C'mon, ride the train.

(Yes, I'm going to ignore the fact that I haven't posted in 6 months and just get right to the good stuff. Hi Amber!)

Earlier this week we went to a local fair that I spent a lot of time at as a kid. It's your typical fair with farm animals, good homecooking by old ladies, other fried fair food, parades, rides and carnies. I love it. I have so many memories of this thing, it's ridiculous. So I wanted Stella to experience the magic. And boy, did she.

Stella took her first-ever carnie ride. When we got over the ride portion of the fair, I didn't think she'd want anything to do with them. Nor did I think they had stuff for kids her age. But the minute we walked past this train, she says, "Train, peaz? Train, peaz?"

"Oh really, you want to go on that? Um, ok, let's get a ticket. I guess," says me feeling trepidation at my 19-month-old wanting to ride one of these notorious death traps/germ factories. "Look! Candy!" No luck, she was repeating the word "train" about 27 times. We (I) weren't getting out of this one.

So I get her a ticket to ride. I tell her she has to wait in line until it's her turn and she stands at this little gate like she knows exactly what to do, like she's done it a thousand times. I looked at her from behind and just couldn't believe it. My little girl was suddenly a big girl, waiting her turn to ride this exciting multi-colored train that was assembled by some random traveling carnie clown, who I'm sure didn't consider what awesome cargo it would be carrying and therefore put it together half assed, because what does he care? He doesn't pay the insurance on this thing and his kid isn't riding it. He just wants to push the Go button and get back to drinking his beer. Not that I'm a paranoid generalizer or anything.

I asked him if I was able to ride with her, because she's only 19 MONTHS OLD, SHE CAN'T RIDE THESE THINGS BY HERSELF! He gave me a pursed smile and shook his head.

Fine, but I'm buckling her in myself so that I know at least someone took precaution in the safety of my baby. My FIRST BORN. Remember that when you hit "Go", carnie face, REMEMBER THAT."

I thought that after I buckled Stella in, she would start to cry because she saw that she was getting on alone and would be frightened. Uh, as if. She stretched her arms out to relax and was ready to enjoy the ride. I stood off to the side and waved like a moron because that's all I could do. She was out of my hands. My Mom told me to tell the guy to stop the ride if she start crying, but I didn't. I knew she wasn't going to cry. I should have told him to stop the ride if I started crying, as that was the more likely scenario. Ugh. She just looked so big. So little, yet so big. It was a moment for me.

She laughed the entire 5 laps around. Every second from beginning to end was the experience of a lifetime for her. It was like a hot dog, ice cream, blueberries, wagons and shoes all rolled into one giant ball of awesome. Look at her:



My little big girl. Riding the rails.

She got to take two rides on this train. And when they were over she ran to me and said, "More train, Mama, more train!?" And then again with more feeling. Complete with tears. The softie in me could have spent $45 watching her ride this train the rest of the night. But then some kid walked by giving away balloons and saved me.

It was such a fun experience. I loved seeing her get so excited about something. She was so ready to tackle this. And she didn't just tackle it, she took a big 'ole bite out of it and went back for more. And came out with the biggest grin on her face this fair has ever seen. It was delicious.

UPDATE: we went back to the fair again tonight. This time she rode the carousel. You can pretty much forget everything I just said about the train. The carousel is where it's at. She told me the train is for babies and is soooo two days ago.

Stella - month 13.

I feel like Month 13 has been the month of all-of-sudden learning. It's like everything is clicking and I feel like Stella would score really well if she took the ACTs right now. She's becoming a functioning human being who says things and responds to things. She's a yummy little sponge, mimicing everything we do.

When I use hand sanitizer or say " gotta go wash my hands", she'll wring her little hands together just like I do. And when Nora goes outside to go to the bathroom, Stella will stand at the door and wait for her, and then when she sees her, she'll pick up the towel by the door to wipe the snow off of her feet.

She's been picking up the sign language like nobody's business. A couple of weeks ago one of her teachers told me that Stella was sitting at the table and wanted more food, so she gave the sign for "more" and then immediately gave the sign for "please"! She said "more, please!" She's polite to boot! And last night we got home from work/school and she gave me the sign for "eat". Food is very important to this child, especially when it comes in the form of blueberries, raisins and meatballs.

