Saturday Morning Breakfast

We don't usually do breakfast in our house. Breakfast as in something other than cold cereal or toast. And Mr. D loves breakfast. So this morning, he hasn't been feeling 100%, so I thought I would treat him to his favorite: pancakes. When he woke up, I had eggs grilling, bacon sizzling, and made-from-scratch pancakes waiting to be made.

Since my stovetop was pretty full with the eggs and bacon, I decided to pull out my electric skillet to make the pancakes. It's a bit of a pain to pull out of my cupboard, but it does make much nicer pancakes, so I went for it.

So glad I did too.

What was sitting on my electric griddle, nestled in the back, in a bowl that was stacked on the griddle?

Only my $100 bill I lost a month or so ago.

I KNEW I didn't lose it. I had put it away in the drawer that I thought I had, but it must have somehow slipped out and fallen into the cupboard below. Onto my electric griddle. The one that I use once in a blue moon when I treat Mr. D to breakfast.

So according to Mr. D, the moral of the story is make him more pancakes.

Infomercial Sucker

I think I want this.

I'm not usually swayed by infomercials on TV, but I saw this one twice while watching Top Chef last night. And I'm intrigued.

I'm getting old. I'm not the young lass I once was, and my heels have been the first to suffer. I'm sure our house of ceramic tile probably doesn't help the situation much. I remember as a young girl watching my mom scrape, rub, and mess with her heels. I thought, "I'm glad I have nice heels."

Well that was then, and this is now. But the difference between my mom and I is that I'm not invested enough to scrape and rub every night. I want a miracle tool.

And here it is - the PedEgg. Okay, maybe not a miracle. Okay, fine, it probably doesn't even work, but it looks neat.

And just for $10, I get TWO. One for each heel I suppose? Where do I call?

When Mommy Kicks Herself

I could kick myself. I would, if I were flexible enough.

As I've mentioned earlier, we are planning a trip to DC in May. I was online last Friday searching for fares. I found a good deal, and was getting ready to book it. But, I wanted to make sure it was the BEST deal. So I combed through dozens of sites just to make sure. It was. Great.

Then I realized that I was late. We were supposed to be at church by 5pm - Mr. D had to drop off some supplies for Sunday before the office closed. It was almost 4pm and I wasn't ready.

No biggie. I'll book the tickets when we get back home that night.

Well, after several errands and a stop at my mom's house, it was almost 10pm by the time we arrived back home. I didn't feel like doing tickets. "I'll do it tomorrow," I thought.

Saturday passed. Sunday was Easter.

Monday. Okay, today I'll book the tickets. But to my suprise, not only did I miss out on the good deal, but the best deal I can find now is $60 more per ticket. Dang. I sheepishly told Mr. D who shook his head, but fortunately didn't say much more.

So I'm holding out for another day. I read somewhere online that Wednesdays are the best day to buy tickets. We'll see.

Oh, and are you wondering where Grace's super-cute Easter pictures are? Shame on Mommy. I didn't take a single picture of her all dressed up in her Easter dress. I just have pictures of her post-church, lunch, and nap in her Easter-casual wear to find Easter eggs. This is the best that I can show.

My Lack of Sleep

....Due to sleeping at the foot of the bed.

My little Grace is not the best sleeper. A combination of genetics and indulgent parenting, she never has been, and as she has taken many traits from her grammy, may never become one. We do our best with her, but each night without fail, she awakens at some point between 1-5am crying and needing comforting. Our comforting is typically bringing her to bed with us. Our motto, the less sleep we lose, the better we feel.

However, the wrench in this plan is when Grace is out of sorts. If she's not feeling well, our wake-up call comes around 11pm. Then she is in bed with us all night - tossing, turning, flipping, rolling. Its amazing how this little person can take up the majority of a king size bed.

For the last two nights Grace has had a cold. She's congested and coughing. My wake-up call came at 11pm last night. Actually, I hadn't even gone to sleep yet. I should have. I should have taken the opportunity when it was presented to me. But I didn't.

So she's in bed between Mr. D and I as usual. She's rolling, coughing, and snoring. And moving closer to me. Next thing she's on my pillow. She's squirming closer. Before I knew it, she had taken over my spot. I was going to move her, but she was sound asleep, and honestly, I was scared to wake her. She's intimidating at 2am. So instead I scooted down to the end of the bed and curled up sideways.

I was booted from my pillow by my little 25-lb. baby. What's with that? And what did I do? Tried to sleep at the foot of the bed. Restlessly.

And what's worse? I obviously didn't learn my lesson because its 10:30pm now and I'm typing instead of catching up on my sleep. Maybe tonight will be different. Grace can sleep at the foot of the bed. The footboard will catch her.

Potty Epiphany

Even through nobody without a child would care, and even those with children probably won't care much more, we have been celebrating all weekend.

What gives cause for such clapping and exclamations of joy?

Only dry diapers!

