Anyone got a jump?

You know that sound your car makes when you try to start it, but the engine just won’t turn over no matter how many times you try it?

That sound has moved into my house and it comes in the form of my three-month old daughter who is learning she has a voice.

By the way, I held the camera the wrong way when I shot this and can’t figure out how to rotate the picture. Luckily, she looks cute both horizontal and vertical.

Canned Bread: The Taste Test

After a three-months absence, my return to work has been a tremendous success. I haven't turned into a blubbering mess nor do I badger The Grandparents (who are babysitting) more than twice a day. At least in my mind I don't.

My co-workers were amazing, checking in to see photos and distracting me from missing Addy. No doubt about it, I work with some really good people. And I would like to call attention to three of them.

Yes, I actually work with those people. They are professionals. That's John, Cheri and Kristen. And they welcomed me back with a can of bread. That's right. A can. Of bread. Nothing says, "We missed you, Liz! Welcome back to work and we hope you don't miss your baby too much," like bread that requires a can opener.

Although we could barely contain our excitement, we waited till lunch time to pry the top off our non-perishable loaf of goodness.

Addy joined in the fun via picture.


Once opened, we couldn't help but notice it's similarities with Alpo.

By the way, I think it's highly unappealing that this brown loaf of bread comes in a can with the letters "B" and "M" on it. At least we can be reassured that it's New England's finest canned dog-food bread.



We shoved the loaf out...

...yuck. The smell was not delicious. Oh god, the smell!




Looks just like cranberries! But browner. And scarier. P.S. Notice how Cheri's dog is running towards the bread in the photo in the background. It's just one more reason why I think this "bread" is actually Alpo.


We sliced it up. I've never had such circular bread before.




Since I was the guest of honor, I got to sample it first. My friends are so polite.

P.S. Don't you love the artwork we've hung in our office? One lone string of beads.



This is what I thought of it.

"It's not bad. But it's not good. No, no it's definitely not good." It reminded me of sour burnt molasses.



When the bread's smell was combined with its indescribable flavor, we all decided only one thing could be done.




Then we washed it down with anything we could get our hands on.


The verdict on canned bread? It costs more than most regular bread in a bag (which makes no sense) and tastes a million times worse. Don't buy it unless you're planning on building a bomb shelter and feel you'd definitely need bread while you wait for the aliens to leave earth.

The Longest First Date in History

Dear Baby Girl,

Three months ago, I met you for the very first time. Although we had already spent nine months together, we had done very little talking and had yet to meet face to face. When I first laid eyes on you, I expected it to be love at first sight, but instead, the moment reflected the reality of the situation - we were strangers that had a vague familiarity with each other.

Our first moments together were surreal. I couldn't stop staring into your eyes or reaching for your hands. Every moment thereafter was filled with excitement, awkwardness and desperate attempts to communicate. You tried hard to tell me your needs, and while I listened intently, I just didn't get it and debated if we'd ever get along. But I still let you get to first base faster than any other stranger I'd ever met.

I was determined to make our relationship work, so despite my frustrations, I returned to you every day with open arms. When I realized this experience was just as hard and terrifying for you as it was for me, I tried even harder to reach out to you. Gradually, I began to understand what you'd been telling me for so long. Closeness replaced the awkwardness and before I knew it, a bond had grown, a routine developed and I had fallen madly in love with you.

These last days of our whirlwind relationship find us right where we started - you in my arms and both of us in tears. I cry now from love (instead of fear) and you continue to cry from hunger, except this time my boobs are loaded with milk, it's just that my sobs keep jostling them out of your mouth as you try to eat.

When I think back to those first weeks with you, I remember how funny it felt to call you by your name. I referred to you as "baby," "her" and "she," because back then you were not yet an individual to me. I was still absorbing the fact that you existed. The situation was not yet real to me. Now, you are a part of my family, part of me. You are the thickest glue that has drawn the people I love even closer.