She knows what sound cows, ducks, lions, owls, horses, and microwaves make. We feel it's important that she know animal and appliance sounds. You never know when they might come in handy. Just say the word microwave and she'll beep. She even knows what buttons to push on the microwave to make it turn on (yes, I'm quite the gourmet chef, she's learned from the master).

But she's also getting a little temper. Her favorite way to get you to pick her up is to sit down and throw herself backward so that her little noggin bounces off the floor. Which is less than delightful, especially when done on the kitchen floor. Mike and I have learned when she's about to do it, so we'll grab her shirt and pull her forward. Is there anything worse than hearing the sound of skull meeting tile? Please let this just be a phase. I also wouldn't be mad if she would stop dropping her food on the floor. Nora+broccoli = unpleasantness for all. It wouldn't be so bad if she didn't look you right in the eyes and then drop it, just to spite you. She knows she shouldn't do it because she'll drop it and then shake her head no. These little things are smart I tell ya.

Oh this is too much fun.

Dinner With Schmucks.

Last night the three of us headed to dinner at one of the nicer restaurants in town. We were seated next to two gentleman who I'm guessing were in their sixties. As we sat down I caught a glimpse of one of the gentleman's faces - he looked less than pleased. I'm sure it had something to do with the fact that we had a baby... in a restaurant.

Our Stella is a good eater. She likes to eat (she ate 3 helpings of meatloaf and watermelon at school yesterday! I think she must be stealing other kids' lunches) and will eat just about anything. And as long as she has food in front of her you won't hear a peep out of her. She finds it rude when you eat in front of her and will tell you so. Manners, people! So we come prepared. I brought food, she ate some of our food and nary a peep left her mouth. You would never even have known she was there. I'd say she was pretty close to the perfect dining companion. (However, as Mike said, the floor may have disagreed. Messes, she can make them!)

So the men finish their meal and get up to leave and the one who glared at us stops at our table and says, "You've got a lovely little girl there." I say, "Thank you!" He says, "She's very well behaved." ...

Now, I cynically translate this comment as, "Dude, when you guys sat down I was pissed. I didn't want to hear your kid scream while I ate my dinner. You really shouldn't bring kids to this type of restaurant because you ruin dinners and you ruin lives. I've been sitting over there this whole time waiting for her to start yelling and then I was going to complain to the manager and have you removed. But imagine my surprise when she hardly made a sound. And now that I've finished my steak in peace, I need to apologize to you and your kid because I was a judgmental asshat. I really should stop being a crotchedy older guy and get over myself because I have kids too (he told me so) and I'm sure I wanted to take them to a nice restaurant without fear of jerkfaces like myself. And now I've become one. Shame on me. So, uh, your kid is lovely. Have a nice evening."

I'm sure I'm not too off here. Or am I? Was he just being nice? Am I projecting because I'm afraid of having a screaming baby in public? Or is this a thing? Do people hate to eat next to children? I'm definitely a big eye roller and sigher if I'm sitting near a kid on a long flight, but I don't think I've ever been angry to sit by a kid while I ate? And believe me, I'm pretty sensitive to annoying sounds. It's a cursed gift.

So is this just my spidey oversensitivity? You can tell me.

It's my party and I'll eye stab you if I want to.

This is the kind of picture you get when you have a birthday party during the time that the birthday honoree is supposed to be napping. You get a kid who is overly tired, probably overwhelmed, coming down from a sugar coma, with cake in her hair and on her knee (?), half dressed, clutching her favorite gift of all the 58 awesome gifts that were opened, and still looking as cute as can be. (Come to think of it, I have many "day after college party" photos that are quite similar to this.)

Note: she isn't officially 1 yet. We still have 9 days, but you know, the Holidays.

(Stella, I'm going to make a concerted effort to not make this excuse every year. You most definitely deserve your own day apart from "the season" and we will celebrate your day on your day.)

Another note: 1?

Another another note: No this carpet is not in our house.


Photo credit: Turtle Parade (thanks!)

In summary.

Annnnd... done. I did it. 30 days, 30 posts.

I certainly achieved quantity, not so sure about quality. But it's hard to go from very little to a lot in one month. I was hoping to end this with a meaty post, but I'm not quite finished with the one I was working on yet and quite frankly, I'm spent. Thankfully November is a 30-day month instead of 31. But you know what the best part is? This blog won't blow up tomorrow because it's December 1. Nope, I can still post here whenever I feel like it. So that post can wait until it's good and ready.

