Random Happenings from World of Holly and Harry(s)

I'm a bad, bad, Mrs. Blogger, huh?

Well, it's like this - the Ipad? Ya know that uber-cool thing that Mr. Jobs RAVES about - DOESN'T WORK FOR BLOGGER BLOGGING.  And no app in sight. 

And---- I killed my Macbook Air.  No - I don't know how and NO I didn't do it on purpose - it just got - confused.  And kept trying to load but, pathetically, couldn't.  But never fear. Big Harry was here to fix it - with a backed up copy. From May. 

So I only lost a few months (forehead smack goes here). 

I traveled to NC for a few weeks with the Harrys and was taunted daily by a mysterious ball in the pond behind our hotel.  "Fred" as I named him would show up at random times and random places within the pond - looking no worse for the wear from storms and random Hurricane-winds that swooped by.  I made up stories of his origin since there are NO houses near that part of town and I could only guess he was related to "Wilson" of "Castaway" fame. He was my friend.  Some days - my only friend. 

I threw my back out again - worse this time.  I swear if I find the expiration date on this here body of mine.... Well - I'm asking for a refund - or a bionic body - I can scrape up donations for $6 million, I'm sure.  So after two weeks of ineffective Chiro-ing I finally went to the doc and got a shot in the butt for my trouble - and a crap ton of Rx's.  I'm going to be better in no time - and probably do something else stupid to mess it up.  

Currently my baby boy, Harry the Fourth, is creeping along toward the six month marker.  What the hell happened to the past three months? The first three seemed so slow, as if they would never come to a close and reveal the boy beneath the fussy baby and now - dude is growing up too fast! I buy him 6 month clothing - AND THEY'RE TOO SMALL!  He wears baby capris cuz the pants are too short and they give him a lil tummy fat roll too!  He's found his toes, too. And instead of being overjoyed - he's mad.  They're like little five-toed invaders into his world and must be destroyed.  Problem is, once he's managed to pull of his socks and get into a reclining position - his belly blocks their way to his mouth.  So he tugs with BOTH HANDS to get one foot to his mouth.  Holding his breath he'll get his big toe in his mouth, grin, slobber - and lose his grip. For which he will then utter his favorite baby curse word:"MAMAMAMAMAMAMA!" - Yes, my name is what he utters when he is BEYOND pissed at the world.  Siiiiigh. 

Went to the Fallfest tonight in Barboursville, WV.   Ate a hot dog.  A Pepsi.  Some bits of a funnel cake that fell out of Big Harry's mouth.  A deep fried pecan pie.  Some curly chips and - currently - a bag of cotton candy.   I expect the sugar coma to be a way to catch up on my sleep from the past few months.  

Oh - and on the "New Mama" front - my hair has decided to part ways with my head.  The hair sculptures on the shower wall have gone from Minimalistic Expressionism to A Grotesque Overuse of Medium.  Nothing I can do will stop my hair from falling out in clumps.  So - if you have a lot of pesky hair, thick strands that you can do nothing with - just have a baby and watch it all, literally, go down the drain.  I'm THIS CLOSE to hitting Chic Wigs in the local mall.  Maybe they'll have a Katy Perry blue one and I can start a (very bad) trend. 

Last week I turned 30-uh-(mumble).  The boys and I went to a very fancy restaurant. I was mortified.  I was expecting the baby to go all Excorcist crazy on me since I was eating (He doesn't like for me to eat.  No, really, he'll knock the food out of my hand or grab it from me.  It's the best diet - if I'd let him win).  But he did really well.  I have pictures but, of course, my Mail isn't working right now.  Why? Cuz Mac's hate me.  

And sometimes, the feeling is mutual. 

Okay - off to bed now since the baby is asleep and, per usual, if he's asleep, I'm asleep.  Or bidding on stuff at Shopgoodwill.com.  That place is ADDICTING! And so much less commercialized and confusing and shady as Ebay.  

Rant over. Everyone back to their large bag of pink and blue Cotton Candy.  What? No Cotton Candy? Oh that's saddddddd. I'd share but.... well... uh....  :)

A Minute to Collect Myself

My husband has control issues. It's the one major thing we fight about and it creeps into all aspects of his life. He won't let things go if he knows he's "right", he has to be involved on all decisions which involve him, or even if they don't, and, most importantly, if he has one of it -he must have them all.
I used to make fun of him for his OCD-like collections: Simpsons figures, GI joes, Transformers, Masters of the Universe, Metallica records, comics and more fill our basement and walls, shelves and windows, rooms and even bathrooms in order for him to feel happy, complete and in control.
Not that I'm innocent of having the odds and ends of collectabiles either. I have quite a bit of Harry Potter merchandise, some special Barbies, a few Buffy and Angel dolls and stands and a large wardrobe of designer duds, handbags and shoes. But do I have to have them? Surely not.
But then I started cleaning out our downstairs closet in hopes of having some loot to sell this weekend at my parent's big Yard Sale. I tugged and lugged, cursed and sweated my way to the back and then turned to look at what I'd dragged out. A pile, roughly as tall as me and as big around as my extended redneck family loomed before me.
It was all Christmas wrapping paper.
And bows.
And balls.
And ribbon.
And tags.
Oh. My. GAWD!!!
I tried organizing the mound, but it only made it worse - and prettier. I wondered aloud about possible wrapping paper support groups. Should I just give up and ask Santa to bring me a wrapping paper wall organizer? Nah, no way my name was accidentally moved off the naughty list.
I stuffed some horrendous old decor items, curtains, fake foliage, and a few other odds and ends into bags and lugged them up the stairs all the while ignoring the alluring pile of bedazzled paper.
Temptation behind me I then searched the bathroom for useless items like footbaths and hair product gimmicks (a hair dryer with a brush attached!!!! Wow!!!) when I noticed another pile forming.
Headbands. Plastic ones, fabric ones, small and big ones, sparkly ones, classic ones, old and new ones. Piles upon piles of strayhairkeepers were being pulled from every drawer and alcove in the bathroom.
And I had more.
In my suitcase.
I quickly shoved them in to a bottom drawer but stopped first to admire a rather pleasing pink and gray number in thick flannel.
I vowed then and there never to bring up my hubs crazy collections again.
I'd be silent, supportive and sweet, even for it seemed that I, too, collect things. So I shall bite my tongue... for one whole day. Whew! Marriage is full of sacrifices! ;)

