Accountable

I told myself I have to get on the treadmill tomorrow and start training for the MuckFest. Blogger better hold me accountable!

Insta TGIF

This week wasn't crackling with lots of happenings. It was more Operation: Lets Get Back On Routine. You cannot slack on routine with a kid. Unless you want to pay with sleep deprivation. Extreme deprivation, at all levels.

I think we might be starting a new tradition in our house where the first Friday of the month we get Papa Murphy's. You can get a giant Cowboy (pizza, not a man, shucks) for $13. Vincent enjoyed watching the pizza get made. I enjoyed not having to drum up dinner. The added bonuses: Vincent likes to spear things with a fork. Pizza=spearable. Also: it was one dinner and two lunches. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Vincent is reaching his ornery stage of toddlerhood. We're talking pushing boundaries, not backing down when told no, testing the limits of gravity on the couch. Someone is bound to get hurt. It'll probably end up being me. Just look at that face. What's he planning?!

Remember how I me mentioned the need for routine? Well, one of the reasons is this: falling asleep playing wherever, whenever. Why? We've been waking up in the middle of the night. Schedule out of whack! Yes, it's cute and adorable that I captured such a sweet face. But it's a sweet face that should be resting in a crib an hour from this photo, not falling asleep wrestling dad on the floor and using his belly as a pillow.

I broke out my bread maker. It's been seriously under used. It may have even been covered under an inch of dust. Imagine me covering my face in shame. But that changes now. I had all the ingredients to make whole wheat bread. It was amazing. A little too dense, but amazing. I will never again look at store bought bread the same way. I plan on making jalapeño cheese bread next. Yum!

Super Bowl Sunday was a party at B's house. Apparently Aunt B and Vincent were prepared for the black out. And Vincent partied like an animal. He chased B's poor dog around, did some dancing, got complimentary airplane rides, and enjoyed staying up way past his bedtime. Mama and Daddy paid for it.

I finally whipped out the paints for Vincent. We used the Color Wonder set. I wasn't impressed. They smelled bad and it was hard to see what you were doing because, like the markers, the color takes a while to develop. I did learn Vincent loves to paint.

Whew! It's Friday! Insta edition

Well, it's been a couple interesting weeks. Actually more than a couple. I learned I lost out on my dream job after preparing a presentation for an arduous second interview. I'm told my experience and professionalism were impressive. Close but no cigar. It would have been a lot of cash too. To cut through the disappointment I'm telling myself I really couldn't be the kind of Mama I want to be and be the type of hardworking and devoted editor I would have needed in that job. Que sera sera and all that. (And possibly a couple glasses of sweet red wine that goes down like grape juice.)

I'm also drinking this. Kinky: Vodka therapy in a glass.

At Camp Vincent we're battling sleep issues where he screams when we put him in his crib. And we've tried crying it out, but I think the cap on that is an hour, wouldn't you say? I think I've discovered that this only occurs when I put him down and might be some 2-year-old (this month! OMG!) mama separation issues, so guess who gets the honor of putting the boy down now?! Lets pretend I'm not secretly enjoying this. And that I don't sprint to my bedroom for some Damon and Stephan hautness (hello Vampire Dairies). We've also noticed that Vincent might be letting go of his sippy cup and is enjoying drinking out of an open cup (ok, so I do give him some OJ in his cup, but whatever works, right?) He can also name every animal he sees and make the corresponding sound (his elephant isn't appropriate, sounds like a fart...and it makes me giggle every time). He loves counting everything, just not in sequence and everything starts at two. Ah well, I figure he has another year to get it down pat. Colors are off too because everything is blue! But we do know quite a bit of the alphabet song, which is a surprise since I don't do much letter stuff with him. I feel learning the alphabet isn't as important as numbers and that the alphabet comes a little more easily ad naturally since we read all the time.

Goldfish addict. Exerting not-often-seen independence.

If there's a theme to this week, it's food. This boy has been eating nonstop, and my grocery bill shows.