Can't say that this has helped me with my writing as I was hoping it would, but it did refresh my attitude about blogging. I should do it more. I love the connection with others and I enjoy writing about my life. So for that, I'm glad I did this. But you don't have to bother checking my blog tomorrow because I won't have anything for you.

Your comments have been fantastic. Thank you for caring and responding. And thank you for every awesome post that you all have written. It's been oodles of fun reading such good stuff this month. I've definitely taken some inspiration from each of your blogs. Meaning, I've taken some of your funny thoughts and will be passing them off as my own. But I'll wait a while so that you'll forget what you said.

Congrats to all who completed the challenge!

(Now, NaBloPoMo, I shall look forward to your email telling me what I've won.)

The One Where I Wrote About a Tweet.

I'm crossing the streams for tonight's post. I took to Twitter to find my blog inspiration.

MickeyDee

The next tweet that pops up will be the subject of my blog post for tonight.4 minutes ago via web

And this was the next tweet:

wrestlingkittie

I was just thinking that I am awesome, board games are fun, everyone poops, & cheese is the best! :) @MickeyDee3 minutes ago via txt
So here we go. Thanks WK for making it four subjects, I was trying to make this quick!
Wrestling Kitties is awesome. She is truly one of the funniest and most caring people I know. She goes out of her way to do kind things for people all of the time. She loves wrestling and may wind up being a crazy cat lady someday, but I still love her! Funny story: I remember her first day at work. Her office was a former closet. I had to help clean the papers and printer cartridges out of it before she started. And then I was told to keep it quiet. Our boss didn't want her to know that she was working in a closet. I think she figured it out in 2.2 seconds when she realized the door opened out and was barely wide enough to fit a desk. It also shared a wall with the bathroom, so she had to listen to people use the john and flush it all day. But she didn't complain about it, she just laughed. That's awesome.
Ooh, do I love me a good board game! I love it when the family gathers around for good healthy competition. But only when I win. Come to think of it, I haven't played a board game in a while, most games aren't boards anymore. I guess my favorite would have to be Sorry!.
Everyone Poops! Lordy, no one knows this better than me. I spend a lot time talking about poop. I guarantee that you could ask Wrestling Kitties, TwoPretzels, and Amber what is the first thing I do when I get home from work and they would know...
Cheese is the best! I survive on cheese. Cheese has seen a million faces, and rocked them all (except Stella's). It would be hard to choose my favorite kind - I love sharp cheddar, smoked gouda, havarti, asiago, cojack, gruyere, feta, and hard parmesan, to name a few.
This concludes our first installment of blogging other people's ideas. Who needs your prompts, NaBloPoMo? I've got 29 followers who can help!

And a partridge in a pear tree.

Eight adults.

Four kids.

Two dogs.

One and a half bathrooms.

Four days.

One house.

Seven additional family members.

One Christmas celebration.

Two birthday celebrations.

One pedicure.

Two turkeys.

Ten pounds of potatoes.

Six bottles of wine.

One promotion celebration.

One family cornhole tournament.

Eight-hour drive. (screw you, Cincinnati!)

One large family photo.

A thousand laughs.

Hope your Thanksgiving was as enjoyable as mine!

Breakin a sweat.

Shew! Nablopomofosho... you're really testing my endurance.

We're in the home stretch. I feel invigorated. I feel ALIVE! I'm gonna try and make these last three posts something epic.

How's everyone doing after this holiday stretch? Solidarity, my brotha and sistas. I'm here for you.

On bravery.

I miss the days when my Mom and I would brave the crazies and head out to the shopping mall at 5 a.m. the day after Thanksgiving. We haven't done it in years, but I will always remember the years that we did. It's not that we loved fighting the crowds and dealing with hassles, it's that we loved to make memories and have traditions. And it just happened to be a tradition sprinkled with awesome ass deals.

Happy Shopping!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving, All!

Spending time with the family, laughing, eating great homemade food, laughing - this is what the holidays are all about. I feel warm.

It's Stella's first Thanksgiving. I hope she knows how thankful I am for her.

For smiles.

Yeah, this happened. Purely by accident. Swearsies.

