Tag Archives: Scout

Choosy Dogs Choose Jif

Ozzy Pups never used to bark. At anyone. At anything (except the printer that one time).

Then, about two years ago, we moved. And the dog across the street barks every time someone walks by.

So does the dog next door. And the dog across the street and two houses up. So does the dog three houses up and the dog that lives behind us.

You get the point.

Now Ozzy barks when dogs walk by and almost every time someone comes to the door.

Which is awesome when I’m trying to get Scout to sleep.

Even awesomer now that Scout is down to one nap that just so happens to take place exactly when our mail person arrives. Nothing better than seeing your little one’s eyes flutter as you read them a story, and then BOOM! BARK! BARK! BARK!

Like I said, Awesome.

That leaves me with only one choice. To sacrifice the peanut butter….

Choosy Dogs Choose Jif

Choosy Dogs Choose Jif

 

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Oh. My. God. Becky, Look at Her Butt….

Scout looks absolutely nothing like me. She might have my hair, but Kiefer’s hair is darkish, too, so it’s hard to tell.

If I hadn’t been in labor with her for nearly 30 hours, I might question that she was actually my child.

But the other day, this happened:

beanbag

And it reminded me of this:

HPIM1359

Look familiar? Are you looking at my butt? Because that’s not what I meant. Scout’s wearing a diaper, so you can’t really compare our butts.

We both love giant beanbags!

You’re still looking at my butt, aren’t you?

 


I’ve Seen My Future Self…And No, I’m Not My Mom

At the grocery store, I saw an older gentleman loading his items onto the belt for the cashier. Why exactly did this catch my eye?

Because he unloaded about six boxes of Pop-Tarts from his cart.

Not one box. Not two boxes. Six boxes. At least. There may have been more. I didn’t want to drool stare too long.

That will be me in 30 years. I hope.

Kiefer should count himself lucky that he found me before that elderly gentleman.

Speaking of Pop-Tarts…Scout’s birthday came and went. This is how we kicked it off: Birthday Cake Pop-Tarts.

Birthday PopTarts1BirthdayPopTarts2

Of course, we did cupcakes and frozen yogurt that weekend, too. More pics to come!


Never Teach Your Child to Blow a Raspberry

I can’t remember exactly how it started, but I think when Scout was a couple months old, we started blowing raspberries to her while she was having her diaper changed. It distracted her and kept her from fussing.

Then one day she blew one back at me. So I blew one at her again. And she blew one back at me. And this went on for 5 minutes or so.

Thoughtsy: It’s like she’s trying to communicate!

It was funny.

Until one day, it wasn’t.

Complete Stranger in Line Behind Us at Target: Awwww…your baby is so cute!

Scout: ::pbbbbbbbbt::

 Awesome. Just awesome. What a rude little baby. At least she’s cute.

20141227_152952

 


When You’re Not Allowed to Ask for Help….

Kiefer recently returned from a 2-week trip. That means it was just me, Scout, and Ozzy ALL the time. Plus Boo and Radley for a couple nights.

Whenever Kiefer leaves—as in within minutes of him getting on the plane and turning off his cell phone—Boo and Radley’s mom calls.

Their Mom: Can you keep the boys tonight/tomorrow night/whenever?

Thoughtsy: Yes….

Forget that I already have plans or have nothing they’ll eat for dinner or was really just looking forward to sitting around pantsless.

This happens for each of Kiefer’s trips…multiple times a trip. To the point that I felt like she knew I wouldn’t say no, so she was taking advantage of the situation.

Two weeks is a long time to not see Boo and Radley, so it’s nice to see them while Kiefer’s away.

But it’s not so nice when I have to pick Radley up from school, take Scout for a drive to nap because she’s transitioning from 3 naps to 2, have to pick up Boo from basketball practice, and make dinner. And the last three things happen in the same 45-minute period.

I need time to mentally prepare myself for that kind of craziness. Not an hour’s notice.

To avoid me having a breakdown while Kiefer was away, he sent his ex an email with the days the boys would stay at our house.

Cue nastiness. She got angry. Said the boys didn’t have to stay there at all and that she could just keep them the whole time.

When the first day rolled around that Boo and Radley were supposed to stay with me, I wasn’t sure if they were coming or not. They came. It was a jam-packed night, but we made it through.

Dear Kiefer’s Ex,

Remember what it was like with your first baby? Remember that you had no idea what you were doing? Remember when you would take the baby for a drive because it-just-won’t-nap-and-you-just-want-to-take-a-shower-dang-it?

Now throw in two other children—who are yours, but not yours. You’re a stepmom, and you really don’t want to lose your patience or temper (SHHHHH! The baby is SLEEPING!) with your stepchildren lest they start dubbing you the “evil stepmother.”

I’m a new mom. I’m a new stepmom. And I’m new to single-parenting…even if it’s only for 2 weeks. All I’m saying is…I need some help, some notice, some understanding.

Thanks, 

Thoughtsy

PS: Kiefer’s next trip is next month, so please reread this letter in January.