More Games We Play

Another game we have while traveling in the vehicle is the Points game.  As long as we are in a vehicle with the engine turned on, we are playing.  We simply keep a running total of points of certain items we see (sneaking math in, of course). 

• Airplane - 2
• Firetruck - 50
• Ambulance -40
• Police Car - 10
• Bus - 18
• Helicopter - 10

Of course, I never remember how many total points I have so I just make up a number.

Since Og has some trouble playing this game, I’ve invented his own parallel points game.  Most of the point awards were determined based on Irmao’s fondness for reminding me of the disgusting things he did to me as an infant.

• Peeing on Irmao - 204
• Toots at Irmao - 32
• Belches at Irmao - 47
• Poops on Irmao  -163
• Explode poops on Irmao - 329
• Throws up on Irmao - 58
• Throws up in Irmao’s mouth - 950
• Any of the aformentioned activities on/at me - 0

Irmao is not happy with my point assignments.  Too bad.

This morning Irmao was holding Og.  Og puked on Irmao’s chest - Irmao’s fault because he NEVER buttons his jammies shirt.  Irmao wailed, “He puked.  He puked on me!  Get it off.  GET. IT. OFF!!!!”  I warned him to not drop the baby.  He freaked out more.  So instead of getting a towel like a normal mother, I got the camera.

Then I congratulated Og for getting 58 points.

My apologies to the person I was speaking to on the phone while these events transgressed.

However, just as a warning to the rest of you:  if you call me while my kids are puking on each other, I will put you on hold while I document their blessed Kodak moments.  I have my priorities, you know.

FYI:  Once Og gets to 20,000 points, I will deposit $1.48 in Irmao’s Future Therapy Fund.

9.7 lb Pumpkin

My little pumpkin is one month old today.  He’s reached 9lbs 11oz. 

Even more of a devastating milestone…my maternity leave is over halfway finished.  {Sob!}

Og on Tour

Og has kicked off his North American Tour 2008.

He’s appeared in Northcentral Wisconsin.

 

Northeast Wisconsin

Southcentral Wisconsin.

Upcoming venues include Milwaukee, Madison, Minneapolis and Chicago. 

Just look for the big bus mini-van with O’s slogan emblazoned on the side:

Mid-Debate Comments

I’m watching the Presidential debate and surfing at the same time.

Dear Senators:

1.  Why can’t either one of you answer the questions asked instead of spewing auto-feedback?

If you submitted these answers in your bluebook as final exam answers, you’d both be getting Fs.  The answer is supposed to match the question.

If these were your answers during a job interview I was hiring for, I would tell the HR Manager to send both of you the thanks-but-no-thanks letter.  I’m not going to hire someone who can’t answer the question I ask for fear that, as a corollary, won’t do the tasks assigned to him.

2.  Why can’t you stop bashing your opponent? 

I live in a swing state.  I’ve seen your ads…over and over and over and over and over again.  Anyone who is watching the debate right now instead of a cable TV show has obviously seen those bashing ads.  We don’t want to hear it anymore.  You can convince a lot more people to vote for you if you just answer the frickin’ question.  See #1.

3.  Why can’t you follow the rules that you agreed to abide by?

How many warnings do you think the State Trooper would give me for failing to heed the red lights?  And, “he did it too” is not an acceptable justification for not limiting your answers.  How can I trust you to not overspend or even comply with the nation’s budget if you even overspend your talk-seconds?  You can’t be accountable for your time allotment, what else won’t you be accountable for?

Shameless Bragging Photos

Pics from the weekend:

Grandpa and 43% of his grandkids.

 

Wendim and Grammy decorating her homegrown pumpkins. 

 

Og showing off his powerful neck muscles.

 

Why are there no photos of Og with adoring gazes directed at me?

Rekindling the Flame

Wendim got to see his on-again-off-again fiancee this weekend.  I believe it is now in the on-again stage.

Wendim was bragging when he got home that he kissed M.  He didn’t (as far as I know).  Poor girl’s rep is gonna be compromised now.  Sorry!!

And the best thing about their relationship (besides the great potential in-laws)?  M was able to order Wendim about and he responded to her commands.  Dang.  I need to have her come and straighten out Zygo for me.  Or, maybe Wendim is just a pushover for a chick who knows how to play with trucks in the sand.

Wait!!  M can just come to my house and order WENDIM around for me.  Either way, it would be greatly appreciated.

Heavy-Hearted

A few months ago, Irmao went to a Newborn Care class.  He learned a lot of safety issues related to baby care.  He’s asked me a lot of questions about the science/biology behind some of the safety requirements (facing backwards in car seats, temperature of bathwater, not drinking cow’s milk, etc.)

Yesterday, Irmao asked to carry Og in his car seat to the car for me.   The weight of the combo of the two (Og and the carseat) was a bit more than he was expecting.  The car seat swung a bit and he had to reposition the car seat several times during the carry.

When he arrived at the vehicle, I took the carseat from him and clicked Og in the car.  I then helped Irmao with his seatbelt because his latch was obscured by the base for Og’s seat. 

