Monday, March 30, 2009

Hey, Good Lookin'!

Looking for me? Well, I'm guesting over at Half as Good as You today, talking about my weight loss mission. Come by and comment - make me look good.


Lost this week: 3.2
Total Lost: 11.6
Remaining: 75.4

Friday, March 27, 2009

He's a Booooooob Man!

So, you know what Miles loves? My boobs. Holy shit does he ever. I mean, seriously a lot. For the past week I've been nursing the kid MOST of his waking hours. He's THREE MONTHS OLD for crying out loud, and he's nursing like a newborn.

Now, I realize that I am lucky to have a kid that took to the breast so well, that nurses so fantastically, that is growing into a fat, healthy baby nourished only on milk. I'm proud, even. But, with the thrush (which is improving) and the fact that we just went through a growth spurt two weeks ago is just wearing me (an my nipples) out.

Pump and give him a bottle, you say? Miles turns his nose up at rubber nipples. They are not as warm and soft and as MOMMY as my boobs are. And so we nurse. And nurse. And nurse.

Yesterday, after an HOUR of nursing, I took him off and put him in his chair and he was immediately gnawing at his fists like some kind of deranged badger. It is to the point that I'd be worried my supply was dwindling were it not for the fact that every time he delatches to catch a breath (he's congested) milk sprays all over his wee face.

And yesterday? Yesterday, Oscar asked me to nurse!!! He said "Nurse? Nurse? Nurse?" and eyed my boobs hungrily. And I was all, "Kid, you've got to be insane if you think I'm gonna let you and those mashers you call teeth anywhere near my boobs. Your time with them is over." And then Oscar said, "Lap? Lap? Lap?" But, you know what? I can't fit a 15 lb infant and a 26 lb toddler in my lap at the same time. I have ample ass, but my lap just is not large enough to hold 40 lbs and five feet of child.

Oh, and? Starving. Dying of thirst. All the time. My goddamn lips are cracked, that's how dehydrated all this nursing has my body.

After a week of sleeping all night, Miles is waking once between 2 and 5 and nursing for an hour. AN HOUR. He is nursing so much that I am waking up engorged. That's right, he feeds in the middle of the night and sill I'm engorged in the morning. I could feed twins with all this milk. Didn't PETA say something about Ben & Jerry's replacing the cows milk in their ice cream with human milk? I have enough for that.

He's sleeping now. My boobs are engorged and they hurt and I need him to nurse to give me some relief, so I can't even properly enjoy these moments where my boobs are allowed a bit of freedom.

When he's awake and not nursing and not trying to devour his fist? Oh my god he is a gem. Smiling, cooing, squealing, laughing. You know what happened the other day? Oscar played peek-a-boo with Miles. And then my blog died. It was that cute. Hiding his face with his hands and revealing his face to Miles to the smiles and giggles of both. I'm dying a little right now remembering that.

So, it's so worth it. Right? This growth spurt can only be, what, another four, five days max?

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Quirky-Quirk, Quirk, Quirk, Quirk, Quirk

I am woman of many quirks. It is just who I am, and thank god for Nelson putting up with all my crazy, because not many would. In honor of this week's Spin Cycle hosted by the beautiful Sprite's Keeper, here's a small fraction of my catalogue of quirks

  • I have many phobias. I used to have a regular feature on my blog called Phobia Fridays where I'd blog about all the stuff that scared me. My fears include (but are not limited to) sharks, horses, large bodies of water, robots, serial killers, natural disasters, guns, needles, and scorpions.
  • I hate wearing socks and almost never wear them, even in the winter. This has been true since I was a small child.
  • I used to love horror movies, but ever since my first pregnancy, I can no longer watch them. I can't even watch the trailers for them - I have to change the station on TV if one plays.
  • I cheat at cards and board games. I can't help it.
  • I am among the less than 1% of the female population that is color blind. That's a GENETIC quirk.
  • I always salt my food. Even pizza and salad.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Random Tuesday Thoughts: Zombies and Other Anxieties


*Since I've already gone and give RTT host Keely nightmares, I figure it's only fair for me to share this site with the rest of you. It's a blog where people share their own stories of the Zombie Wars, a spin off from Max Brooks' book Word War Z. Have you read World War Z yet? You should. It's cool from a sci-fi perspective and interesting from a sociopolitical perspective. Try it. You'll like it!

