Easter 2011

Easter 2011, a photo by leeble1 on Flickr.

Here is your Hovland Family portrait for this Easter. One son screaming his head off and the other digging for gold. And on the 3rd day, Mama needed a drink.

Easter!

Ah, Easter: the beautiful Spring holiday full of the promise of new beginnings and, um, Cadbury Eggs, that always seems to end up in disaster of some sort or another in our family. And I'm not just saying that because I spent about nine hours last year horfing my insides out during an Easter bout with the stomach flu.
I've told yall before about our childhood Easter picnics that were sorta like something out of Russian novel (a novel about Spring snow...and freezing cold fried chicken). Oh and how I was scairt of the Easter Bunny (still can't watch Donnie Darko). And then this year between the wildfires all over Texas and the unrelenting batch of tornadoes in Arkansas, I'm wondering how that drive from one apocalyptic state to another with an infant and toddler in tow is gonna pan out. I'm hoping for AWESOME. I'm planning for HELL ON SCORCHED EARTH.

What about you guys? Big Plans?

Boys, Running

We went to a crawfish boil this weekend where Hopper met a new buddy. Something about little boys, they just seem to do this thing where they don't even greet one another, they just meet and then immediately start playing chase and then spending lots of time tasting leaves, seeing who can find the biggest bug, or finding sticks that can be swung at each other's heads. It should be noted that I have other photos that could be titled "Boys, Eating Ash Out of Chiminea" or "Boys, Getting Avian Flu from Drinking Birdbath Water." Those pictures weren't quite as much fun, though.

heh

grafitti on the outside of my office building this morning.

In my sleep

One of the ladies who takes care of Rowan mentioned to me that he's not a big napper. Rather, he spends his days cracking himself up with spit bubbles, flirting with the 6mnth old twins the next crib over and zoning out (but not falling asleep to) Navajo Lullabies. Yeah, I don't know what Navajo Lullabyes are either. In my mind, I don't envision them to be very relaxing. But then, I'm a person who goes into 'roid rage if you force me to listen to Yanni, so that's not surprising. At any rate, the baby doesn't sleep much during the day. Instead, he stays alert til around 9pm then he conks out til the next morning.

I know. It's almost like he lives in a world where that whole Sleep at Night thing is ENCOURAGED. I'm not saying he never ever wakes up at 2am (snurfling loudly) but that's usually remedied by plopping a bottle in his mouth and letting the warm milk lull him right back down to Sleepy Town. For him to be doing this at 12 weeks is pretty awesome. Sleep! It exists! EXCEPT... Not for me. Rowan sleeps through the night but I am still having to get up every 3 hours to pump milk.

Have I told you guys what I call the Pumper? The Hooooovland. Get it? Hoover/Hovland--with the vacuum/sucking joke in there--HAHAHAHAHA! Ha? Have I mentioned that I don't get much sleep? It's Ok. I mean, I'm mostly used to the stop/start abruptness of just barely getting in a REM cycle before I have to wake up again. I am logging around 6-7 hours total, but not altogether. So no, it isn't particularly restful. It was better when I could conk out on the couch during the day, but strangely, they frown on nap time at work.

As a result, I'm starting to accumulate quite a hefty list of Dumb Ass Things I Do To Be Blamed on My Lack of Sleep. This list includes, but is not limited to:

Falling asleep with the pump attached, waking up about 2 hours later. Yeah. OUCH.

Trying to make a pot of coffee using whole coffee beans that I forgot to grind resulting in really hot, vaguely dirty colored water.

Becoming convinced that the kitchen sink was talking to me in a robot voice. (long story)
Trying to let the dogs out the front door to go potty (go! Play in traffic!...that might have been some kind of subconscious wish fulfillment now that I think about it....KIDDING)
And to be honest, there's something new every other day. And I'm looking at having this schedule for at least the next six months. Just think of all the fun we'll have!

Guess Who?

Guess who this is? Hint: it isn't me.

It's like the Coppertone Girl, only with less buttcrack and twice the puppy.

You need at least 3 of these NOW

These prints are so incredibly awesome, I would buy these even if there weren't a 2nd really great reason to give this guy some money. But if you needed any little extra shove, proceeds go to help the artist's 6 year old daughter who is suffering from a rare intestinal disorder. I love ALL the Star Wars ones. But man, that Calvin and Hobbes print is getting to me. Go! BUY NOW!

