tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42076805928157285302024-03-14T06:38:27.622-04:00M CubedStalking Our Family, One Lame Post at a TimeMandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.comBlogger950125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-7980878829260503152016-01-11T00:38:00.000-05:002016-01-11T00:38:16.207-05:00Peace Out, Blog Lyfe!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hey! Look at that! It's me!<br />
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So, I'm basically just writing this because I haven't written anything lately other than essay feedback and recommendation letters, and it bugged me that I left my blog without an official closing post. Let's call this one the official closing post.<br />
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What's new? SO MUCH. Matt starts grad school tomorrow. I am thriving at work. The kids are great, but hard as fuck. Mitch died. <br />
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I think one reason I couldn't come back to this blog was that Mitch's name was in the name of the blog, and how could I keep it going when he was sick and then gone? True fact: I did not deal with his death well. I mean, I didn't try to jump off a bridge or anything, but I basically cried about it every day for six months, and then every three days for another six. Now the crying about Mitch is usually just something that happens every so often or after I've had too many glasses of wine or after the children have been particularly unpleasant and I wish he was around to balance it out. But he had cancer and we had to put him to sleep and it was just awful. But I'm at a place now where I'm happy he had the best dog life ever and that I had a furry soulmate. Do the pangs of sadness still come? Yep. (Like now that I'm talking about it, for instance.) But they're fewer and farther between, and as my boyfriend Joe said, the day will come when the thought of him will bring a smile to my face before it brings a tear to my eye.<br />
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As for the kids, they're just the coolest. If you want to know more about them, you should just follow me on Instagram. I'm <a href="https://www.instagram.com/mandypkeaton/" target="_blank">mandypkeaton</a>. I'm still figuring out what I want to share about the kids online, how much of what goes on these days is my story and how much is their story, you know? I figure no harm comes from erring on the side of considering things their story and using restraint (not my strength), so I don't always share every dirty detail of our lives. <br />
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Here I am, though. It's 6 1/2 year after I started this blog just because I had a camera and saw a snake in some bushes. The time has come. Peace out, M Cubed.<br />
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xoxoxoxo</div>
Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-88306061722621078922014-05-29T15:40:00.000-04:002014-05-29T15:40:11.685-04:00Hello, Again.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Not too long ago, <a href="http://athomewithcassie.com/2014/04/25/sixth-anniversary-just-keep-going/" target="_blank">Cassie posted on her [new!] blog</a> about how marriage is a series of peaks and valleys, how it's important to remember when life just feels<i> hard</i> that good times are just around the corner. And it works out that way, doesn't it? We could extend that metaphor to include parenting, and, really, life in general. It feels like, lately (and forever), just when things feel totally and completely shitty and dark and I start to feel like I just want to crumble under the pressures that life brings, solutions arise, kids start acting like darling angels instead of tiny terrorists, and everything is great again. Depending on the week, you can find Matt and me either cursing our two babies in two years plan or smugly patting ourselves on the back for it. <br />
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Fortunately for me, this week is a peak. My students had their last day of school last Friday, and I've just been tying up loose ends at school and turning my thoughts to summer break (my first that I won't be pregnant or nursing or both since 2010): the beach, the pool, taking turns sleeping in, getting around to tackling house projects, trying my damnedest to savor the moments with our kids at this age (and then, I'm sure, taking a number of solo trips outside the house when I've had it with them). I'm so incredibly excited for the next couple of months.<br />
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And I guess I should fill you in on what we've been doing around here, too, Grandma. (I'm pretty sure my grandma is the only one who still reads this blog.) We had a joint birthday party for Charlie and Matilda which was super fun and during which I only took like one picture, Charlie turned two (ack!) and Tilda turned one. We've gone to the beach and to the pool and out to lunch and to the park. We enjoyed a relaxing spring break that already feels like it was ages ago. Mitch had surgery again to remove a tumor from a place on his body where you really don't want to have a tumor (I mean, is there any place on your body you do want to have a tumor?). We have spent the last month and a half (except for the last week or so) taking turns being sick. I got poison ivy all over my face again, as I am wont to do. I fixed the elliptical but have yet to lose the two million pounds that I need to lose. I've been making popsicles like a fiend and teaching myself to make felt bows because Cassie has forbidden me from cutting Matilda's bangs.<br />
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I'm sure I'm forgetting other very important happenings (like cooking stove-popped popcorn and watching <i>True Detective</i> and <i>Mad Men</i>!), but for now, let's just look at pictures so that I have them stored somewhere when Charlie sets this computer on fire.</div>
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-30660665796408409172014-02-08T22:26:00.002-05:002014-02-08T22:28:08.392-05:00Yo!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>You should know, first, that I am writing this post because I don't want to deal with this massive pile sitting atop my damned ottoman. It's so cliche, but, fuck, man. . .laundry.</i><br />
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We haven't talked in like two weeks! Well, shoot. Well, let me fill you in, then. <br />
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It was supposed to snow, but it didn't. But we did get ice and I did get an early dismissal, a day off of school, and an unexpected teacher three-hour delay/teacher workday. And it was right when Matt's parents were coming to visit! So that was supes fun and we had an amazing visit and it was incredible.<br />
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And then the week that followed sucked balls. Oh, car troubles, a full work week (the horror!), PMS, and whiny kiddies, both of the baby and teenage variety. There were some bright spots to be sure, but the week was mostly marked by suckiness and me being fussy and snapping at Matt when he criticized the way I make Annie's Mac & Cheese. <br />
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So there's not really anything for me to share that's noteworthy, other than some sage advice to you:<br />
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1. If you find yourself in a position where you need to buy a car on a budget, don't buy that car from someone who you describe to your friends as being like Jesse Pinkman from <i>Breaking Bad</i>. Take two steps back, think about it, and move on. Jesse was kind of shady, remember that? So, yeah, consider me <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=splinter+from+ninja+turtles&espv=210&es_sm=93&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=LPH2UsvdAYTEsATHsICYDg&ved=0CAkQ_AUoAQ&biw=1366&bih=635#facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=xBTZMvdjQBGrVM%253A%3BpxxAXxGZLN_bBM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fimages.usatoday.com%252Flife%252F_photos%252F2006%252F12%252F21%252Fturtles-topper.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fusatoday30.usatoday.com%252Flife%252Fmovies%252Fnews%252F2006-12-20-ninja-turtles-cover_x.htm%3B472%3B238" target="_blank">your own personal human-sized Eastern meditation rat or something.</a><br />
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2. Make <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2009/11/salted-brown-butter-crispy-treats/" target="_blank">Smitten Kitchen's browned butter rice crispy treats</a>. They will change your life. Maybe in the way that your life changes when you have to buy pants in the next size up, but still.<br />
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Um, you're welcome.<br />
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Picture time!<br />
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-85965382424024600162014-01-28T21:13:00.000-05:002014-01-30T00:25:03.420-05:00Judgy Mom Angst<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Years ago, when I was still vacillating between wanting kids and being utterly horrified by the thought of inviting one (to say nothing of two!) into our lives, I was talking to <a href="http://www.athomewithcassie.com/" target="_blank">Cassie</a> about my indecision.<br>
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"I think you'd be a really great mom," she told me.<br>
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"I mean, yeah, I know I'd be a great mom. I just don't know if I<i> feel like</i> doing it."<br>
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So said the sage, judgmental, well-rested 28-year old Mandy. Yes, there’s a generous share of hubris in that attitude and those remarks, but it's also true that people way more sucky or less capable than me have managed to be adequate, decent, or even good parents. Why shouldn't I, <i>awesome being that I am</i>, be able to knock this parenting thing out of the park, you know? (Do you hate me? Fair enough.)*<br>
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Matt and I did not arrive at the decision to procreate lightly. We thought about it and discussed it and poured over how we'd make it work. Once I was pregnant with Charlie, we read up on parenting strategies and talked about what kinds of parents we wanted to be, what our priorities were for our children, how we'd handle discipline, how we'd approach food, etc. I'm happy to be able to say with confidence, too, that almost two years in--tiresome years though they have been--we've rocked it. We communicate really well, we research, we're pretty consistent, we've established routines that have helped our kids to know what to expect and to go through most of their days happy and carefree. We're reflective enough to be able to identify a problem and seek advice or alternate solutions, and we're flexible enough to change our strategies if something's not working.<br>
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So, yeah, 28-year old ever-judgmental Mandy was right. I'm a great mom. Matt's a great dad.<br>
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But shoot, if you think 28-year old Mandy was critical, just wait until you see how hard the judgmental 32.75-year old Mandy is on herself. What former Mandy knew in her brain but couldn't see fully through her youthful, just woke up from a coma nap lens, though, was that it's such a long haul, and there are going to be days that are disgraceful flops. (By the way, this isn’t some post where I’m begging for affirmation from people about how they think I’m a good mom. I mean that’s nice and all, but I’m enough of a cocky asshole to know I am. But let’s keep it real, right? Even badass moms have appallingly bad days.)<br>
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Saturday was one of those days.
