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L is for Ladies Man

A few shots from our glorious long weekend:

This was our last obligation-free weekend for the forseeable future with 3 graduations, 3 weddings, 2 bachelor/bachelorette parties and (gulp) closing on the farm all happening within the next 30 days.  We did our best to enjoy our time as much as possible and I think we succeded.


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B is for Baby Big Head

I’ve been saying for months that Lukas has a big head.  He wears hats two sizes ahead of his clothes.  People kept telling me that all babies seem to have big heads and it wasn’t a big deal.  I wasn’t worried about his health, more that he’s going suffer from a lifetime of ill-fitting headwear like his mama.

My suspicions were confirmed on Friday at his one year appointment.  While his height and weight were solidly in the 85th percentile, his head was in the 99.08th.  The nurse measured it twice because she didn’t believe it.  That’s my boy.  Well, his dad has a big head too.  Poor kid.

I think his head is to blame for his first serious injury.  While he’s an incredibly skilled walker he still gets a bit off balance.  He spent the night with Grandma Broccoli and Grandpa Larry on Saturday night and on Sunday morning he fell eyebrow first into their glass coffee table.  He made it out with a lump and a scrape.  And a large bowl of orange sherbert.  The coffee table is being banished to Uncle E’s apartment. 

Poor BBH.

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Maybe being anonymous isn’t so hot

[DISCLAIMER!  I did not write the below post.  I’m participating in a blog share hosted by the lovely -R-.  Basically, this means that a group of bloggers has the opportunity to write anonymous posts and have what they’ve written posted on a blog that does not belong to them.  It’s a lot of fun and the topics are always interesting.  The full list of participants is at the end.]


On my own blog I wax poetically about how nice it would be to have an anonymous blog again.  I could vent about certain parts of my life without having to worry about the fallout from people I know in 3-D. I could….well, yeah–that’s pretty much the entire allure of being able to say stuff that I know I won’t ever say on my own blog.
For the record, I am NOT one of those blog trolls who relishes in anonymity just to tell people they suck.  Those trolls are lame.   In fact, now that the opportunity is presented to me, I’m not sure what I want to write about or how personal I want to get.
So since I can’t decide, I’ll pose the question to you:

If you lived in a world where you wouldn’t be held accountable for what you said and did, what would you do?  If that whole nobody knows me thing extended to the real world, I know a few things I would do.


Would ask the person living on the third floor which gender he/she is.  I’ve been living in the same building as this person for more than two years and, in spite of some lengthy staring when we pass on the stairs or in the parking lot, I cannot figure out of it is a slightly effeminate dude with a girlfriend or a boyishly built lesbian.  I swear–I’m not saying it to be funny, it’s true.  I refer to it as the Hermaphrodite on the third floor.  Which is mean but I never say that to its face.   Still though, inquiring minds want to know!

Would yell at talkers in the movie theater, even if we had gone to see the movie together.  How awesome would it be to whip around and say “you would understand what was going on if you would shut the fuck up!” I bet people would clap.

Would punch that little Asian guy in the face.  Once upon a time on a trip to the grocery store I was standing in front of a produce display trying to figure out which leafy green thing belonged to which tag on the board above the display and some little old Asian guy grabbed my shoulder and shoved me out of his way so that he could grab a handful of…one of the leafy green things.  And then he admonished me loudly in…Asian (am not racist, but did not want to assign a country in case it was the wrong one.  Am not good with languages).  My knee jerk reaction was to raise my fist but I put it down and simply walked away.  Even though it was months ago, I still wish I had punched him.  I don’t care if he was little or old or if I probably would have been charged with a hate crime.  That was just rude.

Would pay Old Navy all my money to stop making commercials.  Those things SUCK.

For me, blogging started out as an anonymous endeavor.  And it was super fun and cathartic and I loved it.  And then my Mom asked for the URL and I was really dumb and gave it to her (though I refuse to Facebook friend her).  And then some work buddies wanted the URL.  And then some childhood friends.  And while I love that I have so many friends and family who want to be supportive.  It is hard to be the me that I am when confronted by the expectations of the me they remember/want me to be/think  I am.
I suppose we all have this problem, which is why we jump at the chance for anonymous posting opportunities like this one.

Blog Sharers

Not the Daddy:
O is for Olson:
Red Red Whine:
Rediscovering Me:
Reflections in the Snow-covered Hills:
The Reluctant Grownup:
Sauntering Soul:
Serendipity Now:
So, This Is a Treadmill:
Thinking Some More:
Time for Change:
Together They Come:
Wondering and Pondering:
And You Know What Else:
Andrea Unplugged:
Bright Yellow World:
Did I Say That Outloud?:
Dispatches from the Failed Mommy Club:
Full of Snark:
Hot Chicks Dig Smart Men:
Just Below 63:
The Little Goat:


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Mashed Up Mailbox

Last night a neighbor stopped by to tell us there had been an accident with our mailbox.  He handed us the mail that had been in it and didn’t say anything else.  I left a short time later to run a few errands and another neighbor stopped me to tell the whole story.  Apparently a neighbor from a few streets over had passed out due to not eating and drove her car into our mailbox bank and demolished all three of them.  She was okay and her insurance would pay to have the mailboxes, posts and landscaping repaired.

I was very glad it was just a few mailboxes and not one of the many kids in our neighborhood.  I guess I can add this to the list of things that keeps me awake at night.  Parenthood, it’s just one worry after another.

