A Very Layne Moment

on 30 December 2008

So, I have been sorely missing my Bradley shaped friends. So I have a very Bradley story for you all.

Sarah and Layne were dating when I moved to Georgia. They became engaged in the Fall (right about the time that the Husband and I were getting serious) and then they got married on Valentines Day.

Sarah and Layne went on their honeymoon and whilst they were away they ordered pizza.

They went to pick it up.

Layne, ever the gentleman, carried the pizza out to the car for Sarah. But he carried it like it was a book. Under his arm.

Very much like this guy:

Naturally, at this point in the story, Sarah starts laughing. The way she tells it, she asked Layne what he was doing and he looked down at the pizzas totally oblivious to the fact that this was NOT how one carried pizza. They then open the box and see that all of the cheese and toppings had indeed followed Newton's law of gravity and slid into one melty puddle at that end of the box.

My favorite part of the story (and the subsequent point of this post today) is that a year later when they were pregnant with Alayna, Sarah kept reminding Layne that "She is NOT a pizza! You can't carry her like that." At which point in the story I always start to laugh uncontrollably.

The Husband and I have been friends with those lovely Bradleys for a long time now. We've heard this story more than once (I love to request it, besides the fact that it's funny to watch Sarah's face when she tells it, it's also funny to watch Layne squirm in embarrassment) , so you would think that I shouldn't have a picture of this:

Husband! He is NOT a pizza!

Try to look beyond my child's obvious joy at being carried like a pizza.

Sleep is for the WEAK

on 26 December 2008

Ok, I don't usually do this which should imbue what I am about to do with EXTRA significance.

I just finished this book: Sleep is for the Weak. I opened it Christmas morning, I read the first half Christmas night and I finished it this afternoon. I HOWLED with laughter. The Husband will tell you, I laughed UNCONTROLLABLY until TEARS rolled down my cheeks.

It also has these wonderful moments of reality where I found myself nodding vigorously and saying YES! out loud.

What is it? You ask. I will tell you, it is a collection of essays by the best of the "mommy bloggers." Some of whom I have read and loved for a long time now (cough, Amalah, cough) and some of whom I had never heard.

Seriously. Run, do not walk, to your nearest book seller and obtain this book. Suddenly, I don't so much care that I'm living with a teething, napless little dictator, I love him and at least I'm not alone.

Moving on.


There's that for Christmas and we're done until next year. I love Christmas, I do, but I love it so much that by the time it's over with I'm pretty relieved.

We had a lovely day together. The Boy was a napless monster but otherwise adorable. He's teething in earnest now so you'll please excuse me if I'm not verbose, I have a screaming little dictator living in my house at present. [The Husband is currently lecturing on the value of an "indoor voice" and expostulating on how unnecessary the screaming really is.]

The Husband ordered a Wii online yesterday. The insanity should end in 6-10 days. And a whole new breed of insanity will commence. Yay for us.

And since we DID remember to document the Boy's first Christmas, I present you with superfluous blog filler. Enjoy! I'm off to put the rest of my house in order.

Christmas morning taking the new booster seat for a test drive.

Christmas night in his Christmas clothes from the Aunt Nancy
and his booster seat waiting on applesauce and apricots.

The Boy with his Grandma opening his present from the Aunt Susie.
He's rather impressed, no?

Of all the toys on the exersaucer, what are his favorites? The tags.
Behold the power of tags.

Here's hoping you all had a lovely Christmas.

Insanity continueth.

on 23 December 2008

The fruitless hunt for a Wii continueth, but this time with only the Husband. It turns out he can move through the same 6 stores faster when not bogged down by toting his wife and child.

And the Cottage Cheese Principle is up over at Ye Old Creamery. And I find myself homesick for Seattle today.

In other news. The Boy has been awake since 4:30 this morning. I got up at 5:30 to oragel his gums and give him half a dose of Tylenol. My only rational guess is that he tortures us because his gums are a-paining him. He's otherwise a very cool kid.

My parents are coming over today for more chocolate covered madness. We're making more fondant today, caramels and dipping them all. It should prove interesting given the current sleepless state of at least 2 of the 3 primary inhabitants of Burnstopia, I shall be documenting this event and blogging about it later.