Saturday is my solo-parenting day because Matt works all day. On this particular Saturday, I'd gotten around four hours of sleep, I was recovering from being sick, I'd stupidly allowed three glasses of wine to accidentally pour down my throat the night before. Angry with Matt over what ended up being a major lapse in communication, I spent the first four hours of my day stewing, fuming over how I wanted to ruin his life. While I kept the babies properly diapered and fed and everything, I failed to be present with them. I went through the motions and just tried to get through the day with as little child screaming as possible. I yelled a few times at Charlie, which I try really hard not to do. I went through the Chick-Fil-A drive-thru and then drove around town, passing waffle fries to Charlie in the back just to keep him quiet. I held Matilda (um, like all day because she was teething and fussy) without really enjoying her or looking at her or providing the nurturing that she really needed. I let Charlie play on the ipod too much. I played on the ipod too much. I was there physically, but I wasn’t really there. Instead, I allowed my anger and my selfishness and my bad attitude to win. And win they did—pretty much until bedtime, when Charlie and Matilda’s sweet selves finally conquered my bad attitude. By then, though, I’d wasted a whole day that could’ve been great.<br>
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I’m sad when I think about Saturday. I’m sad because I wasn’t the kind of parent that I want to be; I was the kind of parent that I would totally criticize. And it wouldn’t just be my former, childless, abundance of time and freedom self who would do the judging. No. Now I’m even more brutal because now there are high stakes. There’s a real-life Charlie and a Matilda who need a good role model to teach them how to behave, two wonderful kids who are fast approaching second and first birthdays. It’s becoming very real to me that time just goes by too fast, and every day I squander with my selfishness is a day I lose forever.<br>
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So then what do we do when we have a sucky mom Saturday? Well, since time machine technology has yet to be perfected (I mean, seriously, though. 2014 and still no time machines or flying cars? C’mon, technology people!), the only thing I can do is try to learn from it.
I felt guilty Saturday night, felt like I needed to punish myself for having been sub-par. My self-flagellation took the form of folding laundry and scrubbing the bathtub and bathroom floor. Maybe if I woke up Sunday morning with a fresh attitude and a clean house, the day would be better? Fortunately, it worked and Sunday rocked my socks off. I enjoyed my babes, changed my attitude, and decided it probably wasn’t in anyone’s best interest for me to ruin Matt’s life.<br>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sunday > Saturday</span></i></div>
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For the last few days I’ve been trying to extract the nugget of wisdom from my weekend. Is it “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re a good mom most of the time”? Is it “There’s always tomorrow”? Is it “Everyone’s fighting their own battle”? No, not quite. Sure, those are all true, valuable lessons, but I think that what this sucky Saturday taught me is to reconcile my own nature (for better or worse) with my parenting goals.<br>
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It’s my nature to be super critical. It’s what makes me good at my job, good at keeping up our house, and what drives me to improve in a host of areas in my life. I’m judgmental toward others and I’m judgmental toward myself. There’s this general attitude that judgment is always destructive, that criticism is mean, that we should never judge anyone or be hard on ourselves because that’s not nice, because then we might not get a shiny trophy at the end of the day. But I wonder how we’re supposed to improve if we’re not willing to identify faults and then pledge to get better?<br>
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What I'm choosing to take away from my terrible Saturday is a renewed promise to myself and to my family to strive to improve. Always.<br>
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This parenting thing is not for the faint of heart. It’s hard work being the kind of parent you wouldn’t hate.<br>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*This is the type of remark that I make and then ask Matt, "I mean, am I wrong?" He then channels the Coen brothers and says, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjibEkDoXQc" target="_blank">"You're not wrong. You're not wrong, Walter. You're just an asshole."</a></span><br>
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-75108384458146037592014-01-14T11:25:00.000-05:002014-01-14T11:25:00.075-05:00On Nursing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In the next couple of weeks, Matilda will be done nursing. I have never been a super producer of milk (I would’ve been a terrible wet nurse!), and now that she’s bigger and drinking more, my body just can’t keep up with her. And since I don’t have a job that allows for a flexible pumping schedule, I can’t pump enough during the day to encourage more production. “<i>Okay, kids, here’s your essay. I’ll be back here at my desk with my breasts hooked up to a machine, expressing milk for my infant.</i>” (I’d make the news at least.)<br />
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I always knew that I wanted to breastfeed, but nursing hasn’t always been easy. I had friends and coworkers who talked about breastfeeding like it was this magical, enjoyable experience. One coworker would light up when she talked about nursing, and even told me that it was such a rush, like having orgasms but not sexual. Um, weird, but okay! Nursing seems like it’s this natural thing that’s easy because I mean, duh, <i>that’s what they’re for</i>, but for me it was really difficult. I struggled with both babies to get the latches right, became tight with the lactation consultants at the hospital, and fought to maintain milk production. I’ve sacrificed planning time and lunch time at school to pump, and lost many an hour of sleep nursing a baby in the middle of the night. There have been clogged ducts and mastitis and pain and tears and gross potions that are supposed to increase milk production for pregnant ladies without hurting the fetus and too many oatmeal breakfasts to count. I think sometimes nursing was even harder than being pregnant or actually giving birth. And in spite of it all, I love that I did it. To have been able to provide Charlie and Matilda with a stronger immune system and the dozens of other benefits—well, that made it 1000% worth it.<br />
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As much as I kind of wish I was, I’m not and have never been a breasfeeding La Leche League earth mother. I did it because I knew it was the best thing for my babies (and the health benefits for me and the not having to trade all of our dollars for formula part was just a bonus). I’m really proud of myself for sticking with it, and for persevering during those difficult and painful moments. It proved to me how tough I really can be (and, let’s be honest, I already thought I was pretty tough). I don’t want to be too annoying about all of this: I’m not going to make you read a Some Ecard that has a lady talking about how she’s a superhero because she makes milk (um, by <i>superhero</i> did you mean <i>mammal</i>?) or anything, but I did a really hard thing for a long time because it was best for my babies. For that I am proud.<br />
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One day in these next weeks, I will listen to that eee-uhhhhh-chhoo of the Medela and then wash those damned pump parts for the last time. One day in these next weeks, I will nurse a baby for the last time, listening to her sweet nursing hum, cradling her, yelling when she bites down and then pulls and then getting mad when she laughs. The funny thing is that I probably won’t know at the time that it is our last nursing session, so there won’t be confetti or celebratory shots of tequila because finally I don’t have to worry about making my baby a booze fiend. Nope. It’ll just end. Just like that.<br />
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It’s been two and a half years since I haven’t been pregnant or nursing or both, and hell if I’m not ready to take my body back, to sleep on my stomach, to wear a bra that doesn’t look like it doubles as stripper wear with its easy access straps and hooks, to pick out clothes because I like them and not because they’re nursing friendly.