*Now I have that stupid Yo Gabba Gabba! song in my head, "Try it. You'll like it!" stuck in my head. Oscar's only watched that show like four times and I think this is the only episode he's seen. Oh, and the one where they sing, "Snacky-snack, snack, snack snack! Snacky-snack, snack, SNACK! SNACK! SNACK!" This is going to be a long day.

*I've now typed the word "snack" so many times it has lost all meaning to me. I'm no longer even sure that it's a word.

*The seven-year-old girl I babysit for totally hearts the Jonas Brothers. She thinks they are dreamy. Which got me thinking, Who did I think was dreamy when I was seven? Ready for this? I'm about to totally date myself here, but I LOVED Johnny Depp (it was 21 Jump Street) and River Phoenix (Stand By Me.) Loved. And do you know what? Still do.

*I hate it when Nelson does laundry. I know, you think I'm crazy right? But, when he does it, he only ever does like half of it and then he leave the rest in the basement and doesn't tell me it's down there and needs to be washed. And it's always like all of my jeans and underwear that get left out of the washing and I have to scramble to get it done so I can, you know, not be naked. I do recognize he's trying to be helpful, but it kind of ends up creating more work for me in the long run.

*I find folding laundry cathartic.

*I find putting laundry away mind-numbingly boring.

*Miles is really starting to notice Oscar, and it is super cute. The are "talking" to each other right now and I love it.

*Oscar's lips were blue this morning so I convinced myself HE WAS DYING. Then I put a sweater on him and gave him some hot coco and his lips are back to normal. Because it was 30 degrees outside and he was just cold, NOT dying.

*Yesterday I spent all morning convincing myself that my thrush was actually some kind of cancer because while I am feeling a bit better, I'm not feeling entirely better. Still itching, burning, shooting pains, etc. but to a lesser degree. Then I realized that this is ridiculous because when you hear hoof beats it's usu sally horses, not zebras. F-ing Dr. Google.

*After a week and a half of sleeping 10-12 hours in row, Miles woke at 2am last night. I almost didn't know what to do. And he nursed his face off for like an hour. Pray god it was just a fluke.

*I've been having some anxiety issues lately. See items above re: dying toddler and cancer.

Visit Keely for more randomness.

Monday, March 23, 2009

I'm Shrinking!

Guess who lost another 2.4 lbs this week? I did! I did! Yippie! Now that I'm down nearly ten pounds two pairs of my postpartum jeans are literally falling off and I'm down one jeans size. I rule! Goooooo me!

Confession #1: I did not exercise, not once. I did play outside with the kids a couple of days, but the weather was kind of cold and rainy in the mid-Atlantic last week. Being that my whole exercise plan hinges around walking outdoors with children, cold and rain throws a major wrench in things.

BUT. I'm motivated to start moving, because if I'm doing this well sans exercise, I'm going to destroy some serious ass fat once I get going.

Confession #2: I ate a piece of chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting at my friend's daughter's ninth birthday party this weekend. And some bread pudding. And two cheese biscuits.

BUT. Other than the two cheese biscuits (which I kind of shared with Oscar), I ate in MODERATION. The piece of cake was a normal sized piece of cake, not the mammoth hunk I would have formerly eaten, and only like a half cup of bread pudding. So while I did indulge, I did not over indulge, so I think that's a score.

Confession #3: I doubt I'll exercise this week. I have thrush, which if you don't know, is a yeast infection on/in my nipples and milk ducts. And is SUPER painful (like a burn) and itchy. I'm on a boat load of antifungals and probiotics (as is Miles), but unfortunately yeast thrives on sugar and breast milk is full of sugar so it can take a while to go away. Up to seven days to even feel relief. Anyways, so with the itching and burning, moving more is on hold. A bonus to thrush is that I look like I'm groping myself in public. It's awesome.

