Seperation Anxiety

Nursing Adam has allowed me to be apart from him for limited amounts of time. However, since he has become mobile, his patience to sit and nurse is almost nonexistent. It's as if he's afraid something extremely important might happen in the 5 minutes he would be eating. Plus, he's keenly aware that in the time it takes to nurse, he could have shoveled in half a pizza, so why bother? Sure, part of me is sad to say goodbye, but let's face it, Adam hasn't looked like a baby since he was 2 months old, so I've come to terms with the fact that he is growing up. But what is he exactly? A toddler...maybe. But he can't walk. So maybe he's a "special" toddler. Adam Bomb can pound 8 0z in 3-5 minutes. I'm thinking of getting him one of the hats with a can on each side and a straw. You know what I'm talking about.
Anyways, point being, I haven't been many places by myself in ages. Thanks to a wise decision made 8 years ago, I have a wonderful husband who took some time off work so I could go to Memphis alone. In actuality Lindsey isn't suppose to be around germy kids and since Adam has discovered to joys of splashing in the toilet and eating leftover cheerios from under his high chair, it was more of a necessity that I keep the kids away from my immunosurpressed sister.

I spent a little over 48 glorious hours doing everything and nothing with Lindsey. Mom had driven to Nashville to rendezvous with Dad, which meant the "kids" where home alone. So, what do you do when your parents are out of town?

1)Knit. We went down to the craft room to work on Adam's letters for his room and some sweet little ladies were teaching how to knit. In the end they were disappointed with my progress, but I'd been up since 4:30 am, driven 5 hours and was starving. My scarf is still a work in progress. 2) Attend an ice cream social were we met up with the Ivies(our old Memphis neighbors who's daughter is now a patient at St Jude and was on the transplant floor the same time as Linds).

3) Drive over to Ronald McDonald for two dinners (always tastes better when someone else cooks, doesn't it?).

4)Find a cute scrapbooking store for paper to complete Adam's letters.

5) Steal some sewing projects from my sisters house since she was out of town. We stuck around and found a cute spot for a rug she didn't know where to put. Hope you like it Mel! Oh and I owe you an Oreo pudding snack pack. Thanks, it was delicious.

6) Watch Bend it Like Beckham and countless episodes of House Hunters International (note to self, don't buy an apartment in Paris unless you have over $700K to spend)

7) Skipbo. Man am I rusty. I didn't win a single round until just before I left.

8) Love Lindsey's undivided attention. When you're with Lindsey, you know your in the presence of greatness and I like to brag that I'm related to her, because to me that means I might have a chance to having a little bit of that greatness in me.

Progression of Nakedness

We have a routine. Eat, diaper change, get dressed. Everyday. Regardless. However, as the day goes on, Adam's clothes slowly disappear, until Steve comes home and finds him naked.

A picture taken in the early hours of the day. Adam, up to no good. Trying to make his mother stressed by playing inside a heavy bar stool that might tip over and take him with it.

BUT, at least he not naked, yet.

A few minutes later....
Ops, had a diaper blow out and now my shorts are in the hamper. Oh, what is that? A home grown tomato Mommy left in a bag on the floor because she saw me playing in the bar stool? Yum!

Ops, there went my shirt.

A few minutes later...NAKED!
Ah, naked, finally. Mission accomplished. I love being naked. I don't know why mom insist on me wearing clothes. It's the middle of July and we live in the steamy south. Although she tries, I usually wear her down by dinner. Just in time for Daddy to come home and wonder about Mom's parenting skills. Something about feeding and clothing children being a commandment?

Yes, having a boy is quite different then having a girl. Most of my memories of my only brother are of him running around the backyard naked. Sorry Daniel, but you know it's true. He never had a tan line as a kid because he loved fresh air on his tush. I think Adam is on the Dizzle route, but I do love seeing those thunder thighs.

And this is our all time low = airing out the diaper rash. No complaints from Adam bomb.

Sweet Home Alabama

It took a little over a month, but I think we've finally settled into our new rental home. While I still have a longing to own our own home, that time will come. For now we are basking in our additional square footage!

