TGIM

Bleh.  I'm sick again.  John's getting sick, and Alex, well, the jury is still out on his symptoms (allergies or cold, we just can't tell). 

I hate being sick on a Monday.  The house is always filthy on Mondays because John's been home all weekend messing it up.  Those who knew John before we got together are probably surprised to hear that my husband is a monumental slob.  He wouldn't agree.  In fact, he'd downright deny it.  But, it's true.  His mere presence in the house seems to cause laundry hampers to overrun with dirty clothes.  Sinks to fill to the brim with dishes.  Counter tops to go missing under mounds of clutter.  He also drinks all of Alex's Juicy Juice, but that's a topic for another post.  Adding to the pig sty that is our house on the weekends, we've had the windows open because of the heat and there's a thick layer of dust and grime on every horizontal surface in the house (there's construction going on a few streets over blowing dirt all over our neighborhood).  If you walk across our floors in white socks, the bottoms will be brown by the time you get to the family room.  It's disgusting.  I do a full house cleaning every week, and it's completely undone by Monday.  And I'm sick today.

Thankfully the last few weeks my mom has been taking Alex out on "field trips" on Monday mornings.  She comes and picks him up first thing about 8:30 and they go off doing all kinds of fun stuff.  Trips to the mall, parks, farms, museums, today they went to an indoor amusement park for little kids.  She drops him off around noon or so completely pooped out.  He absolutely loves these outings with Grandma.  He sees her car coming up the driveway and starts bouncing around until she comes in, then grabs her hand and leads her right out the door to take him to play, barely giving her enough time to say hi and grab a diaper bag.  In fact, if my mother comes over any other time, he cries when she leaves, surely thinking she's forgotten to take him with her.

I enjoy having the morning to myself, I'm able to clean the floors, do the dishes, go to the grocery store and start laundry.  Things that would easily take me twice as long to do if Alex was around.  Today, being sick and all, I even got to take an hour long nap.  It's amazing how productive I can be.  Even nicer is since Alex comes home exhausted, he goes right down for a nap and I get two to three more hours to do whatever I need to do.  When he gets up in the afternoon we're both rested and happy, my chores are done and we usually have a great time playing until Daddy comes home.  Who knew Mondays would be one of my favorite days of the week

Today Alex is having a hard time staying asleep for his nap.  He's woken up twice already crying.  I ended up putting him in my bed and surrounded him with pillows hoping he'll stay asleep for another half hour or so.  He was up all night last night crying too, which is a good indicator that he's sick. But when he's awake, he seems like his normal happy-go-lucky self.  So I really can't tell.  He's got a runny nose and a cough, so it could go either  way.  Since I'm sick, we're going to stay home from the soccer game tonight, try to go to bed early.  I want to nip this thing in the bud if it truly is a cold because his last cold lasted well over two weeks.  With the weather as nice as it is and a couple of play dates we have setup this week, I'd hate to have him sick and miss out.

The good life

Is there anything better than sitting outside on a perfect Spring afternoon teaching your son how to blow soap bubbles?

I didn't think so

There's no need to fear, Kosher Dog is here!

I've become more and more careful about the foods we eat these days.  The last couple of weeks I've made several trips to Wild Oats (where I became very aware of my extreme un-hippiness, I was the only person there not wearing something made of hemp) and have been frequenting the natural and organic sections of my local grocery stores.  I'm reading labels and making a concerted effort to be knowledgeable about what I'm feeding my family.  This is a big change for me, a person who only looks at labels for calorie and carb content and generally makes purchases based on sale price.

Alex has recently discovered a love for hot dogs.  Quite possibly the least natural or organic of any food.  Today at the store, I needed to buy some lunch stuff for Alex and I picked up a package of Oscar Meyer cheese dogs.  Which he loves. I read the label, grimaced, and put it back.  Then I saw a package of kosher hot dogs from Hebrew National (who answer to a higher authority.  It says so on their packaging).  All beef franks with no by products, artificial colors or flavors.  Bingo!  I took them home, heated one up and Alex snarfed it down almost as soon as I gave him his plate.  He ended up eating 1/2 cup of green beans and two whole bun-length hot dogs.  TWO!  That's unheard of for him.  He'd usually eat maybe 2/3 of one cheese dog.  I think I can safely say that Hebrew National kosher all beef franks are Alex's new favorite food.

