There's something about Coachpa

Yes, I'm referring to the Ben Stiller movie from the late '90s. I remember going on a first date to see that movie. The guy was very straight-laced and I was so uncomfortable! That was nothing compared to the time that I went to see 8MM on another first date. I picked the movie over a chick flick, so I could seem all cool. My date spent most of the night laughing at me as I blushed more and more.

Anyway, back to my story...

My parents feed and play with Little Elvis in the morning before going to work. I get an extra hour of sleep and they get to Little Elvis all to themselves -- he tends to focus more on me if I'm in the room.

My mom works from home, my dad is the athletic director for my old high school. After feeding Little Elvis breakfast, he headed into work.

He said that after he'd been at work for a while, he ran his fingers through his hair and felt something slimy. It took him a moment to realize what it was. Apparently Little Elvis decided that he didn't like banana this morning and somehow it went from his little hands into Coachpa's hair.

My dad said he was glad that school was out for the summer. He thinks a couple of secretaries probably saw his odd choice of hair gel, but didn't say anything about it.

We miss Daddy

Little Elvis is feeling much better, thanks for the well wishes. Poor little guy had to endure a fever, a sleepless night, a reduced appetite and a very fussy Mommy, but he's doing much better now.

Bob and I are very much a team when it comes to our little guy. When I'm at home, I call Bob (probably too much for his liking) to ask about his opinion on the craziest things -- He didn't want strawberries, I think I'll give him bananas. I know he had one at breakfast, though. What do you think?... Should we go on a walk now or later? (ok, Bob's a meteorologist, I feel justified there.) He's been crying for 45 minutes, should I just go in and get him?

It's hard not having such easy access to Bob. When Little Elvis was running a fever I called Bob twice to get his opinion on the medicine. Mainly, I just wanted his support. But I also want him to know what's going on. He listened and laughed while our feverish Little Elvis chattered at midnight. (My parents then took my feverish and not sleepy child at 4 that morning so I could finally get some sleep.)

Bob listened to me vent the next night after it took me a couple of hours to get Little Elvis to sleep. I was so tired after my sleepless night. Little Elvis would not stop fidgeting. He was exhausted, but couldn't get comfortable. He finally went down, though, and slept until 7:30 the next morning!!!

Bob has also listened to the growing list of foods that Little Elvis has decided to hate. My son, the excellent eater, has become picky. I think he's finally realized that he doesn't have to eat everything we put in front of him. The good news is that strawberries and blueberries are back on the good food list.

Oh, and Bob got to listen as I told him that Little Elvis refused to go to sleep the next night, so I let him watch "The Andy Griffith Show" with me and my parents at 10 p.m. before trying to put him back down. I am obviously a terrible influence without my husband.

On a more positive note, Bob still sings "Rubber Ducky" to Little Elvis each night at bathtime. I call Bob, turn on the speaker phone and Little Elvis gets to hear his Daddy sing one of his favorite songs.

Visiting my parents is great and fun, but I know Little Elvis misses his Daddy and I definitely miss my husband.

Not only is he a great husband and great father, he's also my techno guru. My mother and I are both college-educated. I used to work for an internet company. But neither of us could figure out how to get my computer to hook up to her modem. Seriously. I have cute pictures. I want to work on a music video. And I can't. I need Bob.

My little sicky

Bob calls me his "little sicky" often, mainly because of my crazy allergies. But today I'm using the pet name for my poor Little Elvis.

His tummy isn't doing so well at the moment. I won't go into details, but I've changed lots of super dirty diapers today. And his little bottom hurts so much that he screams and shakes when I try to change his diapers.

The crazy thing is that other than his diaper changes, he's in really good spirits. He hasn't been lethargic or limp.

But he has been really clingy... to me. He didn't want my parents holding him. Only Mommy needed to hold him. And if I left the room to go wash my hands after a diaper change, he bawled. Flat out bawled.

This is not normal for Little Elvis. While I have never doubted that he loves me, he typically isn't very clingy. Other than a couple of occasions, he will willingly go to other people.

So, for the moment, I'm getting lots and lots of attention from my little sicky. I hate that he's hurting, but I'm glad that he knows I will do whatever I can to make him feel better.

