Friday, February 27, 2009

My Son, the Lady's Man

Recently we spent an evening with dear friends and their children. It is always so neat to see how the little ones interact with one another.

Our son, the token male, loved being the only stud of the bunch. And unbeknownst to us, he is quite the lady's man. Just check out his moves!


And it appears, in this next picture, as if he is saying, "What'd I do?"


God only knows what he'll be doing once puberty hits!

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Non-Maternal Instincts

If you work for Children's Services, please stop reading.

So I guess you could say that when it comes to protecting my child from all the crap that he can (and will) get into around the house, I suck.

Baby proofing just ain't my thing. I tend to be more of a he-needs-to-listen-to-me-and-learn-for-himself kind of mom. And if you don't agree with me, then don't send your child over here for a playdate. 

That's not to say I don't baby proof at all. We have one stair-blocking gate (an open stairwell leading to our basement), a half dozen outlet covers (I have yet to know anyone who has been electrocuted, but I don't want my son to be the first. Not cool), and cabinet locks on two cabinets containing hazardous materials (ironically these are the same materials used to clean the bathtub where he bathes and the windows that he smears his grubby paws across all day, but whatever).

Until this happened.


Yes, folks, that's a martini glass. Strangely my husband and I don't even like martinis. I've never even consumed a martini, ever. Seriously. Back in my alcohol consuming days I was a beer and wine girl, thank you very much. 

So heck if I know why we have martini glasses. I think it was part of the oh-we're-getting-married-and-need-sophisticated-things-like-cone-shaped-glassware-in-order-to-appear-more-married. Um, that lasted a whole second considering baby was born seven months after our wedding day. You do the math.

And naturally we have these very fancy glasses stored in the back of a cabinet that we never open. My son, on the other hand, didn't get the memo. He opened the cabinet. He found fun-shaped shiny things. He grabbed. He whacked. He said, "uh-oh." 

Okay, chill out. He's fine.  Not a scratch on his body. Maybe my son is meant to be one of those crazy mad scientists who walks on glass and eats fire. Rock on.

And in case you are wondering, this occurred immediately after the broken glass incident. 



Don't worry, we didn't get all whacky with the baby proofing after that. And trust me, baby proofing can get whacky - I've seen folks: put straps around the T.V. and bolt the straps to the wall so that the T.V. doesn't fall (because T.V.'s do that sort of thing, apparently), place rubber corner protectors on everything in sight including rubber corners, lock toilets and refrigerators, fence in play areas inside an enclosed room inside a locked house, and mount their dresser to the wall so that it doesn't tip over and fall on baby (right).

There are even people who pay people to come to their house and tell them all the ways that their kids will die because of the type of blinds they have or the door knobs they don't have.

Not us. My son does not and never will live in a bubble. He has fallen off of a couch, out of a bed, and down a few stairs. And now with the broken glass incident on his record, I surely should be in jail for child endangerment, don't ya think?

Dear Lord,

Am I a terrible mother? I simply want my son to explore and go on adventures and journey through his childhood. So, yeah, the glass breaking incident wasn't one of my mothering highlights, but I learned from it, ain't that the point? And my son, well, he learned that breaking glass can be fun. Because, well, it can be. 

Are you going to put me in a bubble when I get to Heaven? Because I probably deserve it.



And now it's your turn! Share your not-so-sunny tale of parenthood. Why? Because we could all use a little oops-I-forgot-the-baby-at-home camaraderie.

To participate (today and every Thursday):
  1. Somewhere in your post link to my blog. The easiest way to do this is to add the Blessed Treehouse button to your post (copy and paste the html, found in the right sidebar). By adding the button to your post, the link to my blog will automatically be included.
  2. Write your Non-Maternal Instincts post!
  3. Use Mister Linky below to enter your name or your blog's name and a link directly to your Non-Maternal Instincts post.
  4. Check out the other Non-Maternal Instincts posts - you know you want to hear all the horror stories. But just remember, pass judgment and you'll turn to find your own kid shoving dog treat infested toys down his mouth. You've been warned.
Next week I hope to have a button to go along with this meme - It's in the design stage. In the meantime, show me some meme love. It doesn't have to be anything long or fancy - just a simple post dishin' out all the vomit-in-the-hair details. It'll be therapeutic. You can thank me later.



Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Drill, Baby, Drill


As if my husband needs an excuse to get out the power tools - check back tomorrow to find out why my  boys were busy with the drill.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Practically Green Vlog: Reusable Shopping Bags



My apologies for the quality of this video. I first converted the video to a higher quality format, but the file was too big for vimeo. In order for it to upload, I had to use a lower quality format.

Also, you will notice that halfway through the video, my voice becomes quite soft. I was trying to balance out the volume (I used both my iSight camera and my handheld video camera for this vlog). Not only that, but my son had just gone down for a nap, so I was trying to be quiet. I sound like I'm trying to be sexy, but that wasn't what I was trying to do at all. Then again, going green is very sexy, so it all works out, don't ya think?