Stay Tuned.

Our Brand of Insanity

on 22 December 2008

First up! I totally forgot about the Orange Julius Clause. Am a bad Minion. Will repent and return to the epicenter of CREAM.

Second, we, at Burnstopia, are ALL kinds of INSANE. It is 3 DAYS before CHRISTMAS and the Husband and I are scouring our little area for a Wii console that DOES NOT EXIST. But have we stopped running hither, thither and yon? Oh no! That would make SENSE. We are continuing to poke our sleepy heads into the same 6 stores at ridiculously early hours of the morning in the hopes of procuring this stupid little white box on which to play far-fetched games that also make no sense!

Send help.

Christmas Traditions or A Conversation Heard in Burnstopia

on 20 December 2008

Wife: What are you doing on the blog? You never write on the blog.

Husband: Well, I did write that one time about something.

Wife: You wrote about the birth of our child because I was incapacitated.

Husband: Right. I wrote on the blog once. Tonight, I was going to take a poll.

Wife: A poll of what?

Husband: Now that The Boy is here and this Christmas is our first together, I feel the need to try to start some traditions.

Wife: We have traditions whether you are conscious for them or not.

Husband: Oh yeah. The Christmas Carol. We...well...you read that every year. I try to listen but somehow fall asleep towards the end....middleish...beginning of each chapter. Its a great book though.

Wife: And we read Luke 2 on Christmas Eve.

Husband: Riiiggggghhhhtttttt. I'm the one that does the reading for that one.

Wife: And my mom just taught you how to make the homemade chocolates so we can start doing that every year. And toffee. And the presents wrapped up with brown paper and red string. And the oranges for the stockings. And the Christmas music that starts in November.

Husband: Huh. I guess we do have Christmas traditions in Burnstopia. I still want to ask what other people do though. I'm not above stealing traditions from other people.

Wife: Just because you want to steal from other people does not mean we do not have traditions! You're just asleep for most of them!

So, readers of the blog, as you can see I would like some Christmas traditions from you that involve things with a low likelihood of falling asleep. By "things" I would like to hear stories about food (like cinnamon rolls every Christmas morning or a dish that is made only around Christmas time), spiritual endeavors (yeah, besides Luke 2 I can't think of examples--I apparently need lots of help on this area), behaviors (Santa putting a candy cane in the child's hand during the night, gift opening/giving habits, having a pickle ornament on the tree), service (caroling, working at a food kitchen), or any other traditions that you are willing to share that don't fall into any category. The purpose of this exercise is many: 1) So I can steal some ideas, 2) to try to return the Christmas Spirit to Burnstopia (see angry post below from The Wife), and 3) to help you think about the pleasant things that happen in your family (we all have horror stories about holiday gatherings with family--this is not the place for those--unless that is all you have--in which case, please steal the happy ones from the responses).

On a side note--I really want to make another batch of homemade chocolates (chocolate covered cherries, orange creams, toasted almond and cherries covered with chocolate and fondant, maybe some mint flavor, caramels, and toffee). If you are going to be in the area and would be willing to let us share some of these with you (we really don't need to eat an entire batch by ourselves), please also let us know that in the comment section. Or, if you are already out of town, you can express remorse at not being able to have any delicious, sugary, calorie-laden goodness. But, before you do that, please share some of your traditions first.

A Question

First, yet another Law of Cream is up and oh so appropriate for this morning's question.

Second, I have a question for you.

How is it possible that I have received DOZENS of packages from amazon.com and YET they CLAIM that the package containing the Boy's Christmas presents is considered UNDELIVERABLE because of the address? How is it possible that there can be this many INEPT people at one corporate conglomerate? How is it possible that an intelligent being, such as myself, has NOT learned my lesson and has continued to do business with this MegaInternetBastard?

[I'll tell you the long and drawn out version if you'd like, but I am that MAD right now that stringing together that many complete sentences would be impossible.]

Needless to say, I AM DONE. I will NOT do business with amazon in a train, I will NOT do business with them in the rain, I do NOT like them Sam I AM. I am going to Barnes and Nobel today, I will join their frequent shoppers club, I will ONLY do business with them in the future and amazon.com can kiss my sales revenue good-bye.