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I’m harboring conflicting emotions about being done nursing: pride, sadness, ridiculous amounts of excitement. Like so many of the milestones and closed chapters that lie before us will be, this one is a little bittersweet. </div>
Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-85620817759671498532014-01-13T22:04:00.001-05:002014-01-13T22:04:55.018-05:00Weekend o' Shit and Fun!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After being on a glorious sugar-cookie high for two weeks during the holiday break and then returning to school feeling full and content, I had one of those weeks where it just felt like life was punching us in the stomach over and over. It’s fine, and I’m being dramatic, what with the life punches and all, but fuck, man. What started off as an easy peasy week ended with frustration and tears and annoyance. But Sunday we managed to put things back on track, to regroup, be flexible with our plans, and move forward. (And sorry to be so vague about these little problemos, but they basically have to do with money and a lack thereof, and nobody wants to hear people bitch about money, so I’ll spare you.)<br />
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So maybe I went to my dark<i> OMIGOD I CAN’T TAKE IT AND I’M SO TIRED AND TIRED OF IT ALL AND NOBODY TALK TO ME AND I’M GOING TO BE SO CONSPICUOUSLY SILENT THAT EVERYONE WILL BE AFRAID</i> mode for an hour or so on Friday night.* And maybe I drank two glasses of wine too many (for a total of three. Two years of not drinking will make a lightweight out of you!), which made for an unpleasant day Saturday with solo-parenting two babies.<br />
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But, really, it’s nothing that some good friends, Chipotle, couch naps with a dog (does it count as a nap if it’s from 7:30 p.m. until 1 a.m.?), and a bowl of stove-popped popcorn can’t tackle. Plus this weekend was full of awesome, too. One of my favorite people in the world found out that she’s having a little BOY (which I had been rooting for since before she was even knocked up)!** And one of my other favorite people in the world had a great weekend with a new nice boy that left us laughing and giggling and plotting like we did back in our trashy college days. And we got to FaceTime with some of my other favorite people in the world. And we made Dinner: A Love Story’s chicken orzo soup. And I got so much done during my Sunday kitchen bitchin’ session that I’m feeling prepared for this week. Bring it, January!<br />
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And shoot, even though Charlie and Matilda might have been in on some diabolical plan to break me on Saturday (three hours of straight two babies screaming and whining!), they’re pretty damned cute.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Life tip: try not to combine a stressful week, lingering post-partum depression, PMS, and a lack of sleep if you can help it. Ugly results, people. Ugly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">**I am also amazing at guessing the gender of peoples’ babies. I’m batting like a thousand right now.</span></div>
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-29411819777638706412014-01-07T20:21:00.001-05:002014-01-08T20:34:30.238-05:00New Year!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today was my second day back to work after a long and glorious Christmas break. And returning to work hasn't been as hard as I feared. I was a little torn about returning to work (as though I had any choice in the matter!). On one hand, duh, I didn’t want to go back because I like being at home wearing sweatpants and eating insane amounts of food and chillaxin’ with the babies and Matt. On the other hand, I can only take so much sweatpants-wearing, food-inhaling, baby time before I go a little bonkers myself. Add to that the fact that I really like work this year, probably more than I ever have, and it’s all good. The early mornings can rot in hell, but the rest of it is peachy. Plus, let’s be honest: the sooner I return to work the sooner summer will get here.
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So what’s new with our little family? A lot and nothing at the same time. Matt and I are starting to see a tiny glimmer of a light at the end of the baby tunnel, and we’re patting ourselves on the backs for executing our two-babies-in-two-years plan*. Over break we moved Matilda out of our room and into Charlie’s room (Hallelujah!), and it took me about three seconds to start referring to the room as “their room.” In case you were wondering, sharing a bedroom with a baby for eight months is less than desirable. She’s now 8 months old and he’s 1¾, and they can actually play together sometimes, and they genuinely love one another. They steal food off of each other’s high chairs, snatch toys from each other, pull hair, hug, kiss, and jabber at each other all the time. And even though ol’ Tildy woke us all up at 4:47 this morning, it’s worth it for the move if only because I get to hear them chatting away with one another after they’ve gone to bed at night. (See, also: sleeping in my bed by myself, being able to enter my own bedroom after 6:30 p.m.) I’m still holding out for a twin language!
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Charlie continues to be wild and amazing and sweet. He’s still the cutest boy you’ve ever seen in your whole life. His latest thing is couch fort, wherein he throws all of the cushions off the couch and proceeds to jump and jabber away. You’ve probably seen a good bit of couch fort if you <a href="http://instagram.com/mandypkeaton" target="_blank">follow me on Instagram</a>, mostly because I can’t get over the giant grin that stays on his face the entire time he’s playing.
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Matilda is amazing, too. And she’s so different from Charlie! She’s so social! Sunday we took the babies to brunch and she flirted with every single person in the restaurant. I have to note this, too, so that I can go back and read it on a hard day when I’m covered in banana mush and have Greek yogurt caked in my hair. Three different people came up to us as they were leaving the restaurant to mention how well-behaved our kids were. It basically had me on cloud 9 for the rest of the week. And let’s be honest, Matilda’s batting her eyelashes (thanks for those, Pop!) and smiling and waving and dancing <i>were</i> pretty damned charming. I also have a theory that she’ll walk earlier than Charlie did because she’s so much more thoughtful and meticulous about how she does stuff (whereas Charlie pretty much takes after his mother and runs before he walks** most of the time).
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What else? Well, we made <a href="http://www.dinneralovestory.com/tortilla-soup-delicious-deconstructable/" target="_blank">this taco soup from Dinner: A Love Story</a> and I’m freaking out about how good it is. And we started watching the season 4 premiere of <i>Downton Abbey</i> and I’m wondering if I might have to be done with that show because it’s just too ridiculous (and WTF, Mary! Don’t be such a gash wagon!). And I swear I’m going to start ellipting again soon and I will not repeat yesterday’s delicious terror of scarfing down two Publix cheese danishes within a 5-minute period. And my baby sister is applying to college! (Which means that everyone in the world is terribly, terribly old.) And I am not pregnant, nor will I ever be pregnant again. I’m not sure when the novelty of not being pregnant will wear off, but it still hasn’t, and with every morning that I wake up on my stomach or with every time I bend down to put on a shoe without feeling stabbing pain, I relish the fact that my uterus is empty.</span></div>
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And now I shall try to erase the image of my vacant uterus from your mind by providing pictures of former occupants.<br />
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*This probably means that I’m a giant asshole (really is that a surprise anyway?) , but every time that someone who had a baby around the time that Charlie was born announces that they’re pregnant again, I am incredibly, obnoxiously smug about how I never have to do that again. No pregnancy, childbirth, newborn nursing hell, newborn hell in general, or learning how to juggle two kiddies (which is, for anyone who was wondering, hella hard). I’m so happy for the people announcing the pregnancies, but I’m way more happy for myself.<br />
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**both literally and metaphorically
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-87487738103932839962013-12-28T21:35:00.000-05:002013-12-28T21:35:06.600-05:00Christmas!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I effing love Christmas. In our house, we've been listening to Christmas music for months, and if I could have my whole house adorned with twinkly Christmas lights year round without seeming like a complete freak show I totally would.<br />
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And Christmas with kiddies? Get outta here, man. Charlie's not even really old enough to <i>get it </i>get it, but he was still a little dream come true on Christmas morning. And sweet Tildy even joined in the fun (when brother was sleeping and she could check out their new kitchen without fear of him yelling "STOP!" at her and pushing her to the floor). We ate too much and opened gifts and played and baked cookies and ate and played some more.<br />
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I've been out of school since the 20th, and I don't actually have to go back until the 6th, so Matt and I have been using this long break to alternate sleeping-in mornings, to get shit done (like those tasks that linger and nag at you for 200 years because you don't want to do them but an actual adult would do them), to chillax, and to enjoy each other. Add to that the fact that my family is in a really good place right now (if you are privy to those deets you'll understand just how remarkable that is) and the fact that I'm not pregnant, and I've got to say, my heart just feels really. . .full. <br />
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I really can't remember the last time I've felt this happy and content with everything: babies, family, work, responsibilities, life in general. Matt and I have said to each other again and again how great this week has been, how it's been one of the best Christmases ever. I kind of don't want it ever to end.<br />