My little Adeline, I want you to know that in this short time, you have changed so many lives and brought more joy and love into them than any of us realized could happen. I've never felt more grateful, fulfilled and excited to see what's next. I was so scared of you and how your presence would change me and my life. And although the emotion fit the situation and my life is dramatically different, that fear has given way to so much happiness and I have changed for the better. I guess what I'm trying to say, Addy, is that you are a gift and it is my honor to by your mother. These months with you have been a blur - a combination of challenges and delights. I have loved watching your personality emerge and witnessing your first milestones. So, here's to the end of one stage of our lives and the start of another. You probably won't really notice that I'm gone, but I want you to remember that I love you.

Love,

Mommy

The End of Days

Dear Real World,

I hear the obnoxious beeping of your immanent return. It has woken me from a dreamy slumber filled with diapers, engorged breasts, cooing and crying. As I groggily peek through one open eye, I realize the vertical equator on my belly is fading, my baby sleeps through the night (mostly) and I can efficiently operate a breast pump. All this can only mean one thing: My maternity leave is over.

The past three months began as the craziest, most surreal, f'ed up weeks of my existence. Our lives were buried under a 7 lb baby and the words, "What the hell just happened?" took over our entire house. I was shell-shocked, traumatized and totally overwhelmed by our infant daughter. Now that I'm at the tail end of those three months, I feel...surprisingly okay. Even the slightest bit confident. And dare I say, happy.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I like having a baby. And I think there's a chance that my baby likes me.

Because I have always loved making lists, here is a list of what I've accomplished in the past 90 days:

1) Gave birth.

2) Recovered from the aforementioned birth.

3) Cried almost as much as a newborn.

4) Became the human equivalent of a dairy cow.

5) Became skilled at conserving shampoo. Meaning I don't use it as much as I used to. Because I don't bathe as much as I used to. Which in turn makes me smell much more than I used to.

6) Learned that I have "good" sweatshirts. These act as my dress clothes for special occasions, like leaving the house.

7) Understand that Target is like church for new moms. We make our weekly pilgrimage and commune with other unbathed moms in their finest sweatshirts, spun from 100 percent pure cotton and perhaps a little Lycra. We preach to each other about brands of bottles, formula and diapers, but only when invited to do so. The air is filled with a muted fear of babies crying and the quiet understanding that when a little body perched in a shopping cart begins to howl, no ill-will will be felt. Target is a safe place for even the newest of moms.

8) Learned to appreciate the irony of pumping in a football stadium bathroom stall surrounded by drunk college kids because I used to be one of them.

9) Learned to make sure I'm not unknowingly pumping in the only handicap stall so that the woman in the wheelchair doesn't have to wait 20 minutes for me to finish "my business."

10) Learned that when you spend 20+ minutes in a stall with a pump that sounds like a respirator, other people get concerned about your welfare and ask if you need help.

11) When you've been puked on enough times, you actually start missing the smell of baby spit up on your clothes.

12) Trained a human to sleep soundly from dusk till dawn so that my brain might function from 8 to 5. Okay, really it's from 10pm-ish to 6am-ish, with the occasional 3am feeding.

13) Finally, FINALLY let go of all the fear, anxiety and self-doubt of being a new mom and learned to just enjoyed my baby.

I am going to do my very best to treasure every minute of this last week I have with my baby girl. Because when it's time to return to the setting of my old life, I will miss her so.

Learn More, Save More

Before I had a baby, I actually blogged about home remodeling. I know, I know, it's hard to believe I ever did anything but lovingly caress my adorable baby, but, back in the day, two months ago, I cuddled nail guns and wet saws instead of an infant.

I'd like to return to my roots for a moment to tell you about three things.

1). We finally finished building the hand rail to our porch steps, which we started almost exactly 2 years ago. And when I saw "we," I actually mean Joey and his uncle did it while I was at a Badger game in Madison. I know my well-wishing from afar was a huge help to them.

