Turkeys and werewolves and Raiders...OH MY!

What a weekend! Thanksgiving weekend was jam packed, full of fun, full of laughter, and I was full of food. I am well on my way to gaining the average 7lbs of holiday weight....(oh no - I hope not...)

Turkey day. Whew. I am tired and full just thinking about it. The day started off at Abuela and Abuelo's house where we had Thanksgiving lunch at 1pm. I wish someone would have told me that I had to eat 6 hours later...but alas...I knew I had dinner that night but yet I felt the need to eat like I was storing up for a long winter season of hibernation. If stuffing was a drug - Craig's mom would be my dealer - flippin' awesome stuff.

I headed to my parent's house where my sister's and I would be making dinner. My parents, nephew and brother in law were at the Cowboy's game - so we made dinner for the entire family. 12 adults, 6 kids, 1 dog and a partridge in a pear tree. Of course I was full from lunch still but yet felt the need to taste test everything - from the ham, to the rolls, to the stuffing, to the casseroles, to the potatoes....by 7:30pm - dinner time - I was soooo full.

BUT YET...I still made a plate. I wasn't about to be rude and NOT eat. Even though we were celebrating an American holiday - we had egg rolls and flan - had to throw in some Asian....

Friday I had an emotional affair.

Craig knew about it and pretty much told me I should be arrested for drooling over a 17 year old. I told him that it didn't count since the 17 year old was a werewolf. If one dog year is equal to 7 human years - Jacob is actually 119 years old.

My sisters and I went to see "New Moon." I took pictures, made my "Team Jacob" sign, had a beer and sat back to watch the greatness of vegetarian vampires, teen angst, and shirtless werewolves.

Jacob gives new meaning to "Hot Dog"... Yes. He. Does....

Saturday was Tech football. Decked out in our Red and Black - we were prepared to slaughter the Baylor Bears. Unfortunately - it was a nail biter. Fortunately - we won! My friend Lisa and her husband sat behind my entire family - and there was a bunch of us. When my sisters and I get together - we can be a tad bit obnoxious - I should have warned her. But at least the game was full of suspense to veer her attention from my sister falling out of her seat, nieces playing musical laps, and over laughter at everything and anything!

What a weekend! I've learned something now that I've my first official big holiday with a kid...the holidays just mean so much more. There's deeper meaning to what I'm thankful for. Time with my family is much more precious. Making memories during the holidays means engraving every detail into my mind so that I never forget a second of it.

What a great weekend!

Paige, Levi and Iz

Love the trees at Abuela's!

Taking in some fiber...

Me and Iz

One of my favorite pictures to date!

Round 2...

Isabelle and cousin Kara - she's 4 months older...Iz loves her :-)

I had a picture of her smiling at my Dad - but her giving him the stink eye is so much better!

Iz and her Titas - my favorite girls!!

My cousin/more like a sister, Jill and Kara-bear

At "New Moon"...yes I took pics

Sis Candice and Jacob's she-wolf

DIY "Team Jacob" sign

Bro-in law, Maddie and Garrett

Who needs werewolves when I got a hottie like him :-)

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Our sweetest little turkey would like to say Happy Thanksgiving!

"Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift." 2 Corinthians 9:15

5 months old!

A very special little bug turned 5 months old on the 19th!

This was a big month for Isabelle!

First birthday party

First baby shower. She showed off her voice and her Abs of Steel work out to all the ladies.

First time trying fruits. Her favorites - bananas then apples then peaches. Pears made something unmentionable come out of her southern regions - so we don't give that to her anymore.

First time being sick. Ugh - what a crappy time that was. First fever, first time in a baby gurney, first time getting blood drawn that wasn't a heel stick. Yuck - crappy time.

First Halloween. First time watching Sesame Street.

Whoo - what a big month!

She kicks her feet with excitement when she is really happy or really, really, really mad. She is in love with her Jumperoo and the bee that comes with it.

She reaches out for everything which I think is so sweet. She puts her little pudgy hands on both sides of your face or puts her hands on the puppies and pets them...then tries to put them in her mouth.

She can sit up with a little help and topples over after a minute or so.

She rolls every which way. She's best from tummy to back but is quickly mastering back to tummy. Which has meant many close calls on the bed and changing table....

Isabelle loves to talk but hasn't quite mastered the inside voice. So - at the store, at home, at church - if she's going to talk - her volume button is set to 10 and there's no way of turning it down. And she's really good at whining. Really, really good - the has the best little sad face and then you go over to her....and she's happy as a clam (what does that expression even mean...)

She isn't a fan of her pacifier anymore. Which would be great if she wasn't using her thumb.

