Friday, June 29, 2012

Umbrella Drinks > Big Brother > Books

It's hot. If you were not aware of that, I wanted to tell you. I wouldn't have known if 753,000 of my  friends hadn't said so on Facebook :) It's out of the bag now, isn't it?! Rather than risk skin cancer or heat stroke, I'm sitting in my house blogging. Pantsless perhaps :) It IS Friday after all.

Which leads me to Five Questions.

1. What's your favorite childhood snack that you still eat as an adult?
Oooh that's a hard one. Probably Oreos. I still eat those really consistently (naughty mama). Every now and then I have to sneak one of Chloe's Fruit Roll-Ups for a sweet treat and a little nostalgia. Mm those remind me of the good ol' days!

2. What food will you not eat the low fat version of?
Oh let's see, just about ALL food, haha. I like whole milk, full-fat butter, Oreos (as I said), regular cheese, the list goes on and on... I do eat LITE Italian dressing if that counts? I quit fried food, so I feel justified in eating full fat.

3. What's your favorite way to cool off during the summer?
My FAVORITE way would be with an umbrella drink on the Gulf Shore (sans Debby, please). However, that's not a daily option. This summer the ONLY way is to just stay in my 68 degree living room with my little bundle of joy. When I'm not in newborn-mommy-mode, I like to float in the lake, in a pool, anywhere really, and that umbrella drink doesn't hurt, either :)

4. What's your favorite summer read?
I don't read much. Once in a while I will get wild, go to the library, and go on a reading spree, but usually I stick to my shows. What's my favorite summer SHOW you ask? Why, Big Brother, of course! It starts in just less than TWO WEEKS and I'm just a *tad* excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

5. What are you doing to stay cool in this awful heat?
As I said earlier (what's with the repetitive information here? Am I off my game?), I stay in. My hubby and father-in-law worked on my ac in my car to keep it nice and cool. I close my eyes when we pay the electric bill and keep the temperature in the house between 68 and 71. And I drink a LOT of iced tea. A. Lot. I also forego my boots for flip flops.

I wish I were sipping umbrella drinks. Have I mentioned that? Cue Garth Brooks please...

"..BRING! ME! TWOOOOOOOOOO pina coladas, I want ONE for each haaaaaand! Let's set sail with Captain Morgan, where we'll NEEEVER reach dry land......"

Sunday, June 17, 2012

My Mister Wonderful

I've crowed about my sweet hubby in many posts. You might re-visit some of the better ones (The Plan, A Note of Love, Why I Love Him, Good Girl-Dad) if you want the full picture, but today, on Father's Day, I am entering my Mister in the Mr. Wonderful Contest. CLICK HERE to vote for him!

From the outside, I'm sure a lot of people judge us. I've been a legal drinker longer than my husband has been driving. I grew up in town and took the academic track to an English degree and teaching, while he wants nothing more than to be a farmer. We don't necessarily "look" the part.

The first time we talked one-on-one, though, there was a connection. Not a chemistry like you have on a first date, or an infatuation that you develop for a boy you're fond of, but a personal connection. It felt like we already knew each other. We talked from the very beginning about feeling "meant to be," and I still believe we are.

We never 'had it easy' from the beginning. We dealt with parents who were skeptical, the left-over drama from my divorce, the on-going drama that comes with sharing a child, and judgments from outsiders. And that was just the first few months.

We moved in together before we'd even been together a year, which brought more doubt from others, but brought us even closer. Since the very beginning he's been my rock. He knows me better than anyone. He knows when to let me be, and he knows when to be tough with me. Sometimes he makes me mad because he won't let me pout or cry or fuss, but in the end I always realize he was reigning me in before I spiraled out of emotional control.

Being a young guy doesn't make it easy to jump into a family, but he did. He has supported me emotionally, mentally, physically, financially, and in any other way you could imagine. He has parented a daughter he never asked for, and shown love to her that most guys wouldn't be capable of.

