Why?

What is it about being a mother that makes us think it is okay to stick our fingers, the same ones that we eat with, up our child's nose to try to get a booger out? It's like, the minute the kid pops out, you lose part of your gross-out reflex. I say part of because I know I still have lot that I get grossed out about. But boogers, seem to be fine. I liken it to when you see one of those Survivorman types on some show trying to fish in a stream using only their bare hands. You start out slow and then before the child can figure out what is about to happen, you snap out and try to grab it. But kids are smarter then we think, and apparently my reflexes are not quite so cat-like as previous though, and the kid usually can turn their head at the last second. Which then usually ends with you grazing the side of their face and the look of astonishment as they look at you like, "why was my mom just trying to punch me in the face?" Even funnier is that it really used to gross me out when my husband would go on "boogie patrol" with my tweezers. Yes, my tweezers that I use to pluck stray hairs with not eat with. I had to buy him his own set of boogie tweezers, which is another post altogether, but as you can imagine, it is much like the game 'Operation.' I'm probably jinxing myself, but we have yet to deal with a real vomit incident. I imagine I will not be diving right in to that with the same abandon I have with boogers. I'll keep you posted...

Liquid Gold!

It's here! And it couldn't have come at a better time. I only have $9.10 left on my last Bizzle gift card from Xmas. That is only 4 drinks. I was really worried that someone was going to have to find some sort of Iced Tea rehab to check me in to so I could kick the habit - or else I was going to have to get a second job or turn tricks to support my local Baristas. But now, I don't need them. I CAN quit you Starbucks! As many of you may know, the Bizzle Venti Black Iced Tea, Unsweetened is IT for me and T Diddy. The habit, at least for me, started after O was born. Sleep? What sleep? Sleep is for sissies. I know that tea doesn't have as much bang for your buck as coffee, but I have this weird thing where I don't like to drink calories - unless it comes in a glass with a paper umbrella and some alcohol. Sorry, where was I? I don't care that the tea comes with the Bizzle logo, but when I drink the tea, all is right with the world. Or at least in MY world (my world doesn't have impoverished children or hate - rainbows and kittens mainly). The taste is like no other, and believe me, I've sampled. And at $2.10 for 20 ounces, it is a small price to pay for pure joy - no?, my husband doesn't think so either. I only need one a day, and it lasts all day. It's not like I make several stops a day. (side note: vacations don't count. Then I can have as many as I want as evidenced in New York and Reno - but T Diddy was there and she is harsh with the peer pressure. I blame her.) I thought I got a lucky break a while back when the cafe downstairs in my office building started serving the iced tea!!! They charged a little less - but sometimes I got hooked up and only paid for the small size but got the large cup. AND there were free refills. Then one day I came in to get my tea. What the F? China Mist! Needless to say there was probably some inappropriate spitting for a food service establishment, but, gross. So, back to the Bizzle. So in an effort to figure out how they make it and why it is so good, I started asking around at the various stores. They played very coy and acted as if they weren't privy to that kind of important information. They'd throw out "Tazo" and "big tea bags", but that is about all I could get out of them. Realizing that my nice Xmas funded run with the Bizzle is about to be over, I knew I had to step my game up. I got on line and in a matter of minutes, I had my answer - and slapped myself for not utilizing this technology sooner. A former disgruntled Bizzle employee spelled out just how they make it and even where to get it!!! I'm going to be sending her a cookie basket real soon. Turns out, that while it is Tazo brand tea that they use, they have a special ICED tea bag that they brew in concentrate!!! Oh man!!!! I can almost taste it. As I start to search for retailers that carry this special bag, I find that most are SOLD OUT!!! So I buy it at the first place I see it in stock. $35 for 24 tea bags. Get up off the floor, let me finish. Each tea bag brews a gallon!!! If my calculations are correct - which they are most likely not, someone better check my math - I will be saving $0.07 cents an ounce. The Bizzle's bottom line won't know what hit them!!! In an unusual show of restraint, I didn't upgrade to overnight shipping. But it's here. It was waiting for me when I got home today. I turned on the longest tivo'd program I could find to babysit O. The instructions are clearly written...for industrial use. And T Diddy is wearing flannel in some motor home right now - which I will never discuss again, we all should just forget that was ever mentioned, cause if any of you know T Diddy, that isn't how she usually roles - and unavailable for my numerous questions. So I brewed the tea as closely as I can to what it says and I got out my cocktail shaker to make it ice cold, like the Bizzle. And then it was ready to taste. I gingerly lifted it to my lips, careful not to spill any, my hands were shaking pretty bad at this point and...it's OKAY. What? Just okay? Something has gone wrong. But I can tell I'm close. I think I may have diluted it too much. The flavor profile is there, but the punch - totally missing. But now I have close to a gallon of this liquid gold which I can't bare to pour down the drain. Luckily I still have that $9 to fall back on until I perfect it. And I will still send my teeth whitening bill to the Bizzle corporate office. I figure it is the least they can do after making what could rival O's college fund (if he goes to community college), off me on Iced Tea. Don't get me started on the baked goods. T Diddy, you better get your baking pans ready... *by the way, I haven't taken the time to figure out how to link stuff so the pic of brit brit came from: http://www.cbc.ca/thehour/blog/images/britney-starbucks.jpg