Two things

First, the red Chucks have arrived!  Hooray!  They are everything I thought they would be and more!  The seller even included a bonus pair of grey Chucks, so we are in Chuck Taylor heaven here!  Just need a Mommy sized pair!

And second, I started a t-shirt project yesterday and made some new onesies for Alex using our printer and iron-on transfers.  It was so much fun, I'm going out this morning to get some more blank shirts.  I think the ones I've made so far are pretty tame.  We've got:

• INGREDIENTS:  Slugs, snails, puppy dog tails



• A Real Salt Lake polo (that is a twin to the one his daddy has)



• Baby blue skull and crossbones



• B is for beer



• Hello Rottweiler (a more macho take on Hello Kitty)



• Satan smoking a cigar (which I didn't take a picture of because he wore it yesterday and it's filthy)

Some odd things Alex has begun doing lately

• Sleeping with a green sweater of mine.  I bought it over a year ago, wore it once, hated it and stuffed it in the bottom of my closet.  Every time I open my closet Alex rushes in and grabs it and proceeds to drag it around the house.  Now he's sleeping with it.  Well, at least it's not going to waste.



• Insists on taking his blue Easter bunny and a miniature stuffed basketball EVERYWHERE he goes. If I make him leave them in the car, he screams the entire time until we get back out to the car.



• When he tries on a new pair of shoes, he does a little tap dance.  This only happens when they are shoes he's never worn before.  It's incredibly cute.



• Instead of running like normal, he now looks like he's trying to imitate a horse galloping.  Like a skip only with the same leg forward.  I gotta video this.  It's really strange.

Worthy of it's own entry in the baby book

John, Alex and I are all on our bed. John and I are talking while Alex is burning off some steam jumping on the mattress before we put him down for the night.  Suddenly, I hear a fart.  It's one of those long high pitched farts like you're letting air out of a balloon by stretching the opening.  The room goes silent as John and I look at each other accusingly.  Then Alex giggles and I hear one more little toot from the unquestionable direction of his butt.

Baby's first laugh at own fart:  Friday, April 20, 2007

Survivor: SLC 5K

Well, we did it.  John, Alex and I survived our very first 5k race.  After much grumbling all night long (mostly by John), we got our butts up at 5:30, packed anything and everything we could possibly ever need for the morning and got to the starting line almost an hour early.  This actually worked out well because it gave Alex a chance to run around Liberty Park before he had to get strapped into the jogger for the rest of the event.  Despite the fact that we were up at the crack of dawn, and I'd only had one cup of coffee, we still managed to put on our happy faces for the race.

We had to start at the back of the pack because of the stroller, but barely 10 minutes into it, mostly because of my husbands crazy cartoon roadrunner legs, we passed up many of the walkers and even caught up to some of the slower joggers.

4-21-07 SLC Marathon 5K - 999, originally uploaded by mrsjwd9.

We even had our own paparazzi (aka Grandma Jen) .  Click on the picture (or here) and view her photo set on Flickr.  This set has more photos of my butt than there are in all existence.  Enjoy :)

In the end we finished at about 44 minutes (we'll get the official times in a couple of days).  That's a full 6 minutes faster than what I've been doing all month.  Not so bad methinks.  Jen and I had to practically jog most of the way to keep up with John.  He was pushing Alex in the stroller weaving in and out of slower walkers.  He's the freaking Mario Andretti of race walkers.  And that's without doing any training before hand.  I have no hope of keeping up when he gets in better shape.

All in all it was a good time.  Unexpectedly.  I didn't really understand what the big deal was about finishing a race, but when Jen and I ran across the finish line (me cussing up a storm the whole way because that's all I could do to keep my mind off of falling over dead - remember, I don't run), I never felt so good about being finished with something since pushing out my son lo those many months ago. 

