Resolutions Smesolutions

It should come as no surprise, but I totally !@$%! suck at New Years Resolutions. Last year, I shared with you what I planned to do and how blogging about them would maybe hold me accountable.

It didn’t.

I accomplished 25% of my resolutions. One out of four. ONE.


I wanted to break the 20-plus year old habit of picking my cuticles. They still look like the remnants of a shark attack.

I wanted to cook a new recipe every week. But with Big A gone the majority of the year, it seemed pretty stupid to cook an entire meal for me and the kid who won’t eat. I was successful in the five weeks in the beginning of the year when Big A was home to feed his facehole.

I wanted to blog once a week. Seeing as I wrote six posts all year, I’m gonna call that one a pretty significant FAIL.(Ok, I counted and it was actually 19. Better than I thought but not quite the 52 I was after).

My only success was the one I didn’t actually THINK I even could accomplish. Many members of my extended family and I climbed Longs Peak in Colorado in honor of my grandpa who passed away last year. We’re talking 14,000 feet of pure hell with a semi-untrained body. NEWS FLASH: yoga and stair steppers do not adequately train you for mountain climbing. But somehow it was enough.

I started to write a blog about it. You’ll get to read it someday. Maybe. Gee, that sounds awfully familiar, doesn’t it?

Longs Peak Tree Line at Sunrise

Just above the tree line at Sunrise. Because we had to start in the middle of the night. That’s how @#%$@!# this climb is.


Out of all the resolutions made, I’m stupid glad the mountain was the only one I accomplished*. I climbed several other “mountains” in 2014 (but only one other literal mountain). We moved, we became landlords, we faced a lot of changes. This year offers even more mountains to climb and instead of making promises to myself that will just end up broken, I’m going to face each new obstacle as another peak to climb.

Because apparently that’s the only way I get shit done. Even if I’m bitching about it the entire way.

I really am going to super try to blog more, though. Just for you. There will be much to say this year.

Cheers to 2015 and those of you still hanging around reading this nonsense!

What mountains do you want to climb this year??


*I should clarify that none of us made it to the actual summit due to high winds. But we made it as far as we safely could, about 90% of the way, and that’s more than good enough for me who expected to make it 50%.



Here We Goat Again!

It’s been a crazy month of packing, moving, driving, unpacking, a slew of bugs and learning the lay of new lands and states. There is much to be said about all that but you’ll probably never read it. Somehow, in the midst of the crazy, we made one last visit to the farm in Maryland we’ve taken Little A to every year

Kid still likes goats. This year he also liked chasing the chickens, blatantly ignoring the DON’T CHASE THE CHICKENS sign, that rebel. He finally sat still long enough to not be a blur or an immobile lump in the pumpkin patch. He also rode a horse that was supposed to be a pony but was pretty much a horse.

I also learned that my camera is cursed at this particular latitude and longitude. The past two visits, my camera would shut down and I would have to take the battery out in order for it to work again. I thought it was something with the sensors and the sun or some shiut, because it was always super bright and I was usually trying to get glare, but this year was overcast and it STILL happened. It’s never happened anywhere else. Ever. So cool story, bro.

Anyway, we won’t be dressing up this year aside from sitting in emptied moving boxes handing out candy to our new neighbors, so some pumpkin photos will have to suffice for Halloween this year. Sorry, no mullets, hair bands or tattoos. #sadface

Elioak 14-1 Elioak 14-2 Elioak 14-3Elioak 14-5Elioak 14-6Elioak 14-4

This kid drives me totally batshit every single day but that face, man. That stupid cute little face. Can’t even. 

Check out this wicked cool age progression.

Elioak 14-7

Happy Halloween from our whole #$!#$!% family!!



Takeaways from Yesterday

Dear #%@# Baby:

Did you have fun yesterday? Did you notice a difference in Mama’s attitude, fun level, patience and easygoingness? Because I sure as shit did.

Look back, try and recall what was different. Think hard. Rememmmmber.


And it was awesome.

You awoke at 7am, chatted a little, screamed a little, then went silent when I told you to go back to sleep. I figured you would wake up at your normal 8am, which is still too early for me but anything before noon truly is, but you didn’t. Not even 9. Not even motherloving TEN. Which is when we should have left to go to yoga.

No. My sweet, awesome little man. You slept until TEN FUCKING THIRTY.

And then woke up in a good mood. And I was in a fantastic mood because I got to sleep until TEN FUCKING THIRTY!


Listen to this guy. Genius.

In fact, I woke up BEFORE you. And sort of freaked out that you had Shawshanked your crib again and were somewhere in the house doing God knows what. But a peek at the monitor assured me you were still contained. And then I thought OMG HE CHOKED ON HIS SNOT! So I climbed out of bed, peeked my head in your room and heard your soft little snores. I was all like, “sweet, dude!” and turned to leave so I could climb back into bed and play Candy Crush but my old ass hip popped loudly and you started to stir.

