When I was gestating Timmers, I was obsessed with everything baby. Learning the best things for me to eat and do while he was in the belly. Figuring out all the things I would do when he was out: baby yoga, sign language, co-sleeping, breast feeding, cloth diapering, etc. I spent hours pouring over the inter web, etching in stone how we were going to raise our offspring.

Then he was born...and reality bitch slapped me in the face and shoved some humble pie down my throat. Every new parent goes through it, the initiation into the I Just Want to Sleep and Pee Without an Audience Club. The complete understanding of why your parents did all those screwy things. Riding the high horse is not a luxury you can afford anymore. Mine happened when Timmers was 4 weeks old. I was sitting in my living room at 2 am pumping after I feed him from the bottle I swore I wouldn't give, filled with half breast milk and formula that I swore I would never feed him. My kid is great, but a horrible sleeper. Not only that, when he does sleep he makes a ton of noise. I had decreed that he was to sleep in the co-sleeper attached to our bed until he was weened from the breast no earlier than a year...but I hadn't slept for more than a hour in sucession for 4 weeks. So, he was banished from our room to sleep in his own. As I sat there trying to remember when the last time I showered was, thoughts started to race through my mind. It was every judgement I had ever expressed for my family/friend/random shopper's parenting choices. There were many. Reality, you are a cruel mistress.

We have done baby yoga, once. No sign language, unless you count Luke and I gesturing wildly at each other to BE QUIET I JUST GOT HIM TO SLEEP!!!!! Co-sleeping is when he wakes up too early and I drag him in to bed with me because Rit is still sleepy. Breast feeding-long story. Cloth diapering, yes. I have allowed my child to use my flip flop as a chew toy, much to the dismay of the germ-a-phob mom in my playgroup. He has a wicked temper and throws himself backwards, smacking his head on the ground when you take things away. She would have been much more horrified if I took said shoe away, he did that, and I told him that no one likes a cry baby.

Now when my friends without kids, horrified by watching someone let their kid do something they deem questionable, say "I will never let my kid do -insert thing they will probably let their kid do-!", I smile and nod. I know that someday at two in the morning they will remember this conversation and want to go hop in a delorean and shove those words back in their mouth. Especially since they are friends with me and I will say "Hey, Fanastic Parent, I thought you weren't EVER going to let your kids do that!" After you have kids, fewer and fewer things are black and white. Most things are gray or brown, because brown is the color of poop...which you will talk about more than you would have ever thought possible.

Today I stand tall and proud knowing that at some point in my child's life, I will ask him if this is his dirty bowl sitting on the coffee table, he will look at me and say "no", and I will say "did I ask if this was your bowl? Clean it up!!"

When I said "Tim, what are you doing?" He looks at me

Labels: crawling, milestones, Timmers

Alot has happened in my life since I vanished from the blog world. Um, let's see. We moved again. I took up running 5ks. I still don't smoke. Um..Let's see...um...oh yeah, I grew a baby in my belly and then expelled him from my womb. FYI-Epidurals are magic...pitocin is the devil.

On January 2, 2009 Mr Ritmeyer and I welcomed into the world Timothy Charles aka Beans. Labor was induced by several bowls of Rit's Super Spicy Deer Meat Chili. We are still pissed he screwed us out of an '08 tax deduction.

After 3 months of crappy sleep and getting pooped, peed and spit up on, I went back to work, ready to feel like me again. After 5 days I quit. Now I am a stay at home mom. Yes. Me. I LOVE IT!!!! I make homemade baby food, meals from scratch, garden, and cloth diaper my Beaners butt. I go to a stroller workout class on tuesdays, thursdays and Saturdays and have playgroup on Wednesdays. My highschool self would be horrified.

Because of this new career path my days are filled with poop and drool filled, open mouth baby kisses. Beans and I have many long, intellectual confabs about doggies, colors, the wheels on the bus, and whether we believe Lindsay is really a lez or just going through her version of "college experimentation". I believe a child is never to young to start reading to or watching E! News. I mean, how else is he going to learn to not tape himself having sex or being super wasted and making up porn names when he is famous?

El Beaner wanted to say hi to you. Here he is earlier today in his sweet new ride. It's roomy and still has that new car smell.

Labels: poop, SAHM

So yesterday I'm driving with a new friend of mine to a store, and I mentioned that I use to have a blog. A blog? Really...me? What did I...when did I...why did I...I sat staring out the front window, sitting on my knees with my hand in the backseat holding my son's binky in place. The memories came flooding back.

I haven't thought about you in so long, blog. Or the wonderful people I came to know and love. TinaPopo, Tim, Beebers, there are too many to list. So I came back to you blog and read and read. I laughed, I cried. I made a vow. I will blog again.

I still have thoughts. They are random, this side of normal and they now involve an eight month old...

My husband was born in a teeny, tiny, town in northern Missouri. According to him the closest radio station that would broadcast to his little radio, in his little town was from Chicago. His team, Da Bears.