On the way home from the race, Alex snoring in the backseat (it takes a lot of energy being pushed around in a stroller you know), John and I talked about how motivating it was to see those marathoners coming in at the finish line and how great it felt to have been able to do our little 5k as out of shape as we are.  We hope to participate in more races this summer in the hopes of bettering our time, and possibly our physiques, in the process.

Alex the farmer boy

I'm going crazy with the overalls.  Alex is so skinny,  buying regular pants and shorts is such a pain.  Nothing fits on his waist without falling right off (he has neither hips nor butt to hold them up).  Overalls are the perfect solution.  After this week's thrifty shopping spree, Alex now ownes a full wardrobe of nothing but overalls (shorts and long legs).  Seriously.  I just washed and folded all of his new clothes, he has 4 pairs of long legged overalls and 12 pairs of overall shorts.  For a kid who has never had more than four pairs of pants at a time (that fit), this is a bit of overkill.  I did score a straw cowboy hat today at a consignment sale which goes nicely with Alex's denim overalls.  Now to find some cowboy boots...

I'm cheap, and proud of it!

This week I have been on a ridiculous shopping spree for clothes for Alex.  He's been in desperate need for a new wardrobe, having completely outgrown ALL of his current clothes.  I've become increasingly unimpressed with the selection of toddler boy clothing available at the usual suspects: Target, Mervyns, Kohl's...  I'm too cheap to shop at Gymboree, BabyGap and Children's Place.  I mean, $25 for a romper!  $35 for a pair of shoes for a 1.5 year old!  ARE YOU NUTS???!!!  I have occasionally had good luck shopping at places like TJ Maxx and Ross.  Cute clothes, good brands for less dough.  Until this week though, I thought those places were my only hope.  But I have recently discovered the gold mine that is used kids clothing.  Kids Alex's age tend to grow out of their clothes before they get much, if any wear, so if you look hard enough, you can really find some quality duds.  So far, between thrift stores and eBay, I've spent about $100 and bought the following:

• 2 pairs of short-alls (one red, one monkey-print)



• 1 blue romper



• 1 orange t-shirt



• 1 white t-shirt



• 1 pair of blue shorts



• 2 pairs of "warm up pants" one green, one blue



• 1 pair of denim pants (that fit in the waist AND the legs!!!)



• 1 pair of baby blue corduroy overalls



• 2 sweatshirts (one grey, one orange)



• 1 pair of black and grey Vans (Velcro)



• And the pièce de résistance:  A pair of red Chucks.  Oh my god, the red Chucks!!  I have been searching for red Chuck Taylors for Alex since I got pregnant.  I've found them, but have always been too cheap to buy them.  Until yesterday.  Thank you eBay!  I will be waiting at my mailbox all week until they arrive.

I also splurged and ordered a pair of babylegs (a whopping $12) which arrived this afternoon in the mail.  I wish I'd have had these since Alex was a newborn.  The second I opened them up, I got online and ordered another pair they were SO DAMNED CUTE! I got the black ones with flames... to go with the red Chucks :)

Tomorrow is the semi-annual rummage sale at the Methodist church down the street.  My mom and I are getting there first thing, and I hope to come home with some good stuff.  How nice it is to not have a job and have the time to troll the thrift stores and rummage sales all morning long :)

Weenie woes

I was up late last night worrying about Alex's penis.  Usually if a penis keeps me up late, it's John's, and in an enjoyable way.  But last night I was obsessing about an infection Alex has developed, and every time I closed my eyes I'd flash forward to morning where I'd open up his diaper to find his penis has shriveled up and fallen off.  I know, I'm completely overreacting, but that's how I get when ANYTHING is wrong with Alex.  There is nothing that makes me more anxious than when Alex isn't well.

Alex's nether regions were perfectly fine until last night when I opened up his diaper to find his penis was red, swollen and had an odd discharge.  I called John in for a second opinion and he agreed it just didn't look right so I called the Kids Care after hours clinic and took him in.

Of course when we got there, I had to explain to no less than three people that my son had "a swollen penis, and not in a happy sort of way".  I was certain I was overreacting.  It was probably just a normal part of toddler penile development and they'd send me home, giggling to themselves about how that new mom brought her son in for an erection and smegma. 

