Stolen Laughs

I stole this video from one of the other blogs I read and loved it! As a mani pedi addict, I find this very true and hilarious!

Childhood Anecdotes

Top 10 Childhood Anecdotes in the Coffin Household

1. We went to the Art of Barbecue on Friday and asked Camille if she would like to eat some Bar-B-Q. She said, "No. I want Cinderalla-Q".

2. Isaac walks now and for about a week that little stinker has been sneaking up on me. He used to make so much noise crawling because his little hands would smack the floor. Now he literally makes me jump because I'll turn around and he's just standing there grinning at me.

3. Every so often, I'll randomly think of a song and spout out a few words of it. The most recent one has been Kid Rock's "Cowboy" (shame-blush) and the one phrase that stuck with Camille has been "I wanna be a Cowboy baby". Camille now sings that quite proficiently. One of the cuter things I've seen lately.

4. If it can only be matched by Isaac saying, "Cowboy baby" which really comes out "Keeowbee Beebee". Can't help but laugh!

5. Well, hearing Isaac say anything right now is the best! He is a little parrot and repeats almost everything he hears. I love hearing him say Daddy. Imagine as high a pitch as you can and that's the "Dadddd", then the lowest pitch a baby can muster for the "yyyyyyyy". Love it!

6. Hearing those two squeal and laugh as they play together makes me grin from ear to ear. I swear they have laughs that they only give to each other.

7. Isaac walks around the house blowing bubbles with his extra spit. Camille used to do that and I miss it, now we are in round 2!

8. Little Dude uses a fork like he has all his life (short life, mind you, only 11 months) but he is almost as good as big sister and sometimes exceeds me in talent. When did I get so clumsy?

9. Everything right now for Camille is Cinderella. We were at Gram's house today and she wanted to watch Cinderella as soon as she arrived (don't own the movie yet at home), then she wanted a Cinderella plate for her lunch, and we were going to have some peach for dessert. She chirps, "A Cinderella peach?" Actually it was a Rustin Red Peach in honor of Rustin, Louisiana back to her roots for Gram. Quite yummy. She wasn't as into the name Rustin Red, not the same ring to it I guess.

10. The other day Isaac took my hand and led me to the front door then started patting on the door with his little hand. He wanted to play outside. Isaac is 100% boy and loves the outdoors. If we walk away from the door without going outside, screams follow. Poor kid, life is so tough.

What's in a name?

What's in a name you ask? Well, let's see...

For Camille it is:
Sugar Pot Pie (song included)
Sugar Pie
Sweet Cheeks
Sunshine
Sunny Sun Sun
Chamomile
Sweet Pete
Meels
Meely Mo Meely Pumpkin Pie (another song)
Girly Girl
Sweet Pea
Princess

For Isaac we've got:
Little Dude
Hot Dog
Hot Diggity Dog
Dude
Duderonomy
Duderonomous
Booger Butt
Bud
Buddy

For Jason:
Jase
Jasuuuun
Booty (I can't even fully remember how this got started, but it was forever ago and way before it was popular in the hip hop world)
Bootds

For myself:
Sar
Booty
Bootds

For Cha Cha (the female dog-she lives up to her literal meaning):
Chach
Cha Cha the Funky Butt Terrier (complete with song)
Neeners
Neens

For Cooper (the dumb jock dog that died on the surgery table and saw the doggy pearly gates while getting "fixed". He never has been the same since):
Coop de Poop
Coopy
Coop
Coopy Shmoopy
Snot Licker (kids provide easy access to this)
Dumb dog

For Azzie (the enormous orange cat - want him?)
Azahar (given name, Spanish for Orange Blossom)
Azz
Azzhole (Jason's favorite)

Think on your own favorites for yourself and your family...any sillier than these?

Pictures for you

Thumb or no thumb

Well, Isaac is officially without his thumb. It became infected in the manner in which only a baby can infect it. He sucked his thumb, got blood blisters from being so good at working that thumb, then got a cut or something, and like magic, his thumb became a disgusting, infected, peeling blob. He is on antibiotics, but there is no more thumb-comfort for little dude. It went surprisingly easy the first night. He slept until 2:30am without notice to his now bandaged appendage. However, his senses became aroused while trying to use his thumb to go back to sleep.