Even as I type this, she is sitting next to me, chatting INCESSANTLY and asking me ridiculous questions such as, "What's your least favorite color? Did you have a candy bar earlier? What does this Cheez-It look like to you?" Amid her questions she asked what I was writing. When I explained it,
she said, "Oh you have to add that he gave me a big hug this morning."

All that was enough for him to be Mister Wonderful in my eyes.

But then Baby K came along and gave me even more reasons to love this man.

He often works 12 or 15 hours in the hay field, sometimes seven days a week. When he comes home I fix him a plate, he scarfs down his dinner, washes his hands, and grabs hold of his baby girl. He talks to her like she is a person. He spends time with her every day. He doesn't leave in the morning or go to bed at night without loving on her (and me) and paying us some attention. He works his (super cute) butt off to provide for us. He goes to the store with me. He takes us out to eat. He supports all three of us emotionally, and makes all of us feel like we are, in one way or another, HIS girl.

This Father's Day I'm particularly thankful for my Mister, the most wonderful Mister Wonderful there is :)

Don't forget to go vote for my Mister. Click HERE. Find my link at the bottom of the post (Andrea @ A Broken Road), and click "like." Simple as that!

Monday, June 11, 2012

A Good Girl-Dad

My hubby is kind of the strong silent type.

Fits of laughter?

Ok if you know him WELL, you know he's pretty ornery, but his 'public persona' is more of a quiet, shy type. While he's loving and sweet with me one-on-one, he's not really one to show emotion. People who don't read my blog and see us out together probably don't think we have any kind of spark at all. There's a lot of banter, picking, joking, and FLICKING things at each-other me. He's really emotionally reserved.

He was also very vocally hoping for a boy.

So I wasn't sure what kind of a dad he would be to our little baby girl. I knew he would be a good father, but what kind? Would he be one of those dads who aren't too plugged-in during the baby days? Would they have a respect for each other, but not a gushy "daddy's girl" type of love? Would he encourage her in sports and farming, but not the 'girly' parts of life? The jury is still somewhat out, but I've learned a lot about him the past few weeks.

During my pregnancy he was all about the "wait and see." When the time came for bebe to arrive, that's when the questions started coming. About what would happen when she came out, where would she go, what would they do, how long would it take, etc.

Within the approximately 30 minutes that I was semi-comfortable with the epidural, I tried to give him a good idea about what was about to happen. Somewhere in the answering and discussing I must have mentioned him holding her. All I remember was his response.

"Honestly, I don't think I want to hold her until this is all over with and everyone leaves," he said, referring to the nursing staff and my doctor. I didn't ask him why, and it didn't bother me, it just stuck with me.

Fast forward a few minutes. Bebe had arrived, Hubbs had cut the cord, and the nurses had taken her over to the little baby thingy to clean her off, weigh her, and wrap her up (and whatever else they do over there). The nurse asked if we had a camera. In all the crazy rush we had forgotten about taking pictures! Hubby grabbed it and went over to take some pictures.

Between my constant questions to my doctor about WHAT exactly she was doing and was it going to hurt as she was finishing up my delivery, I glanced across the room at my sweet screaming bundle of joy. I watched as the nurse wrapped her in the blanket, and anticipated her speedy arrival in my arms.

As I watched, the nurse pushed Kailyn toward her daddy and asked if he wanted to hold her. There wasn't a moment's hesitation. He stuffed the camera in his pocket and took hold of her. All smiles and awe, he snuggled her close and inspected her little face. He kept her until my doctor was finished, then brought her to me and sat on the bed as we both admired our new addition.

By the next day he was changing diapers. Not often, but doing it nonetheless ;)

He spent a week catering to our every need, taking us to appointments and obligations. Keeping the house up. And holding that baby.

Every night when he gets home he cleans up quickly and gets a hold of his girl as quickly as he can. He drags her little sleeper over by his chair, and if she's not in his arms, she's right beside him. In the mornings he never gets out of bed until he's snuggled with her, and he never leaves her sight without a kiss and some lovin'.