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<i>Christmas Eve trip to Publix.</i></div>
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-75391161445339435762013-12-23T14:30:00.001-05:002013-12-23T14:30:22.203-05:00Well, Well. Look What the Cat Dragged In.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Okay, so I've completely neglected this little corner of the internet for a while because it was starting to feel like a chore and I was too busy in my actual life to devote any energy to it. But I kind of miss the ol' M Cubed, and even though blogging is kind of fucked out and people don't care anymore, I like having one central place to post pictures, update folks, and write (even if that writing may resemble some rejected script for the critically acclaimed MTV show <i>The Hills</i>). No promises here about frequency of posts or content that is interesting to anyone who is not me or blood-related to me (and my kin probably still doesn't care about half the crap I'm going to put here, excepting, of course, pictures of the spawn). But I'm going to try. <div>
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I'm back, bitches.*</div>
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I have a kind of love/hate relationship with mommy blogs. I mean, I hate them. But I read a number of them, too. I don't want this space to become one either, though, you know? They're all like cutesy pajama parties and way too many DSLR pictures at weird angles using a flash and<i> look at my overly-pinteresty birthday</i> party garbage. This space has always been about our life, what we're doing and eating and watching and being pissed off by. And right now our life is about two babies: what <i>they're</i> doing and eating and watching and being pissed off by. As much as I'd like to pretend that I am still independent and well-rested and freshly-showered* and living life just like before, now just with two babes in tow, that's just not the reality. But we knew that we were signing up to have life as we knew it hijacked for a few years, so I'm not complaining.</div>
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Anyway, yes, there's going to be a lot about babies and what they're doing, because that's what <i>we're</i> doing. If that's not your thing, I totally get it. While I have to be careful about what I post because of work and because Charlie and Matilda's peers will be able to read this when they're all 12 and possessed by the devil, I'll try my best to be real about our triumphs and our failures. And maybe you'll even get a new recipe every now and again, too.</div>
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There's so much to share! I can't wait to get down to it! But first, and in no particular order, pictures.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Charlie doesn't talk nearly as much as I would like for him to right now, and I'm tempted to fuck with the universe a little bit and punctuate every sentence with ", bitches" so that he'll pick up on that and then finally when he does start talking all the time he'll mimic it: "Read me a book, bitches." "Play trucks with me, bitches." I won't actually do this because I do possess at least a tiny shred of maturity, but I will giggle about it and fantasize. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Okay, that freshly-showered part was a joke. I've never been one to shower regularly.</span></div>
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-55918416298843656042013-09-19T22:02:00.002-04:002013-09-19T22:02:16.067-04:00Maverick, Etc.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Here's what you get today, party people. First is a post I wrote like a week and a half ago and then never added pictures to or posted. And because I'm a sloth, I refuse to switch it up. After that you'll get an actual update about boring stuff around here.<br />
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Today my students' SAT word of the day was Maverick. Obviously, this meant that I needed to show them clips of <i>Top Gun</i>, especially the very best one (okay, the best one that I could show to a group of other people's children, because clearly the best one is the volleyball scene--or the one where the sing in the bar!--or--wait--too many best scenes!) where Iceman does the biting thing. "That's right, Ice. . .man [brushes lint off shoulder of Iceman], I am dangerous." I mean, it doesn't get much better than that, does it?*<br />
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Oh, hell. Let's just watch it.<br />
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Other than that, things are pretty quiet. Baby Lady decided to roll over, finally. And now she's (knock on wood), sleeping like a damned champion. (Really, if our spawn should do anything well, it should be sleep. They've certainly got the genes for it.) She's getting all wild and crazy with her rolling all about and grabbing things and laughing. And her brother? Well, he's kind of the sweetest and funniest little creature on the planet. Sometimes we call him Gollum because he creeps around like such a little weirdo. It's definitely true what they say about you loving those babies more and more with every day. But I knew that already because I experienced it with Mitch. And Matt! Matt, too!<br />
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Right now, I'm sipping on a watermelon margarita (Why aren't you? MAKE ONE NOW!) while Matt grills <a href="http://mattmandymitch.blogspot.com/2010/05/lost-parenthesis-and-thai-kebabs.html" target="_blank">our dinner</a>. And I'm trying to figure out why there's a soccer game on TV, but I'm too lazy to get up and get the remote. Oh well. <br />
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Ooh! Matt just came in and suggested we watch <i>Boardwalk Empire </i>while we eat! Awesome! True fact: I once had a very inappropriate dream about Nucky Thompson. <br />
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And, with that, I'll leave you with pictures of my favorite tiny humans. <br />
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*Wait, is "Crashed and burned, eh Mav?" and then "Slider [sniff, sniff]. . .you stink" better? <br />
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And now it's a week and a half later, I just ate 2/3 of a frozen pizza, and I'm currently in the process of avoiding grading essays. So basically the dishes are done and the laundry is done and I might even take a shower TWO DAYS IN A ROW! But the essays? The essays are never done. <br />
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I'm excited about the weekend and about the changes in the weather (a few more degrees cooler and it'll be open window weather!) and about school and about babies doing cool stuff and about not being pregnant. I also received a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0097BEFA4/ref=twister_B0097BEF4A?ie=UTF8&psc=1" target="_blank">pretty awesome gift</a> recently and if you're annoyed that I've been blowin' up your Instagram feed with 2 bajillion pictures of my baby spawn, then, well, unfollow me. <br />
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And in case you were wondering, not a single one of my students missed the <i>maverick</i> question on the vocabulary quiz. <i>Top Gun</i> for the win!<br />
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That's all I've got (that's blog appropriate, anyway). Told you it was boring.<br />
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Picture time!<br />
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<i>That's right, Ice. . .man, I am dangerous.</i></div>
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Also, apparently my kids only wear pajamas. What a life! Totes jeal!</div>
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-34009402332009252612013-09-02T22:00:00.000-04:002013-09-02T22:00:52.698-04:00September! Already!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
How is it September already? I mean, for realz. I'm pretty sure it's still something like 2004 and I just graduated from college. Oh well. I guess time flies when you're having fun, right?<br />
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Life has been good to us lately. Matt's feeling better (huzzah!), Sweet Baby Lady has been going to bed at 7:00ish every night and sleeping pretty much all night (double huzzah!), Charlie started talking (apparently, according to Cassie, he was waiting until he could say 3-syllable words like <i>tortillas</i> and <i>dinosaur</i> before he'd begin to speak) and doing somersaults, and my classes at school have been out of control awesome (and I'm all, "What is this, <i>Dead Poet's S</i><i>ociety</i> or something?"). Since Darling Matilda's been going to bed at night, Matt and I have gotten to enjoy our evenings together like <i>actual real adults</i>, which is basically life-changing. We've cooked dinners together and watched our stories on the TV and enjoyed the quiet.<br />
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The other super fun thing about life right now is that Charlie has gotten really into books. Most kids have probably been into them all along, but our Charlie, from the ages of about 4 months until a few weeks ago, would see you reading a book, run over to you, snatch the book from you, scream, and throw it on the ground. So this is a pretty big deal for his two English major parents. It's all I can do not to spend all of our dollars on more books and more books and more books. If you have any suggestions, do tell! I'd love to hear them.<br />
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Anyway, right now I'm supposed to be taking a shower, but I'm not because there's lightning outside and I am afraid of electrocution and also because I'm a dirty procrastinator when it comes to showers. Instead I'm watching <i>Friday Night Lights</i> and it's the one where Mrs. Coach sees Matt Saracen buying condoms and Coach gives him the scariest glare of all time in church and it's amazing. So, yeah, life is pretty great.<br />
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Also, watermelon margaritas. So really, really great. Watermelon margaritas are about as life-changing as the baby going to bed. Is it bad that I'm thinking of buying two whole watermelons and pureeing them and freezing the puree so that I can enjoy watermelon margaritas all through the winter. Or is it BRILLIANT?<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">We Pinterested the eff out of these drinks, yo.</span></i></div>