While I was leaning over him, I noticed Irmao’s eyes were misted over.  With a very wavering and scared voice, he said, “Mom. I shaked the carseat accidentally when I was carrying Og.”  Tears started falling.

Irmao knows all about the dangers of shaken baby syndrome.  He’s asked me about it on several occasions - both how the brain damage occurs (and the consequences) and why people might shake a baby.

My heart was breaking for him.  He was absolutely terrified that when he swung the carseat while he walked that he had caused irreparable damage to his baby brother’s brain.  I’m sure he was fearing his brother’s impending death.

I reassured him that the rocking/swinging of the carseat was not the same as shaking a baby, that Og’s head wasn’t flopping back and forth while he carried him and that Og is and will be fine.  He was basically rocking him, not shaking him.  I also thanked him for telling me what happened and his concerns.

The tears stopped falling, but he was awfully quiet after that.  I am sure he was still quite heavy-hearted.

I can’t even describe the conflict of emotions in me at that time.

Liya Kebede Foundation Donation

I finally got around to making our birth (Og) and birthday (me) donations.

We picked The Liya Kebede Foundation for both of us.

The Mission of the Liya Kebede Foundation is to reduce Maternal Newborn and Child mortality and to improve the health and well being of mothers and children around the world.

This meets Irmao’s specifications for an organization that helps babies that need help (in honor of Og’s birth).

This month it became very evident that the luck of my citizenship was a significant factor in me not becoming a statistic.  Og’s birth was a bit rough at the end.  Og and I greatly benefited from the readily accessible, well-educated (and plentiful) health professionals and modern medical equipment available in this country.  Had I been born in a developing country and my healthcare options were different…I just don’t want to think about that.

That’s why I doubled the donation for this organization.  My half is to help mothers with inadequate healthcare simply because of the geography of their birth.

In addition, this organization helps fund a specific healthcare project in Durame, the “big” town near Wendim’s birthplace of Shinshicho - the only hospital in his Ethiopian family’s region.

Rampant Discrimination

• chubby cheeks
• dimpled hands
• jelly belly
• squishy hiney
• leg rolls

I’m a little bitter. 

All those features are so cute and yummy on a new baby.  But, on a 36-year old woman….not so much.  Not fair.  Absoutely not fair.

Just to further my animosity-

Some of our household responses to burping:

Baby burps - Come on, Honey!  You can do it!  More.  More.  Great job.  Good boy!!
My burps -  Ewwww.  Gross.

Some of our household responses to pooping:

Baby poops -  Good job, Baby, get those poops out.  Isn’t his grunting funny?  He’s so cute when he poops.
My poops -  OMG.  Turn on the fan.

Some of our household responses to passing gas:

Baby toots - Oooooh.  I bet that was a relief.  His face is so scrunchy and hilarious when he toots!   Toot.  Toot. Toot. Tooooooot!!  Yeaaaaaa Brother!!!
My toots - MOOOOOM.  That is disgusting.  You are queen-Queen of the Powerful Toots!!!

I’m pretty sure I have a clear-cut case for age discrimination.

A Split

Split?   I always thought “a split” meant “about half-half.”  I didn’t realize it was also a synonym for “unanimous.”

Also, did you notice the one guy who raised his hand to vote for McCain also raised it to vote for Obama? He’s the one in the corner whose his wife made him put his hand back down.   I guess she’s not one of those white women voters that McCain stole from the Hillary supporters pile.

DWTS

Irmao and I are a bit addicted to Dancing with the Stars.

The boys willingly shake their booties and emulate the dancers on TV.

Before the season started, I had my money on Misty May.

Now, Warren Sapp has won me over.  Stinkin’ charming smile!  I still like Misty, though.  Or maybe I just would love to have her thighs-of-steel! 

Irmao has been harping on me to call in and vote.  Any time Misty and Warren aren’t one of the first two “safe”, he nags me about it being my fault if they don’t make it.

Yeah.  Too bad Americans aren’t as passionate about political voting as they are about American Idol and DWTS voting.   However, if I could call a 1-800 number to vote on the first Tuesday in November…  Hmmmm.

Trying to Get a Birth Announcement Photo

Og-o-licious.

Elvis - the early years.  Thank you.  Thank you very much.

Og’s response when McCain spoke during the debate.

My foreign policy experience?  I can see Canadian geese from my house.

Please.  No more photos.

Seriously.  NO MORE PHOTOS.  Don’t make me go all Russell Crowe on you and whip a telephone at your head!

Clearly the papparazi didn’t listen to the previous two requests.
Photo courtesy of TheSmokingGun.com.

 

 

Weekend in Pics

The family room floor.  A very small dent (approximately 0.04% done) in the removal of the crap particle board in preparation for installation of proper sub-flooring for the hardwood floors.

 

The boys.

 

“Mom.  Mom.  Please can I hold the baby?”  Three minutes later, this is the revised position I find them in.

Not even embarrassed to be caught playing with baby toys.

Our neighbors gave us a lovely gift for Og.  Wendim immediately went after the packaging materials.  Go figure.