She loves songs, loves T.V. (especially Top Chef, Glee, Grey's Anatomy...wait...that's me...)

Her favorite things in this order are:
1. The bumper on the her crib. She hugs it at night.
2. Daddy
3. Daisy - dog sister
4. Keiser - dog brother
5. Bee from the Jumperoo
6. Bath time
7. Chewing on her hands and feet
8. Whining
9. Getting thrown in the air
10. Mommy or T.V. - it's a toss up...

I'm working really hard to get to at least #6....

I love you, Bug! You're growing up so fast!

Messy face but at least she's not crying

Abs of Steel work out...I think she'll be sitting up on her own very, very soon

Me and Bug

Me; Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...

Who's the fairest of them all?

Mirror: Not you my dear, get new clothes. You're better off in just your robe.

That's what I heard from my mirror on Friday. What you don't have a talking mirror? Go to SkyMall - they have everything there - and go get one.

A big night on Friday. My best friend from junior high celebrated her 30th birthday. So that meant my first night out to the bar with my husband. I wanted to look hot. Smokin' hot. I wanted to wow his mind and remember once upon a time that I was a hot piece of a$$.

I wanted to feel sexy. I wanted to walk into the bar with my head up high, my bubbies defying gravity, hair flowing because it was finally washed and dried and styled...styled with product and not with spit up...

The quest for the smokin' hot me began on Wednesday. I surveyed the closet and realized that it was slim pickins in the walk in closet. I had a mixture of maternity clothes - so they were too big, size 1 jeans from my skinnier, pre-baby days - so those were too small, but I had a couple of jeans that I had stretched to fit my post baby body - so those were just right.

I tried on the jeans - a pair I had purchased right after I had Iz. I bought them a little smaller than normal since I was positive I would lose the baby weight. Well - luckily I did lose the weight but the jeans looked different. Hmm...what was it?

They fit great - like a glove. What was it though? Something was wrong. They were boot cut cute and sat a little higher up than normal - those low cut, hip hugging, torture devices they call jeans - are no longer my friend since I birthed a babe.

I took a look in the mirror and realized....

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

I was wearing MOM JEANS! The jeans that are high waisted, make your bottom look like a "W" and add on about 30 years to your life.

So - I tore off the comfy jeans and decided to suck it up and suck it in and wear a pair of low cut (aka - belly hang over), fitted (aka painted on), skinny (aka thigh/calf strangulation) jeans.

I checked out my shirt collections. Hmm...no nursing tanks tonight. Probably shouldn't wear my Tech tshirts. I wanted to show a little sumthin', sumthin' - you know - to make the hubs blush and to help my self esteem. But, alas, nothing fit. The fiasco with the jeans didn't give me many options - the belly hang over didn't allow me to wear anything fitted....
So - I settled with a sweater. Black. A black sweater. Not timeless or classic - B.O.R.I.N.G.

The night arrived and I put on the outfit. Blech. I then vowed I would make my hair look hot. I would find a way to make it look sultry and wavy - the kind of hair that looks like I just rolled out of bed - but rolled out of bed in a sexy way.

Welp - that didn't work. I just made it look greasy with all the product and tangled. So - back to the same hair-did - washed and dried...

My last resort - I'd make my face look hot. I wasn't going to be a brown bag special. Nope - not tonight. I expertly applied my grocery store purchased make up - just because I'm almost 30 doesn't mean I can't sport Jane eye shadow or Bonnie Bell lip gloss. Well - that didn't work - it just looked like I gave myself two black eyes....

So - the traditional eyeliner, mascara and blush with clear lip gloss it was...

I wasn't quite the vision of loveliness I had pictured in my head - but a couple of beers at the bar helped with my confidence :-) By the end of the night - I was pretty sure I was the hottest girl at the bar (the beer goggles helped...a LOT)

Moral of the story: I need a make-over....BAD!

P.S. - enjoy the video!

Me and my closest friends from junior high!!

My turn

Today has been a hard day.

For my fellow pet parents out there - you know the most difficult part of having a pet is knowing when it's time to let that part of your family go.

Today was that day for me.

15 years ago - a dog followed me home as I went for a run. He didn't have any tags and was cute as can be - probably a year old or so.

I brought him home and asked my parents what we should do. We walked around the neighborhood - this new dog in tow - and asked if anyone knew who he belonged to. No one claimed him - so I did...

I decided to name him Baby. He seemed to like the name. I fed him, gave him water, and tried to get him to sleep inside with me. Of course - my mom wasn't having it! No dog would be allowed inside their house. So I did what any normal person would do - I piled on jackets, scarves and gloves - and made a pallet out in my backyard with my new found friend.

