So we’ve been renting a house for a bit over a year and a half. As a techie and an obsessive tinkerer, this means an excuse to start buying tools and other things in the name of “maintaining the house”.

How it all began

One such tool which we recently bought was an electric weed whacker. About two months ago, the weed whacker needed it’s wire spool replaced. In the interest of speed, I popped the plastic cover off of the spool, and removed the screw in the center of the spool (thinking it was necessary to get the spool off), all while standing in the grass.

Big Mistake

I set the plastic cover down in the grass, and put the screw right in the center of it as I replaced the spool. Meanwhile Q is running around and playing with everything in his sight and grasp. I should have been paying more attention to him, but I didn’t.

Really… Really BIG mistake

When I got the new spool in, I looked down to the grass beside me expecting to grab my screw and plastic cap and reassemble the weed whacker. But it was gone..

I yelled to Q and he came running, plastic cap in hand.

The next 30 minutes or so consisted of me interrogating the poor boy on the whereabouts of my screw, and then a futile search for it in the grass.

How I became a vandal

Which brings us to today. I was in Home Depot picking up some misc. stuff, and thought I’d try a last ditch effort to find a replacement for that screw. Since it isn’t a wear part, and you aren’t supposed to remove it when replacing the wire spool, they don’t sell a replacement.

Fortunately though, they DID have the exact model that I bought on display.

Do you see where this is going yet?

So here I am in a Home Depot with no available replacement for my screw, but a new weed whacker of the exact same model right in front of me. If only I could somehow see the screw I had lost and go over to hardware to find a replacement.

So it begins

So, I casually wander over the the tool department and grab a screwdriver. I then saunter back over to the garden center with my screwdriver in hand.

Watching over my shoulder, and setting Q as a lookout, I quickly remove the screw from the floor model. Next stop, hardware.

With my ill gotten screw in hand I head over to the hardware department. I identify the size and thread pitch of the screw, and grab a couple screws that match it.

Then it’s back to the garden center to return the screw I “borrowed”, and back to the tool corral to return my screwdriver.

Mission accomplished

I am now happy to report that I now have a fully operational weed whacker again, thanks to a quick covert operation in our local Home Depot!

Q’s pediatrician was both R’s and my pediatrician when we were little. Due to an emergency situation he still remembers me, vividly. We are considered relatively young parents in our area. For the most part, here you are either a teen parent or you wait until you are at least 35 or older. We are the odd couple somewhere in the middle. So we have an interesting relationship, I feel like he considers us with a little affection.

When we first brought Q in for his first check up his doctor was giggling asking about how we were doing with bodily fluids. Both R and I laughed and said it is just par for the course. I had, at that point been pooped on, my husband had been peed on; both of us had been spit up on.

I had to take Q in to see the pediatrician last week to just confirm he just had a cold and wasn’t dealing with anything more serious. I was holding Q while he was getting his ears check and his nose was running down to his shirt. I wanted to wipe his nose but I had to hold him still so it was impossible. His doctor giggled and pointed out the mess. I shrugged, wiped his nose and said that is what the washing machine is for. He looked at me rather surprised.

Doctor, Sir. I’m a mom. Snot, pee, poop, dirt, sticky foods, it is just part of being a parent. I rarely get to have an outfit on for more than an hour around my son before I will have some kind of shmutz on me. When I have two boys I’m sure it will be worse. I’m ok with that, heck I’m even excited about that. LOL! And to to think that some thought I was prissy.

Did I get your attention? Breast, boobs, ta-tas, they are a very popular topic in my household. Not for the reason you may think, but rather because of breastfeeding. I have been successful in nursing my child for nearly 20 months. I have attempted to wean him for nearly 7 months. I wish I was joking.

When I first began to nurse my son it was a struggle. I learned that my failed induction, twenty hours of labor and my long recovery from my c/s slowed my milk from coming in. I was forced to *gasp*, supplement with formula for the first couple of days home. I was encouraged to drink beer, eat oatmeal, drink lots and lots of fluids and eat eat eat. I was just terrified that I wouldn’t be able to provide the food my son needed.

I knew there are worse things that could happen. I knew that formula is great and it has come a long way. But I got my natural birth taken away, I didn’t even get to have a vaginal birth hopped up on an epidural. So breastfeeding was one of those things that I was determined to have.

