Happy Halloween, now lets talk turkey

I know, I should have the decency to save this post til after Halloween. But I can't.

Because, it's funny, and real.

Thanksgiving is coming up.

It's Hubby McRed's FAVORITE holiday because it contains two of his favorite things in the whole world: a Turkey Feast, and Football.

I know this, I've known this since I met him.

So you'd think with both his parents (divorced and remarried each) living here, we'd be in for two Turkey dinners... a Turkey Bonus Feast... something... but alas, no.

His mom is having the holiday in early November, and, decided to do... HAM!!!! He was horrified. He despises ham.

The other ones? They do a fancy Turkey feast. Homemade stuffing with walnuts, fresh green beans mixed with asparagus, but no green bean casserole, a 'turkey roast' that's lean and nice, healthy gravy... there won't be one 'bad' thing there. All the food will be fancy. Hoity Toity Turkey. Hoity Toity Feast.

"I'm not going."

"What?"

"I can't go. I can't go there. I NEED Turkey, with stuffing, candied yams with too many marshmallows, green bean casserole, and NOT with the crappy low-sodium soup and NOT with fresh green beans. And piles of gravy. Piles and piles of it. I can't go and give up my Turkey Feast, I don't want healthy, good stuff. And I want leftovers. We can't go. You have to find a way to explain I can't go because I hate the food. I'm sorry, but you have to do damage control."

Well. I may not be able to get the PR job I'm most certainly qualified for, but it doesn't mean I don't know how to use my mad damage control skills in times of crisis.

The best damage control is preventative.

"Okay honey, look. Here's what we do...

"We go to your moms, and have her make you turkey cutlets, so you can eat.
"We tell your dad and step-mom you'll show up.
"The Sunday BEFORE Thanksgiving, we'll have our own feat. We'll do you up a Turkey, in the oven, with pan gravy, while you watch football all day. We'll buy bagged stuffing without walnuts, do mashed potatoes with way too much butter, candied yams with too many marshmallows, and green bean casserole. Even a pecan pie."

"You'll do this for me?"

"Yes."

"And I can have leftovers for a whole week!"

"Yes.... now, so... it's a big meal... do you want to invite any of our friends?"

"WHAT? And give away my TURKEY FEAST?!!!?!?!?!"

'No dear, of course not..."

My Little Commando

After my 4-year-old got home from preschool today I sent her to change into play clothes. The school clothes aren't really nicer, but they are all either brown/pink and they are for cold-weather. By sorting them like this and keeping them in their own drawers, she actually wears outfits to school that are season appropriate and sort of match.

This little trick helps me avoid confrontations like the one we had to have over the outfit pictured here on the right, which was deemed (by her) appropriate to wear out shopping.

In any case, after I asked her to change her clothes she showed up with a new outfit in hand and proceeded to change in front of me. I don't understand why she prefers to change in the room I'm in, but I don't question these things.

What I DO question is why she went to preschool this morning without panties on. I had no idea until she changed her pants that she'd gone commando. Does this mean we're going to have to start doing panty-checks before she leaves the house?

I can't even imagine what kind of clothes issues we're going to have when she's a teenager.

My Wedding Dress...

...zips up.

BOOYAH.

It's a silly tradition, I put my wedding dress on at some point on my wedding anniversary. Last anniversary, I was five months pregnant and wasn't zipping up anything except an oversized hoodie.

Okay, so I can only hold my shoulders in one specific posture. But can't I blame that on temporarily enlarged nursing breasts? I mean, as soon as I'm back to flat chested fabulousness, it'll be zipping up and down like a toddler on diet cola. Probably.

I'm not trying to lose weight. Whenever I try to lose weight I put on five pounds. I'm not trying to diet, either. If someone gives me a bag of Cranberry Moose Munch, clearly there is a divine hand pushing it towards me.

I'm also not trying to care that things are just in new places. Like back fat. Why do I have these two little flaps of pudge on my back? I didn't carry the baby on my spine in some kind of camel's hump. And saddlebags. I'm sure I didn't have those before I had the baby, and again, I didn't have pregnant thighs, but there they are, little pony express bags.