BUT. I'm supposed to avoid sugars and starchy foods because of the thrush, so I'm hoping this will boost my weight loss as I normally eat tons of sugars and starchy foods (see: my ass.)


Down: 8.4.
Remaining: 78.6 (yowza!)

Goal for this week: Hit the 10 lb mark; stop itching my nipples in public; stop itching my nipples period (do I need to write a letter to you, Thrush? Because I do not play.)

Go and heckle my fellow HASAYers over here. They heart negative humor.

Friday, March 20, 2009

The One Where I Lost My Cool

It's taken me two weeks to work up the courage to write this blog post. I mean, look at me, intentionally posting on a Friday so less people will read the post. I'm a total chicken shit, but I am going to hold myself accountable for my poor parenting.

I yelled at Oscar.

Let me just say, I grew up in a house of yelling. My parents yelled at us kids when we misbehaved or weren't listening; they yelled at each other when they argued, right in front of us. That's just how it was in my house. And I hated it. I knew I was NEVER going to yell at my kids, or argue with my spouse in front of them, because it felt so awful.

And yelling does not work. Yes, there are situations where yelling to startle your kid may be appropriate - when they are about to step into the street unattended, or stick a fork in a light socket, things like that where you want them to pause just long enough for you to get there.

But this is not what happened when I yelled at Oscar. I just totally lost my cool.

It was a couple of weeks ago when Miles first started his growth spurt, so he was nursing all. the. time. Danny had just gone home and I was trying to get dinner ready. I put the dogs outside and Oscar asked me for some more water. As I grabbed the water pitcher out of the fridge, the dogs started barking at the neighbors. I carried the pitcher into the living room, where the back door is, and set it on the table so I could let the dogs back in.

Oscar is tall. Almost three feet (I KNOW!). And as I opened the door to call for the dogs, he snatched that pitcher and dumped the WHOLE THING onto the floor. "Uh-oh. Mess? Mess? Mess?" he said.

I turned around to see about a half gallon of water flooding my dining room. I spun back to the door and slammed it in my dogs faces to keep them from coming inside and running through the ocean of water in my house. And then I yelled.


And then, I kept yelling. Not at him, really, just yelling in general. About the number of times I mop up water in a day; the number of hand towels I go through; the increase in my laundry because of these towels; the number of times a week I have to change Oscar because he's soaked himself; how tired I was in general and how if I never had to clean water again it would be too soon.

After I finished cleaning the water I called for my dogs, who were STILL barking at the neighbors. They did not come. I called again because I could not see them from the door. I checked the front yard, since Valentine has been digging holes under the fence. Nope, not there. Then, I got really angry because I though they'd escaped the yard and I was going to have to go looking for them at 6:30 at night with two children, one of whom was wearing no pants or socks because they were soaking wet.

I stepped into the backyard and saw them standing there, just looking at me. "COME ON! LET'S GO!" I yelled. "COME ON!" No movement. They were afraid of me, because I was so angry. "FINE, YOU JERKS! STAY OUT HERE ALL NIGHT THEN!"

I stormed back into the house, fuming. And there was Oscar, standing by the door. He's started crying. He was holding up his little arms to me, to be picked up.

"All done? All done?" he said through the tears.

"All done?" I repeated, trying to figure it out.

All done. He wanted me to be all done. All done yelling. My 20-month-old was asking me to stop yelling.

I was a total asshole and quite possibly the worst mother ever.

I picked him up and squeezed him.

"I'm all done baby. I'm so sorry. I'm all done."


So there you have it. My worst parenting moment thus far in my nearly two year career as a mom. I've never felt so terrible in all my life as I felt in that moment. I hope that I never, ever yell at my kids again. It did not make me feel better, it did not help the situation, and I am still completely ashamed of myself. My kids deserve better than that.

Nelson got home ten minutes later. He let the dogs in, Oscar was playing happily, but I was a wreck. I'm still not over it. I wasn't even going to write this post and I know my finger will hesitate over the "Publish Post" button, but I wanted to hold myself accountable. To say in this public space that I made a mistake, one that I hope to never make again. I want to be a better mother than that. I hope I can be.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

It is so ON!