Seems like earlier in the evening, this is how the conversation went:
Me: "That was waaay too easy. He didn't even bat an eye and he is sleeping like there is nothing different. I thought this was going to be harder than it was with Camille."
Jason: "I don't think he uses his thumb to go to sleep, but put himself back to sleep."
Me: "Well, he is doing great!"
Sidebar: Sarah leans over and knocks her fist on the hardwood floor.

Fast forward to 2:30am, the world has ended, chaos ensues, Isaac is desperate, and Jason (smart guy) was right. We comforted, consoled, medicated and cringed. As soon as he started playing with his Mommy and Daddy playmates in the wee hours of the morning, there was nothing to do but say goodnight. I know crying it out is controversial, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

Last night was night #2. This time it started at about 11:50pm and we did our check-in and comfort conversation with medication, but it was bedtime and so the monitor was turned off. I slept surprisingly well. And since Camille's monitor was still on, there was no real emergency since she would have gotten tired of the screams and called for some comfort of her own.

Naps are going well and we are holding out hope for less than a week of breaking the habit. He's a champ!

Welcome sweet Elise!

A hearty welcome to the world goes out to sweet, tiny Elise Lillian, born July 2, weighing 6 lbs and spreading out to a dainty 18 3/4 inches. She is a dear snuggler and I wish for my sister and Todd and big sister Abigail a wonderful new year as a family of four. Come on Brook, you're next! When's that baby coming out? I can't wait to meet her!

In relation to becoming a family of four, one of the blogs that I read maniacally (Jason can attest to this) is ending. It was posted on BabyCenter.com and I feel like she had become one of my dearest friends through which I could enjoy and relate to her honesty having 2 children under 3. Karen, I hope it doesn't feel like this for you, but if it does, you can make it through. I love you dear and call me when you need to! And the intestinal virus that she mentions, that is how I felt the entire time I was pregnant.

I've posted it below, but before I let you enjoy her thoughts as they so closely relate to my own, I need to give you a piece of advice.

NEVER EVER EVER stay at a Best Western. First of all, I shut the door to the bathrooms of hotels when I walk in the room. It keeps kids out of the germs that reside in there. Any hotel that is willing to kick out a mom alone with 2 children at 10:40 P.M. (yes, that is 10:40 at night my dear readers) for demanding a discount for a room that had an overflowed toilet with a plunger and filthy bathroom left in upheaval after unpacking and then getting the kids ready for a bath should be boycotted! Yes, they kicked me out and called the police on me because I demanded a discount. I had Isaac in my arms in just a diaper and Camille in her pajamas at 10:40 at night standing at the front desk with unbelieving ears and an unrelenting sickness in my stomach for the horrible treatment I was receiving. Best Western? How about Worst Western. I was appalled and the thought of the tale that I now tell still makes me sick to my stomach. Any one who wants details, as I won't go into them now, just ask. I'll be glad to relay my disgusting treatment I received from this hotel chain. I am just so thankful that my father was no more than 5 minutes away when all of this happened. He won't let me know what was said, but it was so nice to have Daddy come to the rescue. I know I'm a mom and need to be strong, but certain situations make you need a Daddy to rely on; this was definitely one of those moments.

So, no more Best Western ever. If I hear you stayed in one, I'll smack you silly.

But, on to the post mentioned above. I'll miss you Evonne. I feel like one of my friends is moving away.

Week 52: Ginger ale and cherry Jell-o

I have a friend whose husband has never had a throw-up virus. Never. As in, not even once! This is unbelievable to me.

So he won't understand this entry, and my apologies to him. But I'm pretty sure he's the only person in the world with his condition.

Wait a minute. Why am I apologizing to him? I should apologize to you. Vomit metaphors don't exactly make for pleasant reading. But unfortunately, I can't get them out of my mind right now. I'm sorry.

