By Leaps and Bounds

We are playing outside this evening, just like a lot of other evenings. Tonight there is a little nip in the air, fall is setting in already. But that's not what has my attention tonight. No, tonight I am absorbed in watching this little creature who I call my daughter. I know her intimately, better than anyone, other than maybe her father. I know every look, every action, every babble, they are all familiar to me, a part of me. But tonight everything about her just seems a little foreign, a little strange. It seems that literally overnight my baby has become a full-blown KID.


Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Kami, you are such a mush. You are always talking about how little G is just growing up too quickly, how time flies and you blink and suddenly you have toddler...blah, blah, blah. Sweet, but it's getting a bit trite." I know that's what you're thinking. But that's NOT what I'm trying to say. Sure, it does feel like the last 21 months have just flown right by. I absolutely can't believe that tiny baby is getting so big. But what I'm noticing tonight is the pants that fit her two weeks ago are now too short. Her hair is long enough to put in pigtails. This was not possible in early August, I tried. Her face is thinning out. Even my mom remarked how different G looks after 10 days away.


And it's not just her physical appearance that's growing. Suddenly her vocabulary has tripled. She's stringing words together, two and three at a time, sometimes more. She's naming everything she sees in her world. Her favorite game this week is "Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, (insert person, place, thing here.)" Hi spoon, Hi peach, Hi home, Hi book, Hi Mommy. That's another thing. She called me "Mommy" tonight. Not ma, not mama. Mommy. For real. She's starting to say harder sounds. Tonight she says, "mix" while watching Blue's Clues, and she gets the /x/ sound right. She tells me, "monkey, swing" as she hangs the little plastic monkey from his trapeze bar on the animal train. Speaking of trains, she hears the train whistle from the tracks a couple of blocks away and points while saying "tray!" Last month I was trying so hard to get her to say "yes" appropriately when asked questions, instead of always "no." Her hesitant little "yeah?" has transformed this week into a confident "yep!" (No doubt she picked that up from her cousin Dante.)


She's been best friends with Max, our dog, ever since we returned from the beach. She calls him, "Ma-cks! Ma-cks!" and runs away so he'll chase her around the room. This is another new favorite game. She started playing it with her cousins last week at the beach. Tag. I chase you, you chase me. We giggle hysterically. Her play tonight seems so much more mature than before. She gets her baby doll and snuggles with her in a chair. She gives the baby a "bankie" and a "ba, dink!" (blanket and bottle/drink) and says "night, night, shhhhh" while rocking in the chair. While outside she plays another favorite, "up inna sky" while throwing (or asking one of us to throw) first her green ball, then her hula hoop, next herself up in the air. She climbs and balances on her slide. She has pretend conversations between two of her little people.


I notice that lately she has been needing me less as she does more and more on her own. But at the same time it seems she needs me more, too. But in a different way. Now she needs me, specifically, as opposed to just needing someone to care for her or help her. She seeks me out. She needs my reassurance. Or, she chooses someone else. She is practicing control by choosing who will do things for her like get her juice or rock her at bedtime. There are consequences if her wishes cannot be met. Big, screaming consequences.


All of a sudden I have a kid. She likes Dora and can tell me all the characters names after watching the show three times with her cousins. She sings the songs for me while we're at the beach. She coughs and automatically puts her face in her elbow, just like the big kids showed her to do. She tells me "Night, night, Mommy" as I put her to bed. We've never really said "night, night" in our house. But that's what her cousins told her every night last week before bed.

She is watching, copying, learning with amazing speed. Literally overnight.

(This post is inspired by my bloggie buddy, bessie.viola, who loves a good sappy post!!)

I'm Feelin' Beachy Keen!

Ok. I'm sorry for that horrible pun. It couldn't be helped. You see, I think my brain is still sitting on that beach, all sandy and a little fried...possibly a little wine soaked (shhh, don't tell anybody.)