Two fun doggie events this weekend: KLBJ Dog Day Afternoon at the Triangle from noon to 4pm and Pints for Pups at Independence Brewing Company from noon to 3pm. Both of them benefit area rescue groups, including Cocker Rescue! I will probably go to Dog Day, but will be wishing I had a beer the whole time.
I haven't yet decided to take any of our three. Fergus is a supersweet dog but is terrible on a leash and when out in public,insists on peeing on EVERYTHING in his path, including your leg. The last time I took him to an event, he wizzed on a small child. Hudson is agoraphobic (no, really) which means that you have to actually pick him up and carry him to the car or he'll freeze in terror in the front yard. Then he can barely make it out of the driveway without horfing all over the back seat. Outings: I don't think he likes them. And Mr. Bean is...Mr. Bean. I'm not sure his socialization classes really took. Sigh. How are these my dogs again?

Oh wow, I made it to Friday! Trust me, peeps, this was not a given. Monday sucked as much as I thought it would. Luckily for me, the ladies at the boys' new daycare are familiar with dealing with slightly neurotic, sleep-deprived and weepy moms. They gave me a big hug and booted me out the door which is exactly what I needed. Don't worry, I only cried til noon. And then I had to start the process of getting back into work--Would you like to know how many emails can pile up when you don't check your work inbox for 10 weeks? Care to guess? 1968. Note: if you sent an email to my work address and you are not my boss, chances are, I didn't read it. DELETE ALL.

In addition to the difficulty of dropping the boys off at a new place and leaving the baby for the first time, Rowan has been sick. It started with a little cough that turned into a big cough that turned into a "HOLY S*@% CAN HE BREATHE?" cough. So, off to the doc and a day at home with him, getting nebulizer treatments etc. It's okay: he's okay and getting better, but man, it's was a little rough there for a few. I know that this is just the first of many illnesses I will deal with over the course of the next few years, but for the record, Universe, I NEEDED A LITTLE BIT MORE PREP TIME.

Hopper,on the other hand, is having a fantastic week. He loves the new place--new toys, new and less bitey friends.. It helps that he is independent to the point of barely letting me walk him inside the building. Our goodbyes usually go like this:
Me: Hop, come give me a kiss goodbye
Hop: NO!
Me, kissing him anyway
Hop: NOoooooooooooooOOO!
Me: Bye Hopper!
Hop: BYE (shoves me towards door)

So, all in all, it's turned out to be a fairly ok week, other than the fact that it has lasted about 27 years (or is that just me?). Next week my goal is to make it out of the house having brushed my hair and with some semblance of makeup on my face. Yeah, not there yet. SO PRETTY. Yall have a great weekend!

The Opposite of a Good Day

Oh, hey. How's it goin? Last week's radio silence was brought to you by The Last Week of Maternity Leave and the strong desire to do nothing but snurgle the baby and lay around in yoga pants. Oh,and then later in the week, an inability to inhale or exhale without horking up a lung. Yeah. Sick AGAIN with some kind of flu-like thing. wheeeeee.
In addition to my going back to work tomorrow, the boys also start a new daycare. This one has yoga for toddlers, music classes and nice caregivers and HOPEFULLY (fingers crossed) fewer little piranha children feasting on my older son. We'll see. I have high hopes. I think they're going to have a great time. I'll be the one over there huddled in the corner sobbing. I know, I know: toddler yoga. I've just never left a 10 week old baby at daycare before. Hopper was well over a year and a half before he went to formal daycare. Before that, it was always one of us or just one caregiver. Rowan can't even roll over yet and he's already going to spend his day with several other babies. Oh, I know they'll take good care of him. I just doubt he's going to spend naptime wrapped up in anyones arms with his fuzzy little noggin tucked up under a chin. Gulp. Crap, I'm not going to be able to get out of there without losing it, am I?
Right now, it's 3am and this is what I'm doing-tapping this out on one hand and staring at my little gnome's sleeping face. I have to be up in two hours to start the worst day of my year. Still sick , now sleep-deprived and missing my boys. Oh and now Mr. Bean is licking my foot. Even better. Here's hoping the next 12 to 14 hours fly by.

The Land of No

To recap, Mr. Bean was 6 weeks old when I was fostering him right before Hopper was born. I was a wee bit hormonal i.e. susceptible to puppy bref at the time. Also, I was drugged. That's how we ended up adopting him right before bringing home a newborn. I've always thought it would be cute to chart their growth together. You can see old ones here, here and here). I know. Now, it's just getting weird.