But as promised... nine months up, nine months down, not counting ten extra pounds. How long did it take you to lose that last ten after your baby? Did you ever lose it? Do you really care, deep down, as long as your old clothes can zip?

My Brain Is Cold

The house was freezing last night, and the wind was blustering like crazy. This morning, the entire outside world was glittering with frost, and the birds were fluffed up into feather puffballs in the trees.

So when I went to get the kid ready for his walk, I went Stone Cold Mama. Socks. Thick, lined pants. Long sleeve onesie. Sweatshirt. Fleece slippers. Once all that was on, I wrapped his legs in an afghan, and stuffed the resulting burrito into the bunting I'd already installed on the stroller.

(Side note about his bunting: You see it in ads being used on the car seat bucket. We used it on his car seat when he was a newborn, but we realized that at the speed with which we raced from the car to wherever, we might as well skip it. I felt kind of stupid for wasting the money. However, it's really nice to have on the stroller - a blanket that can't be kicked off and is always tucked in - and the velcro openings are so flexible that it works on all of his strollers.)

Then I popped a fleece lined knitted hat on his head, tucked a scarf around his neck, zipped him up with his hands inside the bunting, and went outside.

We promptly came back, so I could put on shoes.

Amazon Giveaway

It's a week of giveaways over at Bloggy Giveaways and we want in on the fun! We're giving away a $40 giftcard to Amazon just in time to use for holiday shopping or maybe a fun splurge for you.

All you have to do is leave us a comment and you're entered. Easy!

If you want to score an extra chance to win, subscribe to the blog and leave another comment saying that you did.

For a third chance, you can do anything you want to give us a shout out, whether it's a link on your own blog, a Stumble, Digg or Twitter, adding us to your blogroll, whatever you want. Just add one more comment letting us know what you did.

This giveaway is open until midnight EST on Saturday, Nov 1. We'll pick a winner at random and then contact you by email to let you know you won, and we'll post who the winner was as well.

Good luck! And once the contest is over and you are recovered from entering so many giveaways (I know I'm exhausted anyway!) we hope you'll stop by Perfectly Normal again.

What's In YOUR... Diaper Bag?

This was a thread on a mama message board I was reading today. Here's what I posted:

For errand running, I have a nifty little thing that looks like a large wallet or a small purse. It unfolds into a changing pad, and has a pocket for a diaper, a few wipes, and a clean shirt. For the baby, not me.

For occasions when I'll be gone for half the day, away from running water, or out to a restaurant, I have a diaper bag. It contains:

Four diapers
Wipes
Clean shirt
Clean socks (the "heel strike into poop" is his best karate move)
Two small toys that only come out at restaurants
A plastic grocery bag
A flannel receiving blanket (it's a blanket! It's a burp cloth! It's a DESSERT TOPPING!)
Hand sanitizer
Hat
Pashima (acts as a second blanket, a nursing cover up if he gets too distracted to eat properly, or, when artistically draped about my person, covers my leaking personal bits and/or baby hork and/or pee spray)

Now that it's cold, I keep a little sweater in there as well as the clean onesie, since he's a thousand times more likely to spill or spew on his sweater than his shirt. One of the side pockets has sanitary napkins, lip balm, and nursing pads.

And of course, I never carry a purse when I've got the diaper bag - I just transfer my cell, wallet, and a little travel hairbrush over to the outside pocket.

Me? Attachment parent? Co-sleeper in Denial?

"I don't believe in attachment parenting," I explained to Rainy. "I envision my two boys clinging to me perpetually."

"You so do believe in attachment parenting, it's what you do, and you're so in co-sleeping denial," she said.

Co-sleeping denial.