Ever since we weaned Little Elvis, Bob and I have been taking turns putting our baby to sleep. Bob gets one night, I get the next.

When it's my night, I tell him what a wonderful little boy he was that day and try to go into detail about all the fun things we did. I don't normally get teary during these moments, but tonight I did. I had to swallow hard and blink back tears while rocking him and telling him how brave he was.

And for the record, I'm blaming the teeth. He's cut his two top molars, but the two bottoms haven't broken through yet.

Bob looked up teething and tummy problems for me today and said doctors say they aren't related. My grandmother said she was told the same thing with my dad and his siblings, and she agreed with me that teething could cause tummy problems.

You are right, you are not his father

Little Elvis and I are on holiday. Ok, we're visiting the family in Mississippi and Bob tells me he is sitting in a dark corner of our house gazing at a picture of his lovely wife and brilliant son while choking back tears.

In order to get from our house to Mississippi, we fly. There's no way I could put Little Elvis (or me) through an umpteen hour trip in a car. Not gonna do it.

I always dread getting on the plane with him, because you get the "sigh" from world-weary business travelers.

This is his fifth time to fly on a plane, and he's been really good all the other times. Usually he gets lots of compliments from everyone as we get off the plane.

Other than the fact that we sat on the tarmac for what felt like hours, I felt like he did a really good job. He napped for an hour once we got in the air. Once he woke up, he fussed a little, but not much. I was armed with milk, a banana, goldfish and cheerios. So the fusses didn't last more than a few seconds, tops.

He got tired of his goldfish and cheerios at one point and decided to toss them behind my seat. He does that at home when he gets tired of food, so I should have been expecting it.

I turned around to politely ask the man sitting behind us if he would get it for me. He glanced down at the ground, shrugged at me like he had no idea what I was talking about and said he couldn't reach it.

OK. Fine. The flight only had about 15 more minutes, so I just decided that we'd try to dig it out once the plane landed.

Instead, the nice lady (who was with her granddaughter that was about the same age as Little Elvis) bent down to get us the snack box. She had to really reach, because it was closer to Mr. Helpful.

Once the plane landed, I stood Little Elvis up in my seat and held onto his back with my hands. He looked at the man behind us and said, "dadadada."

Mr. Nice Guy responded, "I am NOT your father." He was really rude about it.

I said he pretty much only says dada. He was not calling you daddy. What I wanted to say was, "My son calls his daddy dada, but he also calls the garbage can dada. I believe by his intonation that he was actually calling you a garbage can. You are definitely not his father, and he knows that. His father would have the decency to lean down and pick up snacks for a child. His father is kind and decent. His father is wonderful. You, Mister, are definitely not his father."

My mom couldn't sit by us, but the man sitting beside her heard Mr. Rude Man say that and couldn't believe it either.

Little Elvis can also say sock. Why he chose that as his second word, I don't know. But I sure wish he had called that man sock.

Grr.

Wagon the Daddy and Gram

Little Elvis got a new ride this weekend... a spiffy wagon.

It's an old wagon -- kind of a hand-me-down -- but we sanded it down, and spray-painted it when it wasn't raining this week.
The wagon looks great, but Little Elvis isn't completely taken with it.

He doesn't understand the concept of sitting still in a moving object.
So Daddy had to hold his little hand and the wagon pull at the same time. Gram got in on the action as well, to ease the strain on Daddy's back.

The ride didn't last long.

But Little Elvis still had a lot of fun with the wagon. It's a lot of fun to chase!

We have a winner!

Having a contest is a lot of fun! We had a blast, and got some really cute comments.

Everything from, "bye bye poo!" to yelling out "copulation" in a crowded movie theatre.

After much consideration, Bob, our special guest (my mom!), and I unanimously agreed on the winner -- nessatxmom!

She wrote: "We moved in December to a house right on the lake. My hubby and son thought it was heaven since you can just walk out the back door and throw a line in. One day while fishing, ds looked and hubby and I said "You know what I want to be when I grow up?" We said no. He informs us "A professional hooker." Now at this point I'm trying very hard not to crack up laughing. So, i asked him what a professional hooker does exactly. "You know they hook fish, Mom. On their fishing lines" while giving me that duh mom eye roll kind of look. Kids can be so funny! I hope this story doesn't offend anyone...we thought it was the funniest thing ever."