A Feat of Feet

I'm obsessed with boots right now. With Fall looming there are visions of booties, knee-hi and even the occassional peeptoe leather wonder wandering in my brain. And now that the swelling in my legs have gone down - some may actually fit!
Oh the thought makes me as giddy as a naughty schoolgirl in plaid!
Thus far I have ordered two pair blindly from the web (ugly and waaaay too big-I'd have to have Andre the Freakin Giant's calves to fit in the last pair!) and tried on about a hundred more. My problem, I'm realizing, is that I just don't like ugly shoes. And there are some doooooozies out there!
So even as I cling to my hope (and all those side zippers) I know my boots are out there, waiting for me, and when I find them, I shall love them -and name them Nancy. ;)

Crawl Bawl

At a little over four months old - I think my baby is amazing. People compliment me on his "soulful" stare, his adorable grin and his ability to stuff his entire hand into his tiny mouth. I've called Guiness Records on that last one.

So when his daddy and I placed him on his back under his fun gym so that he could exercise the last thing we expected was that it would turn into a rescue mission.

He started out calmly enough by grasping the tail of the monkey dangling over his face - he then flung himself to his side and, before we could move, on to his belly. He then pushed up on to his chubby arms, repeatedly banging his head on the plastic disc that was hanging at the end of the gym. His legs began to kick furiously in an effort to crawl, but instead, since his arms are not as strong as his constantly-moving legs, he ended up eating mat.

But he didn't stop kicking.

Instead he kept trying to crawl, orange and yellow-striped butt wiggling in the air while his face was ground into the colorful sealife mat below.

He actually made progress, like a determined inchworm, until he hit the pole at the end of the gym, which made him scream indignantly until daddy rescued him.

"There ya go," Big Harry said as he rolled him back on to his back and placed him under Harvey the Monkey. Big Harry got up from the floor, turned around, and almost made it back to the couch when he looked back and saw his child wriggling back on to his stomach to repeat the process.

We are all gluttons for punishment in this family!

Seven Year (B)Itch

This Monday, June 21st, marks my seven-year wedding anniversary with my hubs and we hit the "Seven Year Itch." Based on pre-conceived and popular notions, I believe this seven year milestone entitles me to a Pool Boy. Or a Gardner.

I mean, seriously. It's hot here and I've got some overgrown bushes. No, really, I do.

:)

Welcome to Harry's Baby Life

As is well documented, my baby makes no small show when he is making "presents." So while my sister was enjoying the lunch I made for her, my darling baby decided to start grunting like a pig in heat.

Rushing like a footballer, I tucked him under my arm and rushed to the changing table and, breathing only through my mouth lest I pass out from the foulness and squish my newbie, I pulled down his diaper. Elmo seemed to be warning me from the waistband, but I pressed on.

It was empty.

"Well, Harry!" I said and stepped off to the side to grab the nail clippers as his tiny toe just cut a gash in my arm.

I turned back around to see - a fountain. My baby was grinning and peeing a stream that was reaching a good two feet in the air and drowning the yellow duckies on his footy pajamas.

"You did that on purpose," I said to him as I stripped him down to his (new) diaper.

He's been like that all day.

Earlier he grabbed my thumb between his two pink gums and chomped and then licked it. When I asked for it back - he grinned - not releasing my digit but instead having a grand ol' time increasing pressure slowly - just to see what I would do.

I may have watched too much "Family Guy" while I was pregnant...

I'm scared of my baby. :)

Will Work for Sparkles

Today I revisited my youth by volunteering mine and my sister's services as pageant judges. In the pre-JeanBenet world of pageantry, the biggest "Glitz" accessory was the occasional can of spray glitter or a "flipper" to fill in that one missing front tooth. So I am often unprepared for the amount of preparation that goes into pageants nowadays.

Case in point - a two year old today rocked a red, white and blue outfit as per the pageant requirements. But her mother had also sewn little seahorses and fish to the bottom of her sailor dress.

"Ohmygaw!" Summer gasped as the little girl turned to leave the stage and showed us the back of the tiny dress adorning her two year old frame.

Her bottom was completely covered in a red and white Lifesaver Tube.

As Summer and I left the pageant today, we were all a twitter (the emo not the app) because the director saw fit to give us two of the leftover star-spangled crowns. You'd have thought we won them the way we oohed and awwed over the tiny crowns with a red, white and blue star upon each.

"Arewegonnawearthemhome?" my sister asked in her normal non-pausing way, face shining with hope and anticipation.

"Well, duh!" I said and, as soon as we were safe inside her rustic Ford pickup - we plunked them on to our heads and adjusted our hair appropriately as any princess knows that hair placement is as important as the crown placement.

Pulling up to the window at Burger King we watched as each employee came to the window and handed us our change/food. And then paused. And looked at our sparkly heads.

We grinned.

It really is hard being this cool. hahaahha!