You Can't Change What You Don't Acknowledge

Dear Over eaters Anonymous,

I'm a first time caller. Er, Uh, I mean I've never done one of these 12 step programs before. Is this a 12 stepper? Anyways, I'm a newbie. In every respect of the word.

Anyway, I've kind of started a new life here, but I'm finding that I'm running into a couple of problems. I used to be thin. Big boned, large noggin', yet skinny and scrawny in a lovable kind of way. But as life does, things have turned on a dime. I'm finding that I am becoming obsessed. With eating. And not only am I obsessed with eating, but I am gaining weight like you wouldn't believe. I took a tubby yesterday, and I noticed this



Yep. Back fat. SO disheartening. I kind of sat all floppy for awhile after that, and I'll admit it. I cried a little. Such a baby.

So I did some thinking. I can't go around with all this back fat, but right after I thought that I found myself distracted, thinking about this.

Yeah. I KNOW. Looks scrumpdillyumptious doesn't it? And then I had one of those light bulb moments. Yep. My first one. I, for the first time in my life, became self aware:

I AM OBSESSED WITH DAIRY.

It's all I think about. 24/7. I've tried humming my favorite hymn, but the dairy just keeps popping in there. I find myself wistful about this



And then without even noticing it I move onto this


Which naturally moves on to this


Which pretty much sums it up for me these days. Dairy. Joy. I think those two words have the same delicious meaning. C'mon. They do and you know it.

In my short little life, I already know they have the same meaning. Experience has taught me that when you fill up your empty belly with dairy, and you not only fill it but you fill it so full that you can't stand it anymore, that it causes you to throw your head back and shut your eyes and let you let your jaw just hang open like no one else is in the room and then you have to let out all the air in your lungs because there's no more room in your body for even air so that leaves you feeling what I like to call dairy drunk. You might even drool a little bit. And it is pure pure joy. That's what I'm talking about Mister.

Which brings us to this. I mean it. What about this? I was thinking about this the whole time I was telling that story about dairy drunk

This seems like something akin to paradise. I want to marry a Dairy Queen someday. Blonde. With blue eyes. Lover of Dairy.


Getting off track here. So the other night? When my grandmommocita was holding me, I was sleeping, and I was smiling. And then I laughed. And then I sighed. And then I purred. Yep. You guessed it. Can't even stop thinking about it in my sleep:

Look at all that dairy. A thing of beauty, no? I can't think of anything more lovely, or of good report. I can't think of anything. I dare you to either. I double or triple dog dare you because I just saw a commercial for Christmas Story.

I'll tell you what though. This here lady, she's lucky for a couple of reasons.

All the dairy she wants. AND IN A BUCKET! Someday. I tell you, SOMEDAY I'm going to take a ride on that there gravy train. Thinking about milk in a bucket right this minute, just in case you wanted to know.

See how bad it's getting? Here's more: the other day, I was in the Dr.'s office, and I innocently picked up a magazine. Before you knew it I had filled out and mailed in the subscription card for this

And I have no cash so it was tricky. And let's just say that Grandma is not so pleased because now her address is going to be sold to catalogues that sell cow stuff. Not great.

So I beg you. Take pity. On me. I got on the internet and I know you have things to help people like me.

Because for heavens sakes, when I'm not thinking about milk, I consuming it.

So hurry up. Because there happens to be all kinds of weird stuff on the internet that just is not true.


So if you have to, put this on your frig. Or on your bathroom mirror, where you will see it.

Thank you for understanding,
Very truly yours,

Henry R. SnugglieBaby

P.S. Oh, and since it's almost December, please have a Merry Christmas.

They Make a Cute Baby Sometimes

Because maybe one or two of you begged for more, here is my favorite grandson. For at least another week. After that, let the duking it out for Grandmommacita's love begin.

I heart swaddling

For Out of Town Grandma. The Rest of You Might Wish to Move on to the Next Blog. Because Even Though I Care Deeply, I Can't Assume that You Do Too.

Tonight, as I gave Henry a bath I counted 5 little rolls of fat on his leg. I'm pretty sure that's advanced as rolls of fat on legs go.

Stirrin' it Up

Its a well know fact that these two do it.

Focus people. I'm talking about having a "family bed".


And since blogs are the confessional of the 21st century, let me just state, that my bed has been turned, right under my nose, into a family bed. Yep. Me, Schnerberwitz, and Snuggliebaby. All together from midnight to 6 am. I know, I know, this is a controversial issue. But the election is over, and it's time to bring up some pros and cons. Don't you miss them? Do you think Fox News will pick up this story? I have some things to say about Family Beds. They're weirds. As in plural weird. I've been looking up the subject and geeze lousie, I have some questions. Burning questions.

Like here's one. If you have a family bed, does it stop with just sleep? Or after you all sleep in the same bed, do you have to start eating in there too? Does it become the family slash bed slash table?
Because if you start up with the eating, then you're not only going to be dealing with the foot in the face issue, but you're also going to have to deal with the foot in the face with the toast crumbs issue as well.

