Thursday, October 29, 2009

The big chop...

I'm not sure if it was pure laziness or just having no clue what to do with it, but for the past two years or so, I've had really long hair. At least it's really long to me...past my bra line. I knew that I didn't want to cut my hair when I was pregnant because I've heard horror stories from other mothers who did a big chop off and their face seemed to grow three sizes. I knew I wouldn't want to do much with my hair after having Isaac, so I just kept it simple and pulled back...all the time.

I don't know if it was the rolling over and pulling my hair at night, the constant "ponytail" headaches, the "uff, what am I going to do with my hair?" questions, or just needing something different that finally did it, but two weeks ago I chopped 11.5 inches off of my head. My trusty hairdresser put it in a ponytail and chopped it right off. I donated the 11.5 inches to Pantene's "Beautiful Lengths" program so I'm so glad my unruly hair will benefit someone who needs it.

So here it is! I'm still trying to retrain my "automatic pump" of the shampoo in the morning (dang, the first morning I did my normal three pump and had wayyyy too much) but it feels so much better to have all of that hair off of my head. That and I won't miss the massive amounts of hair on my bathroom floor.

Monday, October 26, 2009


Anyone who knows me (or is related to me) knows I'm Norwegian. My cousin Rebecca took it one step further and calls us "Iwegians" because we are Norwegians from Iowa. We don't go about saying, "Yah, sure, you betch-ya!" all the time or throw our Nordic hips around while talking to trolls under the bridge. At least not this week. When I was in college a friend found some "ethnic" Barbies at a local Wal-Mart and they had a Norwegian Barbie which they described as: usually tall, blond, blue-eyed, and sturdy. Yep, we are a solidly built bunch, that's for sure.

I don't know if this little bit of information was passed down from our Norwegian ancestors or if it's something that my mother just pulled out of thin air, but ever since I was a little girl, whenever I felt sick my mom would tell me to take a bath and eat a piece of toast. In our family, toast and a bath seems to fix everything. She also says that all Norwegian food is just a vehicle for butter, which I fully believe.

Well, it seems that our little home remedy didn't seem to help me feel 100% better, but I'm certainly feeling better than I did last week. Aside from the crap that's living in my lungs and won't lodge loose, I'm feeling pretty good. Now it's just keeping Isaac healthy, which sometimes feels like it's impossible, but he seems to be doing really well so far. He's happy as a clam and he makes me smile every time I look at that sweet little face.

Now that sweet little face has a bit of a bruise on his left eyelid. He got all crazy yesterday and wanted to stand up by the chair, lost his footing and hit his head. Poor little lamb. He got over it very quickly and went along his merry way. So we went for a walk. Him in his little track suit, me in my coughing state hoping that the fresh air will clear out my lungs.

Do you think the kid could chill out a little bit? Gracious.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009


I'm not feeling so hot today. Not sure what it is but I'm praying it only involves a short stay in my head and throat. Yuck. As my grandmother used to say, "Do you feel pew?" Yes, Grandma, I feel very pew.

Anyway, thought I would at least share one of my new favorite pictures of Isaac. He recently discovered the joy of blowing raspberries and does it whenever he gets the chance; when food is in his mouth, at 3:00AM, when I'm in the middle of a phone call. Obviously he chooses excellent situations to show off his talent.

And that bottom lip...kills me.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Not for the squeamish...

Since having a baby, it's not a rare occurrence to find random bodily fluids all over the place. The gallons of spit, spit-up, the "is that pee or more spit" debate, the "is that poop or spilled baby food" query, and so on. When the child belongs to someone else or isn't a blood relative, any of the above mentioned situations can be quite gross.

For example, this weekend my cousin/sister Rebecca (known as Tanta Biscuit to Isaac) and her wonderful husband Tim (of the Uncle TIIIIUUUMMM fame) came down to visit us. We had a fantabouslously fantastic time together and they got some quality time with the ever growing Sir Isaac. Anyway, Rebecca and I were watching Isaac play in his room and chatting away one morning when Isaac started to look at something quite intently. So Rebecca goes over to see what has peeked his attention. "Ohhh, is...that....ummm....chocolate?" I could just HEAR the "Please sweet Lord let this be a random piece of chocolate in the baby's room!!" I went over and yes, it was a small piece of poop that had fallen out of Isaac's diaper. "Well, it's not so much chocolate as it is poop. Sorry Bec!" Thankfully it fueled lots of laughter and weird "I just touched poop" giggles, so it wasn't all that bad.

