Hm…. Where to start?

First, my adorable baby apparently doesn’t want to be set down tonight, so I had to start this blog post 4 different times before I could actually get writing.  And now I write this

I’m sorry, what was I saying?

Yes, that I’ve had to start this post 5 times because I keep stopping to try to make Lucas fall asleep.

Yep, 6th time’s the charm….

Sometimes it takes 7 starts to a

I digress…. And I also think I have at least 4 minutes to collect my thoughts this time

Nope, sure didn’t.

Okay then, so this week I think I finally got into the groove of being a stay at home mom.

Aww, that’s cute.  There was a 20 minute pause between that last sentence and writing the rest of my blog because Lucas decided that he was hungry and I had to feed him.  So let’s talk about nursing for a minute, shall we?  It’s been going much better since we moved to Michigan.  Mostly because I’m lazy, partially because I don’t have the resources readily available that I did in Arizona, but really mostly because I’m lazy, Lucas has been nursing 100% of the time.  I haven’t gone near a pump or a bottle in about 2 weeks.  In fact, I have no milk in the fridge because I had to put it all in the freezer or throw it out (and cry) because he hasn’t had a bottle in so long.  Yay me!  (And maybe a little bit Lucas).  But I still call “BS” on books, people, and lactation specialists who make it sound like nursing feels like magical unicorns giving you hugs while you sip Mai Tais on the beach.  It’s more like dangling it in a tank of piranhas who haven’t eaten in a  week.  What I wouldn’t give to be able to strap off my boobs, throw them in his crib, and get a good night’s sleep!!

Yesterday I took a shower (because I promised Angel that I would) and took Lucas to Target to get a sewing machine and then to the fabric store to get fabric for burp cloths and blankets.  Why?  BECAUSE I’M BORED!  The fabric store was in the loveliest part of town: located between the Salvation Army and a couple of pawn shops (see: “Crap Castle”).  The trip was even complete with two moms screaming at each other that the other was a “ho” in front of their children.  Sweet, right? My mom apparently did the same thing when she moved a young family to California, so I have that in common with her, and that’s fine by me.

Sorry, another pause to read a Dr. Seuss favorite to Lucas and put him to bed, so don’t mind me if the next little bit of my blog post rhymes and has made up names that you’re not sure you’re pronouncing correctly but then it’s not like there’s an audience you’re reading to who knows any different, so feel free to skip a few pages to speed this bedtime up.

Anyway, what was I saying?  Something about history repeating itself and I unknowingly did what my mom did when she was in my position.

Now that Lucas is in bed, I promise to have the rest of this post won’t be as scatter-brained as I think I’ve proved that I now live my life by.

So anyway, I was sewing these burp cloths all day yesterday just because it seemed more productive then watching more murder mystery shows on daytime TV:

I’ve gotten into the habit of not waking up until 10am, mostly because I don’t work and Lucas still lets me sleep.  Last night I put Lucas to bed an hour late, so instead of eating at 7am and going back to sleep until 10, he ate at 8 and then daddy kept him awake while he was getting ready for work (grrrrrrr).  So right after daddy left for work, I snuck another man into my bed.  And by the grin on his face, he knew he didn’t belong there:

So after I decided that there was no sleeping through those giggles, I got out of bed to make coffee and run some errands but quickly changed those plans when I looked outside to find that my perfectly clean and snow free car looked like this this morning:

Angel was nice enough to clean off half of it when he left for work, but I secretly think he only did it to say “now you have no excuse for not changing out of sweat pants and leaving the house” but the joke it totally on him because I didn’t change out of sweats, and instead sat on the couch all morning with Lucas watching paternity test results on Maury:

Lucas gets very into finding out if the ho is telling the truth or not.

Angel probably knew the car stunt wouldn’t guarantee him that both Lucas and I would bathe today, so he sent me a text message about 10am saying “for dinner tonight do you want to” and then I honestly didn’t read the rest before I answered “yes!”  I’m just glad he followed it up with “go to dinner in downtown Kalamazoo” and not “cook me a 7 course meal complete with lobster tail”  So by 5 o’clock this evening, I was so excited at the idea of putting on jeans and going on a date that I had Lucas fed, bathed, and dressed and Molly pottied and in her cage, and I was in clothes that were clean and my hair was curled.  Curled people!  I don’t think you understand how excited that means I was.

We dug out my car, drove out of our crap castle, and went into town to a nice European restaurant.  No idea what European food is?  It’s like heaven when it means that I didn’t have to cook it.  He even took me to grab a glass of wine before dinner where 2 ladies (one who works in OB) guessed that Lucas was either 2 weeks or 6 weeks old and were totally floored when we told them he was 3 months next week.  Then came the famous follow up question that I get every time I leave the house: “Was he a preemie?”  Nope, I fully baked my tiny baby.  The manager at the restaurant mentioned that we had a “very well behaved baby” which is great to hear since he was being exceptionally fussy tonight at dinner and we were in an establishment that probably only had high chairs because they were legally required to and not because anyone brings children there.  But “yeah, this one’s on the boob so he can pretty much go anywhere” (name that movie! *Sweet Home Alabama*).

When we got home, Angel and Lucas had a moment.  When the two of them start smiling at each other, I hardly care that the guy living above us is running in place to bad techno music while he washes laundry at 11pm.  I kid, I totally still care, but this is pretty adorable:

The first week of staying home was interesting.  I may be the only person in this town who doesn’t shop at Goodwill and can afford to wash my jeans on a regular basis, and I get people whispering to each other when I grocery shop at my local Wal-Mart (that is seriously my only grocery store option around here.  Fried food, anyone?) regarding my Coach diaper bag and clean hair.  9 days, 2 Kindle books, and 6 burp cloths later, I had a total melt down to Angel one evening about how I hated this place and he can’t move me out of here fast enough and I can’t stay in the house all day every day and I need to make friends.

To prove my point, I sent Angel a text message this afternoon that said “I just finished up sewing a baby blanket with matching burp cloth.  I’m about to start sewing a new bedding set for our bedroom if you don’t help find me friends stat”  He wrote back with a phone number and said “call this number immediately” for the phone number of a mom’s group leader.

Next week’s goal: adult interaction.  I don’t care if it takes mom groups, extreme shopping, or jail.  Mark my words that next week I’ll talk to someone who doesn’t speak 2 month old in a venue that requires me to put on pants.

Crazy going slowly am I.