Dear Ants:

Hi, there you little motherf*ckers. I just wanted to drop you a line to let you know, IT IS ON. Yes, I've hesitated at calling the exterminator because of the poison and my child who enjoys eating poison, but that has NOT stopped me. Oh no, my little nemeses, I am totally all over your shit.

See, I found that little hole in my kitchen window frame that you're using as an entrance. And I plugged that bad boy up. Then I watch as you sent out your pheromones to put everyone on alert and frantically tried to get in. No more meandering around my sink now, huh? Ha ha! You were all, "My Queen! My Queen! Must get back to my Queen!" Well, NOT HAPPENING. And now that all of you that remained inside have been massacred, I'm feeling a pretty victorious. I haven't seen even one ant today. Nada one.

Am I worried that there is some kind of ant rebellion brewing within my walls? That you will all come exploding out like an ant volcano and completely take over my kitchen? Yes, a little. Okay, a lot. It gave me nightmares. But it didn't happen, so I win.

Yes, this seems like much too easy a solution. I realize it is not permanent, that a rolled up paper towel jammed into a hole in my window frame will not keep you out forever. I mean, can't you lift like 20 times your weight or something? But I'm hoping it will hold until I find a less poisonous, more toddler friendly solution.

So, it's on, ants. It is so on.

Your mortal enemy (literally),



Dear Fat on My Ass:

Hey, guess what? I'm down another 2.4 lbs this week. That's 6 lbs in two weeks. You know what that means? That means your time is almost up. That's an eviction notice on your door baby, so you better pack your things and hit Craig's List for a new pad cause I am through with you.

I realize that we've had some good times, Ass Fat (I can call you Ass Fat, right?) All those cup cakes, and mint chocolate chip ice cream. And apple pie, my oh my have we had some fun with apple pie. And brownies. And the french fries and bacon cheese burgers. Yummy! And I cannot forget all the beer and martinis from my former life. Oh, those were the days.

Alas, no more! I'm giving up my many food vices in favor of health and a longer life. I want to chase my kids without having to drag you behind me, Ass Fat. You are keeping me down, man. It's time for you to move on.

Now, I've tried to do this the nice way, but the fact is it's not me, it's you Ass Fat. You are the problem here and I'm determined to get rid of you. But you just insist on hanging around. You follow me everywhere I go. That ain't cool, Ass Fat, and I am through with being nice.

It's ON, Ass Fat. I am kissing you good by one pound at a time. No, it won't be easy, but I'm determined to get you out of my life for good. You cause heart disease and diabetes and cellulite. And you can take your friends, Love Handles, Thunder Thighs, Matronly Arms with you. And don't forget your sisters Stomach Fat and Back Fat. I'm through with them too. I'm through with all of you. Week by week, inch by inch, I will defeat you.

I'll be seeing less of you,


Dear Abscess on Miles' Butt:

I hate you. Why won't you just GO AWAY? You are not wanted here. You suck. You literally sit in shit all day, so you stink. You are worthless. You are getting smaller by the day, and you know what? Size does matter, and you're losing it, buddy. I've seen bigger pustules on 15-year-old boys. And do you know what else? You are stupid, Abscess, and you have no friends. NOBODY likes you. And you're ugly. U-G-L-Y! You ain't got no alibi! You ugly! Uh-huh, you ugly!

Since 10 days of antibiotics and two weeks of twice daily soaks and washing with soap and water at every change haven't worked, I figured I'd try berating you, Abscess. Is it working? Well, just in case it's not, we're doing another week long course of antibiotics. And all the soaking and washing. That's right - we'll be coming at you from the inside AND the outside.

You may be tough, but I am tougher. Do you see that crazed look in my eyes? That means it's ON, Abscess, and I don't take prisoners. Just ask the Ants.

Grinding my battle axe,


Monday, March 16, 2009

Miles: Three Months

Miles. Miles, Miles, Miles. My little prince. How on earth did this happen? How are you three whole months old?