When I got home tonight the mailbox was fixed, in even better shape than before, and we didn’t have to pay a dime.  I make fun of the neighbor across the street because he’s extremely anal about his yard, but he’s the one that replaced the posts and reset all of the boxes.   It looks great.  I guess it’s time to make some banana bread as a thank you.

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Cheater Chicken Pot Pie

With the change in the weather I’ve been craving warm, creamy, savory things.  For dinner tonight I really wanted a chicken pot pie.  I looked at a few recipes, made a few of my own modifications and created an incredibly easy version.

You’ll need:

  • 1 rotisserie chicken from the grocery store
  • 1 box of prepared pie crust (2 crusts)
  • 2 cans cream of chicken soup
  • 3/4 bag frozen peas and carrots
  • 3/4 bag frozen corn
  • 1 medium onion

Remove the chicken from the bones and cut/tear into small pieces.

In a large bowl combine the cut up chicken and add all of the remaining ingredients except the pie crust.

Line the bottom of a pie pan with one pie crust.  Spread the chicken, soup and vegetable mix over the bottom crust and top with the second pie crust.  Pinch the edges of the pie crust together to seal the pie and cut slits in the top to release steam.

Bake in a 375 degree oven for an hour or until the pie crust is golden brown.  You may want to bake it on a cookie sheet.  There is a lot of filling and mine overflowed a bit.

This got two thumbs up from the Olson house and it was super easy to boot!  (I was able to make it with a certain little person hanging on my legs and the four legged child begging for scraps).

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Doing Daycare

In yesterday’s post I mentioned that Lukas fell down a flight of stairs at daycare.   I walked in to pick him up on Tuesday and his wonderful daycare ‘mom’ looked at me and said, “You’re going to kill me.”  I said, “No, probably not.”  At the same time the possible scenarios of what could have happened ran through my head:

A haircut from one of the other kids?  No big deal.  He’s already as bald as they come.

He escaped and ran into traffic?  He can crawl fast and he likes to climb, but I’m pretty sure getting out of the house is impossible.

She was quitting and we’d have to find a new place for Lukas?  PLEASE NO.  PLEASE NO.  WE WILL PAY YOU MORE!  JUST DON”T STOP DOING DAYCARE!  PLEASE!

It turned out that one of the kids had accidently left the door to the stairs open and before she could grab him Lukas took his tumble.  She felt terrible, but I wasn’t upset.  Things like that happen.  In fact he’s slipped on our stairs in his never-ending quest to reach the bathtub.  Accidents happen.  Kids get hurt.  I don’t think that you can protect them from everything.  I could certainly fashion a suit out of bubble wrap and never let Lukas leave our house, but chances are he’d still find a way to injure himself. 

Every family is entitled to choose what is best for them.  Early on in my pregnancy a friend asked if I planned to breastfeed and I told her that it would depend, we would do whatever worked for us.  I didn’t want to make any firm decisions in advance.  She told me later that she was so impressed and surprised by that answer.  That everyone she’d ever asked had either said definitely yes or definitely no.   I think what drove this approach, at least for me, was the fear of setting myself up for disappointment or frustration.  I’d read enough to know that there are people who were adamant about natural childbirth and ended up being sad about their birth experience because they needed a c-section.  Or the families who are against co-sleeping only to find that is the one way their child will actually sleep. 

By rolling with the punches I’ve done things I’d never really considered, like co-sleeping.  I didn’t feel guilty when I stopped nursing at 3 months.  I completely enjoy making Lukas’ baby food.  And we love Lukas’ daycare. 

I was pretty sure Lukas would end up in daycare.  I felt pretty confident that I would go back to work and like it once my maternity leave was over.  I also tried to prepare myself for feeling like I needed to stay home with him, but that never really happened.  The transition was made a lot easier because my sister was Lukas’ nanny for the first  few months.  but I didn’t expect to be so excited and happy about our current situation.  Lukas loves it at daycare.  He gets to play with other little ones and watch big kids.  He is loved and cared for.  He’s experiencing things that I wouldn’t necessarily do at home (she makes them pancakes or french toast EVERY DAY!  I’m lucky if I make it out of the house with toast).  Doing daycare works for us.

I like my job.  My working provides us with more than just an additional paycheck.  It’s helping us create the future that we want for ourselves and for Lukas.  Finding balance is sometimes tough, but what needs to get done always seems to eventually.  We’re incredibly fortunate that we have family nearby that is willing and able to help out whenever we need it.  I am also lucky to work for a company that is very family friendly.  Parenting is hard enough without putting pressure on yourself to live up to the (sometimes unrealistic) expectations of other people or even your own.  I think the key to success is knowing yourself and knowing your kid and making your decisions accordingly. 

Lukas’ First Day of Daycare, September 8, 2009

First Day

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Back At It

I know that November is technically the month when people try to post every single day, but I’m going to see if I can do it in October.  Considering I wrote exactly one thing the entire month of September it’s going to be quite a feat. 

You’re probably glad I didn’t write anything in September though.  It would have gone a little like this:

Teeth.  Woe.

New Boss.  Woe.

Croup.  Woe.

Tumble down the (full flight of) stairs at daycare.  Woe.

More teeth.  More woe.

Also, I’ve decided that the weekly recaps are boring and tedious to write and I think that probably means they are boring and tedious to read.   I might just stick to the pictures.

34 Weeks

Everyone likes cute babies, right?  (And yes, this was taken two weeks ago.  I’m a little behind on the photo uploading, and everything else in my life to be honest.)


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