Monday, February 23, 2009

Resting place


Apparently this pooch could care less about the carpeted floor, new couch, or plush leather chair.

Friday, February 20, 2009

The perfect end to the day.


My two boys reading a bedtime story - absolutely precious.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Non-Maternal Instincts

Whose food is it anyway?

What would possess me to make a meal for my 10-month old? Oh yeah, the fact that he needs to eat (something about food, water, shelter, blah, blah, blah).

So then why is it that my I've-already-devoured-two-scoops-of-premium-dog-food chow hound ends up eating more of my delicately grilled bread with cheese than the young, growing boy for which it was intended? 

This has become a bit of a game at my house. I slave over lunch (and breakfast and dinner, but who's counting), I cut it up all cute and tiny, I place it sweetly on my son's tray, I bless it with love, and he SMASHES it, SPITS it, FLINGS it, CHUCKS it, and ultimately DROPS every last morsel on the ground for the I-eat-my-own-poop dog to consume. Oh, the horror.

So not only am I spending hard-earned money on a fifty-pound back of wholesome, all natural dog morsels, but I'm serving hard time in solitary confinement my kitchen on the dang pooch's fifth and sixth course as well.

And they say kids will eat if they're hungry - Ha! Maybe if I left him in an empty cell giving him his meal on a tray through a slot in the door. But not if eating also means playing "catch the over-priced organic strawberries" with a boy's best friend.

Dear Lord, 
What's it going to take to make my son eat? Maybe dogs, like cows, should instinctually regurgitate their food and force it into the mouth of its young (and by its young, I mean my son). Oh, you find that disgusting? Geesh, how is it any different than when I found the two of them chewing on different ends of the same dog toy? 

Seriously, people, my son chews on dog toys. Judge me if you dare.  



And now it's your turn! Share your not-so-sunny tale of parenthood. Why? Because we could all use a little oops-I-forgot-the-baby-at-home camaraderie. 

To participate (today and every Thursday):
  1. Somewhere in your post link to my blog. The easiest way to do this is to add the Blessed Treehouse button to your post (copy and paste the html, found in the right sidebar). By adding the button to your post, the link to my blog will automatically be included.
  2. Write your Non-Maternal Instincts post!
  3. Use Mister Linky below to enter your name or your blog's name and a link directly to your Non-Maternal Instincts post.
  4. Check out the other Non-Maternal Instincts posts - you know you want to hear all the horror stories. But just remember, pass judgment and you'll turn to find your own kid shoving dog treat infested toys down his mouth. You've been warned.
Beginning next week I hope to have a button to go along with this meme! In the meantime, show me some meme love. It doesn't have to be anything long or fancy - just a simple post dishin' out all the vomit-in-the-hair details. It'll be therapeutic. You can thank me later.



Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Daddy makes even laundry seem fun.

Why is it that everything is more fun when Daddy does it? When Mommy does the laundry, it's "cut it out, I'm trying to sort those and you keep mixing the colors with the whites. Now get out of my way." But when Daddy does the laundry, it's like a day at the amusement park.
Ugh, no wonder this kid is already saying "da-da."


And I haven't even heard the "mm" sound come out of his mouth yet. He's totally doing it on purpose. He's only 10 months old, and already he's giving me the silent I-hate-you-mom treatment.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Sugar and Spice v. Frogs and Snails

Have you heard the poem, What are Little Boys/Girls Made of?

What are little boys made of?
What are little boys made of?
Frogs and snails,
And puppy-dogs' tails;
That's what little boys are made of.

What are little girls made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice,
And all that's nice;
That's what little girls are made of.

The truth of this poem seemed evident as I watched our son and our friend's daughter eat cupcakes.

Don't you agree?





Friday, February 13, 2009

My Valentines


I could care less about the holiday (if that's what you want to call it). These two boys steal my heart everyday of the year.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Join me on Thursdays.

Next week join me in gettin' all feisty and swappin' a few oh-no-he-didn't stories. 

No, we won't be man-bashing (but trust me, I have a friend who is going through something that totally warrants castrating all married men who have ever even looked at another woman "that way." Hey, if us ladies have to suffer because Eve ate the apple (Genesis 3:16), then the men should have to suffer because of this guy's repulsive behavior, but I digress). 

Actually, we will be baby bashing. Okay, that sounds horrible. Let me rephrase. We will be telling our stories of non-maternal instinct, and I would love for you all to join along. My dear friend, Mister Linky, will be there to help (please pray that I "learn" Mister Linky), and my ever-so-talented friend, Karla, will be designing a cute button for this meme. 

So start thinking as a blogger thinks, "if I let him eat the dog food, that would make for a really great post." But I guarantee you won't have to create opportunities for releasing your non-maternal soul; let's face it, those opportunities creep up no matter where we turn (even when I pretend that he didn't just shove a fistful of kibbles down his throat, it later reemerges as a foul-colored, speckled substance clogging up his diaper). 

Don't hesitate to check this out if you need more information about this meme. 

Praying that you survive another week of motherhood.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Valentine Craft Aftermath



Poor kid. I held him down, stamped his hand with red ink, and plastered it across 40 greeting cards.