I was going to go for another outdoors shot of the two of them on their blankie in the front yard like all the others, but frankly, if I tried to sit them both down for a posed photo at this point, Mr. Bean would just sit there and shiver til he wee'ed himself while Hopper yelled NO and then ran headfirst into the nearest tree. At least he'd be wearing his helmet.
Just FYI-We are currently living in the Land of NO. That means that if you're planning on asking any questions of the two year old, you're going to get one answer. Hint: it is not "YES."

Hopper, do you want some juice? NO!
Hopper, would you like to wear the green shirt or the blue one? NO!
Hopper, how do you feel about US intervention in Libya? NOOooooooo!

I bought the helmet for use with his first big boy tricycle. I was thinking it was going to be hard to get him to wear it because he can be a little weird about hats, especially if they're cute and bought by me to go with a particular outfit (you will note, there werent any leprechaun hats for him this year). The helmet--he finds from whatever hiding place I've secreted it away in and puts on as soon as he gets home from school, regardless of whether there are any trike rides in his immediate future. He will wear it for hours... DAYS, even. I have to wrestle it off his head for baths. We are actually kinda considering letting him wear it to bed, especially after that head bashing incident.

Happy Birthday to my big sister Kate who has the biggest heart of anyone I know. She's having the 2nd anniversary of her 23rd birthday today. So, you know, it's a big one. ;)

He's Magically Delicious

The week that was

The Gnome of Doom turns 8 weeks old tomorrow, so that means I only have two weeks of maternity leave left. Sigh. That went by entirely too fast. I feel like the first four weeks or so, I was so sleep deprived and dopey on painkillers, I should get a do-over. I've really only been awake for three weeks--helped along by the surprising willingness of the G.O.D. to sleep at night, for the most part. He goes to bed around 11pm-midnight and wakes up at 7:45 every morning which is pretty much Sam's schedule. I'm up at least once during the night hooked up to the Dairy Cow Boob Pumper so I don't get quite as much shuteye as those two, but apparently I make up for it with REALLY LOUD snoring. And I'm trying to prep myself for the return to work by not taking naps during the day anymore, so I'm at a little bit of a sleep disadvantage, but all in all, we're doing OK. I mean, midnight to 7:45am is pretty damn awesome for a not quite two-month old... I am typing that VERY quietly so that Screamy Baby Karma doesn't hear. Screamy Toddler Karma already got wind of it and kicked me, HARD. I won't go into full detail about my attempts to let Hopper "cry it out," as they say when he refuses to go to bed. Turns out, Hopper's version of "cry it out" much more resembles "SCREW YOU, LADY, I AM NOT SLEEPING" followed then by bashing his head against his crib until he makes his nose and lip bleed and I run in and freak out and cry even more than HE does and then there's hugging and me silently cursing Ferber and his STUPID IDEAS.
It's not that I think Hopper is super special and can't be held to sleep training methods worked on literally millions of kids.. but let's just say, the kid is OBSTINATE (thanks, Hovlands, for that family trait, love ya). And I just don't have it in me to watch my kid bash his head in when all he really wants is for me to hold him. Yeah, I may regret that in the future, but for now, Round One: THE KID WINS.
and in case you are wondering why on earth I would take a picture of this before cleaning him up. I didn't. This is post cleanup. Pre-cleanup was much more Extreme Cage Fighting. Seriously. Sigh.

whew, that's a relief

Here I've been thinking that with his strawberry blonde hair and his blue, blue eyes that Rowan and I don't much look like we're related, but as it turns out, I make this face all the time.
not to mention: the chins!

Happy Birthday to my nephew Connor and to my neice Lauren who turn 14 and 19 this week. Just 'cause y'all are taller than me now,don't go getting any ideas. Also, this is what you get for not posing for photographs without ducklips; however, I can be bribed.

TWO!

TWO a photo by leeble1 on Flickr.

and look at all the teeth! Crazy.

The "Fourth Trimester" and Fitness "Pal"

The Fourth Trimester, or as I like to call it: when you're still fat enough post pregnancy that people think you're at least six months along. Hint: if a person is carrying a newborn with them, DON'T ASK when they are due. Or if you do ask, DUCK. Or wear a helmet.