And is there a rule that every single person has to be on board with the idea or it is a no go? Because I think that if I were forced by a young mother and her infant to be in a family bed, then that would be my rule. Because do you really want family members saying to themselves: "Am I a family outcast if I want my own room?" Besides, I don't think this chick looks too wild about being the baloney in her family bed sandwich.

And what about this: who do you allow in there? Where do you draw the line? I mean, families are big sometimes. And there's weirdos sometimes. Like, what if your dad is this guy? Does that mean you're sleeping with him?



Or what if there is a family pet? And it smells? Or what if he has his own bed? Does that mean you have to drag his bed up on to your bed so he will be happy and so it will truly be considered a family bed?




Or worse, what if THIS is his bed? Are you obligated to drag this monster up into your bed? I guess it could be done. You maybe could position that metal thing right over your head if you need to economize space. Then the doggie could still sleep with his bottom positioned in the fuzzy green thing right above your smeller.

And where does it stop?

Is Grandma invited in to the family bed when she becomes to infirm to care for herself? Because you know what that means. Say hello to installing side rails and having a bedpan handy. And you know she's going to bring along her C-PAP and there might be oxygen tanks just for kicks and giggles. KaBoom KaBlamm.

And what about the bed bug issue?

If you add more people, will there be more bed bugs? However, with regards to this issue, maybe you personally will get less bed bug bites. Because the bugs will be biting your kids instead of you. Now there's a plus.


I found that the family bed has become a cottage industry. For example, there are Bed and Breakfasts that cater just to families who prefer a family bed:



WooHoo... There's a vacancy.... Get going.....


And don't you just love it when you find a good children's book that will help you solve a problem that one of your children is having? Who knew there was sensitivity to this issue?




And there's junk you can buy to further junk up your bed with. Junk to keep your baby safe and secure. But one has to wonder... where is Daddy sleeping now?


And just to take the stress out of it, there are "Stay Dri" items you can buy to stick between you and your 800 thread count sheets. 'Cause you never know.

And not to worry. There are books designed to undo what you have done. You can find it all on Amazon.com. Amazing website. Love it.

Don't stress. If your child experiences trauma from you kicking him out of the family bed, it is perfectly OK for him to request that you make him a family bed birthday cake to help him cope.

And after reading the how to get the kids out of the bed book, and you just can't seem to make it happen, then just embrace your inner chi. Get yourself one of these floating family beds. "Keep your family bed pure" was the slogan on the ad for this baby. A good idea for the whole earth, I always say.

I don't know. After mulling this over, I did find one good idea. Get yourself one of these bad boys, and if everyone is bugging you, why just close that puppy up. Problem solved. And hey sports fans....it's a space saver too.

PS If you wanted an update on the little man, he lost his umbilical cord yesterday. Oh you know he enjoyed that warm water bath.

PSS. I apologize for any offense that may have been caused in the stirring up of this matter. Can't we just all get along?

What Two Grandmas Might Do to Someone Else's Baby when they find Someone Else's Camera Lying Around

Mommacita's List of Favorite Things: Newborn Edition

Do you tire of overbearing Grandmacita? Um. Too bad because I don't really care.

So with a grand flourish, a wave of a satin cape, a sound effect that sounds like magic and twinkly lights, (going to have to use your God Given imagination) and a handful of glitter tossed in the air all over you, here is

Mommactia's List of Favorite Things: Newborn Edition

In no particular order:

There really was a baby boy in there!

Baby Fuzz!

Baby Squeaks!

Baby Skin!

Snuggling accompanied with kitty sounds!

Smiling at Timmer's picture! (according to out of town Grandma, she showed him his picture and he focused and smiled. I bought it instantly. Like a sucker.)

Those lips!

That smell!

Teeny tiny ears!

Sniffing! His and mine!

Seeing the mothering instinct kick in instantly with someone who left her cabbage patch kid in the box! So Fun!

Repeat the one above!

Warmth!

The Name!

Sad crying!

Mad crying!

Whimper crying!

Lip quivering!

Any noise at all coming out of those lips!

Rooting!

Rooting on my neck!

Nursing!

Not being sore from nursing!

Hearing the Swallowing from across the room!

Wipie Warmers!

Minkie Blankets!

Flannel!

Cone head one day, perfect sphere the next!

Dad's brow!

Mom's nose!

MY CHIN!!! (I'm 3 for 3 on the chin, so I'm officially starting to groove on my chin. You wish you had my chin)

Moses Baskets! (thanks Gina!)

Friends bringing in dinners! (thanks friends!)

Fingers, precious baby fingers!

Same as above only insert toes as the body part!

The back of his head!

The back of his neck!

Eyelids!

Baby Tongue!

Free Pampers from the hospital!

I could go on and on!

and On!

How cute are they doing the man hands holding the idy bidy baby thing?

PS Today he decided he like his lime green Binky. That info was for out of town Grandma.

PSS He misses out of town Grandma.

Communication: The Key to Life

Precious Perfect's parents have changed his name to Henry. I'm a little conflicted, because Precious Perfect was so fitting. And his initials could have been, well, ....something that is very important to a newborn.