Mama’s sanity saver.  Put on vibrate.  Place in front of the window.  Voila!!  6 free minutes to take a shower!!!

 

Birthday Wishes Do Come True

Flashback to this post…

Guess What!!!  I very unexpectedly received the Hannah Montana Toilet Seat Cover for my birthday!  Wa-hoooooo!

(Excuse the rehabbing in the background.)

Irmao thought I was ridiculously ecstatic about a pink and purple Hannah Montana toilet seat cover.  Wendim was jealous and wanted to know why I received a special package in the mail.

This was the second best birthday present I received all year.  (Sorry P-family for the second place finish.  If I had gotten my epidural at 12:05am on 9/10 instead of 11:45pm on 9/9, you totally would’ve scored first place.)

Mr. Jan Brady

Wendim is embracing his role as middle child to the fullest.

I was taking some solo photos of Og.  (I’m a second child and it was VERY difficult to find any baby photos of me without my stinkin’ older brother in them.) 

Wendim was having NONE of that.  His head and other assorted body parts kept showing up in the background of Og images.

“What about me?”
“Take my picture, MOM!”
“Og not like pictures. I like pictures.”
“Baby not a good smiler.  I a good smiler.  LOOK!”

He then proceeded to do some seriously photo-worthy activities that should NOT have baby brother cameoing in them.  This included such amazing activities as making his own peanut butter and jelly sandwich, without peanut butter.  He cut the top piece of toast into a circle shape using a “safety knife - not a dangerous knife.”

Yes.  Definitely photo-worthy.  Be awed.

I’ll Have What He’s Having

Remember Meg Ryan’s performance in THE diner scene from When Harry Met Sally?

That’s exactly how Og is just before he digs into his lunch.

I don’t know whether to be flattered or worried.

World’s Worst Mom, Part 87

Adding to the fodder for the World’s Worst Mom contest:

Irmao has a field trip to a nature preserve today.  He’s been very excited about it, mostly because they get to go on a boat and be out of school the WHOLE day.  On Friday, he brought home a list of things to bring to school today.  All weekend, he asked me if we had everything together for his trip (e.g. mosquito spray, rain jacket).  I basically replied, “yeah, yeah, yeah…we’ll get to it Sunday night.”

This morning I decked him out with bug-spray, duct-taped the ripped sleeve of the rain jacket back together, found his other jacket for him and prepared his cold lunch.  So, why WWM? 

I had the gall to suggest I send his cold lunch with him in his old Bob the Builder lunch box.  OMG!!  Bob the Builder is so 2005.  Only kindergartners like Bob the Builder.  Clearly I was trying to destroy all his self-worth by putting his lunch in a BOB THE BUILDER lunchbox.  He begged and pleaded to just get his lunch in a regular lunch bag.

Well… all our brown paper lunch bags had been used up (as puppets and other Irmao crafty projects).  We had only giant grocery store bags that screamed “Piggly Wiggly” on the side of them.    At this point, Irmao was d-y-i-n-g from impending embarrassment. 

You’d think that I’d just pulled into the school parking lot during recess time in my mint green terrycloth robe, pink hair curlers and shouted from the seat of my rusted out avocado colored El Camino, “Hey Irmao-Lovey-Bug, Mama has your lunch heeeeeeeere!”    No.  This all took place within our own kitchen.

He finally acquiesced to taking his lunch in a yellow plastic bag from the grocery store.

To ease the pain, and likely compromise my contention for WWM 2008, I did send a cupcake with a (disposable) container of frosting in his lunch.  He can either feed his shame with the chocolatey goodness or load up the cupcake with the sticky frosting and whip it at whatever kid starts teasing him.

Dear Irmao:  I restrained myself with you this time.  Next time you start having a hissy-fit about me purposefully trying to embarrass you or make you un-cool, I will go to your school to have lunch with you.  I will smooch you in front of your friends and call you all of your pet names.  AND, I will whip out a boob and start feeding your brother in front of the whole third grade.

As Requested…

Due to popular demand:

(For those of you with 3+ kids, you know this is the best shot you can get without photoshopping.)

Yummy!

How delicious are these cheeks?!!

Only thing better is when he has half of his bottom lip sucked in and a teeny dribble of milk falling down his chin.

40 Days

Right now, I’m a bit envious of the Ethiopian tradition of the 40 days of attentive care given by female relatives and friends to a post-natal mother…especially if this tradition includes banishment of all adult males for that 40 day period.

—-

Zygo’s English classes and tutors must be doing a bang up job with him.  Just today, he was able to construct a sentence with

• Proper subject-verb agreement
• Contracting
• Correct past perfect tense usage
• Appropriate positioning of adjectival numbers
• American colloquialisms
• Correct pronunciation, including the tough “ths” sound.

Too bad he was able to meld all those constructions into this sentence (directed at me):

You’ve been a nag for nine months.

Needless to say, my reply involved all of the aforementioned grammar constructions as well as

• Profanity
• Use of the exclamatory
• Commands
• And, (not exactly grammar-related) the use of physical visual cues to indicate emphasis