As you can tell by the look on his face, he loved it! Minus the holding down part. He didn't like that one bit.

And for those of you who are wondering, No, I am not teaching him to flip the bird. I was simply trying to open up his hand for a photo op. But now that he knows "how," if anyone ever leaves me a nasty comment, I'll be sure to direct them to this post {wink}.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Welcome to Blessed Treehouse!

Welcome to the Blessed Treehouse.

I have launched Blessed Treehouse in an effort to house all my posts focusing on family, motherhood, and green living in one space.

Thank you for finding me here, and for those of you who have been following me at Hooper Home and Non-Maternal Instincts, thank you for your continued readership and loyalty. I am forever grateful.

In addition to following me here, you can continue to visit me at Alidotes.

Thank you!

*Special shout-out to Karla of Fruition Designs. Karla, thank you for this lovely blog design. You exceeded my expectations; I am in love!

Sunday, February 8, 2009

I am. Blessed.



I am mom to a darn cute lil' man (who turns three in April), and a darn cute lil' gal (who turned one in August). Speaking of darn cute, so is my husband, Matt. And, so is our yellow lab, Jaeger.

Together, we live in the 'burbs though there is a piece of the country alive in our hearts.

God continues to bless us beyond our dreams.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Practically Green Vlog

Tuesdays often feature a video blog focusing on green tips and reviews.

Like so many of you, my family is conscience of our surrounding environment. Though we struggle to make ALL green choices ALL the time, we do what we can, when we can. For us, that is living green practically.

Check out what we are doing to give back to this beautiful earth with which God has so graciously blessed us.


Tuesday, August 11: Practically Green Vlog Hiatus

























Non-Maternal Instincts

Nonmaternal Instinct

Thursday, November 19: The Couch Escapade, Part Two

Thursday, November 12: The Couch Escapade, Part One

Thursday, November 5: This is what it looks like . . .

Thursday, October 29: Dog Edition


Thursday, October 15: Desperate.

Thursday, October 8: I swore I wouldn't be this way.

Thursday, September 24: I screamed this morning.

Thursday, August 13: Maternal Exhaustion


Thursday, July 23: Irony.



Thursday, July 2: My son gets shots today.

Thursday, June 25: It only gets worse.

Thursday, June 18: Whose hair is it anyway?






Thursday, May 7: Sleepless in Columbus


Thursday, April 23: Hold your nose.




Thursday, March 26: The curse of the toy





Thursday, February 19:
Whose food is it anyway?


Most Thursdays, I post Non-Maternal Instincts. Please join me in sharing the not-so-sunny tales of parenthood!

For more about Non-Maternal Instincts, please read below:

Every mom can attest to those indescribable moments of love and compassion when maternal instinct kicks-in, a desire to protect, defend and guard our children when adversity arises.

Yet there are times when a mother’s reaction is anything but maternal. Instinctual, sure. Animalistic, maybe. But definitely not maternal.

You know what I'm talking about, those vomit-in-the-hair, laundry-less clothes, what-day-is-it-now, countdown-to-bedtime, is-that-feces-on-the-wall, Jesus-come-back-now moments. When those anything-but-rare moments occur, our Carol Brady nature seems merely a stranger. And because we can all use a little oops-I-forgot-the-baby-at-home camaraderie, I invite you to blog with me, sharing our moments of non-maternal instinct and the hail mary prayers that we use to survive.

* I should make one thing very clear – I love being a mom.

But as much as I love motherhood, it ain’t all blankets and booties. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t give myself this pep talk, “okay, I can do this, I don’t know how, but I can do this.” Yet in the same breathe I thank God everyday for my precious little man.

So here I go. Genuinely, whole-heartedly, painfully, frankly, truthfully, tenderly and sometimes heartbreakingly, spilling my tales of motherhood no matter how ugly it gets. The good news, I won’t be doing it alone. In addition to the big man upstairs who is always on my side, I invite you to share your non-maternal tales along with me.

* I want to include the following thoughts before I begin whining and groaning about the sometimes dark-side of motherhood.

In many ways our non-maternal instincts are simply derivative of our maternal instincts. When the little guy screams bloody murder in the middle of the grocery store, we experience such humiliation and frustration because it’s our kid. When it’s someone else’s kid, we continue pushing our cart and sifting through coupons. But when it’s our own flesh and blood, we usually have a less-than-tolerant reaction.

You know what I’m talking about: we either jump ship leaving the cart, groceries and all, smack dab in the middle of aisle seven as we drag our toddler out of the store by half of his arm, or we continue shopping as if we had the grocery store all to ourselves only to bust open a bottle of wine the minute we get home in the hopes that a few swigs will diminish any memory of the scene caused by our little monster and witnessed by hundreds of innocent grocery shoppers.

Yes, our non-maternal instincts are very much maternal, but rather than taking ownership of my crazy-mom-in-aisle-seven moments, I’ll just call them non-maternal and pray that tomorrow offers the chance for my maternal instinct to shine.



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