When the nurse practitioner opened up Alex's diaper to see what was going on in there and her first reaction was "Whoa, that's not right",  I silently praised myself for following my gut and bringing him in.  She cultured the discharge and brought the doctor in to take a look.  Both of them agreed it was probably just a skin infection and prescribed an antibiotic.  Though I was told that I needed to make sure it doesn't get worse and if he becomes unable to urinate I need to bring him back in immediately.  Since his foreskin isn't yet retracting, no one could see in there to see if there was any damage to his penis causing the infection. The doctor was concerned that he could have bruised it somehow, but being unable to see his actual penis, makes it hard to diagnose.

*As an aside, I was praised by the nurse practitioner and doctor for not having Alex circumcised unnecessarily. I am still surprised so many parents do it.  Alex's penis is so normal looking to me, I forget that other kids don't look like that.*

So, I took my son and his infected penis home, threw him in the bathtub and scrubbed him down, smeared his nethers in Vaseline, put clean clothes on him, and gave him his medicine (which he took like a champ).  I'm also going to amp up the hand washing regimen around here.  I always wash his hands after a diaper change, but I'm going to start washing them before as well.  There's no way I can stop him from grabbing his package during a diaper change, I can at least make sure his hands aren't all grubby and germy.

After a fitful night full of penis nightmares, I woke up to discover that Alex had a very wet diaper and a weenie that at least doesn't look any worse than yesterday.  For Alex's part, he's acting like there's nothing at all wrong in his diaper, which makes me feel even better. 

Victory is mine!

I always get excited when I find a new food Alex will eat.  Generally Alex will eat cheese, peas, diced peaches, mac n cheese, sliced ham, banana chips... But more often than not a great majority of his food ends up on the floor rather than in his mouth.  But this week I discovered two new foods that Alex will eat.  Not just eat, but devour, leaving not a morsel.

1. Pirate Booty



2. Refried Beans

Pirate Booty is just puffed rice and corn with white cheddar flavoring.  They taste like Cheeto's Puffs to me.  Alex ate almost an entire bag of Pirate Booty all by himself this week before he discovered that the puffs are fun to mush up.  Still though, he eats his fill of Booty before making Booty mess out of it.

As for refried beans, it never occurred to me to give Alex refried beans until this week when I took him out to lunch.  I got him chicken strips and myself a bean burrito that came with chips and beans.  When my lunch arrived, Alex, who was standing next to me in the booth (there were no available high chairs) declared "YUM!" and began grabbing my chips, which I expected.  He's always liked corn chips.  What wasn't expected was when he began dipping the chips in the refried beans.  Scooping up bean goop and slurping it off the chip until the chip got so soggy he had to trade it in for a fresh one.  He ended up cleaning my plate of beans, leaving a soggy stack of corn chips on the table. Today I decided to see if it was just a fluke.  For lunch I gave him a big glob of refried beans on a plate with a spoon.  He went to town almost clearing his plate, the entire time murmuring "num num num" in between spoonfuls.

Each time Alex leaves a meal with a full tummy, I feel like I've won a small battle in the "Picky eater" war. Today, with Alex's belly full of Booty and Beans, I feel victorious!

Indiana Dillier and the Shower of Doom

After I put Alex down for his nap, I went in to take a shower like I always do.  I'm blind as a bat without my glasses, and I don't wear contacts, which means I can't see anything but blurry blobs of color in the shower.  This isn't a problem as we always keep all of the shower supplies in the same place (though occasionally I have trouble with shampoo and conditioner bottles of the same color and shape as well as my current toothbrush which is clear.  I'm always fumbling around for the damned thing.). So today, I'm showering as normal when out of the corner of my eye I see a large dark blob sitting about three inches off the shower floor on the tile wall.  I bend down a little closer to it to see what it might be.  This causes the water from the shower head spray to hit the wall and the blob begins to move!  It's moving down the wall onto the shower floor and it's going to attack me!  It's obviously some kind of furry black bug, spider or leech that will devour me whole!  AAAAAAACCCCCCCKKKKKK!!!!!!  I scream and run naked and wet out of the shower, through the bathroom and leap the four feet from the bathroom door onto my bed and cover myself with my pillows. 