We're home. It's good to be home. The house, for the record, was not a bachelor disaster when I returned last night. I attribute that to publically harrassing my husband about it on this site prior to leaving. I slept peacefully in my own bed without kicky little legs poking me in the back. Giuliana is happily playing with her long lost toys while I sit here, sipping coffee and posting. Yes, home is good. The weather, however, leaves a whole lot to be desired. Rain, fog, gray, ick. I'm longing for the S-U-N I left behind in Delaware. I googled their weather for today and though it's 85* (not 69* like here) it's just as gray and rainy there. I suppose that helps.

A few stories:

John and left town early Friday morning after dropping Giuliana off at her Aunt Gina's house. She rode with them to the shore. John and I had to make a detour to New York City so he could attend another doctor's appointment. It made for a long day. We made excellent time getting down to the city and had a couple of hours to kill, so we walked around and had a nice lunch at a deli. His appointment went well however the doctor was running 2 hours behind, so it was close to 3pm when we got out of there. He's a chatty guy and we told him we needed to get on the road so we could get to the beach. We got talking about the best ways to get out of the city, should we take the Lincoln Tunnel or the GW bridge. As I twittered about, this guy gave us his "secret directions" to the bridge, after both making us swear that we would use them and also that we wouldn't tell anyone else what they were. So, I'm sworn to secrecy, folks, sorry, but after a leisurely trip through Central Park and Harlem we arrived at the George Washington Bridge in about 20 minutes, a record time. We avoided at least an hour of sitting in traffic. Word, Dr. Weinburg.

John's dad arrived on Monday for a few days at the beach. He gets a little manic on occasion. He had decided that he wanted to bring all the seafood for our annual seafood feast. Awesome. So, he decided to go to the New Fulton's Fish Market in the Bronx so he could get the best deal. That required him to leave Binghamton at 1am, because you have to be at the fish market REALLY early to get the good stuff. So that's what he did. He arrived in Delaware at 10 am with a trunk load of seafood. Behold.


This, for those of you who were wondering, is what an entire BUSHEL of blue crab looks like. When John's dad gets an idea in his head, he sometimes tends to go overboard...but no one was complaining! Oh, and that box, is full of lobster.

Feisty suckers trying to escape their fate.

This is the fall out from lunch. All of those pots are filled with crab....lots and lots of crab...


And this is dinner. That's right. Lobster, crab, mussels, clams, shrimp scampi...John's family knows how to do it up RIGHT!! This is, by far, the most seafood I have ever eaten in an entire year, let alone one day! And we had left over crabs the next day, and mussels and clams the next three nights.


So, John had to leave on Tuesday. Which sucked. What also sucked was later that day, when I was talking to him on my cell phone at the beach. G wanted to say "hi" to daddy and we tussled a little bit over the phone, which, predictably, ended up in the bucket of water right next to her. Yeah. Salt water does funky things to an LG EnV2, let me just give you that heads up. It still doesn't work. But I visited Verizon today and they are sending me a brand new phone. So, que sera, sera, I guess.

Yesterday it was time to leave and G and I drove home by ourselves. Everyone else was in separete cars and they were making stops I wasn't planning on making, so we were on our own. I was a little bit nervous driving 6 hours with a toddler. Alone. But G, she was awesome. I should have known. She's such a good girl. She mostly played quietly in the back, took a long nap, sang some songs with me. There were a few moments of tears and whining and a few screams, but mostly, she dealt with it all in stride. The highlight, for me, though, was our lunch stop. I hadn't thought out the whole rest stop issue real well. See, it was PACKED. And I had to take in a diaper bag and my purse and carry a toddler on my hip and navigate the disgustingly dirty rest room scenerio without allowing G to catch typhoid and get her diaper changed on the dinky changing table and throw out the diaper across the room without her falling off, and then pack it all up and go order food in the insane line at the counter and then carry my tray, in one hand, with child on opposite hip and all those bags slung over my shoulder, get a drink from the soda fountain, and find an open table which happened to be on the other side of the place. It was fun.

Anyway, on to the main event, the pictures:

G and Daddy on the way to the beach.