Dear Blog,

I'm calling in sick. Yeah, you heard me. Not only do kids give you love unconditionally, they also give you their germs. So not only do I have O's head full of snot to contend with, I have my own. Can I take the Stuffy-head, achy all over - kick you right in the seat of your pants and make you sleep for 3 days medicine? No. Cause O is still having trouble getting through the night without my encouragement. (He's usually a really good sleeper so I can't complain too much if he needs a little more snuggling when he's sick). So I've got to be on my game. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he gets into a REM cycle before 10 pm tonight. Wish me luck.

Fork

Fork. When Oliver says this word, it sounds more like the word that really went through my head as I read him his bedtime story tonight. I grabbed "The Sneetches" on our way in to the bedroom. I have found, since having Oliver, that I really enjoy Dr. Seuss books. And Oliver tolerates them. I know that if I keep reading them, that one day they will profoundly influence him in some way and he will fondly remember me as the one who forced - I mean - shared these books with him. Tonight I also learned for the first time that the cover of the book jacket is truthful when it says "and other stories". To this point, we have never actually gotten all the way through The Sneetches which comes first in the book. Oliver usually closes the book for me, signaling that either he is very tired and ready to sleep or that I have over stayed my welcome in his domain. Tonight, however, we kept reading. All the other stories were pretty good, short and sweet. But the one that threw me for a loop was called, "Too Many Dave's." I liked the title right away and found the premise of the story - that the mother had 23 boys and named them all Dave, which later proved to be a bad idea (ya think?) - hilarious. So we read on. And the mom starts listing off the names that she sometimes wished she would have given her sons instead of Dave. Color me surprised when one of the alternate names is..."Oliver Boliver Butt." While I imagine this causes uproarious laughter in some children, Oliver didn't even flinch. But it was then, that "Fork!" sounded in my head. Aside from Smalliver, which O's auntie Karri so lovingly calls him, there aren't many nicknames that can come out of Oliver. Until THIS one was served up on a platter for all his future classmates to call him. My baby!!! I can't imagine how horrible that first day will feel when he comes home from school and tells me that someone called him "Oliver Boliver Butt." How his head will hang and his sad eyes will search mine imploringly for why kids can be so cruel. So as any good mother would, I am making it my mission to save him from the future troublemakers. I started out with a google search of "Oliver Boliver Butt" and found that he has a Facebook page and several other random websites and profiles. This tells me that the story is somewhat popular and that people willingly use the moniker. Okay, that is a start. I will need to get him used to the idea of being called this, so when someone says it disparagingly, he can pull out a handy reference sheet, that I have carefully typed up for him, of all the positive press "Oliver Boliver Butt" has gotten. He will be unfazed by the feeble attempt at a put down. And for the very next talent show O will perform the song "OBB" to the tune of Naughty by Nature's "OPP" which I will have rewritten for him to showcase his humor and amazing dance skills. He will not only win the talent show, but also the hearts of his classmates. He will be the next class president and then get into a great college by writing his entrance essay on how he was able to overcome adversity and flourish. Okay, okay. I may be a little bit carried away. I realized I have a few years before I really have to get this defense squared away. So for the time being, he will remain my little "Olligater." (a new nickname by grandpa John).

Take that Super Nanny!

I'm not trying to brag or anything. But I watched 3 children all by myself tonight. It was the longest 28 minutes of my life. It went surprisingly well and no one was hurt or in danger in any way. And in an advanced maneuver, I even turned on TMZ. Thank goodness I did not get Taryn's text that said there were 36 people in line in front of her (Man, Chipotle goes OFF on Friday nights) or I may have started to panic. I will watch her 2 kids for 28 minutes whenever she wants. And now I must go to bed. I'm exhausted.