The way Vincent eats a cutie isn't for the faint of heart. There's a lot of spitting skins out. At least he's organized about it.

Vincent is fascinated with computers and we rarely let him around ours. Check out that Oshkosh butt. I think jeans on little legs has to be the cutest thing ever!

Some people of wine-cork-filled centerpieces. I have cork and Little People centerpiece. It's the next trend in decorating. You saw it here first!

To say Vincent likes to read is an understatement.

This week's dinner entertainment: peekaboo Vincent! I didn't get the "Here's Johnny!" picture of him sticking his head through the chair slates. He channels Jack Nicholson perfectly, minus a few year.

Do you know Gavin?

Gavin Owens, that is. His story, although short, is amazing, inspiring, and heart wrenching. Read it! What's more is the amazing family from which he came. I sat for hours this week reading his and his family's story, sobbing into a whole box of tissues and just wishing I could tell this family how profound I think their presence in this world is. It gave me some much needed perspective and a reality check on just what a precious, wonderful, and blessed life I lead. Vincent will be turning two next month, and to think, in their shoes, I would be counting down the days of the next year and half—a race I would run backwards to never want to finish. Yet, they did and they moved on in ways I only wish I had the strength to possess: adoption of two special children. It breaks my heart that they will never see Gavin grow and become the wonderful young man he would have been—and he would have because his parents are true beckons of light in this dark world. But in his place they wouldn't have meet and become parents to these wonderful children, along with their other daughter. It's not the perfect happy ending, but it's amazing and uplifting. Thanks Owens family for being brave enough to share your story with us. May we always keep our own lights shining like you have for Gavin!

Confident, not cocky

Job interviews, how dost loathe thee? Let me count the ways. I'm mixing up my references and I'm sure murdering the Shakespearean (?) language or something. Shakespeare was never my thang. But seriously, job interviews really suck "donkey balls," as a colleague of mine would say. I feel like it becomes a match of "how much do you want this job?" I fully expect them to start bringing out jars of live beetles for me to toss back—and maybe that would be easier. Stay tuned. All systems and creativeness on hold.

Well I did say simplify

I've been working on something huge. I'm not going to say bigger than life because well, the product of that venture is soundly asleep in his room. :) But a verbal presentation is involved, and I haven't given a presentation since my mandatory speech class in college. I've never had a problem speaking in public. The part that gets me is being prepared enough, so that's where I'm at. Preparing my little pants off and hoping I can do this.

This weekend Vincent had the tummy bug. It's so sad when your child wakes you up screaming in the middle of the night and you go to find him covered in vomit. Thank goodness for zip-up footie pjs. Unzip, pull child from clothes, put soiled pjs in washer, rezip child in new pair. We worried he'd puke again and because we didn't want to have to deal with having to clean up our bed if he got sick, we all slept in the guest bedroom. I barely got any sleep because Vincent wanted to play.

New word new year

OK, here's the deal: The new year gets me down. I'm only just realizing the new year heaps on the depression, and that every year around this time, I get down in the dumps. Why? I think I finally put my finger on it: the expectations and pressure to do something profound with this "clean" slate. I always feel like I need to go back to the beginning to have a clean slate. But since it's certainly not possible to be put back in my mama's womb, I guess I need to learn to be OK with superficial clean slates. So deep breath in, and EXHALE!

To help me along with my clean slate is my word for the year: simplify. I heard less is the new more. Profound. Oh and emerald green is the color of the year.

Here are my goals for the new year:
Professionally

• Create a better portfolio
• Find a new job
• Write more, even if it means turning in some rejection letters to some publishers
• Beef up on social media skills

Personally

• Practice yoga on the weekends
• Journal during the evenings
• Knit gifts for next Christmas
• Sew a quilt
• Run in the MuckFest with my family
• Play more with Vincent
• Take more pictures
• Learn how to use my camera outside of the auto mode
• Be more organized