Eight years ago I sexually transmitted the bears as my team. Yep. Eight years of being ridiculed. Eights years of living in St. Louis going to the Rams/Bears in full Bears gear. Eight years of being on the other end of smack talk from our male friends. Eight years of learning deplorable stats and telling people to kiss my ass. Eight years of listening to everyones shit has come to end. This is it. This is our time. Please for the love of Ditka...


The Super Bowl Shuffle

This is a question that I have seen a few times, so I thought I would give you the short version.

1. I lost all my quitting smoking weight.
2. I broke my foot going for a head ball in soccer. (go for it, Luke does)
3. Reclaimed my love of the Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream
4. Put on 15 lbs after I broke my foot.
5. Learned that my husband's idea of cooking is bbq pork steaks (yummy) and microwaved pork n' beans (opposite of yummy).
6. Have not been knocked up.
7. Have been cleared by my doctor to start working out again.
8. Trying to find a new doctor who thinks my foot still needs healing.
9. Moved.
10. Became obsessed with the shows Dexter, The Hills (oh my gawd, is Heidi preggers?!), Heros, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, and the Dog Whisperer.
11. Got TIVO.
12. Made the decision to boycott Grey's anatomy until they fire Isaiah Washington or make his character gay so people constantly ask him if he is gay in real life thus making his big, stupid head explode.
13. Found that telling Luke "You are suppose to be CALM assertive" when he is angry with the dog really makes me laugh.
14. Especially when I do it with a hispanic accent.
15. Finally convinced my husband that if we moved to Kirkwood (where I grew up) and not some small town out in the boone docks, our children would grow up in a safe place with a "small town" feel.
16. Drove home from work last Friday to find police swarming 2 blocks from our new home. Turns out our local pizza parlor manager likes to kidnap 11 year old boys. I hope he gets out of solitary real soon. That's my version of the Missouri Miracle.
17. Learned that when you move 5 minutes from my parents that equals feeding my 17 year old brother and his friends who come take Mr. Rock Meyer for "runs" (show up stoned and make him chase his tail)
18. I'm sick of typing, just make up some interesting shit and I'll say that's what I have been up to.

So the hubbo is in Vegas for business. Yep, business. I buy this like I buy that Britney and Paris were just friends. I dropped him off at the airport last night. I was able to enjoy the big TV in all it's wondrous glory. Studio 60 on the sunset strip will be viewed in all it's glorious bigness this evening. Life is good.

In other news I am scared shitless of staying in a house all by my lonesome. I usually chicken out and stay with my parents. Yes, I use to live by myself for many years. Apparently living with a boy has given me some sort of force field from the bad guys. This force field disappears with every business trip and every animal shooting excursion he goes on. Last night I slept with the lights on. Mr. Rock Meyer apparently heard many killers lurking outside my home, as he would arouse me from my slumbering unicorn dream with "I'm gonna eat off your face killer" barking on four different occasions. I could go on a trip with the bags under my eyes. It's official, I'm a huge wuss. DAMN IT!!

This is Mr. Rock Meyer. He wanted to be introduced to you all. He is believed to be between 1 and 2 years old. We brought him into our family 2 months ago. He is a stray rescue dog. He is awesome. Yes, we have independent confirmation of this fact.


He spends his days hiding my spatula's and Luke's Mountain Dew bottles about the house while lounging on the couch we said we would never let him on. His feud with the mail lady is palpable. He spends his nights staring at the food we eat while drooling profusely on the floor and sleeping in our bed that we said he would never sleep in. Eighty lbs of Chocolate Lab has forced us to get a king sized bed. His favorite T.V. show is The Dog Whisperer, we mock the failings of his fellow dogs. He also enjoys Dexter. He is not a fan of I Love New York, he finds the bat shit nuts ladies hard to stomach.


Rock wanted to say hi to the blogosphere, but he has mixed emotions about the whole thing. We walk to the computor and when I sit down, he is not thrilled with the lack of attention he receives. Much like his mother, he is reduced to raming his head into me and giving me his best "love me" eyes to get attention. I have taught him well.

1. Make a post on blogger everyday, not like the last time I claimed I was back.
2. Stop telling Luke he is my father after I turn the fan on every night before bed.
3. Do more cooking, cleaning, and sexual favors.
4. Discontinue grabbing friend's children, walking them over to my husband and saying "I wannnt onnnneee!" And then refusing to go off the pill, cause "I will get fat!!!!"
4. Stop asking Luke for imput on self improvement.
5. Stop asking people if they think Britney flashed the cooch on purpose when current events are brought up.
6. Continue trying to read that Anne Rice from the Retard Book Club we tried to start here on blogger last year before I so rudely stop blogging with no explaination.
7. Never again ask a room full of men whether they think Madonna's adopted baby could kick Angelina's adopted babie's asses for what Angie said about the whole "Madonna steals african baby" debacle when they are "discussing" who's Team is going to win the superbowl.
8. The Bears are going to win.
9. It is OUR YEAR!
10. Never again post when Luke is reading over my shoulder and reminded of the *crickets* his wife created in his living room last Sunday.

It's a New Year for Rit. And I have missed you all terribly!