I'll admit the first few weeks were a little challenging. After almost a month in Memphis, I drove home with the kids on a Sunday, only to turn around Monday and start the move. Progress was slow due to a certain 10 month old who was feeling a little off balance, understandably. He had just mastered sitting up and was beginning to explore the world of crawling, then BAM! he's back in Birmingham. Ah, home at last...my own crib. Finally. Then BAM! New walls, new house, no Shannon to pick up my pacifier after I chuck it from my crib in a fit of rage! Only constant is Mom. I'll find comfort in being near her 18 hours a day, be it in her arms, standing by her side and holding onto or legs, or planted between her feet regardless of her task (this made cooking very scary). I am happy to report that, after sticking to a schedule for the first time in months (although it has meant sacrifice to Shannon and my social lives) Adam is a well balanced, happy boy who can play by himself for short increments and now naps longer because mom isn't swooping into his room every time he wakes up crying in fear that he will wake up his sister (they used to share a room).

I'd like to think I'm the kinda girl where money can't buy happiness. But, for a few extra bucks a month, we've added an additional bedroom for Shannon to spread her Polly pockets out and I don't have to worry about Adam ingesting Cinderella's bridal shoes, a garage to fill with junk, and a bigger backyard with my dream herb garden. In short, it was totally worth the countless trips around the block (we moved a total of .6 miles from our 1st Birmingham residence) with the cars filled with laundry baskets of whatever we could stuff into them.

Live is good.

Photo's by Shannon

Shannon's been bored with summer life and begging to go back to school. She has managed to fill some of her free time (which is from 6:30 am to 7:30 pm) by swiping my camera and catching some unflattering angles of the fam. Thank goodness for digital camera's because we wouldn't have discovered this hidden talent if we had to process roll after roll of film.Point in case...I never want to see this angle again. Sorry to subject you too it as well, but it's Shannon's perspective. Gives me a little more sympathy for the child. A self portrait (that's face paint (strawberry and blue's clues) just in case you were wondering, or worried)

Maybe this is why my banana cake failed...Adam managed to hurt himself exploring (once again) and needed a little extra TLC.Here's Adam glued to the oven (oh no, I didn't say TV). He'd rather watch and inhale the aroma of food. I'm not kidding, the kids a garbage disposal.

He hasn't grasped the concept of a window. I can see it, but I can't eat it!

Frustration at it's finest.

My favorite pic of Adam. He has the "uh, so what am I suppose to do?" look.

One of the few pics of Adam in the tub that I could post. The others were a little too revealing and I'm sure Adam wouldn't appreciate them being leaked to the Internet when he's older.

I think Shannon feels she's ready to be a shoe model because I've seen this photo taken day after day.

"Oh hi Papa. Were you getting dressed? Don't mind me. I'm just going to take a few pictures."

"Mommy won't talk to me when she's on the phone. So I'll take a photo instead."

"This is how Mommy manages to talk on the phone. She puts Adam in what she calls "baby jail." He also goes here when he turns the TV on and off."

I doubt we've seen the last of Photo's By Shannon. Maybe I'll create a blog exclusively for her day to day photography. But then again, I can barely keep this one alive. Good intentions.

When life's not a piece of cake

make trifle!It was to be my crowing achievement but getting ahead was my downfall. We were having friends over and I was making a cake from scratch (and getting it right the first time...maybe that was the beginning of the end for me). I made the cake two days ahead. The frosting the day before. The day of I went to frost the cake...uh oh. Butter does harden in the fridge Melissa. Duh!

Ok, 3 hours until people arrive. Please be enough time for it soften and come to room temp. Fast forward 3 depressing hours...As I hand Steve my car keys and say, "Fine, go get a frozen key lime pie", I had a moment of clarity. Cut up the worlds' ugliest cake and make a trifle (yes Lindsey, this cake totally blew our former "world's ugliest cake" out of the water. Maybe it will feel pretty now. My it rest in peace).It was much easier to let Shannon help me out and not cringe since it was already the world's ugliest cake. We didn't have anywhere to go but up. Plus, when you smother anything in whipped cream, you cover all blemishes.Shannon had to "sample" to ensure quality control. In the end it tasted great but was still considered an overall disaster.