Now that I am getting towards sufficiently recovered from surgery, I've started this new diet and exercise plan. My diet is to not eat like a pregnant lady (I really, really miss you, Americone Dream Ben and Jerry's). The exercise...erm. Well, ok, I'm not jogging yet. Or walking quicker than a snail's pace, BUT I have started being a little more active. I downloaded this Fitness Pal app that helps keep track of your daily food intake and activity level, but I'm having a little bit of a difficult time recording all my exercise. Mainly because they don't have any of my activities listed in their database. All they have is traditional crap like bowling or playing basketball. They don't have any of the things that women in my position do that really burn off the calories (and please, don't ever take that sentence out of context). These are things I expend energy on almost every day. And trust me, there is energy expended. LOTS of energy. Why aren't these things listed in that database, huh? What is wrong with these people?

For example:

Trying to get a two year old to eat a banana without smearing it on the couch or in his hair while also keeping the iPOD touch out of his reach and holding the newborn in your other arm for 25 straight minutes. That's gotta be at least a hundred calories spent. Am I right?

Or any of these other things I do:

tip-toeing and jumping to look for things on top of shelves and cabinets and refrigerators that I can't see (the side effect of marrying someone who's 6'7 and not organized)

rocking and swaying and rocking and swaying (and rocking and swaying) the baby to sleep

Picking up 50 Elmo books from the floor (this, actually gets repeated about 3-4 times a day, I'm not sure what the kid's problem is with bookshelves).

making milk! (with my body, not a cow)

finding the internal strength and fortitude not to strangle Mr. Bean after he's eaten the last roll of toilet paper (500 calories, at least).

See? I HAVE ACTIVITIES. Get on it, Fitness "Pal".

Remember when I used to talk about things that didn't involve newborns, cranky toddlers or dog farts? Yeah, me neither. But this morning, I managed to put the baby down for a nap. And I mean, NOT IN MY ARMS. Or on my chest or strapped to me in any way! So, I'm feeling a little giddy. For that reason, here is a recommendation for ya. Perissos Viognier.

We had this on Friday night. It is absolutely yummy, and I'm not just saying that because I haven't been drinking for ten months and now I can get all footloose and fancy-free. It's made about an hour from Austin. I'm not a wine geek. I'm just married to one. So when I say "yummy," I generally mean: not sweet and sticky, not puckery tart and smooooooove. Pick some up if you have a hankering for some awesome Texas white. (available at East End Wines, of course).

Hint: there is not a lot of sleep involved

Universe: Hey Lee, how's it going with having the two boys?

Lee: zzzzz, snnaaarfle--wha? (drooling) I'm sorry, could you repeat the question? What's it like having two clinging marmosets and only one set of arms? Uhhhhh, it's GREAAAAT.

Here's the deal: Everything is fine. Hopper hasn't poked Rowan's eye out or managed to find the soft spot on his head and press inward thereby causing permanent brain damage and/or a skull that looks like it came from an Edvard Munch painting (a slightly big fear of mine, can you tell?). BUT. but. but. but....

The realization that another little body has his parents' full attention and no grandparents to distract him has resulted in Hopper refusing to go to bed this week without being attached to one of us which usually involves him draping his 6 foot limbs along your side and trying to play with your eyelashes which is less charming and more YOU ARE POKING MY EYE, KID.. And yeah, yeah, yeah, i know he's old enough to "cry it out" as they say, but we're talking upwards of 2-3 hours of wailing, awake til 11pm...2am..5am....He is a persistent little cuss and I just don't have that in me, sorry, Ferber. And ROWAN. Good Lord. You know, he's cute and all with his blonde little weatherman hair, but he requires 24 hours of full body contact or he will start screaming til he turns purple and sweaty. Full. Body. Contact. As in, someone must be holding him, preferrably on the chest, upright, in a slight incline. If you want to bounce up and down juuuusssst a little that would be nice. (NOT TOO MUCH OR HE WILL HORF ON YOU AND I MEAN IT). I know, having to snorgle a darling newborn: sounds like torture, right? It's not so bad..until you find out fairly quickly that there is NOTHING ELSE you will be doing AT ALL with your time, or your limbs other than holding him in that position he likes so much. What's that? You'd like to eat? pssshh. Whatever, dude. Sleep?? ONLY IF YOU CAN MANAGE THAT INCLINE/ROCKING THING IN YOUR DREAMS, LADY.

On an individual basis, I can handle the neediness of either one or the other. Together, they are kicking my a#$. We are in a period of adjustment, I know. And I know that maybe next week it will be better (or I will have started self-medicating). But this week: I am TIRED.

And now, lets all say a prayer of thanks to the makers of Baby Bjorn because, seriously, without this thing, I don't get to move around a lot.