Didn’t even care, yo. It was TEN FUCKING THIRTY! 

I gave you a few minutes to wake up, you greeted me with smiles and chatters and giggles and dinosaur roars. You ate a decent breakfast, listened to directions for a change and we had a fantastic morning. Even chatted with me throughout the grocery store and acted like a monkey when we bought bananas and holy shit sometimes you’re really cute.

Like when I’m not sleep deprived because my body still refuses to go to sleep before 1am. Like when I get to sleep in. UNTIL TEN MOTHERFUCKING THIRTY!!

And then. AND THEN. Three o’clock rolled around. And you started to get a little cranky. And I had a few things to do around the house. But I thought there was no way, NO WAY, I could possibly get you to nap. I let you pick out a toy or two and a book or two and you didn’t even flinch when I dropped them into the crib. And then I dropped you in there. And you picked up the book and didn’t even noticed when I left the room.

Not a peep.

Not a sound.

Not a rustle or cackle or scream or sign of being wound.

You fell asleep.


I got some shit done, went in to check on you because in no way was this real life and then because I could, even though I wasn’t actually tired, I NAPPED TOO.

Best. Day. Ever.

High five, kid. Today was a good day.

Let’s make this our everyday, huh? Things around here will be so much more tolerable for everyone involved. 

OK, not everyday because I do like yoga but non-yoga days. 

Oh, FORGET yoga, we’re cancelling the gym membership today anyway. DO THIS EVERY DAY. 





The Incredible Shrinking…Nut.

Well, my blogosphere friends. I may still be semi-reeling the events of Little A’s hernia surgery, but if you ask the kid, he’ll have a different story. The day after, he’d say “ow”, point to the area and then run in circles for six hours yelling about god knows what.

This kid most certainly has his father’s pain tolerance. Continue reading

Little A’s Big Nut

I alluded to some specialist appointments that had to be made in my update post. You know, that post in which I updated…and then abandoned you again. If you’ve been hanging around here long enough, that shouldn’t have fazed you. If it did, well, you’ll learn.

Back to business and nuts – at Little A’s two-year well child visit, there were a few things of concern.

  1. He wasn’t speaking. I knew this. Speech therapy is ahead.
  2. He wasn’t growing. I knew this. The checklist to rule out any major issues was expanded to include a blood draw, three month follow-up and a visit to a Cardiologist to make sure his murmur wasn’t a bigger issue than we thought. Which was exactly zero issue since he’s had it the whole time and it was labeled “innocent”. UNTIL PROVEN GUILTY. We see the Cardiologist in three weeks.
  3. He has a giant ball. SAY WHAAAAT. I literally cracked up when the pediatrician pointed out his monstrous testicle. I had been prepared for the speech delay, the growth delay, I had even already considered the murmur, but an enlarged cojone?! Nothing could have prepped me for that.

We got the referral to see the pediatric urologist. Whose name, not even joking, is Wang. I can’t make this shit up. The pediatrician thought it was most likely a hydrocele which is a hole in the sac that allows for a slow leak of fluid. Most of the time it’s caught before the baby turns one, so either Little A had a slooooooow leaker or no one has been paying close enough attention to his nuts.

The urologist determined it to be a inguinal hernia, and don’t ask me to explain it, because kid was throwing a fit in her office before, during and after he was examined and I didn’t get a full description. Either way, it requires surgery to repair it. I don’t need to know WHAT is wrong. Just fix it! Fix my kid’s balls!

I’m sorry, I feel bad for making fun of the #$!#$ baby, I really do. He isn’t in pain but it sure can’t be comfortable. But it’s his balls. BALLS. I have the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy, so. This is just the cherry on top of my summer, honestly. Like of ALL things, it’s this. It’s just so damn funny to me.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not thrilled that he needs to have a surgery or need to be put under anesthesia. But so many people I know knew what I was talking about right as I explained the situation. It’s a common procedure and he should be in and out in 20 minutes. I keep telling people the worst part of the whole thing will be driving in downtown Baltimore.


As it approaches I am feeling a little more nervous, mostly because I know how clingy/cuddly/cranky he can get when he’s sick and I’m sure he won’t be feeling very good down there for awhile. I’m also supposed to keep him from horseplay for like THREE @#%@!$# WEEKS, so that’ll be a fun challenge.

I just can’t believe I didn’t notice the fairly significant testicular sizes. Whoops. I should also mention that when the pediatrician pointed it out, while I started giggling, my first thought was HOLY SHIT I’M NEVER GOING TO BE A GRANDMA!

My brain sort of jumped a few decades there. It was a serious and immediate concern. I don’t have a set, I don’t know what goes on down there.

That’ll be my next few days. Tending to a swollen, surgically repaired sack and trying to keep a two year old relatively still. Wish us luck. We’re gonna $%@# need it.