I thought about that, at 2 a.m., when my little Bear stretched out his legs into my back. He had started the night falling asleep in our bed with his brother, Turbo, and then, after they fell asleep, Hubby McRed moved them to their bed. Around midnight or 1 a.m., little Bear came crawling into our bed. Usually, within the hour he's followed by Turbo. It's the rare night only one shows up, an even rarer night none show up til morning. They do it so often that it's very common for me to not wake up when they show up, only to find them in the morning, the cause of my aching lower back and drooled-on pillow. One will take my side, and the other will shoo Hubby McRed over and take his side. Usually, it's Turbo on Hubby McRed's side, and there is often a little altercation, whereas Grumpy Hubby McRed tells Turbo to go to his own bed if he doesn't like it and Turbo tells Grumpy Hubby McRed to just scooch OVER.

But we didn't start this way. They were in bassinets by our bed and occasionally in our bed for the first three or four months, then it was the crib. It wasn't until we turned the cribs to toddler beds that suddenly, we had nightly visitors. At first, like all parents defending their territory, we resisted. We would get up, carry them back to their bed, determined to have our own space. I mean, we only have a Queen! But they'd come back. And stealthily. They'd be quiet, and crawl in the center, where at 4 a.m., when we found them, we were just too tired to move. Or, on the edge of the bed, teetering precariously, clutching their little blankies, looking so cute and fragile we'd make room for them, lest they fall and hit their cute little heads.

I concede the point, we're co-sleepers, in denial.

But what about this whole 'attachment parenting' thing?

I found a blog that defined it finally. This blog was a totally random find, but it defined attachment parenting.

Attachment parenting is the backlash against uber-independence in our younger kids. Independence is great, but not for a four year old, not really. There's nothing wrong with keeping our young kids close to us. It's how families were meant to exist: in close proximity, where the young can be protected, nourished and nurtured, where they can feel safe, and the parents can grab them if you know, a sabre-tooth tiger came along, or big huge Vikings with axes... close proximity was key to a family's survival, but it also provided the children the basic needs they have for safety, love, nourishment and security -- the very needs that, when met, create a strong core of self, a foundation where great independence can be built, where they can then, on this foundation of love, safety and security in youth, build their own character, and forge their own lives, and go off merrily knowing that at the center of their being is the strength of their family.

Attatchment parents carry their babies in slings for, like, EVER. Well, I toted Turbo in a sling, while bouncing Bear in his bouncer with my foot. I took turns holding them in my lap when I worked part-time from home, at the computer, and yes, even while 'relaxing' and playing games, they were on my lap, occasionally causing my in-game character to, well, die. So yes, I am a big believer in that. I lugged my boys around forEVER. Ask my friends. Or any of my neighbors, who've seen me carry both boys at the same time. They were always, and still are, close to me. If I sat on the couch, I'd get mobbed by my twins, and my elder was often referred to as Klingon, as in 'Cling-On' for all the times she was also physically attached to me in her younger years.

Attachment parents extend breast-feeding. I didn't, but I would have liked to. But for the most part, I fed them while holding them, and did breast-feed for, oh, well, a bit....

Non-violence toward children -- well, duh.

I also didn't do pre-school. I felt there wasn't a real 'need' for it as long as they were getting social interaction with other children. They got tons of that. Now, they are in pre-kindergarten, and the lack of former pre-school's hasn't affected them in the least. In fact, most parents comment to me on how well my sons play with others, with each other, and how well-mannered and behaved they are (for the most part, they are after all, four year old boys).

When one of our sons are sick, he will spend an extended period in our bed before we move him to his own bed. It's so we can monitor him, his breathing, his fever, and it isn't until we're satisfied that his fever is down, his breathing is regular, and he's able to sleep, that we'll bring him back to his bed. (Of course, he does return to ours, so it's rather silly to move him, but hey..._

As for television? Oh sure! DEFINITELY! But, not a lot. And no commercials. Only mom-approved shows. And lots of trains. I concede more attachment parents probably let their kids watch less television than I do, but we do truly limit our kids television to about an hour a day... I know I know, they don't even need it, and we work on it, but, remember, I'm in denial about my attachment parenting and co-sleeping, so there.

So, yes. I guess Rainy's right.