For a guy who was hell-bent on having a boy, he's sure turned out to be a pretty great girl-dad :)

Friday, June 8, 2012

A Macaroni Secret

Kraft macaroni and cheese. It's Chloe's favorite thing. She would eat it twice a day every day if I would let her. The problem is that I won't. Contrary to what her Nana has told her, I don't consider mac and cheese a "healthy" "dairy" product nor a suitable meal on its own. It's a side dish, I tell her, to be eaten with something healthy, or at the very least with a hot dog on one of those frazzled nights.

While Chloe and I were at her game Wednesday night, Hubby made himself some mac and cheese (since I hadn't made dinner and he beat us home). Chloe went home with Nana, so she was none the wiser about the mac and cheese consumption. But as it always does, the truth came out today.

I was just getting out of the shower when I heard the door knob turning (in vain, as I had locked the door...a post for another day).

"I'm almost out," I told her.

"WELL," she started. For some reason NOTHING can wait until I get out of the shower. "Explain to me why there was macaroni on the FLOOR," she demanded. Before I could say anything, I saw her tiny fingers thrust under the bathroom door with two dried Kraft mac and cheese noodles on display.

"Um. Mister had that while we were gone to ball the other night," I confessed.

"So you're saying someone had mac and cheese for dinner WIFOUT me," she concluded.

"I guess," I said. The fingers slid back under the door, and she was gone. As she left the door I heard her call back, "I'll remember dat!"

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Close Encounters of the Grumpy Old Man Kind

I'm learning quickly how to plan my entire life around Kailyn's schedule, wants, needs, and preferences. She's becoming more predictable, so I am able to loosely plan my work, chores, and fun in her "down time." But sometimes there are things you just HAVE to do, and a crying baby tends to be the result when it's all said and done.

I found myself in this situation the other night. I had driven 25 miles to the Verizon store, had waited patiently for over an hour, and was next in line. An older man had come in behind us and sat down nearby. He was a typical old man. Polyester pants a little too short, plaid socks, loafers, shirt tucked, glasses, bald head, and a screwed up old face. He literally looked like a mean old fart.

A few minutes later, it started. The fussing. At first she was just having little fits of grunts and snorts. Soon it was all-out crying. I knew she was hungry and tired, but I was not about to forfeit my place in line that I had waited SO! LONG! to keep. Not sure what to do, I started for the door. I was becoming anxious, knowing how a crying baby irritates people in public.

As I pushed the door to open it, the old man called to me.

"Ma'am!" he said in his gruffy old man voice. I was ready to rip his head off. "Ma'am, don't take that baby outside, it's too hot."

I stood with my mouth agape. I was speechless. How DARE he tell me it was too hot outside. It wasn't that bad. I had to do SOMETHING besides let her cry right there in the store. Thoughts raced through my head in milliseconds, but before I could muster any words, he spoke again.

"That baby isn't bothering anybody, and it's hot. You just keep her in here," he said gently. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Are you sure?" I asked him (disregarding the fact that there were ten other people present).

He straightened his posture and piped up, "Anybody in here bothered by this baby?" A few shook their heads no. "Didn't think so!" he replied loudly. And I had to smile.

"Thank you," I said sincerely.

"Honey, my son is forty six years old, and I can tell you I'd rather listen to that little baby than his big mouth any day. She's tired of waiting; we all are. You don't worry about her."

So I waited it out. She fussed the whole time, and I know it was irritating because even I was flustered by the time we left, but we got our business done, and I saw that there IS such a thing as a non-grumpy old fart :) I also realized that not all people get angry and frustrated. I would've expected (and quietly ignored) dirty looks and sighs of exasperation, but what I got was acceptance and support. Several made comments to me as we waited about knowing what it's like to be a mom, understanding that it takes a lot to care for a newborn, and mostly, they all agreed that they MISSED that new baby time so much and encouraged me to enjoy every minute, even the stressful ones, before they are gone.

Looking down at my six-year-old baby girl, I decided they are right.