You are so special. I tell this to everyone when they ask how you are, "He's such a special guy." I knew it the first moment I laid eyes on you. No, no, I didn't. It wasn't until that first smile, at a mere two days old, that's when I knew. You are so calm and so patient and so impossibly sweet. I can't help but wonder what I did to be so lucky as to have you in my life.

You are laughing out loud now, these great baby belly laughs that bring tears to my eyes every time I hear them. You are grabbing at toys, splashing in the tub, blowing raspberries, cooing and talking up a storm. You give me little miracles every day. I though because you were my second baby that things would not seem as amazing, but they really do. Even more so. It's all new all over again.

You are funny. You love it when I munch on your arms and legs and when I blow raspberries on your tummy. You like being held, but prefer to be sitting across from me, so we can interact. You look so much like your brother but you have dimples on your cheeks where he has none; a much more generous double chin; smaller ears; smaller feet; more and darker hair; steely gray eyes; you are taller and fatter; quieter; more mellow.

And what a championship nurser you are! I had so much trouble with your brother in those first few weeks that I almost gave up. But not you. You latched on within moments of your birth and have rarely left my breast since. By three months old, Oscar was easily distracted and had trouble settling down for a good feeding. Not you, Miles. You love nothing more than to hunker down for a good, long nursing session; to fall asleep with your face pressed up against me, breathing in the sweet smell of my milk-scented skin.

Every time you grin at me I almost cannot believe that you are mine, my bright-eyed, fat baby. I feel like you are such a precious gift, like I am especially blessed to have had you, Miles, as my second son. Maybe it is because you were unplanned - you could have so easily not been here had we been more "careful," had the mood and opportunity for your conception not coincided. I could have missed out on you and all your sweetness.

I am enjoying all of this baby-ness so much more this time around. I could not wait for your brother to coo, to roll over, to sit up, to crawl, to walk, to talk. With you, I am content to just sit and hold you and look at your silly baby faces and listen to your sweet sighs of contentment as you nurse yet again. What a privilege it is to be a mother, any mother, but your mother in particular. I will continue to watch you grow and ache as your babyhood passes. Not to fast, little one. I am enjoying this.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Deja Vu

Oscar, about 11 weeks:

Miles, about 11 weeks:

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

The F-Word

Scene: It is dinnertime at the Oscarelli household some three days ago. Miles is cooing happily and, shockingly, Oscar is very quietly enjoying his beef and bean tacos (thank you, slow cooker!)

Jenni: Blah, blah, blah

Nelson: Blah, blah, blah,

Oscar (quietly) : Fuck

Jenni: Did you just hear that? (to Oscar) What did you just say?

Oscar: ...

Nelson: I didn't hear anything.

Jenni: Oh, okay. I must be hearing things. Blah, blah, blah.

Nelson: Blah, blah, blah

Oscar: Fuck. Fuck!

Jenni: Now, I KNOW you heard that.

Nelson (whispers): Did he just say the f-word?

Jenni (laughing): YES!
Oscar: Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!

Nelson (also laughing): Where'd he learn that? PJ?

Jenni: PJ doesn't say the f-word. YOU say the F-word.

Nelson: Shit, you're right.

Jenni: Nelson!

Oscar (vaguly gesturing at Nelson): Fuck. Fuck? Fuck!

Nelson: Oh, sorry. No, wait. He's not saying fuck. He's saying truck. He's pointing to the trucks outside of the window. (gestures to trucks outside the window behind himself)

Jenni: He's not saying truck. He knows how to say truck. He's saying fuck. Oscar, stop it. Stop saying that.

Oscar (whining and frantically gesturing in Nelson's direction): Fuck! Waa! Fuck!

Nelson: Is he calling ME a fuck?

Jenni (laughing): Maybe. No, wait! He WANTS something. He's NOT saying fuck. He's saying FORK. Nelson he wants your FORK! (Jenni, feeling like Sherlock Holmes)

Oscar (visibly agitated): Fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Nelson: Oscar, do you want my fork?

Oscar: Yeah! Yeah! Fuck! Fuck!