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And, with that, I've got to tend to all of my Dillon friends and family and debate risking electrocution to scrub the grime off of my body. I'll leave you with 2048586940202 pictures of Matilda and Charlie. You'll note that there are more pictures of her than there are of him, which is because I use a manual lens and Charlie never stops moving--ever. Add to that the fact that every time I pull out the real camera, he tries to snatch it from my hands and then screams if I don't let him, and we end up with very few good Charlie pictures. We'll have to stick to video for that little buddy. Either that, or you can buy me <a href="http://www.amazon.com/SMC-Pentax-FA-50mm-1-4/dp/B00005ABC5/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1378172400&sr=8-1&keywords=pentax+1.4+50" target="_blank">the lens I really want</a>. I mean, if you're really that bothered by the imbalance. <br />
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Happy week to you!<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Trying to smother baby sister.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Charlie loves my childhood stuffed animal, Pato. It makes me ridiculously happy to see them together.</span></i></div>
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-68076234689493366512013-08-18T23:11:00.000-04:002013-08-18T23:11:44.233-04:00Excuses, Excuses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What up, the internet?<br />
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It's been a hard couple of weeks around here. Funny how all of the crap seems to happen at the same time, isn't it? Matt has mono, and our car's battery died and stranded me and Charlie in the Target parking lot when it was two million degrees outside, and then I had to start school the next day, and Matilda is resisting having a normal bedtime with all of her little baby might, and I dropped my ipod and cracked the screen. And then I flipped the eff out and cried like a tiny baby and Matt had to take the actual babies on a car ride so that I could vacuum the house--because apparently when everything else seems to be falling apart, I can find solace in a tidy house.<br />
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It hadn't been all bad, and things are certainly looking up, but it's been tough. We will come through stronger it on the other side, though, like we always do. And there have been some high notes, too, like the fact that I have an insanely good schedule this year, and Matt's starting to feel better, and I can have more than one glass of wine at a time, and Charlie discovered the wonder of making himself dizzy, and Matilda has become a little laughing fool. <br />
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And today? Today was the highest high note of all. From start to finish, it was just perfect. Today was one of those fun, happy days that I would imagine in my cheerful "what will it be like when we have kids?" daydreams. We played and laughed listened to Christmas music and read fun books and ate McDonald's breakfast and went to the park and then--get this--both babies took 3-hour naps AT THE SAME TIME. So, yeah, it was a miracle day. And I'm going to bed happy, looking forward to the week ahead. <br />
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And now let's look at pictures of my spawn, because they're funny. And because Charlie's probably going to break our computer sometime soon when he climbs over furniture to get to it and then opens it to try to cue Sesame Street, so I need these stored somewhere I can get to them easily.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> This is how Matilda does tummy time. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Helping Sister bounce.</i></span></div>
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-35665356269847242722013-08-03T22:28:00.003-04:002013-08-03T22:28:59.591-04:00This and That<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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1. Just realized tonight that I think I've evaded death, and I'm not talking about the time the knife almost fell down onto my head when I worked at BW3 and was getting ice or any of the millions of times I've almost been hit by a car because I was distracted. No, no. I'm talking about the <i>Dawson's Creek</i> finale. I watched the series finale of <i>Dawson's Creek</i> with three friends, and if we're being honest, I don't even remember which exact three friends they were. But I do remember that we thought it'd be funny if before watching the episode, we drew names (Pacey, Joey, Dawson, Jen). Whatever name you drew, that would not only be where the character ended up ten years from then, but it would also be your fate. I drew Jen. AND THEN SHE DIED! What the effing eff? But I'm not dead yet, which is nice. I've got shit to do, yet.</div>
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2. Matilda is my baby soulmate. Until it's past 7:00 in the evening and she's still awake and she's all wide-eyed and everything. Then she's my baby mortal enemy.</div>
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3. All I want to do all day every day is eat cookies in my sleep. Doesn't matter what kind of cookie (though I would prefer that it be homemade), doesn't matter where I'm sleeping. Cookies. Sleep. Should we add wine to this?</div>
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4. Charlie is intense. I don't want to say that he's <i>bad,</i> but he's definitely <i>spirited</i>. And he's a toddler. And he's insanely strong. And he has a yelling voice so shrill that my friend bought me earplugs. And I'm a little bit afraid that he is the universe getting back at me for being rotten. Reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Raising-Your-Spirited-Child-Perceptive/dp/0060739665" target="_blank">this book</a> and searching for the magic solution that will show me how to handle him and harness his, uh, <i>intensity</i>, into something fantastic.</div>
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5. I totally judge females my age based on the New Kid on the Block they had a crush on. What was your New Kid crush? Later I'll tell you mine and my assessment of the kind of girl you are based on your own crush. </div>
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6. And, finally, my looooooooooooooooooong maternity leave/summer break is drawing to a close. On one hand, I'm giddy about returning to work. On the other, I just want to hug my tiny, loud, needy, obnoxious babies and hold them close and kiss their sticky little heads. I was not a person who was made to stay at home with little babies. Not at all. And I'm so excited for this school year and my new role at school and my schedule and everything. I'm also excited to be starting a school year NOT PREGNANT (something I haven't done since 2010). But I'm sad that I won't be enjoying leisurely mornings (Ha! Like they're ever actually leisurely!) with Matt and our babies, sitting around in our pajamas, sucking down Diet Coke and whining about how early babies wake up. I won't have all the time in the world to lie in bed and talk to Matilda and listen to her coo at me and give me happy morning smiles. And I often won't be the one greeting Charlie in the morning, seeing his crazy morning hair, copping out and sitting with him in the recliner watching an episode of <i>Sesame Street</i> that I've already seen 15 times. I know that even though this baby thing isn't my particular cup of tea, I'll be a little sad when it's over, and my going back to work shortens the amount of time I'll be spending with my baby spawn each day. Oh, shoot. And I'm going to have to start wearing shoes again.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>C is for cookie.</i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">They love it when I make them pose together for pictures.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I was going to post a witty caption under this, but I couldn't think of anything good. Suggestions? </i></span></div>
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-29435709952768319232013-07-31T22:50:00.001-04:002013-07-31T22:58:15.382-04:00Instagram Book 2013<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab" height="425" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/slideshow-ui.swf"/><param name="flashvars" value="configXMLURL=http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/config/config-share.xml&slideshowModuleURL=http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/slideshow-module.swf&projectGUID=0AZNHLdmzZN2auLA&swfName=slideshowFlashContent&showReplay=true"/><param name="menu" value="false"/><param name="quality" value="best"/><param name="wmode" value="transparent"/><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"/><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"/><embed width="425" height="425" align="middle" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" name="wrapper" quality="best" menu="false" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" flashvars="configXMLURL=http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/config/config-share.xml&slideshowModuleURL=http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/slideshow-module.swf&projectGUID=0AZNHLdmzZN2auLA&swfName=slideshowFlashContent&showReplay=true" src="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/slideshow-ui.swf"></embed></object><br />
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<a href="http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0AZNHLdmzZN2bkA&eid=115">Click here to view this photo book larger</a></div>
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Okay, so I'm an Instagram addict these days. I'm sure this is a phase like so many others before it (looking at you, swing music and water guns!), but I love it. What makes Instagram especially fun for me lately is that I can capture our everyday moments quickly and easily, and then I can import them into a photo book on Shutterfly. (By the way, I'm not getting paid to say this, I'm just bananas for these photo books.) I don't know of the other photo sites allow you to do this, but it's supes easy. So start posting on Instagram more! And then make a photo book! And check this one out, too, because I think it's way fun. </div>
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More later. Miss your faces.</div>
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-3468036912523197062013-07-23T20:20:00.001-04:002013-07-23T20:20:56.907-04:00Mother F's Angry Chicken<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