Why did no one ever warn me?

This is going to be a quick post. I am about to go get fetal. In college you learn not to mix your beer with your liquor. But no one ever told me not to mix my fast food. I worked late again today and was starving by the time I went to get O at daycare and just wanted to run through some place fast. Fast food. And there it is, off in the distance, the holy grail...The KFC/ Taco Bell one-two punch. The Cheesy Gordita commercials have been taunting me for the past few weeks. For the first time since I can remember, Taco Bell looked good!!! Is it on account of the fact that I am a super hippie suddenly and aiming towards a whole foods diet? Could be. So I made a hard left into the center and pulled in to the drive thru. So many choices! And then I see it. The KFC side of the menu is touting their new snack sized "bowl" (don't act like you don't know what it is or that you have never wanted to taste one. You know. It is a bowl of mashed potaters, topped with some corn, some popcorn chicken, and shredded cheese. But I'm not done yet - then the bowl is covered with gravy. Boom). Well, that is a start. And it's snack size so I can get the Cheesy Gordita Crunch as well. (A girl's got to have some variety - TDS, you know how we do...holla atcha girl). Heck, let's throw in a Mexi Melt while we're ate it for good measure (in my defense, one of my items is "snack" size so that doesn't count as an entire entree). By the time I get my food, I am so excited! I knew as soon as I got home I would have to get O's dinner ready so that we could eat together and not have my food be a soggy mess. So I stepped on it and hurried home. At last, I sit down to eat. As I work through the "snack" I notice that I am beginning to feel quite full. Could the name have misrepresented itself and led me to eat more then I should? I shake away the thought and eat through the pain. One bite of the Mexi Melt and I knew that was enough of that. This one was way more Mexi then Melt so I set it aside. And then I took my first bite ever of the Cheesy Gordita Crunch - no sour cream. Yes, I think I like it. I'll just have another bite to be sure. Yes, Cheesy Gordita Crunch, I salute you. Wow, the cheese and the crunch! So I had a few more bites. And then it happened. The first of what is sure to be many angry noises from my stomach. I set down what was left of the crunch and pushed my plate away. I don't think my stomach is handling the KFC and the Taco Bell digesting at the same time with the dignity that I think it should. My body doesn't know what to do first. It's calling out for an antacid, pepto, something. O is already in his crib so now I am free to lay perfectly still in my bed in the fetal position. And I will stay there until the pain subsides and dream about how the KFC and Taco Bell should somehow be able to coexist peacefully in my belly. Is this the end of the KFC/Taco Bell for me? I will not surrender that easily. I will manage to conquer the discomfort with proper training and conditioning. So who's with me?

A letter to the guy that invented working,

F U pal. What did I ever do to you? I can only imagine what traumatic incident happened in your childhood to cause you to want to punish everyone else in the world. Look, I understand that there is a global economy to be run and all, but what about having fun? That is important too. Without fun there wouldn't be a need for the Happiest Place on Earth (Disneyland, not Nordstrom like some of you are probably thinking) and without the Happiest Place on Earth, well, I can't even imagine what that kind of a world would be like (I'm thinking more places like Dollywood and Neverland Ranch). Now I realize that in order to run said Happiest Place, people have to actually work there. But to me that is what every one's work should be like. Dancing down the streets to piped in music and the smell of freshly popped popcorn (from the early 90's not the stuff they have now - it doesn't even make your tongue burn). I don't understand why you had to force people to work and toil their lives away filling them with stress, and creating flat butts from sitting in chairs all day. Couldn't you have made it a requirement to do something that you are passionate about and have interest in? What a novel idea. Doing something you actually love. Turns out most of us don't really know what that is you heartless bastard. It's not like we haven't thought about it. If I could figure out a way to sit on my couch and watch TV all day, I would do it in a hot second. But thanks to you, instead of really focusing on what I may be able to parlay in to a career, I am forced to clock in day in and day out to collect a paycheck. I know I went to college and double majored and am not using any skills I learned there. And I know that I did an internship in one field for a few months and then started working for a construction company. And then a few months after that I worked in catering and then changed to accounting and now have moved on to real estate. So I'm a little indecisive. Hey, do you happen to know the guy who invented therapy? I think I need to talk to him too. S