We will now resume our regularly scheduled Christmas Spirit.

Happy Families.

on 19 December 2008

First and Foremost: Something about Orange Juice. And there really is something about Orange Juice. I am about to write a whole post about very Orange Juicy people.

The Husband and I live in a big apartment complex. We also lived in a big apartment complex when we lived in Athens, GA (whilst I was in grad school). We do not have the greatest record of living in big apartment complexes.

In Athens, we lived, admittedly, on Fraternity Row. It was in the middle of things and in walking distance to everything (including campus), but it meant that there were A LOT of Frat kids who didn't want to live in their Fraternity houses, but DID want to get drunk every night.

One night, shortly after moving in, we heard our upstairs neighbors come home at a very small hour of the morning. We heard some shouting--loud enough to WAKE us from a sleep. And then...um, we heard quite a lot of ruckus as they beat each other up. And then, some more screaming. And then, the Husband (full of brilliant ideas) decides to go upstairs and ask them to please keep it down. Which he does, all the while I am poised to call 911 on his behalf.

Short story: We got them dumb folks EVICTED. You mess with Burnstopia, you get the HORNS!

Long story: We called our leasing manager--she LOVED the Husband because he is a GOOD tenant who always pays his bills, takes care of the property and doesn't get into fist fights with his roommates! So we called them, told them what happened and they called the renters. One roommate moved out (can't say I blame him, he was just beaten up by his roommate!) and the CRAZY one, was the one that stayed. He got a new roommate and less than a month later they were having drunken musical evenings that involved the guitar and CONGO drums. I called the leasing manager again and she EVICTED his sorry a** post haste. For which we were most grateful.

Fast forward to HERE. Where we live in a big apartment complex. The building we live in has 2 sides to it. We live on the left side where things are fairly quiet. There are some smokers I don't so much approve of, but hey...at least they're QUIET. The right side is another matter. Those folks on the right side are just TRASHY (as my grandmother would say). And we know because share a wall with some of that trashy.

You will remember that when I was pregnant our neighbors were selfish, thoughtless and LOUD at entirely inappropriate hours of the day? Well, we still have the same neighbors and they have not changed. Only now, instead of playing BAD music at BAD times of day, they fight. And I mean Jerry Springer-esque fighting. Screaming, cursing, stomping and maybe some blows. They've woken me up around 1 or 2am with this sort of behavior and this morning at 7:30 it was more of the same. Only this morning it carried out into the parking lot! In pajamas and bathrobes and one of the roommates with a baby on her hip! Because nothing says, "I'm a good mother" like a screaming fight with your roommate in your bathrobe with your child watching.

I can't wait to own our own house.

The sad thing is, that for all of thier misery, they make us happier. The Husband is watching them scream at each other and dive into cars and peel out of the parking lot and he turns to us and smiles and kisses us each on our forehead and tells us that he loves us. And maybe Tolstoy was right that happy families are dull, but if THAT'S what interesting looks like...I'll be dull and happy thankyouverymuch.

An Excess of Christmas Spirit

on 18 December 2008

First and foremost, Cream Knows Cream is up. Go forth and know us better!

Second, what can only be described as a gratuitous amount of pictures (of the Boy, of course!) from the candy making of yesterday at my parents house.

Mmmmmm, delicious Christmas ribbon.

My dad has an electric train that they set up around their Christmas tree and the Boy's reactions to it were, in short, HILARIOUS.

And after the present, the candy making and the toy train, there was a much need nap on top of Grandma.

Upcoming: Actual Content.

It's What's for Dinner

on 16 December 2008

What are you having for dinner?

I'm having sticks of butter topped with chocolate.

So every year, my sister makes cookie plates for their friends, neighbors, and coworkers. And the past couple of years the Husband and I (and my parents) show up to help out (it's quite a production). Every year my sister makes these cookies called Cherry Blossoms.

They are delicious beyond description. They're essentially a butter cookie flavored with almond and cherry and topped with Hersey kisses. And I CANNOT STOP EATING THEM.

Might I remind you all that I lost approximately ZERO weight while nursing. So now that I am no longer nursing I am attempting finally to lose the pregnancy weight and get back into some sort of Wife Shape (as opposed to the Puddle of Goo shape that I currently am).