Little Miss Grace has had a potty epiphany. She gets it. Now, that's not to say she knows how to signal us yet, but she knows what to do when she's on it! Friday we went all day in the same diaper. Dry diaper, I might add. Of course I took her to the potty about every hour, but she did it. (Insert shouts of joy)

But the icing on our potty-cake was when we got home from Costco yesterday with a dry diaper. And made it through church today with a dry diaper. My joy runneth over.

We're making progress, slow though it may be. She did poop her pants today, but as soon she did, she started whining at me. I was in the kitchen and looked over at her.

"Grace, do you have to go poopie in the potty?"

"ooh-ooh" And she started trotting off to the bathroom on her little chubby legs.

When we got to the bathroom, she had already started her business, but she wrapped it up on the potty.

Now this may have been way too much potty information for most, but we're excited around here.

Listen to Mr. D

So I was going to write a thrilling tale about how I spent my morning making homemade food for Grace and how easy, nutritious, and cost-effective it is to make homemade baby food. Of course, she is pretty over the "baby food" stage, but its still nice to have some cooked and pureed/finely chopped veggies on hand in the freezer to supplement her meals.

But, then my morning was interrupted by my little rascal, who only needs 10 minutes to wreak havoc.

Mr. D is perpetually on my case for not screwing lids on things completely; whether it is the toothpaste, jar of mayonnaise, or, say, my mascara.

He has also advised against letting Grace go through my make-up bag as a diversion when we're out and about.

Okay, okay, Mr. D - you win. Your advice fell on deaf ears, and now I have mascara to scrub out of my carpet.

My little make-up artist.

Bubble Baby

Grace learned a new trick today - how to blow bubbles.

:Beginning gushy mom talk:

It was so cute. At first I was blowing them for her, but she took over, and was doing pretty good. She managed to dribble bubble solution all over herself, but when she would get a good set of bubbles blown out, she would stomp her feet, point, and mumble something that resembles "babables". As a gushy mom, I will take that as bubbles... Or baby... Or ball. Well, it started with a "buh" sound.

We were playing at Grammy's house, and unbelievably, Mom came unprepared. I thought I had it all: snacks, clothes, diapers. But, no camera! How dare I leave home without it.

But, thanks to the trusty camera-phone, I can still show off Grace in all her bubble cuteness.

March Table and Bunny Ears

So I finally got around to updating my coffee table. Yes, I know it is mid-March already, but we just wanted to live out our love a little longer with our Valentine's decorations. Not really - I just didn't get myself up to Michael's to pick out some new foo-foo things to use for decoration.

But I made it up there this past Sunday, and put it all together yesterday. I'm happy with it. I like the springtime feel. So here it is in all its glory:


Oh, and while I was at Michael's, I couldn't resist picking up something for Grace.

Please excuse her rugrat-ness. It was an at-home playday yesterday. Focus on the ears. She likes them too. We're trying to get her to hop like a bunny, but she just raises up on her toes instead. Close.

Stupid Human Tricks

Tonight's dinner conversation

Me: "So can you flare your nostrils? Show me."

Mr D: "Yes, but can you?"

Me: "But of course. And I don't think you can roll up your tongue."

Mr. D: "What makes you think that. I can, and I will."

Me: "Oh but you can't roll your 'R''s. Rrrrruffles have rrrrridges."

Mr. D: "Okay fine. But you can't alternate blinking."

...This then led into a side conversation about whether a wink is still a blink. I thought he should have said alternate winking. You can't alternate blinking because you use both eyes. But then, like a square is still a rectangle, he feels that wink is still a blink.

Back to the previous conversation. We then covered ear wiggling and lip curling.

Now, mind you, Grace doesn't talk yet, so this was strictly an adults-only conversation. But even though she couldn't participate in the fun, she did initiate the whole conversation by flaring her nostrils while she was eating. Yes, there is reason behind our insanity.

Water Baby

This is what happens when I send my daughter outside to help Dad water the yard.

Soaked to the bone, and lovin' it.

We're looking forward to summer here at home. The way Mr. D keeps talking, I have a feeling one day I'm going to go outside and find both of them running through the sprinklers in their swimsuits.

While I look on.... with a camera!

A Dream's Tale

Anyone who knows me well in real life has probably had to endure me telling them about my crazy dreams. I have very vivid and detailed dreams, and I like to share them.

Now, I understand that the only thing more dull than listening to me tell you about my dream would be to read about my dream. Don't worry, I won't go into details, but it is the context of the dream that interests me for this post.

Last night I dreamt about the plot of a story. I wasn't in the dream, but rather I was witnessing the story as if it was from a book or movie. It unfolded as if a narrator was reading it out.

When I awoke, I wondered if it was actually a good enough plot to write out. In my fantasy time I have toyed with the idea of writing a book of some sort, but only if the right story came to me. Okay, honestly, I'm not that driven, and don't want to work that hard at it. It's a "toying idea" not a lifelong desire of mine.

But my dream plot was a murder mystery, and I don't feel like I would want to delve into that genre. But it was an interesting concept for a dream.

I think instead if I want to write, children's books are the way to go. Short, easy words, simple plots. Who couldn't handle that?