2). While doing research for our various remodeling projects, Joey and I found a great website for pricing and buying new and refurbished tools. Tools Plus is a great site that also offers helpful how-tos, a Q & A section, blog and tons more - including rebates and bonuses!

3). Speaking of rebates and getting a deal in general, another great site, One Project Closer has a page devoted to coupons - on just about everything - at Sears. From clothes to toys and electronics to appliances, this page is loaded with savings. Just in time for the holidays (which I cannot believe are here).

So, there you have it - a brief reminder that I posses knowledge about other things besides child rearing. See you next time, when I will most likely be discussing child rearing and cuddling a baby. But just to "keep it real," I'll make sure that baby is holding a hammer.

Beware of The Puking Tiger

Last year for Halloween, I regaled you with creepy stories of my house (relive the experience here, here and here). This year, I'm regaling you with photos of Adeline experiencing Halloween for the first time in her life.

Because it's the first holiday she's been around for, our friends and family got her numerous Halloween outfits. She's basically been dressed as various versions of a pumpkin since October 1st. However, I saved this outfit from Joey's parents for The Big Day - Halloween itself. We celebrated by taking 500 photos of her that all basically look like this:

Notice that she's flipping you all the bird. So charming.

Yes, I was just waiting for her to spit up right on Daddy as he did this.

I can almost hear her saying, "Okay, Mom! They get it already. I'm a f@$*ing tiger!"

Of course, Adeline did what she always does when dressed in an incredibly cute outfit - puked all over it within the first 10 minutes of having it on and then continued to do so on and off throughout the day.

We debated taking her Trick or Treating, but figured it would go something like this...

"Hello, Good Neighbor. I've come to give you a treat...the treat of admiring my adorable daughter whose adorableness triples when dressed in a tiger suit. Did you know my baby tiger's cuteness becomes almost unbearable when a mini-sized candy bar is placed in her precious baby tiger paw? See! I told you so. No, no she does not have teeth yet, but she'll gum the candy bar, which creates an irresistible chocolate mustache, so perhaps you should give us two of those fun-sized Snickers instead of just one. Well, we're off to share her delightfulness with dozens more, so we bid you adieu on this All Hallows' Eve. We'll look forward to seeing you next year, when my baby's cuteness is again compounded by being dressed as an animal or food item."

...so we decided to take all the candy for our Trick or Treaters and run errands with Adeline instead. The check out lady at Target just loved her!

Three-Second Desserts

I recently discovered that having a new baby keeps one very busy, and that the said busyness, when combined with calorie-burning breastfeeding, also makes one very hungry, leading one to find quick ways to shovel food into ones mouth.

When food shoveling needs to be done, I'm your gal. Here's one of my favorite go-to, food shoveling recipes. With just three everyday ingredients and hardly any prep work, it's a cinch to whip up. And since it only requires one spoon, there's practically no clean up! Better still, you only need one hand to make it, so your other hand is free to hold a squirming baby or wipe spit up off your shoulder.

First, head over to your new kitchen cabinets from Ikea. Choose to ignore the fact that you still have not yet put switch plates on any of the switches or outlets in new kitchen, or attached the undercabinet lighting.

Open the cabinets that contain food. Still feel slightly shocked when you see one whole shelf devoted to feeding a baby (Bottles!? WTF? Oh yeah.) Grab the peanut butter, chocolate chips and marshmallows.

Prepare the ingredients.

Grab a spoon. If you do not have any clean spoons available, use a fork, butter knife or any utensil that can fit in both a Skippy peanut butter jar and your mouth without causing a hard-to-explain injury.

Dip spoon into peanut butter, gathering a hearty amount of creamy goodness. Notice your reflection in the spoon and wish you didn't appear upside down in it, cause how funny would it be to see yourself with peanut butter for hair.

Dip peanut-butter covered spoon into chocolate chips.

Make sure the spoon has gathered enough chocolate chips.