Will I be able to lose any weight whilst these cookies are baked and warm and staring at me with their great chocolate kiss eye? No, I will not. I will continue to eat them LA LA LA because they are so buttery and creamy and delicious.

And in the meantime, who needs pants?!?


on 15 December 2008


There are a couple of things that I would blog about but, well, they're private and I think it would annoy the Husband and I'm trying NOT to annoy the Husband so instead, look at how FANTASTICALLY unproductive I've been today!

This is as far as we've gotten in getting the boy dressed. That is a mostly clean diaper he has on...and SOCKS! He has on socks! But he had spit up all over his early morning pajamas (and now that he's eating food morning and night the spit up is much less spit up and closer to THROW UP), so I had pulled them off of him and gotten out clean afternoon pajamas (the green and yellow stripes courtesy of Sarah) but I haven't quite gotten them on his body.

Also there's a load of clean but WET clothes in the washer. A load of clean and DRY diapers in the dryer. The dishes were done by the Husband this morning and he has FLED the disorder to go hit golf balls.

Me? Why, Wife, why haven't you finished these piddly tasks? This is NOT like you in the least! You're quite right, internets. It isn't like me in the least, but I find myself distracted today. And also very tired because there was a certain miniature person who woke up 4 times last night and didn't nap this morning (AT ALL) and did a lot of screaming and crying and now he's lying semi-naked but completely happy and I'm snatching the 10 minutes or so to type out this blog entry lest you think that Burnstopia has imploded with all the family togetherness.

We haven't. Kristin was right. The Husband is settling in. It helps that it's warm enough for him to go and hit golf balls. And now I feel terrible, having confessed the half accomplished tasks of the morning and my not quite dressed child. So I'm going to go dress the child and finish the tasks.

Such a Husband! Such a Wife!

on 12 December 2008

It's been 4 days. 4 DAYS!!! The Husband finished his finals 4 days ago and now he's bored. Frustrated with being home and irritable.

4 DAYS!!!

I think it's humorous that in our modern age with all our modern sensibilities we still suffer the same contradictory feelings that people have suffered for ages past. The desire to be home, the desire to be away. Trying to enjoy peace and quiet and lazy calm and longing for action or at least something to do.

I've been reading the Aubreyad by Patrick O'Brian (it's the Husband's very favorite series of books, he's read them all through 3 or 4 times, I think). And in the 4th book the main character Jack Aubrey (he's a captain in the British navy during the Napoleonic wars) is married and at home because he doesn't have a command. He pines (PINES, I tell you!) to be at sea and away and in action and his wife, while trying to enjoy having him at home also longs for him to have a ship and be at sea and be happy. He soon is given a command and will be leaving to go to the Indian Ocean and as soon as the command comes, she begins to fuss over him to get him to delay a few days.

I was reading it last night and thinking about myself as a Wife. I LOVE having the Husband at home. He's my best friend. It's lovely to have some one who actually talks back! Who participates in a reciprocal conversation! Who laughs at your jokes! But he's tense and grumpy and restless and I know that he's bored with our quiet little life here. And so there is a part of me that thinks he needs something to do to take him out of the apartment and away from us, even for part of the day. And then I get tense and grumpy and restless because I LOVE him, I want him to be home! I want him to want to be at home. To enjoy being at home.

And there you have it. Thousands of years of human marital relations summed up in 1 sussinct paragraph.

And since there is no solution for this problem--not until January rolls around--I give you a picture of familial bliss from last night.

And yes. While a few days ago the Boy needed the most awesome hat that money could buy, now it's warm enough here that he can hang out in only a diaper with the door open and the fan on! (We actually turned the air conditioning on last night! In DECEMBER!!! What is this world coming to?!?)

Gratuitous Baby Grief

on 09 December 2008

What happens when I leave the room:

It would be all kinds of sad and pitiful if it weren't so wonderfully funny. Look at him! It's like I told him I was leaving him on the cold hard streets of London for Christmas!