G relaxing with Nana at the beach house.


Pre-dinner sand play.



This was a VERY good idea. My mom has an old sled from when I was a kid. She fills it with water and lets G splash in it at her house. I borrowed it and brought it to the beach. It worked great for playing in the sand, and as a bonus, it worked even better for carting stuff to and from the beach...just pile everything on it and drag it across the sand! This is G and Dante (her cousin).



My sister-in-law Gina and her two girls, Alana and Sophia. Alana did not want to participate in this picture, can you tell?

Getting packed up to go home, all crispy and tan!

The first thing G said to me when she woke up yesterday morning was "Home, Mama?" I said, "Yes, that's right, we're going home today, did you remember that?" And she said, "Yeah, Hiiiiiiiiiiiii, Dada!"

That's right, baby, home and Daddy. It's good to be home. As I'm writing this, the sun has poked out. Time to go outside and play and enjoy the rest of summer while it lasts.

Note from the beach

Just stopping by the ole' blog from the beach! Miss you all! I had hoped to have a post up with pics this week, but somehow lost internet access on my laptop for a few days. I'll catch you up when I get home. Hope you are all having fun without me...I'm having fun without you!

A Quick Question and then I'm Gone!

(picture stolen from Resortquest Flickr Stream)

Leaving town in 24 hours to go here and here (picture stolen from mmahaffie on flickr)!!! I can. not. tell you how desperately in need of a vacation my family is. John and I haven't been on vacation since I was pregnant with Giuliana, two years ago. That may not sound like too bad, but in the span of that time we have had a baby (3 days in the hospital, c-section...), John has been hospitalized three times (for loooooong stretches) and also had three surgeries, we have made 6 trips back and forth to NYC for doctors appointments, along with the other 47(ish) doctors he sees between here and Syracuse. I'm ready for a little beach therapy.

First, though, John and I have to make yet another trip to NYC to see the pain doctor. That's Friday. Binghamton to NYC to Bethany Beach. Gag! The trip from NYC to Delaware, people, is straight through New Jersey. Oh, what a wonderful trip that will be. But! The payoff is arriving at the beach house Friday night to join our daughter and family* for a week of soaking in the sun and sand! (Well...for me anyway. Poor John has to travel back home on Tuesday so he can work the rest of the week! Boo!)

My plans for the next six days involve nothing more than laying on a towel reading a book, listening to my Ipod, dipping myself in the ocean when I get too hot, making sand castles with my daughter, eating lots of fresh seafood, bonding with said baby girl, and not much else. Well, maybe a drink or two after she's in bed.

Before I go, though, I hope to spend a few minutes on Itunes, updating my beach playlist. But I need your help! As I've previously stated, I'm generally clueless when it comes to most music. Completely out of touch. (The most recent cd I purchased was Michael Jackson circa 1993...) So, what do you recommend for some summer driving and lots of time sitting on the beach?? Really. Honestly. I need your help. Thanks!

Enjoy yourselves while I'm gone! Miss you! XOXO

* A HUGE! "Thank You!" to my wonderful and generous mother-in-law who hosts this family trip every year!! You are Awesome, Pat!

Little Smearey Fingerprints Decorate My Monitor and other ramblings

If you are looking for a nice, concise post that makes a whole lot of sense let me advise you to move on. This ain't it.

I feel like poo today. I'm not really sure why. I woke up at 3am with a rumbling tummy (never good) and have not felt right since. I dragged myself to work at 7:30am but only stayed till 10:30, feeling tired, achy, sicki-poo icky. I just got up from a two hour nap and ate exactly 5 triscuits with cheese, and they are not feeling so much like they will be staying long. Boo, me.