Smoosh mini-marshmallows between chocolate chips on spoon. If you only have large marshmallows, simply wipe the peanut butter/chocolate chip mixture onto it and feel relieved that there was a simple solution to such a horrifying predicament.

Insert into mouth and enjoy every second of deliciousness. If not breastfeeding a baby with milk protein sensitivities, follow it up with a huge gulp of ice cold, amazingly refreshing and fantastically tasty milk. Repeat as often as needed. I repeat very often because my body is being deprived of cheese and ice cream and needs to get those absent calories from somewhere, right?

Since most of the ingredients are already out, we might as well enjoy a bonus "You can make it so fast, you won't feel guilty having it even if the baby is crying in her bouncy chair" dessert. To prepare this delectable treat-for-one, swap out the peanut butter for graham crackers. Fresh is preferable, but stale ones will do if it's all you have on hand.

Split a graham cracker in half. Briefly wonder if a man named Graham actually invented this type of cracker. Remember that you don't have time to think of such things. You must focus! Put graham cracker halves onto a regular ol' plate, because you were too practical to register for china when you got married.

Arrange chocolate chips on one half of the graham and cover the other half with mini marshmallows.

Why the minis and not a Hershey bar and regular marshmallow? Because these little guys melt faster and we only have 3 seconds!

Pop into the microwave till marshmallows puff up a bit. Smoosh marshmallow half on top of chocolate chip half. Enjoy!

Realize that although microwaved s'mores are just as messy as those made around a campfire, they don't taste quite as good, but will do in a pinch.

There you have it, Friends. Two desserts that everyone can enjoy in just a few seconds, whether you have a new baby or not.

Note: If you are a cook who happens to have a new baby, do not attempt to eat the s'mores while trying to breastfeed, as there's a very good chance marshmallow goo could fall on baby's head while doing so. Not that I know from experience or anything.

Cry For Me

A while back, I shared a most tragic story with you. It was the story of how my tastebuds were being deprived of dairy products because my little angelic, exclusively breastfed daughter screamed and unleashed alien-like bodily fluids when I ate it.

Yes, that baby girl, who just turned 2 months and barely fits in the bassinet we used during her first weeks of life.

So, I sucked it up and exchanged my hourly intake of cheese, ice cream, milk and yogurt for soy. Soy milk, soy ice cream and even soy yogurt. I skipped the soy cheese, cause seriously, if you can't have the real thing, what's the point?

Although my baby girl's diapers became "normal," she remained fussy and rather phlemy. Turns out she's sensitive to soy, too. God damn it.

So, still trying to suck it up, I exchanged my daily intake of soy (who wants to eat anything soy on an hourly basis? Not me.) for rice. Rice milk and rice ice cream. I don't think they make rice yogurt or cheese, and if they did, I would be too scared to eat it.

Do you know what a poor, poor substitution this stuff is for actual milk and ice cream? However, I need something to put in my cereal and seeing that I literally salivate when I pass a Culver's Custard Stand, I had to get something ice creamish or I really think I might lose my mind.

Let me remind you - I live and die for food. I write about food for a living! Now I cry a little in the dairy isle every time I go to the store.

I can already predict that my butt and thighs will triple in size when I stop breastfeeding because I am going to eat nothing but pizza, cheese, malts and hot fudge sundaes for a month straight and I will wash it all down with vats of eggnog and chocolate milk. I am going to make a bath of Velveeta (lets face it, it melts better than Cheddar) and sit in it with a pile of Frito's until all the processed, cheesy goodness is gone. Then, I will perk myself up with thousands of lattes and rejoice over the milk-infused caffeine pumping through my veins. And finally, I will celebrate my return to the nothing-is-off-limits food world by sipping several Brandy Old Fashions (sweet, with cherries, please), because, my Friends, that is how we do it in Wisconsin.

