my feetsies warm when I show my husband what a good wifey I am by shoveling the driveway: Bailey Button Uggs [$150]

Because I want to be her/am a mom with "mommy style" these days: Rachel Zoe : Style: A to Zoe [$10.87]

Even though I haven't seen it yet, but let's be for real: BRAD PITT: Inglorious Basterds on Bluray [$18.99]

BEHOLD. For the organizational freak that I am and because it's PURPLE: Brother PT-80 Label Maker [$27.74]

To cook with...or giggle about the name: 6 Qt Dutch Oven in Green [$77.00]

Okay, well there you have it. My Christmas wish list. Go forth and buy. Email me for my address kthanksbye.

AND CAN I ADD? Yes. I want a new Dyson...a Dyson Ball please. To my delight, Jill over at Baby Rabies is having a giveaway for one. Hopefully I will get picked. Squeeeeeel. Go! Try to win! Also, follow me on Twitter and follow Jill too... @tiffluc and @babyrabies!

I Haz Ballz?

I realized a funny thing recently: I have balls. Maybe they grew after I had Mason? Maybe they are some sort of post-partum side-effect? Somewhere in the last year I became a hard ass. Somewhere between THE CRAZY and my wonderful little boy, I became a bad ass that helps my husband be a stronger woman  man. I mean, isn't it the nuturing, loving mothers that are supposed to jump in the car and circle the block while the fathers endure the nap-time protests? Aren't I supposed to curl up in a ball in the corner and rock back and forth while muttering something about Protective Services?

"What are you doing? Why did you just bring him back downstairs? IT IS NAP TIME."
"But he's crying, he doesn't want to take a nap now..."
"Too bad. Put him in his crib and shut the door. He needs a nap. He will go to sleep."

Yeah. That's me. The one without the italics.

Where Being Nice Gets You.

There is this particular strech of road in our town where I used to get extremely feisty and all race car driver on everyone's ass (of course this was pre-Mason and pre-crazy person meds). There are also a couple other "hot spots" around this great state that I have learned you have to be extra-defensive in your driving skillz. Like, for instance, let's say there are currently two lanes and there is a BIG YELLOW SIGN that shows the two lanes becoming one. Let's also pretend that you are already in the good lane, the one that isn't disappearing. Then, here comes asshole in his Mustang (I hate them BTW, sorry dad) and he soooo thinks he is going to beat you to the punch. Insert blood pressure spike, also insert my foot hitting the gas at warped speeds.

Oh OH OH and what about when you desperately need to change lanes because you don't want to be THAT PERSON? You know, the one I discussed above? Yeah, and NO ONE, not even the POPE will let you over? That's where the universe kills me, and buries me alive. Okay, that made no sense. This is where I make mental notes and keep them in my "EVIL BITCH" file for later. Fast forward to now, in the car with Paul. Someone needs to change lanes to avoid being "THAT PERSON" and I am refusing to let them in. Paul always asks why I don't just let them in. I say, "Because I am an evil, evil car-driving bitch and the universe hates me, so I am hating it back."

I have become much nicer when it comes to car driving since having Mason. I mean really, where do I have to go? Occasionally I even let someone pull out in front of me. I am THAT nice. I have been doing a lot of nice things lately - I am proud of this. Guess what though? The universe is shatting on me again. It seems every time I am pleased with my nice-ness, someone grabs a big handful of poo and slings it my way. I keep my mouth shut, I do my job as a human-being, I obey the rules and all that but then BAM! someone or something (usually someone) decides that maybe I am being a little too nice I need to remember to dust off my evil bitch file once and a while.

I have decided that perhaps I should take tomorrow and just be thankful for the important things ::insert them here:: and screw the universe and I urge you to do the same.

My job is done.

I am not ashamed to admit my love of cleanliness. Neither is my husband. You can imagine our surprise when  GASP we had a baby and he made messes. BIG ONES. And when he started walking? I cried for days about the constant state of mess my house was in. Then I got an idea:

He did this all on his own. I swear to gawd and stuff.

Hold on to that Feeling.

I know I haven't been around for hmmm a while. I promise I am going to make a good effort to update this little blog more often now that things have quieted down. I guess this might be a stupid statement since the holidays are coming up, but oh well.