However. Wow! What a weekend! I don't you about you folks, but we had us some hot, humid SUMMER around here! We are continuing to have summer, actually...all week, they say! Bah. I'll believe it when I've sweat five of these pounds off my tushie. But Saturday! and Sunday! were pool weather, and that's exactly what we did. Giuliana was not too much a fan of the pool on Saturday, preferring just to get her toes wet while I sang like a maniac (more on my mania in a minute) trying to get her to giggle and just go with it. I gave up and she ran around the yard happily playing in the little water table. Eh. Ok, whatever. Sunday I sort of did the evil Mommy thing and forced her off her little warm raft and into the water. She screamed. I sang. It didn't work. So I put her on her father's shoulders and lo! Like magic, she was giggling. Daddy bounced up and down, splashing her farther and farther in, and she shrieked and yelped in shear delight! She went in up to her neck! When John got tired I took her (more screaming at me, what up, G?) and again forced her against her little will into a little boat floatie thing. Which she promptly decided was the coolest thing ever. This girl just does not trust me, I swear. I tell her "you'll like it, I promise." She yells at me. I kinda make her try it. She loves it. We repeat this dance several times a week. Ah, motherhood.

We also had an impromptu bbq with these lovely friends, and the equally lovely but internet shy L.D. There was marinated chicken, watermelon, drinks in the back yard, short skirts and tank tops! This is what I've been waiting three long months for! August, you rock!

But people! Are you still with me? (Snap, snap!! Wake up, I've gotten to some news!) Another happening took place over the weekend. The bottles. They are gone. It was actually quite painless. I had been planning on transitioning G over our upcoming vacation. My plan was just to not take any bottles with us. I figured we would be off our routine anyway, she's been drinking milk from her sippy cups happily for a long time now, she could just deal with it and then when we got home, ta da! no more bottles. I was advised by more than one experienced mother that though this sounded like a perfectly reasonable plan that it would actually result in turning our vacation into one of the seven circles of hell and would damage G's little psyche in many bad ways and make her hate the beach forevermore. Not exactly what I was hoping for. So, instead I have been giving G milk in a sippy cup at naptime and bedtime for about a week. And guess what? She doesn't care. Hmmm. I was expecting wailing and gnashing of little dirty teeth (see above, the part about how my daughter doesn't trust me much.) But other than a few weak protests for her "ba-ba" the first night...nothing. My mother, who watches G all day and puts her down for a nap every one of those days (I stress that, because, I, Giuliana's mother, am successful in getting her down for a nap about one of every 15 days) was doubtful when I instructed her to switch to a sippy cup. She was actually a little scornful, asking if I planned on bringing G back from vacation potty trained too. Haha, mother. Funny. But even she was amazed at the lack of drama produced by our little progeny. So there, mother. Thhhhhpppp! So, vacation, it will be bottle free after all! I washed all the bottles and am in the process of packing them away along with all the breast pumping equipment (don't ask why this hasn't been packed for a year and a half, ok...don't ask) until they are needed sometime in the future by some other not-real-yet baby. Bittersweet? Yes. But I bought some really cute new sippies that I can't wait to show G. So, we'll keep moving forward.

And about vacation (you didn't think I was done rambling yet, did you...I still have to tell you about my mania. Oh, I didn't forget.) Things will be a little skimpy here for the next couple of weeks as we are headed to the beach! Hooray! We weren't able to go last year because we spent our summer vacationing in the hospital. Let me just state for the record that the beach? It's a better vacation. Trust me. I know the hospital sounds all glamorous and exciting, but after day 14, it gets a little old. So, this year, we are going with John's family to the beach! I am one of those insanely maniacal people (no, this is not redundant, trust me) who are compulsed to clean their house before going away. I mean really clean. My mom will be staying here while we're gone to watch the dog...I'm sure that has nothing to do with my OCD. However, John has to come home a few days early because he doesn't have as much vacation time saved as I do (he spent it on three months of disability...) so I had promised myself that, seeing as the house would be a bachelor pad for three days, I would not go crazy cleaning it. Oh. Right. Sensible me, you just don't get it, do you? I have a list prepared of the "few" things I felt needed to get done. Laundry. Change sheets. Clean bathtub. Vacuum. Clean out my car. Check, check, check, and check. However, I also reorganized my hall closet, scrubbed the side of the house, washed the outdoor toys and cleaned my kitchen. Yesterday. Before the pool. All of that, if I'm being honest, and really, why the hell not, was procrastination. It's the cleaning the tub, you see. I hate it. So, yeah, I hosed off and scrubbed my siding instead. What? Don't look at me like that. I really hate it. But I did clean the tub yesterday, too. I just like to get shit done while I procrastinate. But I still have a few things on that list. And all good lists must be completed. I know there are people out there who are nodding in agreement. I know it. You can't just leave the list half done. No way. That would be insane.