Photo circa 2005.

Photo credit: Wrestling Kitties.

Because I like you guys.

I'm definitely not a cook. But I do consider myself to be a good appetizer/dip maker. Make what you love to eat - isn't that what they say? Well if they don't, they should.

Wanna dazzle your family at Thanksgiving? Make this. It's an appetizer. But it's the appetizer to end all appetizers.

Goat Cheese Torte

You'll need:

8 ounces cream cheese, softened

8 ounces goat cheese, softened

1/4 - 1/2 cup pesto - patted dry

1/4 - 1/2 cup chopped sundried tomatoes packed in oil - but "dry" them off as best as possible

1 - 2 cloves garlic, minced

....

Once softened, mix the cream cheese and goat cheese together. Stir in garlic. Line a medium sized bowl with saran wrap in both directions. Put one layer of cheese mixture on the bottom. Spread half of the pesto mixture on top. Add another layer of cheese mixture. Put layer of sundried tomatoes. Put cheese mixture on top. Spread remaining pesto and top with leftover cheese mixture. Put fresh basil leaves on top if you're feeling fancy. Serve with crackers. Water crackers are my fave.

I usually get too heavy-handed with the garlic. I just made this and my sinuses are now uber clear. On the plus side, the vampires will leave me be. For once.

---------------------------------

Also, try this for your next football party. Or for your next lunch.

French Onion Dip

1 block of cream cheese, softened

1 can condensed French onion soup, not the powder stuff

1 cup mozzarella cheese

....

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix cream cheese and soup. Add mozzarella cheese, but save some. Bake for 30 minutes. With about 10 minutes left, top with remaining cheese. Serve with bread pieces.

I don't even like onions, but I eat the ever-living crap out of this. It's phenomenal.

Enjoy!

11 months of cool.

11? You must be crazy!

This one wasn't easy for me. With every minute that ticks by she's that much closer to ONE. And that's just not even possible. It's downright stupid. There's just no way time can go that quickly. I deserve an explanation for this.

Stella - 11 months

Loves: APPLES - good Lord does this kid love the apples!, black beans, chicken, sweet potatoes, regular potatoes, bread, strawberry-apple puffs, broccoli, Cheerios, pumpkin muffins, her measuring cups, ringing phones (she will put any item up to her ear and say "ohh?" as in "hello?" when she hears a phone ring, and if she doesn't have something nearby she'll just put her hand to her ear - it's brilliant!), walking into school in the morning and seeing all of her friends, nursing, sleeping, board books, being in the Baby Bjorn with Dad, raccoons in trashcans, Grandma Paula, pulling my hair and Nora.

Doesn't love: getting her diaper changed (that makes 3 of us, ugh), being put in her car seat, cheese as of late (she'll eat brussel sprouts but spits out cheese? who is this kid?), and ... that's about it. She loves life.

New in the last month: walks with a push toy, climbs steps, drinks from a sippy cup, says "uh oh", jumps up and down in crib, has two teeth!, points and shares.

Sigh.

You need to hold me. I won't be able to make it through these next four weeks without help. I'm too much of a sap.

I haz the sick.

Feeling like dookie today. Doing my best to make sure the kiddo doesn't contract it. I've been washing my hands like a mad woman. Nose is raw, hands are raw. Blogging is taking a backseat to getting healthy. Check back tomorrow.

Music lessons.

Last night Mike and I enjoyed an evening with The Coug. I've pretty much been a fan all my life. It's probably a little weird and probably not very hip. But it's music I remember listening to as a kid and it's always stuck with me. I like his grittiness, his real-life lyrics, his awareness that he has so much and his willingness to give back. I like him. We were definitely some of the youngest people there but it was a fun show.

He had this violinist who had some of the most cut arms I've ever seen. Lemme tell you something, this girl was a-ma-zing. I mean, she got to a point where she didn't even look human with her actions. She looked possessed and chaotic, but damn was it impressive.

It got me thinking. You know how when you're a kid and your parents force you to play an instrument but you think it's lame and then you're 32 and you wish you had stuck with it longer and could be better at it and then you have a kid and you realize that you're going to force them to play an instrument too so that when they're 32 they'll realize why you forced them? Yeah, me too.

