Blog by Numbers

1- Number of times since Adam and I have been married that he has done the grocery shopping...and it's right now. I'm excited at the new foods he will bring home, though I'm certain most of them will be frozen or boxed.



2- Number of people (out of approx. 10) who I actually liked at the cloth diapering meeting I went to yesterday. I realized that it is NOT true that I could be friends with anybody. There are certain people who, because they choose to cloth diaper (and feed their child organically, shop exclusively at Fresh Market, have a stay-at-home arrangement, bathe their child in lavender oil, and claim to have an "advanced" 6 month old who cannot even sit up) feel as though they are superior to every other parent/person they meet.



3- Mornings that I got up early this week to go run. (I actually made it out the door just once.)



4- Hours that I laid around on the Marsh's couch this morning while Josh reacted sourly toward Katie and I for being superbly fun and cool.



1450- Dollars that we will pay the insurance company tomorrow for my continual COBRA coverage. The good news? I will again have insurance (retroactive, but we failed to save any receipts from the last couple of months) and (ta-dah) we're in the clear to have another baby. With baby fever settling in again, that's very good news...even though writing the check hurts a little.

26- Days left until the adult prom.

Update: Adam has returned from the grocery store with (drumroll..........................) lots of frozen goods and boxes. Overall, though, he get's a B+. He's a good man, that Adam Walden.

Add "head butt" to that list. I taught Patrick how to do and say that last night, which was funny and seemed like an ok idea, until I didn't see it coming and he knocked me right in the nose hard enough to make my eyes water and my sinuses sting. He has a head of steel, apparently. To those of you (who?) who haven't seen it lately, it's on the larger side, too. Trust me, it hurts.

Patrick has had a cough for a couple of weeks now and I think that I've caught it. It's just a dry, hacking cough. It's not good at all. It doesn't hurt, though, which explains why he's really not that cranky. Maybe I need to start sleeping in his room so we can share the humidifier.

We're starting to get into using more words. I have suddenly become BaBa, but only sometimes. Patrick can say clock (glog or cog), dad, hi, bye-bye, pup(py), baby, Lana (Allana), and Papaw. These words accompany phrases like "What's that" and "Hi, Dad." He tries to repeat almost every simple word we say to him, but it really depends on what kind of a mood he's in. Lately, it's been goofy. He can also respond to a couple simple commands, like "come here" or "bring me your blanket." Just in the past day or so, he's been really into playing with us, which is fantastic and exhausting at the same time. Sometimes, I wish he understood what "relax for a minute" means because he must hear it 12 times a day.

Adam remembered! I got a call at 3:46 PM. He swore on Patrick's life that nobody reminded him, and I believe it. He scored some points today.

Happy Birthday to Me

Today is MY birthday...29 and fabulous, right? Seriously, with a crappy few weeks behind me (it's all a long story and I don't feel the need for a virtual rehash), I've been cautiously optimistic for a happy and care-free birthday. It's only 11am, and I have success. Patrick and I had a great morning, Katie greeted me with flowers at work, Colleen showed up with cake, a gift, and coffee, and I've received more Facebook well-wishes than ever in my life. (Kelly even remembered, which is a huge deal). Things are good. I don't know why there is such an emphasis on having a good birthday, but it means the world to me. So, although nobody reads this, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

What's great is that Adam has not realized yet that today is my birthday. He has a special (surprise) day for me tomorrow, and I honestly think that he is under the impression that tomorrow is my birthday. I'm not going to tell him otherwise. We'll see how long it takes for him to figure it out. In our entire history, Adam has only remembered my birthday once without help and that was last year. Before then, I've been given gifts on July 4th and August something-or-other, as if he just pulled dates out of a hat and hoped they were close. One year, just a few short weeks after we had celebrated my birthday, he called me at work to ask me when my birthday was. His words were, "Look, I know that it's in June, so just tell me the date."

It's the first day of Spring, too, which makes me even more optimistic and happy. It has to be symbolic for good things to come, right? Isn't that what Spring is about? Here is to hoping...

I think that either I have an obsession with food or I have just had extreme cases of cravings lately.

I just found the following online and copied and pasted it. It's kind of how I feel right now. This peanut butter thing is killing me. I haven't caved yet, though. There are something like 33 days left...

Ode to Peanut Butter
Oh Peanut Butter,
How I love thee.
Your creamy texture,
your salty taste.
I crave you all day,
I can taste you in my dreams.
Each bite is a sweet torture,
one flavorful burst after another.
As the toast dwindles away,
I bite it slowly, to savor.
Rather than inhale,
I treat it as an art.
It appears on crackers, toast,
and half sandwiches for the road.
Whether treated with a drop of honey,
or simply swiped from the jar.
My devotion to this creamy creation
has undoubtedly gone too far.
As I hoard jars in closets and cabinets,
I fear the day when I run out of places to put them.
Every morning I long for it's rich texture,
and I satisfy cravings with a bold daytime dip.
I believe I shall never tire of peanut butter,
no matter how many mornings I eat it.
It will always tempt my appetite
and quench my palate.
So until I become large and round,
this treat I will continue to suck down.
Until then, my delectable treat,
My peanut butter I shall always eat.
Oh, peanut butter how I love thee.
You will certainly be the death of me.

We're still trying to develop PJEW's palate, and so far, so good. He hasn't really disliked anything that he's tried, minus avocados (still.) I did read last night that it could take 10-15 attempts at feeding a child something before they actually "take" to it. I'm pretty determined with the avocados, so I'll keep trying.

Here was his menu yesterday:

Breakfast- Blueberry pancakes (again), 1/4 banana, and 8 oz. milk
Snack- Granola
Lunch- Hummus on a whole-grain wrap, mandarin oranges, water
Snack-1/2 of a granola bar and some Jelly Bellies
Dinner- Pork chops and sauerkraut, butter noodles,a handful of blueberries, and milk

For the record, the combination of oranges, sauerkraut, and hummus makes for horrendous diaper changes.