It definitely didn't offend us! We thought it was hilarious! Congratulations nessatxmom! You win an original purse!

She isn't the only winner we are proud of in our house, Mississippi State University student Joey Beachum (from my hometown, Tupelo, MS) won 2008 Jeopardy! College Championship!!

For those who read this blog, I have two things in common with this man. We are both from Tupelo and both went to Mississippi State. Unlike Joey, I only watch Jeopardy!

So congrats to nessatxmom and Joey!!

Compass confusion

Do they make GPS for strollers?

I have no sense of direction. None. I got lost returning from picking up our special guest judge yesterday.

Why? Well, I was backtracking with my mapquest directions and since I took the North version to get to her location, I figured the South version would get us back home. Apparently I wanted the West version or something. I called Bob in a panic, because I was driving past things I hadn't seen on my way to pick up our guest. He told me to get off the highway and turn around. I called him a few minutes later obsessing about the names on the street signs. Then I called him yet again whining about the exit numbers. It was awful. At least I didn't cry, which is my usual reaction. I absolutely hate getting lost, even though I'm terribly good at it.

Bob is great with directions, and he's definitely a crutch for me. From the stories Bob tells me, his brother is and has also always been really great with directions.

I have a feeling Little Elvis may have inherited this great knack from his father. Yay!! My sense of direction was definitely something I didn't want to pass onto him.

With the pretty weather we've been having, Bob and I have been taking Little Elvis on multiple walks. And because of my aforementioned lack of direction, I will typically stick to the same route.

We do occasionally take different paths, such as the one we took on Monday evening. As soon as we went straight instead of turning, Little Elvis burst into tears. I chalked it up to the fact that we had been following a big dog before we turned.

But then he cried when I took a different path on Wednesday afternoon. It was a path we have been known to take, but it's not the shortest route to his beloved swings.

On Thursday, our special guest and I decided to take Little Elvis on yet another walk, and since I had to deliver something to a neighbor, we went the different route again. Again, he went bananas.

I think our little boy has become familiar with his usual route! I hope he has! Maybe I won't need that GPS after all.

Confusion, rudeness and ice cream

Little Elvis isn't the fan of those shopping cart cars that the previous post would have you believe. We attempted putting him in the car yesterday afternoon. It was not pretty. He cried most of the time. He would stop and just randomly fuss if one of us walked in front of the cart car and talked to him.

I was on walking/talking duty while we were snapping up a great ice cream deal in the frozen treat aisle.


Our car cart was bigger than a normal cart, the aisle was packed, and an older man decided to squeeze between our cart and another cart. He attempted this right as I was backing up to look at Little Elvis, and I backed into him.

As I always do, I said, "Excuse me." I did not yell excuse me, I just said it. It's a reflex for me, like saying, "Bless you" when someone sneezes.

Then I looked at the person who was behind me. It was an old man that appeared to be leering into the cart at my sweet Little Elvis.

The man then glared at me and said, "I say 'Excuse me' when I back into someone." This completely confused me. First, why did he have to tell me he said that, when he could just apologize for hitting my bum with his cart? And secondly, why was this man trying to leer at my little boy?

While I was processing this, I just stared at him. Probably my expression was a mixture of confusion and accusation.

The man gave me one final glare and stormed off muttering. Bob ended up going after him and saying loudly, "She DID say excuse me!" to the man's back.

That's when it clicked in my mind. The man was possibly just leering at Little Elvis for having the audacity to cause me to back up and look at him. And he was telling me what he did when backing up to people, because he didn't hear me.

We've decided he was hard of hearing. I might not have been loud, but Bob has a low, deep voice. I'm just glad he wasn't leering at my baby. Although I don't like that I came across as rude when I wasn't being rude. Oh well.

Little Elvis ended up riding Bob's neck for the remainder of our shopping trip.

One small step for Little Elvis, one giant leap for Mommy

Actually, Little Elvis had a few small steps this weekend.

The biggie? Mommy took him to the nursery during big church. My church spoils me with a crying room, and I've been delaying the inevitable for weeks. Little Elvis had a great time! He poopied (yay! Mommy didn't have to change it!) and he apparently ran for the door everytime it was opened. The pastor was so proud of me, although she did tell me that I looked like a deer in headlights for the entire service. I honestly can't tell you what it was about.