So... you know how when you have an intestinal virus, it feels like the worst thing in the world? You lie heaving and sweating on the cold bathroom floor, dreading the inevitable next round. And every time you hurl, you think you're dying. You know you should drink fluids, but you can't, so you just lie on the floor and become increasingly dehydrated. It's the epitome of misery.

But then you throw up for the last time. You know it's the last time, and you know you're on the mend. Finally, you can crawl into your bed, drink a little ginger ale, eat a little cherry Jell-o, and reminisce about how bad it was. And isn't it sort of fun to think about how sick you were, how miserable you were? How far you've come? Come on, you can tell me.

Here's the weird part, though. You almost feel superior to yourself. "Look at that poor slob," you think as a vision of yourself groaning over the toilet just a few hours ago flashes through your mind. "Sure sucks to be her. Man, am I glad I'm not her.

"Well, that's sort of how I feel about last summer.

Hmm, it doesn't sound too maternal, comparing having "two under 2" to vomiting. I don't mean it exactly that way. I just mean that at this time last year, I was heaving on the bathroom floor. Metaphorically, that is.

And now, I'm not.

Fast forward

Now that it's the same time of year, one year later, I'm really realizing how much has changed. There are so many reminders, so many opportunities to say, "Whew! What a basket case I was!"

Like tonight when I read Anna her Big Dog, Little Dog book. The book tells the story of two friendly dogs, Fred and Ted, who go on a mountain vacation. Turns out, Ted's bed is too big and Fred's bed is too little, so they don't get any sleep. The next day they switch beds, and then they sleep — and I quote — "all day long."

I read the book fondly as Anna snuggled into my shoulder. But I remember reading her this exact same book last year, and oh, how I resented Fred and Ted. I was so bitterly jealous of them. There they were, sleeping all day long in their cozy little hotel while I stumbled through my days in a sleep-deprived hell. They made me so mad.

Now that I'm not so exhausted, I have more perspective. I notice that Fred and Ted don't have kids. Staying awake during the day is a small price for the wonders of parenthood. So Fred and Ted can have their daylong sleep orgy. Clara's learned to sleep through the night, and that's good enough for me. It's amazing, in fact, all the things Clara has learned to do in the past year — not just sleep through the night, but also smile, roll over, sit up, crawl, kneel, play, eat, use a straw, laugh, dance, sing, and joke. She can say "Anna," "Mama," "Dada," and "all done." She's learned to shut the kitchen drawer without hurting her fingers (yeah, I know, I should buy those finger protectors already).

And Anna, not to be outdone, has learned to ask "why," to understand the concept of "tomorrow," to enjoy friendships, and to grasp the importance of manners. She can eat whole grapes. She understands birthdays and parties. She can jump up and down, insert her straw into her milk box, and ask whether she's putting her shoes on right.

And me? Well, I can go to Chick-fil-A with both girls and not freak out. That's another memory from last summer — going to Chick-fil-A with both of them and thinking I wasn't going to make it, that I'd never get us out of there in one piece.

Of course, we all have more skills to learn. Cruising and walking for Clara. Potty training for Anna. As for me, who knows? There will be tons of things, but I don't know what they are yet. It's uncharted territory; I guess I'll find out when I find out.

But all that is for the future, and not for this journal. This is my last entry. So this is where I say thanks. And I really, really mean it. Your comments have meant so much to me. I read every single one of them, of course. (Not that I ever got obsessed with them. Not that I ever checked the computer more than a reasonable number of times. Ahem.) You gave me incredibly kind words of encouragement and understanding. Not to mention great advice, laundry and otherwise. Over and over again, I was struck by the essential selflessness of your comments.

And I'm even more grateful that you read the journal. I still feel sort of bewildered that anyone wanted to read my weird, not-always-pretty thoughts. I feel like — sorry, here it comes again — like I threw up, and instead of rushing out of the room, you stayed. And then you handed me a glass of ginger ale with a bendy straw.

I wish I could give you something in return — maybe some saltines, or some nice cherry Jell-o. But I guess I'll have to settle for plain, genuine gratitude. All the happiness in the world to you.