What I LOVE right now...

on 08 December 2008

Well, for starters...this thing:

It's a gum massager. I know. How in the world I managed to grow my own teeth without one of these things amazes me as well. But let me tell you, Fussy McFusserson here thinks this thing is the world's greatest thing ever. Even better than his taggie blanket--and that's saying something! And yes, he could just chew on my fingers, but frankly he's got quite a bite now and it hurts. Also, I am a pansy. Who needs her fingers periodically for doing other things. Like typing this blog.

Also, this hat.

Now, I have NO knitting skills like the fabulosa Whimsy who is a mad-hat-knitting-machine right now. In fact, my left hand is really only here for decoration. I am hopelessly right-handed. And so what are we non-dexterous people supposed to do when our children need a hat to cover their overly-large and chilly head? We go shopping. We find something with stripes. And if we're very lucky there will be pom-poms involved.

And the third thing that I love right now (because lists like these should always have three parts) is the Boy's reaction to our Christmas tree, which borders on bliss...

I leave the exersaucer by the tree because the tree distracts him enough for me to be able to leave the room without a total meltdown on his part.

I have no idea what we'll do after Christmas when the tree comes down...la la LA, I'm not going to think about that right now.

Now you tell me, 3 things that you LOVE right now!

More Curse of the Baby Monitors and Christmas Came Early

on 05 December 2008

I have decided that our baby monitors are possessed of the DEVIL.

And yes, I considered the OFF switch and also chucking them out o' the window BUT I really do need them at night when I'm asleep because if I catch the Boy when he's merely fussy as opposed to the COME AND GET ME RIGHT NOW, WOMAN screaming then he goes back to sleep SO much easier. And if I don't turn them on when he first goes down...well, then I sort of forget to turn them on at all...so until he's happy going to bed (HA! I hope I'm not still using these when he's a teenager) I think I might be stuck with the Surround Sound Screaming...although, I might make it the Husband's job to turn on the monitors before he comes to bed! That is a brilliant idea! Delegation!

Anyway, last night I heard baby fussing at 2:30 and 3 and 3:30 and 4 and EVERY time I got up to check on him he was sound asleep. So either we're picking up some other fussy baby or the monitors are possessed of the DEVIL.

And since the Husband is studying for finals and I am still under the weather, but the BOY is now going strong; we opened and assembled his main Christmas present today. We really needed him to occupy himself so that the Husband could study and so I could lay wrapped up in flannel and whining.

We bought him an exersaucer. And lo, he loved it.

He loved it with a love that was more than love, it was cross-eyed love...

The only problem being that his feet don't quite touch the bottom of the thing...ooops.

The Curse of the Baby Monitor

on 04 December 2008


Whether it's because he's been sick or because we've been out of town and his routine is all kinds of messed up, the Boy has been a serious pill lately. And whoever invented Baby Monitors HATES parents.

Especially parents who live in small apartments.

We moved the Boy into his crib (and thus, out of our bedroom) when we got home from Savannah. So, once we walked through the door, my priority was feeding, bathing and getting the Boy ready for Bed--the Husband's priority was figuring out the baby monitors.

He gets it hooked up and they work great, we can hear everything from the space heater to the modem whirring oh, and also the Boy. The problem is that they work...a little too well.

I put him down to bed early last night since he hadn't napped well that day and he slept for about 40 minutes and then he woke up protesting. And he PROTESTED volubly for an hour. When I put him down I turn on the monitor in his room and in our bedroom because you can hear him everywhere else in the apartment. But the downside is that with the monitors on it's Boy Screaming in High Definition Surround Sound.

We have a very small apartment. Maybe too small.

So I listened to this for an hour. I rocked and cuddled and sang and he was determined to be displeased with every thing so I eventually put him to bed and said, "See you around 2am, Dude." And he cried for 15 more minutes and fell asleep (he actually slept until 3am, but I deserved that extra hour since he had taken years off of my life with the SCREAMING).

I seriously contemplated chucking the monitors out of the window.


on 02 December 2008

I know I should be blogging about something interesting, intelligent OR funny--but, we are all sick here.

All of us. The Boy has been rubbing his wee nose all day long and it's dripping something undesirable right this moment.

So, in place of actual content please accept pictures of the Boy from Savannah--where he found his feet.

Paci? Check! Taggie? Check! Feet? Check!

Look at the size of those stompers!