Yes, my son is 15 months old and this was his first time in a nursery. I am nuts.


He also rode in the car in front of the shopping cart for the first time. Little Elvis even gave Mommy his model smile -- he hasn't broken that one out for the camera in a while.
Usually, I get this face when I pull out the camera. It's definitely his new squinchy face, but I think he's also prepping for the flash from the camera.
He's just plain cute in this one. I like his little expression, and love all the little bites he's taken out of the apple. He's started a fun, new trick with his apples. He apparently doesn't like the skin. So he eats the skin off, chews it for a bit and then puts it in my mouth. And the little stinker stands there until I chew and swallow! The things you do for love.
This one is also just super, super cute.
He was so taken with the apple that he took it outside. The rock that he's showing off eventually replaced the apple. But only after he dropped it and I refused to give it back to him until I rinsed it off.

Please don't forget to enter the contest!

From the mouths of babes... a contest!

As a participant of the Mommyfest 2008 Blog Party, I am sponsoring a contest!

All you have to do to enter is leave me a comment telling about the funniest/strangest thing your child has said.

The contest will run through Friday, May 16th. Then Bob, myself and a guest judge will pick the funniest.

Scary Announcer Voice: Tell them what they will be playing for...

An original handmade purse! Before I became pregnant with Little Elvis, I liked to spend my free time sewing and designing things like purses. And I thought they would be perfect as a contest prize.


If you can tell, several are made with Bob's old ties. He wasn't wearing them and I thought they'd make neat purse straps. These are just examples of some of the offerings.

The winner can give us an idea of what he/she likes, and we'll go from there.


Most of the fabrics are vintage, many have vintage lace trims and vintage button closures. The bags that aren't made of vintage materials are made with napkins, placemats, or faux fur. Yeah, wide variety, I know.

Good luck! And I can't wait to read the entries!

Celebrate Mother's Day with Mommyfest Blog Party

Bob made me a wonderful Mother's Day present, and Little Elvis even got in on the action...

We interrupt this regular blog post to bring you the following:

This year, we are participating in the Mommyfest Blog Party which kicks off on Monday, May 12th.

In order to do that, I need to write an intro about PregnantlyPlump.

Bob and I decided to start this blog shortly after becoming pregnant with Little Elvis. I came up with his cute little moniker before I got pregnant. You see, Elvis was born in my hometown. He's huge shakes there. I grew up playing softball at Elvis Presley park, swimming in Elvis Presley lake, going to the Elvis Presley museum on field trips, etc. I thought it would be fun to dub our baby Little Elvis, because I didn't want to refer to our baby as an it until we knew the gender.

One night while I was fussing about being fat, but not noticeably pregnant, Bob told me that I was just pregnantly plump, hence the name of the blog. If you notice any great puns or wonderful headlines, they are the work of my husband. He is much more witty than I am, and even writes once in a while.

What is this blog about? Well, it's about our family - me, Bob and Little Elvis. But as I can't ever just do something the typical way, we like to throw in the occasional music video starring our favorite super star. Yes, we are dorks who both used to work in television news. When Little Elvis first started eating rice cereal, we rewrote the lyrics to "Ice, Ice Baby" and then made a video starring our big boy eater. You can find all of his music videos on the right hand navigation under the ads.

Oh, and I'm donating a breastfeeding cape to the giveaways at Mommyfest, as well as having a give-away of my own starting on Monday. I'm going to be giving away one of my handmade purses.

Back to our regularly scheduled blog post...

Bob recorded a very beautiful song, and then made a special Mother's Day music video featuring Little Elvis and me. This is a bit of a rarity as I don't like being in front of the camera. Still, despite my bedhead and make-up-free face, the music video is wonderful.

Enjoy!

Not to be outdone by his daddy, Little Elvis picked me a flower the other day. He bent down, picked it and then handed it to me! How did he know dandelions were my favorite?

Happy Mother's Day!

Little Elvis channels a little Dirty Harry every now and then....

Have you noticed that I take an obscene amount of pictures and video of him while he's eating?