First things first: I know what I want Charlie and Matilda to call me. Mother F. I think it's beautiful and formal and just, well, perfect. I tried to convince Matt's mom to go by Grandmother F, but she declined. I guess she has no appreciation of true beauty. <br />
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Second things second: today has been an un-fun day with babies. And I don't want to be too complainy or anything (though I did pat myself on the back like 60 times for finally getting that IUD--no more of these creatures shall be entering our house), but geesh. Matt said it well when he told Charlie (who seems to be possessed by some demon or something lately), "I just love you so much, little boy. You know how much I love you? I love you so much that I still love you today, that's how much I love you." Anyway, it seemed like a fitting day to introduce you to one of the few new recipes we've made since little Matilda entered our lives.<br />
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I can't remember when we first made this, but I do remember that it was an equally un-fun day with two babies and it was before my doctor had so generously prescribed me a healthy dose of anti-depressants. By the end of the day, I was fried. Exhausted and cranky, I was wishing for a month-long getaway with just me and my furry firstborn. And I was so miserable that I didn't even want to eat*, but Matt was all, "What are we going to have for dinner?" and <i>blah blah I have to eat something and here's this recipe for something that's delicious and also buttloads of work to make</i>. And I didn't even want to eat anyway! And I got really pissed about basically everything in the whole world, and Matt was wanting us to cook dinner and I kind of hated him for it.**<br />
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So I went into the kitchen to try to escape from all of the other humans in my house and I felt like I had to make something, and I did things like slam the cutting board on the counter and close cabinet doors too loudly, just so that Matt could know how mad I was. And in the end, I created this, mostly because it allowed me to get rid of some of my aggression and also because it was pretty simple. And then Matt did most of the cooking part while I pouted on the couch with the dog, and when it was done he brought me a plate. We started eating it and were both kind of surprised that something that was made with such contempt could be so tasty! And Matt goes, "Wow, this angry chicken is really good!"<br />
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And angry chicken was born. It's not fancy or extraordinary, but it's simple and good and relatively good for you.<br />
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Mother F's Angry Chicken<br />
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Note: Part of what makes the panko stick is squeezing the shit out of the chicken strips with handfuls of panko. It's gross because raw chicken is gross, but it also feels kind of good and crunchy and you can pretend it's something you hate. Maybe make this on a day you're frustrated or angry?<br />
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Ingredients<br />
1-1 1/2 cups of panko<br />
2-3 chicken breasts<br />
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper<br />
1 teaspoon kosher salt<br />
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper<br />
olive oil<br />
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In a bowl, mix together the panko, salt, pepper, and crushed red pepper. Preheat the oven to 450. Cut the chicken into thin strips and toss in the panko. Then squeeze the shit out of the chicken with the panko in your hand, giving each strip a relatively thick coat of panko.<br />
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In a large oven-safe skillet, heat up a few glugs of olive oil and cook the chicken in the pan. Cook for 3-4 minutes on one side, enough to brown the panko, and then flip it, cook it for a couple minutes and then put the skillet in the oven until you feel like the chicken's done. Probably 10 minutes or so, but this will vary depending on the thickness of your chicken.<br />
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Serve with some sauce. Honey mustard, BBQ, ketchup, whatevs.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Funny thing about me, actually. When I'm unhappy, I do not eat or get terribly hungry. I think that my current size is a testament to having had a happy 32 years.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Also, I'm totally misrepresenting Matt here. He was being patient and wonderful and everything, but I hated the whole world on this particular evening and he was the one I blamed for our current state of affairs. Also, I'm the crazy one in this relationship.</span></div>
Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-789206666243488372013-07-13T22:57:00.000-04:002013-07-13T22:57:32.177-04:00Quiet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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You know how it's good when nothing's going on because that means that nothing bad is going on, but then it's boring because it means you don't really have much to talk about? Yeah, that's what it's like here right now. Things are quiet and we're still figuring out how to be a family of 5. Charlie's hilarious and a lunatic and the sweetest little buddy. Matilda's sweet and cute and starting to do more stuff like grab and coo and smile all the time, so that's fun. Mitch is still dream dog. We made <a href="http://www.shutterbean.com/2013/bacon-fried-rice/" target="_blank">bacon fried rice</a> for lunch yesterday, and it was amazeballs. <div>
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I'm also way more interested in finding out if Kate and Will have had their baby yet than a person should be. It's kind of embarrassing.</div>
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Oh, and I've solved the world's drought crisis. Here's what I'll do. I'll just move to parts of the world that are suffering from drought, and then I'll clean the shit out of my floors. Within hours of my cleaning the floors, then, it will start to pour down rain. Works every time. Supes annoying. </div>
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Okay, check out these little babes. I'm a fan.</div>
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-56919913672636419992013-07-06T18:55:00.000-04:002013-07-06T18:55:14.646-04:00June<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, well. Would you look at what the cat dragged in?<br />
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<i> (True fact: when I was little we had a cat named Ninny who was a hard core hunter and also a hard core slut, apparently, because she had kittens like every month or something. Ninny would go off and kill squirrels and other rodents and stuff and eat their heads off and then either leave them on the front porch as a gift to us or try to bring them inside to her babies. It was gross and also awesome. True fact: Ninny went to live at a farm with about 600 of her babies.)</i><br />
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June was a pretty busy month for our little family. Here's what we did: I went back to work for five days, made some cakes for coworkers who were moving on, watched students graduate (Lots of teachers hate graduation--I am not one of those teachers. I love it! And it makes me cry every time.), read two whole books (that's basically a record for me, the worst reader of all time), cleaned the kitchen one bazillion times, did infinity loads of laundry, bitched about how disorganized our house was, packed like crazy for trip to Virginia, drove to Virginia with two babies and a dog (spoiler alert: it was NOT a fun drive), visited friends and family in the Commonwealth, attended AP training so that I can teach AP Language next year (!!!!), played poker and won some cash money (Matt, not me), came home, organized the bejeezus out of the house because I just couldn't take it anymore, ran a buttload of errands, and tried to settle back into our new normal of life with two babies.<br />
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And throughout the month, I was struggling with/trying not to admit the fact that I, again, have postpartum depression. Boooooo. That shit's no joke. Mother effing PPD getting me down, man! But I finally accepted it and addressed it and am definitely on the upswing. More on that later.<br />
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Babies are supes cute, still. Dog is dreamy. Husband is patient and wonderful. I've got one more month before I have to report back to school, and I'm determined to make it awesome.<br />
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What have you been up to?<br />
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-45127757636358021812013-06-02T22:49:00.000-04:002013-06-02T22:53:06.109-04:00No, We're Not Dead.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hello, the internet. It's been a while.<br />
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Here's what's going on: not much and so much at the same time. It's just been really hard, busy, and at times insanely boring.. Working, babies, cleaning the kitchen 200 times a day, not getting enough sleep, spending way too much time watching <i>The West Wing</i> on Netflix. I'll be honest, I've been a bit of a pill this week. There have been some tantrums going on in our house. Charlie has thrown most of them, but I have thrown a few, too. Charlie's are usually because of things like we gave him milk or we closed a door or we wouldn't let him take Matilda's pacifier out of her mouth [again]. Mine have been more of the <i>omigod-get-me-out-of-this-fucking-house-before-I-explode</i> and the <i>omigod-I-can-never-get-anything-done-when-I'm-holding-a-baby</i> variety. The good news is that I go back to work on Thursday (even if it is only for five days) and I have AP training at the end of the month, so there are things that I can do coming up that have nothing to do with diapers or holding babies or President Bartlet* or whatever showed up on my Facebook feed that day (PS--Facebook kind of makes me hate the world, yet I'm addicted to it).<br />
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That sounded really pouty and annoying, didn't it? Imagine how Matt's feeling.<br />