When I catch my breath, I creep quietly back into the bathroom, pick up my glasses off the counter and put them on.  I reach behind the toilet and grab my Lysol toilet brush (the kind that sprays the cleaner right out of the brush).  I feel better now that I can see and I'm armed.  Still wet and naked, holding a toilet brush, I kick open the shower door and before looking in I aim my weapon in the general direction of the creature and douse it with toilet cleanser. 

I peek my head into the shower to see a giant wad of hair soaked in blue toilet soap.  "JOHN!"  I say through clenched teeth. 

You see, ever since John and I have been living together, we've had this on going fight about who should clean the hair out of the shower drain.  I won't do it.  My argument is that it's gross, and I just won't do it.  John's argument is that it's mostly my hair, so I should clean it up.  I argue back that it only looks like it's just my hair because my hair is longer and darker.  I mean, where is his hair going if not down the shower drain? To which he replies that since his hair is so short and thin, it miraculously slides right through my matted clumpy hair wad and goes right down the drain. I say that's bullshit and continue to refuse to clean out the drain trap.  I think it is so gross, so disgusting, that I can usually out wait John and he ends up cleaning it.  I don't feel bad about this one bit.  John however, feels this is cruel and unusual punishment and that it clearly means I don't love him enough.  Well, today John got his revenge.  He pulled all of the hair out of the drain, wadded it up and stuck it to the wall. Because clearly, that made more sense than just throwing the hair wad away.  Sure, it almost gave me a heart attack, but in his mind, I've learned a lesson and will now start cleaning out the shower drain myself.  HA!  Think again buddy.  Think again.

Today's Stats

• Number of poopy diapers:  1



• Number of times I had to chase Alex down the hall when he stole our wedding picture off the table in our bedroom:  3



• Number of plastic dinosaurs I've retrieved from the heater vents:  2



• Number balls thrown down the stairs (then whined for me to retrieve them):  10



• Number of toy cars I've stepped on and/or tripped over:  2



• Items I've found floating in the toilet bowl:  hair band, toy Jedi, Scuba Elmo, hair brush, superman action figure complete with cloth cape



• Number of toys found in the fireplace:  4



• Number of books read:  3.5



• Hours of TV watched:  1



• Number of freakishly huge boogers I've picked out of Alex's nose:  5



• Number of mini raviolis eaten:  2.5



• Number of mini raviolis thrown on floor:  6



• Number of times I've walked into the room to find Alex lying on the floor with his stuffed lamb, sucking his thumb and humming:  4



• Number of times I've had to tell Alex to "Stop licking my face!":  6



• Number of times Alex has unexpectedly run up to me just to hug my legs:  3

So, tell me what you want, what you really, really want

John's reading this new book and was telling me about it last night.  The book is about learning how to create positive changes in your life and manifest your desires.  I haven't read it yet, but from what John is telling me, the idea is to basically ask "The Universe" for what you want, and you can achieve anything.  From his description, it's basically positive thinking.  A "dress for the career you want" type of an idea.  If you want something, act like you already have it, feel appreciation for what you do have and you will find yourself attracting positive things leading you to your ultimate goal... whatever that may be.

To John, this was a completely new concept. To me (and granted, I haven't yet read the book), it's nothing new, in fact, this is a theory I try to practice in my own life already.  I wholeheartedly believe in the power of positive thinking.

So as we were discussing the book, we started talking about what we wanted.  What did we want to ask "The Universe" for?

John:  I want to be successful in my career
Me:  I want to be a great mother
John:  I want to loose weight
Me:  Me too!
John:  I want to have season tickets to the Jazz
Me:  I want to have just one steamy, passionate night with Derek Jeter, but not have it affect our marriage in any way.
John:  I want to be rich
Me:  I want a dog
John:  Whoa! I don't think The Universe wants you to have a dog
Me:  But I can have Jeter?
John:  You've got a better chance of getting the Jeter thing than getting a dog.
Me:  Oh, I'm totally asking The Universe for a dog.