The outdoors trump shyness -- for one of us

Little Elvis and I got to go to an outside playgroup in the neighborhood yesterday. I was so excited, but a little worried about how Little Elvis and I would act. Would he be shy and cling to me? Would I come out of my shell and be more outgoing and talkative with these moms? Would I tell them of my idea for a trunk show/playgroup with Bob (do you know my husband is a children's entertainer is his spare time?) as entertainment?

This was a margarita/outside playgroup. So, the non-pregnant moms could have a glass of margarita while our little ones played in the nice, big backyard.

We strolled (since I planned on being adventurous and having a margarita!) and were the first ones there.

As soon as I set my little boy down, he was off. He played with the toy lawnmowers, pulled the toddler size croquet wickets out of the ground (and brought them to me) and ran up the sloping side of the backyard. He pretty much ignored the party thrower's two sons, but definitely was not clingy.

I sipped my margarita and made small talk with the mom throwing the bash. Then, the fun began...

Little Elvis wanted to drink out of my cup. Another mother arrived as he whined and grabbed frantically at my cup. He refused to take his water sippy I brought him. He wanted my drink. I tried to crack a joke about how my drink probably would be better than his water, or something stupid like that. The new mother gave me a surprised look, like she thought I wasn't joking. I decided that that attempt at being friendly was bad and didn't crack anymore jokes.

Didn't really get a chance to anyway. By that point, Little Elvis decided that the huge backyard wasn't big enough to contain him. No, he NEEDED to get into the front yard. And he cried and fussed whenever I blocked his path or picked him up to carry him back into the designated play area.

Other mothers arrived. I knew some. I attempted to make small talk and be friendly. But most attempts were thwarted by my sweet Little Elvis. When he wasn't trying to run into the front yard, he was running behind the storage building, --my child was the only one who thought the back of the storage building looked fun --trying to eat rocks from a rock pathway, or picking pretty (just planted) flowers.

I had to dash off from most of my conversations and couldn't be completely into any of them because I was so worried about what he would get into.

After pulling his dirty little fingers out of a pot of potting soil, I decide it's time to go. I say bye to the Mommy throwing the party, apologize for the flower digging and carry my crying little boy out to the stroller.

Bob meets us halfway home and I fret for the rest of the walk about our performance.

Little Elvis overcame his shyness and enjoyed himself to the utmost. I, on the other hand, spent most of the party chasing him around. Several times, I really had to chase him. But there were others where I could have left him to his own devices, (trying to take toys from others, pushing a little boy on a push toy) and I didn't.

I have two thoughts on this: 1. I was using him as an excuse to get out of conversations and the dreaded "dead space" when talking to new people. 2. I was trying very hard not to be "that mom" -- you know, the one who shows up with a wiley toddler and expects everyone else to watch the child while she does not.

Probably it was a mixture of both of these, with a big helping of fear that these women would absolutely not want to attend my possible trunk show/playdate. Then there's the fear that they would want to attend, but would then hate all of my stuff. Not to mention the fact that I'm completely embarrassed about the state of our house.

I'm upset with myself over this. Did my chasing after him make him look like a bad child? He's not. He's a very sweet little boy. He's just also very curious, busy, determined and stubborn. Grr to myself.

Sweet Little Elvis, Mommy will try harder next time.

Naptime is poo-time

My last quickly dashed off post alluded to recent problems with Little Elvis' naptime. The problems started about a week ago, and I'm not really sure how to fix them.

He used to cry when I put him down, but would be completely out by the time I got out of the shower. Then he would sleep for about an hour and a half.

He would wake up in the happiest, giggliest mood! He would sit in his bed and kick his little legs so excitedly as soon as I opened the door.

That hasn't happened recently. Why? Because he's been poo-ing sometime after I put him down. Then he fusses and fusses. I think he's just fussing because he hates naps, so I try to wait him out.

After 45 minutes of intermittent whines, chatters and bangs, I finally go in. And I'm greeted with a stinky smelling room and an unhappy baby in a dirty diaper. I'm also greeted with a nice big sinking guilty feeling in my stomach.

Why don't I go in earlier? I did that one day last week, convinced I had a baby with a dirty diaper. No dice. He just wanted company. And once I went in there the first time, all deals were off -- no naps that day.