If at first you don't succeed, bake and bake again.

Round 2, chocolate pound cake from scratch. No frosting this time, just gotta get the stinkin' cake right.

Whew, the cake turned out perfect. Where did things go wrong?

Transportation! The perfect cake went kamikaze off the cake plate and broke into a thousand tiny pieces. What have a learned from my previous folly's? Glue it together with frosting and cover it up.Again, tasted great, but still considered a complete failure.

3rd times' a charm...oh wait, not this time.

Cakelove (the book I'm studying) says that to be a consistent baker you must use a scale to measure everything. I know this it true, but I don't want to buy a scale. I add the recommended amount of mashed bananas, but apparently we buy jumbo bananas because the cake ended up way too dense. On a more positive note, the frosting went wonderful this time. I had planned on ending this post with a picture of the one that finally made it. The cake that made all my practice perfect. Unfortunately that cake has yet to exist. I hopped onto the scale at my parents house while visiting last weekend and have decided to delay another attempt pending a drop in lbs.

A Sweet Escape

I really do love Chattanooga.

A short 2 1/2 hour drive north and I'm home.

When Steve got Friday off for the 4th of July, we loaded up the Honda, some friends, some food and went to visit Papa. The weather was exactly what we needed (cool and low humidity). A visit to the Bread Basket for cinnamon rolls, Aretha Frankenstein's for blueberry pancakes, Coolidge Park for a splash in the fountains, a walk over the Walnut St Bridge to burn excess calories aquired at places previously mentioned, fireworks viewed from the Brow, a swim at Cathy's, Mtn Opery for some deep south bluegrass, s'mores on the screened in porch, and time with Papa rejuvenated the soul but made it hard leave. Not to worry... we'll be back soon.

You're never too old for Coolidge.

You just don't appreciate the foutain enema's later in life.

Shannon looks like she is in a deep conversation with the fountain.

Shannon makes friends a little too easily(it slightly scares me as a mother)

It was hard to break up this twosome.

I keep asking her where my baby Shannon went? Who is this little lady?

Steve created a pyromaniac. Burn baby burn is Shannon's new motto.

She loved staying up with the grown up (watching fireworks and eating s'mores). But her partying ways caught up with her and she threw up the copious amounts of treats and snoozed all afternoon.

Lightweight

The cherry on top...Papa

(who suffered a cracked patella (knee cap) from a work related injury shortly after this pic was taken. Take it easy Papa. No pulling weeds this week)

Oh, you might notice Papa's shirt. There have been many laughs about my O'Bama t-shirt ops. Unfortunately it was too small for Steve so I passed it onto my dad who loves a comfy t-shirt. However, Mom might toss it in a political fashion protest. Still, totally worth the $1 I paid.

8 is Great

I've been gone since the beginning of May...1st Rosemary Beach, 2nd Pittsburgh, 3rd Memphis. Although Steve enjoyed sleeping in, I could tell he was missing us more and more by the day. With our 8th anniversary around the corner, Steve orchestrated a surprise for me in an effort to get some undivided attention. After moving over the past 10 days, I was ready for a break from the boxes and clutter.

We drove 45 minutes south of Birmingham to a farming town called Vincent where the Blue Springs Manor (a bed and breakfast) proved to be removed enough for me to finally chill.

We enjoyed 24 hours of putt putting, walking to the spring, swimming, etc. In Steve's continuing efforts t0 be a cheese snob, he ordered a fruit and cheese platter (also appealing to the French descendant in me), which allowed us to skip dinner and continue enjoying the great our doors.

Breakfast was yummo (especially since I didn't have do clean up afterwards)

Steve has always been wonderful at surprises. When asked what I would grab if the house caught on fire, many of the treasures high on my list were from Steve (topping the list - Shannon and Adam). I was so thrilled with my surprise that I woke up extra early on Father's Day and made Steve and blackberry peach coffee cake, which Shannon renamed an orange juice cake because we were eating with orange juice, not coffee.