it's my potty and i'll cry if i want to

It happened tonight. For the first time ever. I had the diaper off of O for literally a minute. I wasn't expecting it. Okay so I was hoping it wouldn't happen. And I really thought it was going to be fine. But somehow in the minute it took me to stand him in the bathroom bare buck nekked ready for his bath and for me to go 3 feet to the diaper genie, he did it. He peed on the bathroom floor. Now luckily we are only talking pee and pee that was not all over me, but he peed all over his new bath book (Merry Xmas Auntie Taryn!) and was a mere foot from the toilet. I thought we had gotten past this stage. I thought only daddy's were the ones that were supposed to have pee accidents for not monitoring the equipment. I mean, this is my big guy. My big guy who can lounge on the couch to watch tv and rival mom for the most comfortable spot. My daredevil who bleeds and a second later, while dad and I are trying to decide if we should take him to the hospital, asks if he can color. (Now I know what you are thinking. Oh look how cute he is in his yellow pj's with little puppies on them, but in my defense, O is very high maintenance in the textile department and requires 100% cotton jammies - and while Children's Place has cotton footie jammies, they also ensure that they use the dorkiest patterns possible. And now you are probably wondering, hmmm, those are lentils on the bottom of his cup - a lunch/dinner type food - yet O is in his jammies. And you are correct. It was lunch time and I was probably in my pajamas too. Don't judge.) My big guy who would certainly snag a few votes in any of the many primaries occurring currently. You would think someone who is smart enough to count from 9 -13 all by himself, and can feed himself with a spoon from a bowl would know better then to pee on the floor. It looks like we need to step up our game with the potty training. Wish us luck. I am guessing it won't be the last time my bathroom floor gets hit...but now when you come over to visit aren't you going to wonder just where IT happened in relation to where your feet are?

29...again?

Sister, The US Postal Service has done it again. Of course I bought you a birthday card well in advance of your birthday like I always do. Of course I have it filled out with heartfelt sentiments about what a great big sister you are as you always have been. And of course, the Post Office is going to refuse to deliver said card to you on your actual birthday like they do every year. I think when I am done here, wishing you the bestest of birthdays, I am going to write a strongly worded letter to them. They really do owe you an apology. They need to apologize for not giving it their all. I mean, when I take your card in tomorrow morning, with the postage on straight and the address written neatly, all ready to go, they are going to laugh. They are going to laugh in my face when I tell them that I need them to deliver it by tomorrow afternoon so as not to miss your birthday. They are going to laugh and then call the other post office clerks over to laugh some more. Laugh about how I am wearing mis-matched shoes (on purpose in an attempt to get them to take pity on me and deliver your card post haste), laugh about the puffy glitter stickers I've stuck on the envelope (I found them in your closet at mom's house by the way - I think they are Precious Moments) and laugh about how I expect them to deliver the card to you on the same day I send it. Is that the right attitude I ask you? Aren't I the customer here? Shouldn't they say "How high?" (which they will ask that tomorrow in an attempt to find the answer to why I think they will put down their Star Magazine - Jamie Lynn Spears is on the cover with the unbelievable true story of the alien child she is carrying, and get your card to you on the most special of days). So let's just say it. The Postal Service has ruined your birthday. I don't know why they do this to you year after year. In any event, try not to let them spoil your day. I hope you have the best birthday this year! Did you already open your gifts? I bet you did... Happy Birthday sister - keep on keeping on. (and a note on the cheesey 1980's picture fading. you know I'm new to this whole graphic design program. Well, I was experimenting and put the effect on all the photos...and then couldn't figure out how to get rid of it. I blame this on the Post Office as well.) *And another note. I am really enjoying being creative with the photos I post, but as you can tell, I'm having a little trouble with white borders. Bear with me. At some point I will figure it out...or maybe I won't. I'm going to go to sleep now.

Brynn Taryn Fraczek

Brynn was born on December 28, 2007 (Take that IRS!) in Reno, NV. I was lucky enough to be there for the momentous occassion. To be able to be there to support my sister was awesome especially considering that I couldn't be there when her first baby, Taylor, was born (I was about 100 weeks pregnant also). Here are just some of the 500 pictures I took in the few days I spent with them. I wish they lived closer so that I could see them grow up and spoil them rotten. Oh my god y'all (to be said like the mother of the year, Ms. Britney Spears) do you even know how cute they make little girls clothes?