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I actually want to get back to blogging, if only because I'm starting to become old and forgetful and I want to remember stuff that went on during these years. And as soon as this newest baby of mine decides that people are allowed to put her down between the hours of 5:00 and midnight, I plan to get back to you. It's certainly a better use of my time than checking Facebook again, right? But I'll have to come up with things to share with you, because I refuse to believe that you want to hear daily boring rundowns of our life here.<br />
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Oh, and if you have sent us a gift or done something nice for us and haven't received a thank you note yet, blame Matilda. I swear she has some sort of sixth sense that knows when I'm about to start working on them, and then she decides to scream her head off. All I can take from this is that babies are really ungrateful.<br />
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But things aren't all fussy and bad around here. Charlie is basically the cutest thing that's ever happened, and Matilda's working on getting there (newborns just aren't as cute--sorry). He walks and runs and climbs and jumps and dances. He recently started talking, too. His little voice is just the sweetest, outdone only by his belly laughs. Mitch is still my soulmate, and he and I are planning a little getaway together. And Matilda seems to have red hair and blue eyes, which is kind of scary because it seems like she's exposing that affair I had with David Letterman last summer. <br />
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PS--Just heard Alex Trebek say "You are a dirty pirate hooker." Yes!<br />
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And, with that, the baby is crying again, demanding milk or whiskey or something. She'll certainly get one of those.<br />
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You get a few pictures, though.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Oh, I love you babies and President Bartlet, but I'm a little tired of you at the moment.**</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">**In other news, I've decided that my principal is basically President Bartlet, which is about as high of praise I can give to a boss. I'm debating whether telling him how I had this realization would be seen as too much of a kissass move.</span></div>
Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-41659696108530995652013-05-16T20:07:00.000-04:002013-05-16T20:07:55.127-04:00Hey hey hey.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So Miss Matilda is in a growth spurt which makes her a little crazier than normal (can we say something like "than normal" when talking about someone who's only 3 weeks old?), and I spent a lot of the day preemptively cleaning the house and doing tasks so that tonight when her <a href="http://mattmandymitch.blogspot.com/2012/04/baby-stds.html" target="_blank">screaming tapeworm demon</a> reared its ugly head I would be prepared and wouldn't be freaking out because I had to hold her for five or six hours straight when I had tons of other stuff to do. So right now things are somewhat caught up and clean and I'm all ready to hold that baby--and wouldn't you know it, she's gone back to her "normal" sweet, calm, tired little baby self. <br />
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So I decided it was a good time to write a blog post. Except here's the thing. I don't have much exciting stuff to talk about. The babies are good. It's hard to have two of them when they both need something, but it's not any harder than I expected it to be. Do I want to scream and throw a fit sometimes when I find myself cleaning the kitchen for a fifth time in a day, and do I want to spout off some cliche mom shit like "why do I even bother cleaning the house?" sometimes? Yep. But that was to be expected. And until I win the lottery and can hire someone to hold babies while I clean (or clean while I hold babies, I suppose--or, hell, do BOTH!), that's what life is going to be like for a while. Oh well. I'm trying to savor our moments with these wee ones and enjoy babyhood, even though we all know that babyhood isn't really my thing.<br />
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I don't have work drama to share because I haven't been to work in a month and a half (egads!) and because I wouldn't share work drama with you here anyway because I actually like having a job. And I haven't done any cool home projects (except for Matilda's dresser, have I shown you that yet?) or made any awesome desserts. I did take a shower today. And we did cook up some <a href="http://mattmandymitch.blogspot.com/2010/11/p-cubed.html" target="_blank">P Cubed</a> for lunch. And we even went for a walk in our <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Britax-USA-U281793-B-Ready-Stroller/dp/B007CTPWYQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1368748778&sr=8-1&keywords=britax+b+ready" target="_blank">awesome new stroller</a>. I think those things add up to a pretty big win.<br />
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The newest development around these parts is that Charlie is like officially a walking kid. He'd taken steps like a month or so ago, but never seemed to feel the need to walk because he is basically the fastest crawler on earth. Then we went to the beach (also, learn from my stupidly overambitious self and don't take a two-week old baby to the beach) and Charlie realized that it didn't hurt nearly as much to walk on the sand as it did to crawl, so he walked. Just like that. And every time I try to take pictures of him walking, they come out like this:<br />
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Shoot.</div>
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I'm enjoying the quiet right now. While the baby sleeps. . .</div>
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And the laundry is mostly done. . .</div>
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And the dishes are soaking (my procrastinating strategy to keep from washing them just yet).</div>
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And the wine is delicious. And the Reese's cups were delicious, too. . .<br />
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And the pup is cute and snuggly. . .</div>
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Later, I will read more of this. . .<br />
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And I might even get around to picking up these toys, but probably not. I mean, why do I even bother cleaning anyway?<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> (Note: Matt says that the Fisher Price barn is really Kent Farm, which explains why all of the super heroes are hanging out there. I always try to make it Animal Farm to teach young Charles about Communism and glue production and whatnot.)</i></span></div>
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-33255114527060569862013-05-13T23:33:00.000-04:002013-05-13T23:35:14.272-04:00This and That<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
1. Why are Golden Grahams so good? No, I did not eat a half box of them today. <br />
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2. One thing that's awesome about not being pregnant (<span style="font-size: x-small;">FROM NOW UNTIL THE END OF TIME!</span>): cleaning with chemicals. Not that I need to inhale my favorite ammonia and bleach cocktail or anything, but it's nice not to have to feel like I have to hold my breath every time I smell a cleaning product for fear that my kid will grow up to be like some <i>Real World Road Rules Challenge</i> bozo.<br />
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3. I'm a terrible blogger lately. I know! But I actually do Instagram pretty regularly right now. My name is mandypkeaton. When Charlie was itty bitty, I didn't want to be that person who only posted pictures of their kids on social media. Sometime in the last year I let go of that bull jive (and even regretted not having more Instagram pictures of him), and decided that if you didn't want to see pictures of these little humans I grew using my body (and the cutest dingo this side of the Mississippi), then you just don't have to follow me. Right? And if you do want to see pictures of said tiny humans, there are plenty there for your enjoyment.<br />
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4. Loving <i>Mad Men</i> this season. What do you think?<br />
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5. Ever since I had Matilda, the fingers on my right hand have been numb. What's the deal with that? Super weird. Who needs hands or fingers, though, amIright?<br />
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6. Charlie walks! He also rearranges furniture and dances in a way that might make you think he's auditioning for the sequel to <i>Magic Mike</i>. I have videos of this dance, and am not posting them on the internet. But bet your ass I'm saving them for blackmail!<br />
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7. Matilda's like the sweetest baby ever. She's super cuddly and cute and sweet and insanely cute. Charlie has begun to warm to her (he now gives her head pats that are gentle, at least for him, instead of screaming at us every time we pick her up). Mitch has loved her from the beginning (don't even try to do something to her or he'll bite your face off), but goes under the bed when she cries. I'm pretty smitten, too. <br />
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8. I want to see<i> The Great Gatsby</i>. I'm excited because it's Baz and because he's such a spaz and I think he'd do a good job with the party stuff and 1920's New York. But people who romanticize the bejeezus out of the story are getting on my nerves. I love the book as much as the next gal--for serious--but let's not lose sight of the fact that almost every single character in the book is a giant asshole. And the one guy who's not an asshole is a murderer. So there's that. Still, I want to see it. Assholes can be fun. I think that came out wrong.<br />
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9. I'd been craving those crappy gas station powdered sugar doughnuts since I was pregnant with Charlie. So, like, for two years I wanted them but never allowed myself to eat them for some reason. Finally, the other day, I caved and got a bag, thinking that once I actually had them I'd realize that they're crap and I wouldn't want them anymore. Well, guess what? Powdered sugar doughnuts are delicious, and I don't care if they're crap or not. I want them again. <br />