So, whatever dairy - or even soy - product you are about to enjoy this weekend, please, please do me a favor and savor every bit of it (Or, as my friend Cheri suggested, poor a 40 of milk out onto the sidewalk in my honor). Because there are some of us who must live without it so that they can remind their baby, when she turns 13 and is a complete brat, of the sacrifices made for her well being. Also, if you see a new mom caressing the brie at the grocery store, give her some privacy. She's mourning.

P.S. A big thank you to Dave and Carole of 96.5 WKLH for mentioning my blog and reading my email on the radio yesterday. I didn't hear it (that damn baby!), but was told about it.

An Odd Place For An Ant Farm

My morning was darkened by a shocking discovery. Before I go any further, a word of warning to my family members and coworkers who read this blog: This post will embed an image of me that you may not want to recall during Christmas dinner with grandma and grandpa or while sitting across from me in the Lake Conference Room with upper management. The choice to continue reading is yours. Choose wisely and do not hold me responsible for inserting a picture you never wanted into your brain.

So, I'm taking a shower, as I occasionally do these days, with my eyes glued to the baby monitor hoping Addy will sleep long enough for me to actually use the soap. I hop out, dry off, lotion up, yada yada yada...as I lift my arms to apply my Dove deodorant, purple and red splotches draw my eyes to a dark and shadowy part of my body.

As first, I think to myself, "Is that dirt? I know my shower schedule is a tad off, but am I really that filthy?" I lean in closer to the mirror and gasp at what I find. Those splotches aren't dirt...they're stretch marks! Tons of them! On the underside of my boobs!!! I could almost hear them giggle as they yelled, "Surprise!"

My boobs have become so distended from my ample milk supply that my skin has stretched to the point of breaking down. Two days ago I was all, "Yippee! My belly button will never look the same and my skin is a tad relaxed, but my formerly pregnant stomach is stretch mark free! And hot damn, do I ever have an awesome rack now!"

I should've taken a closer look at that rack, which is now not only home to a constantly nursing baby, but also raggedy puce-colored lines that bring one image to mind:

The jagged, irregular tunnels found in ant farms. That is what my under boob looks like. Hey, I warned you.

So, that's really all I have to say. I just wanted to share my shock and an example of life's tendency to laugh in your face when you pat yourself on the back too enthusiastically. And that laughter will forever be etched onto the skin of my under boob (you can bet your ass I'm lathering anti-stretch mark lotion onto my upper boob to save them from the same demise).

Reminder: I warned you.

Plywood VS. Granite Countertops

In today's world of kitchen remodeling, there are numerous options when it comes to countertops. From concrete, to laminate, to granite, the choices are endless. When remodeling our kitchen, Joey and I decided to go a different route and experiment with plywood. Its natural look and economical price really appealed to us.



Plus, I could write on it when I needed a place to jot down important notes.



And if we ever got sick of having a countertop, we could easily pop it off and carry it to the garage for safe keeping.



Hey, guess what? I'm just kidding. Sort of. We did have plywood countertops for about 2 months while we waited to order our real counters and have them installed.

Well, they were installed about 7 weeks ago. I've just been super slow about getting around to posting pictures of them because my camera is too busy snapping photos of this gal.

Yes, she's sleeping with her butt in the air and that's because she is professionally employed at being insanely adorable 24 hours a day.

Anyways, after living with plywood countertops, which absorb anything that drips on them, we decided granite was a better option.

We picked a color that was on sale at Le Home Depot (Summer Sage) and are very happy with it.

Notice the clutter in the above photo. I could've straightened things up before taking a picture of my kitchen, but I decided to keep it real, a.k.a I was too lazy to do it. That is exactly what my kitchen looks like at this very moment, except I've since eaten more of the candy (it's totally for the trick or treaters) out of the bowl on the island.

P.S. The kitchen still isn't quite finished yet. We need to install the a few cabinet doors, trim and toe kicks, as well as the under cabinet lightening. We'll get to it as soon as our baby stops being so cute and allows us to actually look at something else.