And, as a bonus for making it this far, I thought I would share a cute G observation with you. G is enamored with Sesame Street these days. She loves "Ehmo." Can't get enough. We watch it constantly. There are hourly cries of "Suhddy Day! Suhddy Day" around here. (That's "Sunny Days, " the opening lines, for those of you not schooled in toddler-speak.) So anyway. John was watching it with her Saturday morning when suddenly G pointed excitedly at the screen and yelled "Dada! Dada!" This is what she was talking about:

Hmmm. I don't know, G, I just don't see it.

Caio for now, peeps!

Phishing Trip

John and I left Giuliana with her grandparents and headed out to Darien Lake last night. It was a 3 1/2 hour drive there, a 5 hour drive home (4am, you are not my friend) but it was so worth it.

We made the trip to see Phish. This was my first time seeing them in concert. John has been to several in his younger (hippie) days. They were every bit as awesome as all the hype. Even 15 years later. Unbelievable, really. I did the "hippie dance of freedom" as my sister-in-law likes to mock it, and enjoyed myself immensely. I am feeling rather old today, in that apparently 4am-9am does not equal enough sleep for me to function properly at 33 years old. Thhhhpppppp! I will not age gracefully!

However, in my old age, I do have a quick comment to make about one particular observation I made last night. It is this: I love music. I want my daughter to grow up loving music, and so far she seems like she is on that path. I love seeing little girls dance around in circles, enjoying fantastic live music. But I DO NOT think that a Phish concert is an entirely appropriate "atmosphere" for young children, if you get my drift. Right next to us last night were 3 young girls, ages roughly 3-7, and one INFANT (couldn't have been more than 3 months old) with their parents. The girls had a fabulous time dancing and playing. But the air...it was not clean. I was all sorts of uncomfortable about this. I do not fancy myself very judgmental of other parents, but this type of concert is just not a good environment for kids. What were they thinking? There, I've said my piece.

Anyway. Some pics. I did not include the unbelievable gridlock that had us sitting in a literally unmoving car until 1:30am. I don't want to remember that part.

Brush, Brush, Brush Your Teeth

Look at that adorable baby, brushing her (practically non-existent) teeth like a pro, the first time out. This was the first day, the first moment, really, that I gave G a toothbrush. She stuck it right in her mouth (no big surprise, she was 8 months old...she stuck everything in her mouth) and proceeded to gleefully chew on the bristles. Perfect. I handed her a toothbrush and she was self-sufficient in toothbrushing in 3.5 seconds.

So, let's pause a second and do the math, here. I handed that girl her first toothbrush a year ago, when she was 8 months old. She is now 20 months old. That means that she has had in her possession, in her routine, a toothbrush, for 12 out of 20 months...more than half her little life.

Would someone care to explain to me, then, why toothbrushing has suddenly and forcefully become pure, soul-destroying torture! to this child? Oh! The drama! The agony that is toothbrushing of late! Those that follow me on Twitter or Facebook aware of the battle royale that took place in my bathroom two weeks ago. And my desperate cry for help. It's only gotten worse.

There is wailing. There is closed-mouth lock-jaw. There is thrashing and writhing as if possessed. The other night she practically drowned herself in the bathtub while both John and I tried to get at those pearly whites. (Note to self: no more toothbrushing during bath time.)