Jenni: Pronounced like a true Italian! I guess we'll have to work on that one. And our language.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Random Tuesday Thoughts: Holy Christ Can This Kid Eat


Miles is going through a growth spurt and holy soggy nipples Batman, I'm exhausted. It's awesome when he's taking a 3 hour nap but KILLING me when he needs to nurse for the entire 1.5 hours he's awake.

I'm in love with my slow cooker these days. I love that I can prepare dinner during nap time and it's ready when Nelson gets home at 6pm. It's so much better than trying to cook around an constantly nursing infant and and into everything toddler. God that makes me sound domestic.

So, daylight savings. I hate losing an hour right? But see, my kids should be sleeping until 8AM now (they usually wake at 7AM) so I was thinking I LOVE daylight savings time. Except for now my kids are getting up at 6AM. What the hell's up with that?

Miles when from sleeping from 7:30PM to 5AM to waking around 1AM and around 3AM and around 5AM. Oh, growth spurt, why do you torture me like this?

AND, Miles' but, the abscess? Still not fully healed. We're back in for our second surgical consult and FOURTH follow up appointment this coming Monday. It really small and practically gone, but it's been four weeks and the sucker is sticking around. I'm so done with it. And having to bathe the area twice a day and wash his bottom with soap and water during each diaper change is a lot. Do you know how many diaper changes a newborn goes through in a day?

Ants. I have them. I found them circling around my sink yesterday AM. Not many, maybe like a dozen. I think it is because we have a leaky pipe and there is a pan catching the dirty ant-yummy water. But don't ants hate water?

And that leaky pipe? So, Nelson told me it was from our old faucet, so we bought a $200 faucet to replace the old one. And a week later, I noticed the pipe was still leaking and I was like, "Um, why is this pipe leaking? You said you fixed this." And he was like, "What? I told you it was still leaking." Okay, he so DID NOT tell me it was still leaking, because now the cabinet beneath our sink is soaked and cracking and dishwasher detergent is ruined and we have ants and I WOULD HAVE REMEMBERED THAT. And why the heck did he think it was okay to have a leaky pipe and make no plan to fix it? He just let the sucker leak and ruin our cabinet. And he goes into that cabinet every night when he takes out the trash. I'm so annoyed. I wanted to call a plumber but my husband insists he can fix it. This is after he already "fixed" it once. He's going by Home Depot tonight for materials, and probably a new tool. If he can't do it this time, I'm calling a plumber. And an exterminator. And a divorce lawyer (kidding.)

Hop on over to the Un Mom for more randomness, or to join in on the fun.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Kiss this Ass Goodbye

So, it's Time. And by Time I mean time to get serious about shedding this baby weight. And the other baby weight. And all the other weight I've accumulated over the past several years.

In order to Get Serious, I'm hooking up with the hottest heifers on the Internets and joining Club Half as Small as You, or HASAY as they say.

To begin with, I do not come from a family of skinny people. We are fat people*, and some people just are fat people and I think that's okay. In fact, we seem to have excellent health, other than our fatness; no high blood pressure, no bad cholesterol, no heart disease. Mostly I've been okay with my status as fat people because lots of fat people are so awesome and super cool, like Chris Farley, John Candy, Marlon Brando, Elvis. But then I was thinking and lots of awesome and super cool fat people are also dead and that ain't so cool my friends, so I'm getting all over top of my shit. Starting now. Or last week, really.

Last week was my first week of dieting, a la Weight Watchers and I lost 3.6 lbs. That leaves me with about 8 lbs to lose to be at my pre-Miles weight, another 10 lbs to lose to be at my pre-Oscar weight, and like 45 (okay 55) (okay 65) pounds to be skinny people again. So, that's means I have a loooooong way to go. But I'm up for the challenge.

I can't really go to a gym at this point because Miles' schedule is just not regular enough. But, I can push 50 lbs of toddler in a 20 lb stroller while carrying a 14 lb infant on my chest for a few blocks a day. Weather permitting, of course. So, that will be my exercise.