Just call me Athena

John and I registered to walk in the SLC 5k next week.  I don't know why, but I'm slightly offended by the fact that we had to enter the "Clydesdale/Athena" category.  Which is just a glossed over way of saying that we're a couple of fat asses.  What irks me even more is that an "Athena" is any woman over 140 lbs.  Even if I get to my goal weight I'll be over 140 lbs!  I think my skeleton alone weighs 140 lbs. 

I generally don't participate in activities specifically geared towards The Skinnies.  I always have been, and likely will forever be, a Fat Chick.  And it's pretty common knowledge that Fatties and Skinnies just don't get along.  It's like the Jets and the Sharks, or the Montague's and Capulet's.  But, I married into a family of Skinnies and, well, they're not so bad, those Skinnies.   

So, John and I are going to get our respective Clydesdale and Athena sized butts out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn next weekend and waddle around a 5k route.  Seeing as how both John and I are regular exercisers (despite what the number on the scale might say), a 5k isn't that big of a deal for either of us to walk (I don't run.  It's just not right, that running).  I think Alex (who we all know is a Skinny) will have a ball watching all the runners whizzing past him in his stroller, and I want to get used to supporting my Skinny son, who will likely be more like my Skinny in-laws and actually ENJOY running in races. 

Conflicted

Easter 07 - 916, originally uploaded by mrsjwd9.

I still feel absolutely no desire to have another baby just yet. That is, of course, until I am within cuddling distance of my sweet baby neice. Then my ovaries start twitching so violently, my whole body practically vibrates.

When the baby is away, the mommy will...get things done

My mom came and picked up Alex this morning for a "Grandma and Me" day.  They're going to breakfast, to the mall, to the park...  He will come home a spoiled brat I'm sure.  But, that's what grandma's are for I suppose. 

Anyway, I have been left alone to do whatever I want all morning.  I had all kinds of plans.  I was going to go to the camera shop to browse and maybe pick up a new filter.  I was going to go get a pedicure.  I was going to take a nap.  I was going to go shopping...  Oh the possibilities!  But what did I end up doing you ask?  I cleaned Alex's room. I cleaned John's and my room.  I cleaned the guest room (that has basically just been a storage room the last few months). I started laundry. I picked up all of Alex's toys in the basement and vacuumed.  I did stop cleaning to read some blogs and write this post.  But I can't seem to stop myself from being productive.  It's so much easier to clean things up when there isn't a little monkey following me around making messes behind me. 

I did get out of the house to run some errands, but nothing too fun.  I bought John a couple new pairs of work pants and returned a pair that didn't fit.  The highlight of my morning was getting a lens cap leash and neoprene neck strap for my camera (the neckstrap that came with it is just too bulky), two things I've wanted to get since I got my camera.

So, I guess I'm pretty boring, but I got a lot done, so I'm feeling pretty satisfied :)

Healthy as a (Skinny) horse

This week Alex had his 18 month well baby checkup.  I was half expecting them to call Sally Struthers on me because Alex is beginning to look like a starving child from one of those Christian Children's Fund commercials.  When they weighed him, he'd only gained 1 pound in the last three months and actually went down to 7% (I had been so proud to have gotten him to 8% at his 15 month checkup).

The doctor wasn't concered about his weight one bit.  Showing me his growth chart, he is growing at a normal "Alex Dillier" rate. He's just an active little boy with a fast metabolism who happens to be a picky eater.  Since he's developing perfectly on schedule in all other areas physical and developmental she told me to "Stop stressing out about it and give him a multi vitamin".

So I bought these:

He LOVES them.  So much so that it appears to be almost painful for him that he only gets one every day.  Every morning after he gets his one gummy vitamin, the rest of the day is like this:

It's hard to be 18 months old

These days I never know what to expect from Alex.  There are days when he's an absolute delight.  There are others when I'm sure he's been possessed by demons.  Going to the park is almost always a surefire hit, but on days when he's in a foul mood, even that can be a miserable outing.  I wasn't prepared for what 18 months would bring.  Since Alex was born, every day brought more fun and excitement.  Each new age was pure joy and so much better than the last.  Then we hit 18 months and it all went to hell.  Some days I have a happy-go-lucky toddler who wants to play and dance and smother me with kisses.  Other days are wrought with toddler angst.  Some days are Screamfest 2007.  There are nights when I can't bear to put him in his crib for the night, I just want to snuggle his cute little cheeks and hold his soft little dimply hands.  Some nights I can't wait to close the door to his room and go to a quiet place and drink a bottle of wine.  I just wasn't prepared to live this kind of bi-polar lifestyle.  He loves me, he hates me.  I love him, I want to sell him to the gypsies.