What I don't get is why, all of the sudden, it's become a stand-off. She used to love brushing her teeth. She would constantly ask for her toothbrush. She'd chomp happily and then let me "finish up" with a few scrubby swipes. I bought her a toothbrush to keep at Grandma's and she brushes her teeth there. It's not a new concept for her.

In fact, she still loves her toothbrush. She goes and pulls it out of the cup on the sink counter all by herself. She also pulls out her Orajel Toddler Training Toothpaste (Fruity Splash flavor) and brings them cheerfully to me, asking "bush, bush". She giggles when I put the toothpaste on the brush and sticks it gratefully in her mouth. And then she sucks the toothpaste off. And that's it. She won't brush. Sometimes she even fakes it and brushes her closed lips. And if I try to "help" it's World War III.

I've tried everything I can think of. We bought her a Cool. New. Big Girl. Toothbrush!! And made a big freakin' deal about it. It's an Crest Spinbrush that she picked out herself, shaped like an ice cream cone, for goodness sake! And she still has her manual toothbrush that she can choose to use. We've always given her excessive praise whenever she sticks her toothbrush in her mouth. We still do. We sing songs. We play games. We have a book about brushing. We let her do it herself. We let her brush our teeth. I've acted nonchalant. I've been stern. I've held her arms down and practically forced her mouth open. But that's what I DON'T want. I absolutely do not want this to become a fight. Because I know I'll loose. And I don't want her to hate brushing her teeth because she's had a toothbrush jammed in her mouth. However, I feel caught. I'm afraid if I let her get out of brushing because she threw a fit, she'll just learn to throw more fits. And won't learn to brush her teeth.

So, I keep trying. I let her scream and cry and I give her a hug. I tell her I know she doesn't want to but we have to brush our teeth. I let her cool off and then try again. I settle for a little bit less toothbrushing than I would like and try to keep it positive. I give her lots of opportunities to do it herself.

Someone please tell me I'm on the right track! I need positive reinforcement here. Have you run into this battle? What did you do?

"Happy Blogiversary To Me"

Sing along:

"Happy Blogiversary to Me..."

One year ago, I was here, wondering if I was cool enough to even have a blog. In the past year I have met so many wonderful, funny, insightful women in the blogiverse. I can't imagine my life now without you ladies! Afterall, who would I discuss crazy moth-catching babies with
or my bad mama moments? You've celebrated with me through high points (dandelions, anniversaries, and Wonder Woman) and held my hand through the low ones. You've listened to me get all sappy ( she walks! she talks! she learns!) and laughed with my crazier side (usually the crazy is helped by my husband). You've been invited into my kitchen, and you've let me go on and on about myself. You've become part of my Mama Circle, whether you're a mama or not. I love you all for it!

Thank you!

My Baby's Not A Baby Anymore...

...I think I'll have another.




Or not.



Still undecided over here. That's me. Lately, that old familiar feeling, that warm and some-what nausea inducing sensation has been setting in. Baby fever. I've diagnosed myself. I'd say I'm hovering somewhere around 101* or so. Not burning up. Not life-threatening. But noticeable. Enough that it gets in the way.

The other day I (unsuccessfully, it turns out...damn Twitter) twittered about the oh-so-cute-and-cuddly brand new baby that was haunting me at work. I was sitting innocently in a boring and some-what condescending uplifting staff meeting with BABY FEET sticking out, mocking my ovaries, not 10 feet away. How unfair is that?? BABY FEET! Who can resist? Especially when you have first hand knowledge of how soft, and tickley, and delicious (I can't say that...that's just gross...but you know it's true) sweet they are!

I used to have one of those little creatures. She looked like this:


(see...baby feet!) and a few days later she looked like this:


and NOW she looks like this: (with Daddy)


all Big Girl, and stuff. Oh, she's still mighty cute and kissable. I wouldn't trade her in or anything. No Way! But maybe just one more...

One more little warm bundle to snuggle up with all night. One more set of fresh new eyes to gaze into for hours and hours. One more pair sweet smelling feet to tickle (I swear I don't have a foot fetish.) 10 new little fingers to count and wonder over.