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Well, I'm off to go sleep on my stomach! Amazeballs!<br />
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-40976379122715524562013-05-04T22:16:00.000-04:002013-05-04T22:16:10.378-04:00Hey!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Just wanted to touch base and let you, the internet, know that we have not, in fact, fallen off of the face of the planet. It just so happens that having a newborn and a 13-month old is hard and exhausting (who knew, right?) and we're still figuring out how to juggle everything and still manage to sleep every now and again.<br />
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We haven't cooked anything new or exciting (though a Chick-Fil-A opened about 5 minutes from our house and it is kind of the most exciting thing that's ever happened), and we haven't been doing a great job keeping up with our television watching. I'm basically doing a great job if I've showered and eaten a meal that was cooked on a stove and if there aren't any babies screaming. And if you've called and I haven't called you back (which is pretty much the case with anyone who's called in the last week or so), I'm not being a bitch. But I have lots of phone talkin' time from the hours of midnight to 6 a.m. if you want to talk then!<br />
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In short: we're in the shit right now. It's hard, but it's good. And we're exhausted, but we're happy. <br />
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And, also, I NEVER HAVE TO BE PREGNANT AGAIN FROM NOW UNTIL THE END OF TIME! Feel free to send me cases of wine for taste testing.<br />
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-69348924278028074042013-04-25T15:48:00.000-04:002013-04-25T15:48:08.775-04:00MKF!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Our baby lady finally arrived! <br />
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And she's perfect. And we are complete.<br />
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xoxo</div>
Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-68404248769901792872013-04-16T00:26:00.001-04:002013-04-16T00:26:40.035-04:00To Do<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Ugh. That "have baby" task has been on my little Remember the Milk to do list since April 7. It mocks me. I don't want to be overly complainy or anything (at least on the internet--call me on the phone and you'll get an earful about how I'm 79 weeks pregnant and I want my body to belong to me again and how much it hurts and <i>OHMYGODGETTHISTHINGOUTOFME</i>). Last night I was 90% sure I was in labor. And then I wasn't. As a result, I haven't been terribly pleasant today.</div>
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And then everything just gets thrown into perspective, doesn't it? Am I really going to sit around and cry because I might have to be pregnant until my due date? Or because I might have to have a safe surgery (that I still really don't want to have, by the way)? Seeing and hearing the stuff about Boston has sure helped to provide a much-needed attitude adjustment. </div>
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The baby isn't happening today. But neither is the shower--let's be honest. And I'll probably whine and get Matt to vacuum. But we are safe and happy and have much to be grateful for. <br />
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Like a young Jon Hamm, who, thank God, was not one of my peers. Because if he had been, I would have died every day.<br />
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And baby sunglasses.<br />
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And this boy, who is going to make a fantastic big brother.<br />
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And my <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/124420873/kurt-vonnegut-art-print?ref=sr_gallery_1&sref=sr_1954136e6f4898545ada9e07bc47c64650a3b16ac08e93686d1b4a017a9f667b_1364602190_14519923_vonnegut&ga_search_query=vonnegut+babies&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_ship_to=US&ga_spelling_corrected=vonnegut+babiesw&ga_search_type=all" target="_blank">new favorite print for the nursery</a>.</div>
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And a husband who brings home tacos at midnight. Those are the best kinds of husbands. I'm out. These tacos aren't going to eat themselves.<br />
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-39961955347191634972013-04-09T23:35:00.001-04:002013-04-09T23:35:35.475-04:00This and That<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
1. So, this little female fetus of ours is already disobedient, and likely a little obstinate (did we expect anything less?). As you might remember, I decided that baby girl could go ahead and be born on April 7. And if you've looked at a calendar lately, you might notice that April 7 has come and gone, and I have not yet managed to evict her from my body. Do I need a judge or something? <br />
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2. Probably not a good thing that I bought three bags of Cadbury milk chocolate eggs when they went on sale after Easter. Except that it's an awesome thing because OMG they are so good and who cares. Fat is the new black, right?<br />
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3. My feet are so swollen right now that my flip flops don't fit. See above.<br />
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4. Best David Letterman guest of all time? Regis Philbin. Trust me on this. I know handsome old dudes.<br />
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5. Charlie is still supes cute, and a little bit insane, and a lot hilarious. Oh, and he walked! It was awesome. I imagine that he'll get a little better at it in time. <br />
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6. Hell yeah, return of <i>Mad Men</i>!<br />
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7. Oh, I did a dresser for our girl! Maybe I'll give you an entire post about it so I don't seem like the laziest blogger of all time.<br />
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8. Someone get this baby out of my body.<br />
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9. How's April 10 sound for a baby girl's birthday?<br />
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10. My doctor said he won't come by our house for a home water birth. I'm supposed to put bath salts in the kiddie pool, right? That's basically as good as an epidural, I heard on Pinterest.<br />
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I think I need to go to bed now. But first I'm going to make you look at some pictures of Charlie while he's still an only [human] child. And one of Mitch.<br />
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Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4207680592815728530.post-33347492685835784762013-04-04T00:09:00.003-04:002013-04-04T00:09:36.802-04:00Calm Before the Storm<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So it's spring break, and this year spring break also serves as a kickoff to maternity leave for me (thank you, severe pelvic pain?), and I am feeling surprisingly content. It doesn't hurt that the weather has been amazing, and apparently my mood and general attitude toward life hinge on whether or not the weather is nice. Getting to sit in my (clean!!!) living room with the windows open and a slight breeze coming in is often enough to bring my mood up by approximately 30 notches. And slowing crossing off every task from our "must do before baby" list also makes me happy. There's really not much left for us to do before our little lady arrives. Matt and I have been spending our days taking turns napping, really, and then wondering how it got to be 3:00 in the afternoon so quickly. We've remarked to one another several times this week that it feels weird not to be <i>completely effing exhausted</i>. And while I feel like I should be spending my time in more productive ways, sleeping is probably the best thing I can be doing with my spare time right now. If only sleep was something that you could stockpile and then cash in on days when you really feel like you need it. Can some science person make this happen?<br />
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I have all of these things that I've been meaning to blog about, like how I miss the simple days of Mel Gibson and Tom Cruise just being hot and not crazy, and how obsessed I am with our new<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rubbermaid-Reveal-Spray-Mop-FG1M1600GRYRD/dp/B003UA7F46/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365047843&sr=8-1&keywords=rubbermaid+reveal+mop" target="_blank"> Rubbermaid Reveal mop </a>(like, to the point where people interrupt me as I go on about it and ask, "Are you like a mop salesman now or something?")*, or about how you should go read the <a href="http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/sunherald/obituary.aspx?pid=163538353#fbLoggedOut" target="_blank">obituary for Harry Stamps</a> and then try to even pretend that you don't wish that he was your best friend, or about how my brother came down to visit with his awesome girlfriend and her daughter and it was hella fun, or about how I've decided (since it's apparently not up to me as much as I'd like to think it is) that baby lady can come on April 12 instead of April 7 because April 12 is David Letterman's birthday. Oh, and how I turned 32 and how did that even happen that I got so old (see, also: fat)? And how much I love tulips and how they remind me of JMU in the spring.<br />
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Who knows when this girl will claw her way out of me? For now, I'm trying to enjoy these days with my three boys (can't even think about Charlie losing only child status without starting to cry myself) and to eat as many popsicles as possible (three for dinner--that's not crazy, right?). Sometime in April (it better be April, or Imma hurt someone!) shit will hit the fan again (hopefully just in a metaphorical sense, but, really, anything can happen, right?) and I'll be wishing that someone had invented that sleep bank. <br />
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Here's what it's looking like around here. Or, should I say, here's what <i>Charlie's looking like </i>around here?<br />
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*Seriously! Go get one! Washable pads! Super convenient! Use whatever solution you want! Amazing!</div>
Mandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16441982348761531217noreply@blogger.com5