Grape Did It

The Tractor Toy Box

Remember when I said I was going to share the making of the tractor toy box? And then I never did?

That's because we just finished it and you know when I say we, I mean Bud, but I get credit for cheering him on.

This is where it all started:

This was way back in, oh gosh I don't even know, early December? We Bud had it almost finished right off the bat.

Remember? Aw, this picture breaks my heart a little because Truett had JUST learned to sit up on his own. And even then just BARELY so that I had to snap the shot quickly, in case he fell.

He still falls, all the time in fact. But now it's because he's trying to be a hot dog and climb THROUGH the coffee table. Or over a step stool. Or balance with one hand while grabbing at the dog's face. I think this kid might like roller coasters in a few years.

The part that took the longest for this project was the steering wheel. We looked and looked and only found a few cheesy, overpriced plastic versions that were much too big anyway. That and the price. That and we honestly only looked at one home improvement store.

Finally Bud borrowed a jigsaw from a friend and VOILA BITCHES!

I know, I know, he needs a hat. He had one on earlier, I swear.

Side note: he now cries when Bud leaves for work.

3.31.10

Eight months

Dear Truett,

You turned eight months old on Sunday and whoa, what a ride this month has been. At seven months even, you took your first plane ride. At eight months even, you are old hat at pulling yourself to standing and we have FINALLY (pleasepleaseplease don't curse me god of sleep) figured out sleeping (a post for another day).

You have six, almost eight, teeth. 

A woman at the grocery store stopped me the other day, all the while talking with only you, in order to tell me you'd made eye contact with her and grinned. I KNOW THE FEELING.

This is what our house sounds like most of the time: BAH BAH BAH BAH MAH MAH MAH. AHHHH. AH! EHHH!

You love the dogs, chase them around at a fast crawl and beeline for Sadie's bed any chance you get. When you get there, you usually yank at her face while I run over and inform you that we don't treat our dogs that way. Sadie is unusually patient with you. Copper generally just runs away.

This morning as I was getting ready, I glanced down to find you standing on the top step of a wooden stool in our room. Standing. Top step. Double You Tee Ef.

Which might explain the fact that your face and head are generally covered in bruises. Guilt, it's what's for breakfast. 

Here's the story I really want to tell though. A week or so ago you and I were nursing in a quiet moment of our day. I had no real agenda, didn't really care if you fell asleep or not. Just enjoyed the moment. Something everyone is always yammering on about but something that is far more difficult to achieve than it sounds. Live in the moment? Dude I'm trying, it's just, I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to be DOING.

Anyway. You pulled back and smiled up at me, the part of nursing most mothers relate to enjoying the most. You pulled back and we just sat there, two goofs, staring at each other and smiling. I'll admit that if anyone had been watching I might have felt stupid. But it felt like the sun was shinging down on just us for a few moments. And then you burst out laughing. 

I want to never forget that moment with you. 

3.30.10

The simple beauty of a scarf

It's no secret, to anyone who listens to me blather on a regular basis, that I really love this blog. Smart, stylish, entrepreneur-ing (is that a word?) mother. I mean, come on, really. 

One of my favorite series she does on her site is called Mighty Closet (you can see it plainly at the top of her blog, under categories). She grabs a stylish friend and explicates her wardrobe with pictures and links to shops. It's awesome. Or she does an un-pack of her favorite outfits, travel must-haves etcetera. 

Her name is Maggie and I'm adding that here so I can quit referring to her as "she". One of the wardrobe piece must-haves she goes on and on about is this scarf. (You can see her brag about it here, at the bottom of the post.) 

Um. Thirty-seven dollars for a scarf? I'm in the five dollar category and frankly, I usually buy shirts first because no one wants to see a worn out nursing bra. I think that's a safe assumption. I don't think anyone is making an ass of you or me.

I added it to my wish list nonetheless because it just looked so lush and cozy. Trendy and classic at one time. 

Still. THIRTY SEVEN DOLLARS? Back in my day you could buy a house for that. 

And yet. Lush. Cozy. Stylish. Easy. Breezy. Beautiful. Oh wait, I've gone and begun singing a commercial.

You know where this is going, so I'll just cut to it. A couple of weeks ago I broke down and bought the thing and have been falling in love ever since.

I mostly wear it the way the dude is wearing it in the above link, like a big, loopy scarf. Yesterday though we were having one of those maddening spring days where it's not quite warm yet and still so sunny and bright you go on and wear short sleeves anyway. The wind was on my last nerve because if it would JUST STOP, I could probably get warm. You know those days? So I pulled the scarf over my shoulders and tops of my arms and warmed up just enough.

I have worn that sucker almost every day since it arrived in the mail. The only time you won't see me wearing it is laundry day and even then I have pulled it out of the dirty pile once. Ew. Sorry.

Are you ready for the best part though? The best as-a-mother part? Is perfect for runny noses on little boys who are teething and have mild panic attacks when approached with a tissue. 

That may be disgusting but you know I'm not the first one.

Also, she is hosting a pretty sweet giveaway today and even though it decreases my odds, I think you should totally leave a comment. I'll pat my selfless self on the back now.

3.29.10

3.28.10

3.27.10

Ooh, I've got one!

Let's change the subject. (Note though for those curious: Truett slept MUCH better last night with a healthy dose of Children's Motrin.)

Seriously though, I think this rule: Never discuss politics or religion could just as easily be changed to Never discuss politics, religion or sleep training because someone may lose an eye.

I know! I've got one!

Let's talk about my new chair.

Yesterday, on the way home from picking up God's gift to mothers of teething babies the Motrin, I saw this chair perched near the side of the road, right outside a junk shop:

Why yes Don Draper, I will have a drink with you. Just don't try anything funny since my husband is even better looking than you are.

Details. Lovely, lovely details.

Coolest legs. 

The sexy, sexy lines.

Some of the work ahead of us.

I have been on the lookout for some Mad Men-y type chairs for our eat-in kitchen area but they are either a. thousands of dollars when my budget is WELLLL within the hundreds or b. don't exist. Either.

I screeched on my brakes (sorry Truett!) and turned into the shop. I grabbed Truett out of his car seat and went inside the run down little store to ask if the chair was indeed for sale and if so, how much money would they like? When I entered I was greeted by some hippie music blaring from a nearby radio and not a person in site. I seriously considered running because, is this a trap? But instead poked my head around a corner where I was met with butt crack. I mean, like, almost a full moon butt crack. "Um, hello? Can I ask you a question?" I aimed in the general direction of Butt Crack. Butt Crack, WITHOUT TURNING AROUND, answered, "Sure, I might have an answer!" Cheerful.

When Butt Crack finally stood up and hiked his pants back somewhere around his middle, I realized BC was also not wearing a shirt. No wonder this shop is so well patronized. 

Turns out he wanted $10 for the chair. TEN DOLLARS. That's in my budget.

So now we've got the awesome bones of an awesome chair and potentially lots of dollars in fixes, re-upholstery and repairs. 

Still. TEN DOLLARS.

3.26.10