But that also means, well...one MORE. One more diaper to change every few hours. One more crying, needy being to tend to who can't tell me what's wrong. One more bottle to make at the most inconvenient time (4am). One more kid to give a bath to, feed, clothe, entertain, rock, get to sleep...all while already doing all of that with the first one.

This is what gives me pause. It's not that I find any of that a burden or undesirable. In fact, I crave to do all of that over again. It's exhausting. It's tedious at times. But it is so very worth every second of it. But it takes so. much. energy. and. commitment. And I already have someone who needs a lot of my energy, my commitment. My devotion just to her. She expects it, deserves it. Am I taking something away from her by giving some of myself to another child? I say "some" but it's really all of me. To both kids. How do I do that?

So, the debate rages on. Mostly inside my own head. And heart. Baby #2???

The Pinch

Some days I hate being an adult. My parents were the kind of parents who never talked about money in front of the kids. I'm sure they had their troubles and tight-spots, but we never knew. My mom was a stay-at-home mom for many years, and I know that had to take a bite out of their choices and options. But as far as I knew? Everything was ok. Stable. Oh, sure, there were things I wanted to do or buy that got answers like "that's too expensive" or "money doesn't grow on trees, you know!" But for the most part my childhood was a blissfully ignorant and secure environment where finances were handled and dispatched by the adults only.

Now I'm the adult. I suppose that means I am the one who is supposed to "handle and dispatch the finances." Blah! Thhhhhpppppp! That's what I say.

John and I both have good jobs. Our jobs are about as stable and secure as anyone's these days. We have a house, own one car and pay for another. We have good health insurance that has literally kept us from going bankrupt over the last two years, but the medical bills still add up. I have mountainous student loans that the government would like me to repay some day. Oh, and then there's that cute kid I write so much about. She likes to eat. And wear clothes that fit. And diapers....

There are CERTAINLY people who are in much tighter spots than us. But lately John and I have been feeling that pinch. That niggling uncertainty that we would be able to handle it if, god forbid, something calamitous happened. So, we've been going over the budget looking for areas to cut a little. Cable? Could we live without Noggin On Demand? Can we trim the cell phone bill? And we have been talking about ways to bring just a little more income into the house. Something to store away for a rainy day or pay off some of that debt hanging over our heads. Something to make the thought of bringing another hungry mouth into the family a little less financially overwhelming. But what to do??

Neither of us fancy the idea of getting a part-time job out of the home a few nights a week. We already feel like we rush through the evenings with so little of that precious time with Giuliana. Work at home seems like a good option, but everyone wants in on that, right? John has been looking at some free-lance writing sites. I've considered doing something like Pampered Chef. It has also been suggested that I make my blog work a little harder for me. I don't know how I feel about that, yet. I have much more research to do on monetizing. Is it a sell-out? What do you think? What about compensated reviews (if I could get them)? Damn! And I just missed BlogHer!!

What have you been doing to keep from flying off this roller coaster?

Home-made Play Dough

This was so easy, so quick, free, and fun. I'm not all that confident in my skills with this type of project. I was sure I would burn it, or it wouldn't be "play-doughy" but it turned out perfect on my first attempt. So, I assure you, you can do it too.

Here's the recipe I used, but there are zillions online if you don't like this one. I plan to experiment with some of the kool-aid recipes for variation...although I just KNOW G will eat it when I'm not looking. Ok...she'll probably eat it while I'm looking, too. She's like that.

1 cup water
1 cup flour
1/2 cup salt
2 tsp. cream of tarter
1 tsp. oil
food coloring (I used about 6 drops)

Combine ingredients in a pot. Cook over a low flame for about 3-5 minutes, stirring continuously, until it thickens. Cool. Knead with a little flour so it's not sticky.

Store it in a freezer bag with the air pressed out.

Just A Few More...

...family pics. I know, I know, you are all bored to tears. But my mom just gave me a cd with all their pics from the last week, and I can't help myself.

Our families.



The carousel ride.