Today, he had a huge poo diaper as soon as he woke up. Then, he had another right as I was about to lay him down. I changed him and thought there's no way he will have a poo diaper.

He cried, and cried, and cried and whined and banged and chattered and gurgled. There are several stages that he goes through. After about 45 minutes of listening to my fussy boy, I went in. It didn't smell all that bad, but I knew he would have a full pee diaper.

Yeah, it was full alright. Very, very full. I won't give details, it was full. Poor little boy. His mommy tries to make him sleep in dirty diapers.

I would think his crib must have some sort of Pavlovian effect on his bowels, but he doesn't have this problem at night.

Tomorrow, I'm going in a lot earlier. He may fight me on naps later in the day, but I don't want my sweet boy stuck in a dirty diaper while I'm out in the living room trying to wait out his cries.

I'm not sure what type of advice can be offered here, but if you have any... Better yet, if you have similar stories, I'd like to hear them.

By the way, he's happily napping now!!

Shy baby

I have to write this quickly, because my little nap champ has again become a napfighter. Yay for all of us.

Little Elvis has also officially hit the shy stage. He was shy when Bob's aunt and uncle first arrived the week before last, but I chalked that up to his lack of a nap (surprise, surprise) and cutting teeth.

Yesterday we went to his first playgroup at our library. He was supposed to be 15 months and those people are sticklers. I lied and said he was 6 days older. He was the tallest baby in there, so no one knew. But he was also the shyest.

We got there a couple of minutes late because he napped yesterday (yay!) This means he was well-rested. I couldn't blame that.

There were less than ten other children there. These kids were running around and not really paying attention to the reader. I thought my little boy would have a great time.

I tried to put him down and he clung to me like I was a lifesaver and he was out in the ocean. I sat down while holding him and placed him in my lap. He faced out most of the time, but would occasionally get scared and turn around to hug me for reassurance.

Hopefully he'll have more fun next week. I'm worried about an upcoming visit to Mississippi, though.

Alright, little napfighter is going bananas. This probably could have been more eloquent...

Five things meme

I've been tagged for a 5 things meme by Marla!
Five things found in your bag:
1. A powder compact for the palest drugstore powder I can find. Bonus! Little Elvis thinks this thing is one of the bestest toys ever.
2. Shimmery lipstick I bought a couple of years ago and didn't like. Now I think it's a good summer shade.
3. Ticket that a friend gave me for a consignment sale in the area. I wouldn't have paid that entry fee, and didn't find a single thing when we went.
4. A receipt for Huggies diapers that we will send in to get a dollar rebate once I collect four more.
5. And a funny shaped emory board that I got at our last ultrasound for Little Elvis. I always need these at the strangest times, but I haven't had to use it yet.


Five favorite things in your room:
1. These are two vintage hats that my mom bought me at estate sales. I have a few vintage hats, but these are my favorites. The navy one is actually several bows. The khaki one is just a super cool shape.
2. You can't really see them, but the hats are sitting on vintage hat stands that Bob and I found at an estate sale up here. They have red "M"s on them.
3. The beaded bag was hand beaded by me. I don't even want to think about the amount of time that went into that bag. I've never used it, but I'm pretty sure it's durable. I need to use it.

4. Our marriage license.















This is a vintage radio that Bob and I bought at a garage sale for $15. It was painted a horrid shade of olive green. We stripped the awful paint off and the wood underneath was so beautiful. Then Bob retrofitted it to house my jewelry. This is also one of Little Elvis' favorite spots in our room. I need to put something up in front of the necklaces, I know.

Five things you've always wanted to do:
1. Travel to another country. I've been to Mexico, but does Cancun really count? Europe is calling my name.
2. Reupholster a chair (we're undertaking that this week!)
3. Live in an old church. I think it would be fun to renovate.
4. Open a family friendly movie theatre with play area for toddlers that is breastfeeding friendly and has open mic nights (Bob needs to have a wish here, too!)
5. I'd like to publish a novel. I wrote a very rough draft before getting pregnant. It's needs LOTS of editing and whenever I open it, I just sit and stare.

Five things you are currently into:
(I'm picking television shows!)
1. LOST
2. My Name is Earl
3. The Office
4. Dancing with the Stars
5. How I Met Your Mother