When the pediatrician checked our son out when he was nearly a week old and told me that he was gaining quite nicely and it was obvious my milk had finally come in. Then he said those wonderous words, “You don’t need to supplement with formula anymore.” I was beaming and grinning from ear to ear. I think I even made my husband repeat it to me a couple times on the way home.

Because my son broke out into a few pretty wide spread rashes prior to six months I was told to start removing certain things from my diet to see if it helped him. Months later we were told that we could start adding solids to his diet but with certain provisions. Due to the fact that I have allergies and asthma, the pediatrician told us to be cautious with dairy, eggs, berries, nuts, citrus, and strawberries. Because we were so nervous about possible reactions I was making his food at home.

My son would play with the food, maybe eat a few bites but was focused on nursing. It was like it was his favorite past time. I felt like a failure and a success at the same time.

I took my son to his nine month appointment and was told to stick to the restrictions I was given but to add fat every chance I had to the solids my son ate as he was a little on the light side. So olive oil was added to all veggies with fresh herbs.

We survived to his 12 month appointment and we were given the green light to start adding foods from the restricted list slowly. I was told that he was still light and not gaining ideally but he had made a small improvement in gaining. I was encouraged to wean him asap.

My son loved most foods we gave him but he was very suspicious of cows milk. I kept attempting to start slowly taking nursing sessions out and he would protest. Most that talked to me told me to wean him cold turkey or would tell me to keep doing a good job nursing him. My neurologist even told me to just stop nursing my son, then looked at my son and said, “Never mind. He is just too cute to deny.” Thanks.

So after many attempts to stop cold turkey I am now down to nursing my son only during the evening and at night. He is not interested in a bottle, a sippy cup or pacifier at night, he only wants me.

I still dream of weaning my son but I just don’t have the stamina to go through night after night of the screaming and knowing that all I have to do is let him cuddle with me and nurse. I keep trying to distract. I keep trying to start a new routine. My husband has tried to be the one to put our son down for naps and for the night, he is successful for some naps and has yet to be successful for putting him down for the night.

We will keep trying, we won’t give up. We have learned a lot. The biggest lesson we have learned is our child is as stubborn as his parents. We don’t give in often, he is told what he can and cannot do and those are consistent rules that are upheld all of the time. This is the one area that neither of us seem to be able to stick to as both of us are desperate for sleep every night so that we can preform well the following day.

One last time, BOOBIES! LOL! Hey, I have to keep laughing.

For those of you who may have missed it, this week one of my favorite new(ish) sitcoms Chuck presented this episode in 3D.

I had evidently missed the marketing campaign that mentioned that it would be in 3D, probably cause I’m not a big sports fan, and most of the hype was during the super bowl. Consequently, I was caught with my pants down (as it were) with no 3D glasses with which to watch the show.

Fortunately, I always record Chuck on our cable company provided DVR (no fancy Tivo for us), so as soon as I realized it was being presented in 3D, I paused it, and began scrambling for a solution.

As it turns out, I have some gels used to modify the light coming from my photography flashes. I also just happened to have two each of the red and blue gels (so my wife could enjoy the 3D-ness too). A quick Google search later to determine which eye is which color, and the contraption you see before you was born.

Sadly though, it was still the same cheesy 3D effect that we’re all used to. And to make it worse, since it’s a broadcast television show, they toned down the effect so those without glasses could still watch without their eyes hurting. The overall result was less than awesome. Never the less, the episode was good, and I can’t complain. Plus, I’ve got a fun story to tell about how I made my own 3D glasses.

So my wife and I have this meal tonight. It consists of one of those Bertolli dinners in a bag, a salad and some bread, accompanied by the recommended wine pairing (Chianti).

After completing it, we had some pastries made by Entenmanns. And no, we don’t usually eat so much easily prepared food, we actually do know how to cook and my wife actually completed culinary school, we were just lazy tonight.

So as we’re taking the last bites of our extraordinarily rich and sweet desserts my wife turns to me and says;

“You know what would really finish this meal?”

“Coffee?!” I say sarcastically since she teased me about not making some to go with dessert only moments ago.

“No”

“Milk?”

“Close” she says.

“What?” I ask…

“Pickle”

Let that sink in……………………………

Clearly the perfect complement to our dessert will be a big salty and vinegary pickle! Needless to say I laughed till I cried, then vowed to blog the incident for all to enjoy.

My wife insists that I clarify that she meant that the perfect compliment to the entire meal from start to finish would be a pickle. I still find the combination hilarious.