Anyway, Precious Perfect, or Little Man, or Henri (when I'm feeling french) or YummyBaby is a delicious specimen. And do you want to hear a story? You do? About my grandchild? You do? Because you're interested? Because you love stories about other people's YummyBabies? Wow. You're kind. I might not be as kind as you are.


So here's a story,. It's called,

"YummyBaby Communicates to the Grandma's, but Not Until He Exerts a Lot of Patience, Effort, and Good Ol' Elbow Grease Do They Finally Get It."

The following is not a musical. But it is good enough to be on the Lifetime Network. And it's about women and women's stuff so it has a chance. However, the two men in this story are nice so that might work against it being considered. On with the reinactment.

Nurse: Schneebermoms, because you have just given birth to the YummiestBaby of all of 2008, you and your rear end win a free trip to the jacuzzi room down the hall. You might want to go on a date with your husband while you have two such loving Grandmothers to watch your YummyBaby.

So off they go, walking hand in hand, one walking more gingerly than the other, one walking slower than he is used to. Wish I had a photo to insert here. But not one taken from behind because a behind shot of a daughter in a hospital gown after birth is not what the Internet is for. Even if you're really really tempted.

Yummy Baby: Snort, SNORT

In Town Grandma: Let me jiggle you YummyBaby. You'll like that.

YummyBaby: Snortcryyowl, SNORTCRYYOWL!!

In Town Grandma: (Whispering) Don't make me look like a rookie in front of the Out of Town Grandma YummyBaby.

YummyBaby: Out and out crying. Lip quivering crying. HystericalBaby in a movie crying.

In Town Grandma: Maybe he needs to be changed. (Sets YummyBaby down on his mother's bed.) Proceeds to look for what is none of her business.

Yummy Baby: Mmmm-mmm, ZZZZZZZZZZZZ-zzzzzzzzz

In Town Grandma to Out of Town Grandma: Wha? Why did he stop? Do you think he smelled his mother in her bed? Do you think the smell of his mother comforts him?

Out of Town Grandma: Maybe.

In Town Grandma: Out of Town Grandma, do you want to have a turn?

Out of Town Grandma: YES!

Out of Town Grandma gently picks him up, all warm and swaddled.

YummyBaby: er er er......... YOWWWWWWWWWL. CRRRRRRRRY. WAAAAAAAAAAA

Out of Town Grandma starts jiggleing, rocking, singing, cooing.

YummyBaby: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Breath
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Breath
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!

Schneebermomma and her date walk (a little less gingerly, a little more spry, thanks to the free jacuzzi) through the door.

Schneerbermom standing in doorway: Hi Guys.

YummyBaby: SnivelSnivelSniffSniff
YummyBaby: exhale
YummyBaby:
YummyBaby: coo.

Is not my Henry an impressive little dude?

You're Dying to Know this Actual Fact

Precious Perfect Willeigh is here. Born this evening at 7:22 pm. 8lbs. 15 oz, 21 1/2" long with a head circumfrence of 36. Big Huge hands. No name yet. I'm too pooped to give you more, because I found myself pushing too.


Parents of Precious are Delighted. Soaring in fact. All three are very cute. But the baby smells better than Christmas.

Ghetto Fabulous

Today I really really REALLY missed going to the polls.

In my state they have mail in ballots. Remember the wonderful precinct stations, of days gone by? The ones where you'd get a little card in the mail telling you to go to a certain place (your child's elementary school) and on election day they'd have special parking for you, (making you feel all special and pretty) and so you'd park in it and get out of the car and you'd follow little patriotic signs that said VOTE written in the shape of an arrow,

and those signs would direct you to a table full of little old ladies from the league of women voters that would greet you so warmly that you just knew they were professional grandmas in real life, in fact they smelled just like cookies

and they would be in charge of these giant computer print outs with the names of all the registered voters in the precinct and you'd tell them your name (Mommacita please) and they'd have you sign your name, and right below your name you could see that your husband had already voted earlier that morning and signed his name, and you would think, "Oh, the Tim-o-tee, I just love that guy", and then you were given the thumbs up so you could proceed to the flimsy red white and blue cardboard voting booth

and armed with your voters pamphlet (just in case you forgot something) you would carefully vote. And then your new grandma would give you a flag sticker that says "I voted today" on it. And you'd proudly wear it for the rest of the day.

Remember that?

Well today I took my ballot to the Smokers With B.O. Lounge (Department of Motor Vehicles) to personally drop it in the ballot box. This is what the genius's at the DMV came up with for folks to drop their ballots into:

A Rubbermaid box with a slot cut into the side

And for Fort Knox Security the edges of the lid were wrapped a couple of times with this:And taped to the lid of the Rubbermaid box with the jaggedy slit there was a sign that was made with discarded cardboard from a pantyhose package that said

"Stick Yer Votes in this Hear Box"

And then there were toothpicks to one side so you could pick your teeth on the way out.

I wanted to pull my toenails out.

And no. These are not my real toenails. Don't be stupid lest I tire of you.