I took piano lessons for about six years and I hated them. They were on Saturday mornings and screwed up my sleepover parties and really got in the way of my sacred Saved By The Bell time. Thank goodness for VCRs, ammi right? I was always so resentful of them. I hated practicing and lessons and recitals and having my old lady teacher cut my fingernails with her kitchen scissors because my nails were too long and would click on the keys. That hurt.

But then it would come Christmas time and I would play my repertoire of Christmas songs for my family and it would make them so happy. My grandparents and great aunts and uncles would beg me to play every year. And I was always petrified. That meant I would have to be the center of attention and show them that maybe I didn't practice as often as I should have. But they loved it! They ate it up. My great uncle would always give me money afterward to thank me. I still play those same songs every year. They're elementary level songs but my fingers know exactly what to do and I'm sorta proud that I at least know how to play some piano. My rendition of O Little Town of Bethlehem would bring tears to your eyes. It's my favorite to play.

Sometimes I'll bust out my old recital pieces - those are actually some really cool songs - and pretend like I'm a fifth grader again in my fancy velvet dress and patent leather shoes bowing before and after I've played. And inevitably my Dad will yell from the other room, "Play Harmonica Man for me!" So I do. It's his favorite. I figure it's the least I can do for always whining about having to go to lessons every week.

So, Stella: what do you want me to force you to take up? The piano or the violin? It's your choice, but YOU'RE DOING IT! You're welcome.

Little diddy...

"... about Jack and Diane..."

Live. Tonight.

Don't laugh. I'm nostalgic.

Love my Indiana boys!

Sweet revenge.

In October the whole D family gathered for the bust-your-gut Fall Festival in the 'ville. It's an annual fun family tradition complete with Pronto Pups, corn fritters, deep fried everything, sausage and cheese on a Donut Bank donut (my new fave!) and hundreds of other fat-laden, delicious food items.

Ever since we found out we were having a girl, my sister-in-law Kate and I have been excited for our girls to do things together. We're seeing to it that they become best friends.

So after a gorging at the Fall Festival in 90 degree heat, we decided to give our kids a bath.

Kate and I looked at each other. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'? Yes! A bath! Together! Cousins!" This is the kind of stuff friendships are built on.

So in they went.

I also got in (clothed). It's a big tub with a seat, plenty of room for three. Everyone gathered around with cameras to witness this monumental event.

Tess is a little more than 2 years old and Stella was a little over 9 months. So there's a sizable difference between them. We washed hair and played around a bit. Tess was rinsing her hair with a large cup, she dunked it under the water to fill it up and then... threw the entire cup of water directly in Stella's face.

Oh boy.

Stella was stunned. STUNNED. And then she lost it. Tears were everywhere. She couldn't believe that her best friend had done this to her.

So I picked her up and put her on my lap, trying to comfort her.

And then it happened.

She did the only thing she could do to retaliate.

She peed.

Stella peed on Tess.

Because she was sitting on my lap, the pee was able to take a nice, boy-like trajectory all over Tess, and my pants.

We roared. No one was expecting it. Least of all Tess.

Needless to say their bath time together was cut short.

So our first attempt at getting our kids to be besties didn't exactly go the way Kate and I had planned. But it's going to be so fun telling them that story someday when they are older and having a sleepover together.

Wordless Wednesday - Cousins.

I'm not supposed to talk today, but remind me to tell you a funny story about these two.

Just eat it!

Today for breakfast I had a donut. Today for lunch I had pizza. Today for dinner I had pizza.

Anyone looking for scientific evidence that you lose weight when you breastfeed, look no further. I'm your lab rat.

What a beautiful gift nature has given us. In so many, many ways.

Sometimes myself annoys myself.

My cousin moved to India today. She quit her awesome job with a major company in Chicago to teach art at an all boys elementary school.

India.

While it's not a move that I would ever make, I'm jealous of her courage. If I have one regret in life it's that I've never moved out of this area. Lest you think I'm not grateful for what I have, don't get it twisted, I have a great life here. I know this. And I'm thankful for it everyday. I just wish that my 23-year-old self had packed it up and taken this show on the road when it had the chance.

Sometimes I let myself think about this too much. And Facebook doesn't help. I see all of these people from high school living all across the country and I wonder why I'm not one of them. I don't hate Northwest Ohio, I hate that I don't know anything else.

Woe is me, right? Someone slap me.