Is it possible that the terrible twos actually begin during the second year rather than after the child turns two years old?  Or, god forbid, is it just going to get worse in the next year? 

I guess I just need to look forward to the good days while surviving the bad ones.  I need to keep trying to take him places that might be fun for him, even if he turns into Screamy VonNoodlelegs while playing Ring Around the Rosie at the library story and song hour.  I need to learn to pick my battles.  If all he wants to eat all day is bread crust and apple juice.  Fine.  If he wants to bring six plastic Easter eggs everywhere he goes.  Fine (just make sure to bring extras in preparation for the meltdown when he looses one of them during an outing).  If he doesn't want to wear anything but a diaper and a fireman hat all day.  Fine.  Some things are just not worth fighting about.

I talked to his pediatrician yesterday about what we can do about discipline and correcting his behavior.  18 months is such a tough age for discipline.  Time outs don't work yet, redirection doesn't work as well as it used to when he had the attention span of a fruit fly, a stern "NO!" just makes him laugh.  She didn't really have much advice other than to keep doing what I'm doing until he's old enough to put in time out (around two) and to really emphasize the good things he does (presumably so he doesn't get the idea that negative attention is the best kind).  I think my strategy will be to make the most out of the good days, take lots of pictures of Alex's happy face and put them on my refrigerator so that when he's pitching a fit and flinging all of my Tupperware all over the kitchen, I can look at these happy, cute smiles and remember that yes, I really do love him and it's not always like this.

I married a pack rat

We bought a laptop computer yesterday and it came with a free printer (after a mail in rebate.  Don't get me started on rebates.  I've got six rebate forms totaling $290 I need to send in for the rebates on our new computer equipment purchases.).  Our old printer is a monster.  In it's day it was quite a sophisticated piece of technology.  It scanned, copied, faxed and printed.  It was also the size of a small refrigerator.  It squatted, huge and forbidding on our desk taking up 1/3 of our usable work space.  We don't print a whole lot, so it's just been sitting there, acting as a giant paperweight.  If I ever tried to scan, copy or print anything, it would groan and sputter, eventually spitting out something that vaguely looked like the document or picture I asked it to print.

Naturally, when the sales kid told us we could get a free printer with our new computer, I was thrilled.  John and I both answered him.  Me with an excited "YES!", John with a solid "No thank you."

"No?!" I asked him "our printer sucks ass!"  I turned back to the sales kid and told him that of course, we'll be taking the printer.  John muttered something about more rebate forms, to which I replied that we will already be sending in a rainforest's worth of rebate forms, what's a couple more?  He agreed and we got the printer.

With new toys in the house to be played with, John stayed up late setting up our new laptop and installed our new printer downstairs with our desktop computer.  This morning I came downstairs to find that with the removal of the beast, we now have doubled our usable desk space!  The new printer, compact and sleek, actually scans and prints! Then it occurred to me.   

"Honey, what'd you do with the old printer?"
"Nothing"
"It's in our storage room isn't it?"
"No"
"It's in this house somewhere!  I know you didn't throw it away!"
"There's no reason to throw it away, It's a perfectly good printer!"

This is what he says about anything we replace.  Old rotary phones, empty shoe boxes, old VHS tapes even after we've replaced them with DVD's... The man can't, I mean actually, physically can't, throw anything away. Will we EVER dig this shit out of our storage room and use them again?  Could we even sell any of this junk in a yard sale (not that he would ever even consider getting rid of it)?  No.  It's crap.  Yet, he insists on keeping it all "because we can".  Meanwhile I'm stuffing Alex's old baby stuff (things we actually should keep for the next kid) in closets and under beds or loaning it out to people with new babies because we just don't have any storage room for it.

I guess I need to just stop fighting it and chalk it up to the many things I may never understand about my husband.