I recently got back from a girls trip to Las Vegas. I would tell you more, but you know, there's that whole "what happens in Vegas" thing. I will say that it was legendary. I had so much fun and if anything, it made me realize I am so lucky to have what I have. It also made me realize that I am lucky to not be some geriatric corral member that goes by the name "Uncle Johnny" and is forced to shell out hundreds - if not thousands of dollars to get girls to hang out with him in the club.

I am a strong believer of staying true to who you are. Yes, I have a son now, but that does not mean that I should deprive myself of good times with best friends. I am still Tiff. I still like to dance, sing and have a drink or twelve. I think that it is very pathetic when people, especially mothers and fathers, lose themselves and become a slave to their husbands/wives and children. I am a great mom and the fact that I still live a smidge of my former life makes me a better mom. I missed Mason and Paul greatly and honestly could not wait to get back home to them. I can say that I have never been at the grocery store by myself after a year of the same routine and thought "Damn, self. I can't wait to see them when I get home."

Sometimes it takes a trip, no matter the length, to make you realize how lucky and how great a mom you are for taking this time for yourself. It will not make you a bad mom. It will make you a better mom. You will hang on to who you are inside. You will be rewarded. Yes, becoming a mother changes you - I cannot argue with that. BUT it does not COMPLETELY change you. If it does, I recommend you seek help. With that said, I am not going to let people who try to make me feel guilty bother me. Doneskis.

VIVA LAS VEGAS!

Stay tuned for my first ever giveaway featuring Monkey Butt Bows!

OH HEY THERE!

HI! I totally forgot you existed little bloggy.

Maybe it was my allergies? No.

Let's try the week after that. Cold? No.

h1n1? Nah. I have yet to be infected. Nope. It was just plain life I guess. You see, I don't have much time (or really feel like it half the time) to jump on here and tell you about my boring life of nodding my head and saying, "Yep Mason, that's a CAAAARRRRRR". Because that's what I have been doing. All.day.every.day.

Mason does go to a little daycare-ish place now. Well, at the gym. That's right, this stay-at-home mom makes poor early childhood education majors watch her crazy toddler so she can work on her fitness. I enjoy every single second of that 2 hours (usually less) that I get to just crank up some Britney and sweat my ass off. Plus they totally LOVE him. And he totally LOVES them. He has so much fun and is in such a great mood when I pick him up. The funniest part is that when he gets his little sad face when I drop him off, you would think I would want to scoop him up and just go home. Nope. Not this girl. SEE YOU LATER CHILD.

I guess that shininess finally wore off, huh?

Loves.

What I love RIGHT NOW:

The fact that my husband stopped working today when Mason walked over to him holding one of his favorite books, (What's Wrong Little Pookey?) to read to him. In the middle of the day. Like, ahhhhh swoooon.

Forever 21. Can they make cuter clothes? Can they be any cheaper? A friend and I recently shopped there for an upcoming trip and I may just petition them to open a store closer to me.

The fact that fall is here. I love the colors, the air, the smells, the food, the clothes. I love it all. For some reason, the colors on the trees look even more vivid this year.

The fact that Mason resembles a tiny drunk man when we walks. It just blows my tiny mind that my child is walking. He is walking. And he carries stuff around the house. Like a real little person. And he loves to clean and put things in and out of other things. How soon can I teach him to unload the dishwasher? Oh, right. Knives.

Ornery.

I have an ornery child.

Did I know this was coming? Yes, probably. I mean, look at me. Usually he contains his madness to the confines of our home. He is always an angel when we venture out. People are constantly commenting on how good he is. Yes, he has his occasional outbursts in places (usually the places where he can hear his echo) but NEVER has he thrown an all-out fit.

Welcome to toddlerhood.

I had a meeting at a Panera yesterday and I had to take Mason. It was right after a nap so of course all he wanted to do was run around and play. And I am not kidding when I say RUN. The kid has only been walking for a week and he literally is RUNNING already. Luckily, the girl I was having said meeting with was VERY nice and VERY understanding.

Mason arched his back in protest when I tried to hold him or put him in his stroller, he flung juice all over the poor girl's computer, threw goldfish everywhere (sorry Panera people), screamed constantly so I couldn't hear what was being said, etc etc etc. Imagine every meltdown you have ever witnessed and scoffed at in public. That was my meeting. I even let him play with my new-er precious Blackberry. Yeah, it was THAT bad.

Once we left, he instantly turned into my angel again, and he has been ever since. I don't know what it was about that meeting yesterday but OH HOLY HELL HELP.