Okay, so my plan is to drink lots of water, follow Weight Watchers, and stroll toddlers all over creation. I had a good first week, but because Miles is exclusively breastfed, I expect my weight loss to be slow and painful. Emphasis on the painful, because I HATE dieting almost as much as I HATE exercising. Hence me not being skinny people.

Here's where I stand:

Down 3.6
Remaining: 83.4 (OUCH!)

Go check out my fellow HAYSAYers over here.

*I maintain a firm stance that only fat people can call other fat people fat. If you are skinny people and you call fat people fat, you run the risk of said fat people sitting on you and squishing you. TO DEATH! Fat people can also call skinny people fat just because, but only if they really deserve it. Skinny people can call fat people skinny, but we know you are lying.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Smile Parade

Not quite 11 weeks old and already a ham..

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

A Dilemma

Look at this face. Just look at it:

I mean, that is a killer smile. And the eyes, they twinkle. And people pay big bucks for noses that cute.

But lets look a little more closely. At his hair.

Here's the front/top. It's nice, right? Smooth and shiny and a nice blond. And, while it's not quite professional looking, it's pretty neat.

But, wait, what's that sticking out from behind his ear?

Hmm, he seems to have a bit of length back there. Maybe more than a bit. Okay, in all honesty it really seems like something is going on.

Lets have a look at the back of Oscar's head, full on.

If this ain't a party my friends, I don't know what is.

Oscar has a mullet. A mullet, my friends. A real, true-blue mullet of the toddler variety. And I don't know what to do about it.

Now I know several of you are screaming, "Cut that beastly aberration! Now! Do it!" but I just can't. I really can't bring myself to cut it. It's been long for several months now, but when it was warmer, the humidity curled his hair right up into these little ringlets and hence the mullet was disguised.

However, in these cool, dry months the mullet is rearing it's ugly head. It is here. It is not fabulous. But I can't seem to bring myself to do away with it, even after my pediatrician mentioned that it might be time for his first hair cut.

See, once I cut his hair and he has a big boy hair cut, he won't look like a baby anymore. And I'm not ready for that. He's not even two. On the other hand, he looks poorly groomed and I'm a better parent than that. I bathe him regularly, keep him in (mostly) clean clothing, trim his finger nails. I know as a parent I'm judged by other based on his appearance and I'd really hate for anyone to think I've actually cultivated this hairstyle on my child.

Nelson and I talk about Oscar's hair a lot. We've come to the decision that we will cut his hair once he turns two - four months from now. It really is getting unruly, and he's always got peanut butter or some other food product in it, which is pretty gross. We will say good-bye to the wispy ringlets of babyhood and let our toddler have a big boy hair cut.

Until then, the mullet stays. And if tell me you've ever seen a cuter mullet-ed person in your life, I'll call you a liar.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009


Scene: Two weeks ago, the Oscarelli Family kitchen. Jenni is fixing dinner, Nelson has a whining Miles in a carrier and is chasing Oscar in and out of the kitchen.

Jenni (not holding a child for the first time in eight hours): Nelson, thank you so much for watching the boys while I cook dinner. You have no idea how much easier it is to prepare food without one kid hanging off my boob and the other hanging off my leg. You are really doing a great job with them.

Nelson (out of breath from chasing Oscar): Really? I mean, all I'm doing is barely containing the chaos.

Jenni: Welcome to my world.

Monday, March 2, 2009

13 Ways my Mom is Exactly Like Paula Abdul

In honor of the return of American Idol (don't judge), a list of ways my mom is exactly like Paula Abdul.

1. She wears tons and tons of jewelry, including seven rings and dangley earrings.
2. She has big hair
3. She found Emilio Estevez attractive in the 90s
4. Her outfits sometimes looks like costumes
5. She loves Coke (the soda, dummies)
6. She likes younger men
7. Even when she's being mean, she does it in a nice way
8. When she claps her hands, her fingers to not touch
9. She's 5'2"
10. Sometimes she's incoherent
11. She confuses easily
12. She can bust a move - my mom was on a television dance show in the 60s
13. She's unpredictable

For more Listless Monday's, head over to Anna's place.