Nothing like a good poop story to start off the day. You're welcome...

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Ode to "the boinger"

Isaac is quite mobile. I wasn't really prepared for this when he started to pull himself up to stand at 6 1/2 months, crawling like crazy at 7 months and now really trying to walk at 8 months. Oh boy. We have a mover and a shaker on our hands.

So with this new found mobility, Isaac is discovering things all over his room that produce fascinating sounds, interesting functions and a strange gravitational pull towards his dirty diaper bin.

One of his new fascinations is the door. He loves to close the door and play with the hinge. Play is too technical of a word. He mainly likes to touch it. I'm sure his sponge-like brain is thinking, "What the flip is this thing? What does it do? How can I get it into my mouth?"
And then there is the doorstop, or better known around our house as "the boinger". It's called "the boinger" because it makes a boooiiinnnngggg sound and vibrates like crazy, two things that create a world of wonder for a little kid. He sits there and plays with that thing like it's going out of style. Don't worry dear friends, we took the white plastic cover off of the tip so he won't swallow that part. We are smart like that.

The thing about the boinger is the fact that it is sticking out of the wall, which provides a brilliant opportunity for him to try to chew on it. The stunner is that he responds to his name quite well, so when we say, "Isaac, that's not for babies" he turns away and leaves it. Brilliant, I tell you...brilliant!!

Monday, October 5, 2009

Short pants...

Ahh, what a week! Last Thursday my parents rolled into town for the week and it was so good to have them here. It's always good to have family in town. I think Marcus and I have lived away from family for so long that when we do have visitors it's like a breath of fresh air invades our house. Next up, Rebecca and Tim will visit from Chicago this weekend and I. CAN.NOT.WAIT!!! Isaac knows them as Tanta Biscuit and Uncle Tiiiiuuuumm, so I will report on their visit next week for sure.

Now, on to the subject of short pants. Short pants, in my family, mean shorts. I think it was my Uncle Kevin who coined the phrase for us when we were little and it just kind of stuck. But when I talk about short pants in reference to my son, it's a different matter.

Isaac turned 8 months old last week, which obviously means he is fitting into 18 month old clothes now. Obviously. I mean, who wouldn't think that concerning an 8 month old? Someone must not have sent me the memo when he was born informing me that when we shop for clothes to add 10 months onto the suggested size for an 8 month old. Good golly.

So yeah, Isaac fits into clothes intended for an 18-24 month old kid, which is quite sad considering we have a closet full of clothes that he will never be able to wear. That is unless we want to play, "Chubby baby in a tiny coat," which I wouldn't put past my husband considering he quotes Tommy Boy every chance he gets.

This weekend the temperature dropped considerably and we needed to cover up his deliciously chubby legs, so I went rummaging for some pants for the boy. I spotted a pair and slipped them on. After struggling to get the waistband up past his leg fat I got them on, stood him up and saw that they were...well...too short and a bit too tight. It's not like I was trying to squeeze him into a pair of pants for a 3 month old. They said they were for a 9 month old so, naturally, I thought they would be OK. Not so much.

And yes, the kid is standing and REALLY wanting to walk. He is quite the brave little fella. He pulls himself up, stands there with one hand lightly holding onto whatever he is standing next to and sometimes lets go all together.

Time to invest in a case of Tums....

Friday, October 2, 2009

Where be you?

It has been a week since my last entry. Yes, I know I promised to write every day or at least 2-3 times a week depending on how crazy El Nutville is. This week I have a good excuse...Mama & Papa Hanson were here! Sadly, they will be leaving tomorrow. When I say sadly, I mean SAAAADDDDLLYYY. I will miss them greatly and boy oh boy does Isaac love having them around, which makes this Mama's heart so happy. But we will see them again in Iowa for Thanksgiving, which is, YIKES, about a month and a half away! Where the hell did this year go??

So I will have lots of pictures to share and some fun stories. Just wanted to get my quota in for the day. Until then...

Peace out....