I left for college and the dog took over as Baby of the family. By this point - he was sleeping with my parents...in their bed. He was a good dog - would run away any time the door would be left open, he counter surfed for food, peed in the house - all those things that dogs do.

He was diagnosed with Addison's disease a few years later. Most families would put a pet down then - but not my parents. People thought they were crazy for keeping a dog alive who needed 15 pills - a day. But nope, not them, it wasn't his time.

Baby would be the first to greet me, the last to go to bed, he licked away tears, danced when anyone would be excited - he's been through 3 weddings of all his human sisters, been the guardian of all his human grand kids...he gave us his best because we gave him our hearts.

He's led a good life.

So today - when I got the call that my dad was going to the vet because he had lost control of bowels and couldn't walk - I knew then I needed to go with him.

I didn't say anything when I walked into the room with my Dad. I could see it in his eyes that hew knew it was time for us to let him go. My Mom couldn't watch it - so she stayed at home. The vet came in and confirmed our greatest fears - there was nothing more they could do - it was to time let him go.

I made phone calls to family to let them know the hard decision we had to make. Got a call from my Mom that she was on her way - she may not have said it - but she knew it she needed to say goodbye.

He was the final child to leave home for them. I knew that this would be much harder on them than I could ever imagine.

All of their lives - my mom and dad - they've been my strength, my support, held me tight during moments of pain, and dried my tears when my heart overflowed with grief - but today - it was my turn.

My turn to fight back tears and be the voice of reason for them, reassure them that this was the best decision, volunteer to be with Baby til the end if it was too painful for them to watch, hold them tight, wipe away their tears.

Today it was my turn.

In a moment, it was done. He lay there asleep in the arms of my Dad. We sent him to Heaven where all dogs go - because all dogs are good dogs. We loved him as he loved us until his very last breath.

He'll be missed.

I've created a monster

Isabelle looks sweet.



I mean - come on - look at that face.


But she's a monster.

A co-dependent, whiny, drama queen.

She really has to be around people to be happy. And since she's only a baby - I'm her people.

She is happiest when I'm all up in her gummy grill.

She gets upset when no one is talking to her.

She thrives on praise and attention.

She hates being by herself and she whines until someone makes her the center of their world.

She throws fake out fits - where she screams for attention - and once you give it to her - she's happy as can be.

She talks. A LOT. She laughs at herself. She talks and babbles - then laughs - like she just told the funniest joke ever - and no one gets it but her.

She can be over dramatic for no reason at all.

Wait a second...

Wait A second...

She sounds like someone I know.

No - could it be?

I didn't create a monster!

I'm raising a mini-me...

Oy vay...

Sure....

On a normal trip to Target, I was checking out and making small talk with the cashier. Of course, it's pretty exciting - adult conversation - even if it is about how great the produce sales are.

He is being polite and continues to humor this haggard housewife/stay-at-home mom by continuing our conversation and asking the basic questions.

Him - "So - the weather's been nice."

Me - "Yes - it's been great. Can't ask for more than 70 degrees in November."

Him: "Can you believe it's November already?"

Me: "I know. I just can't believe it. Time flies."

Him: "Aren't you excited it's almost the weekend?"

Me: "Sure..."

Then - the awkward pause - where time stands still since he probably expected me to bubble over and squeal with delight about the looming - erm - upcoming weekend. I almost started to do the "Robot" to get me out of the awkward silence - then thought twice and realized it would probably be even more awkward if I busted out my 80s moves....

The weekend.

I used to start my weekends on Thursdays. Happy hours started on Thursday. Go into class or work in a daze on Friday. Head to the mall after work to pick out another slutty - erm - ok fine - slutty outfit for the weekend festivities. Stay out til all hours of the night. Wake up Saturday around 10:30 am - 11:00 am - head to Starbucks or meet friends for brunch to decide what the plans would be for that night...and then head out to dinner before we hit the town and did our best impersonation of "Sex and City" in Dallas...

The weekend...

As a stay at home mom - my days and my child thrive on order. Thrive on schedules. Wake at 5:30am for a feeding, back to bed til 7:30, up for the day at 7:45am, etc, etc, etc. Me and Isabelle - our little dance of the daytime routine. Our routine 5 days a week. If we deviate with a play group - we alter the day accordingly and make sure we still get nap times and feedings in - but it's easy when it's just the two of us.

The weekend...and my husband is home. Now - I love my hubby. He's a tall specimen of utter deliciousness. I can't get enough of him. But when the weekend is here - I feel the need to be the best wife ever. Instead of scavenging for meals like I do during the week - really - there have been days where my lunch consisted of Veggie Booty and cakeballs because I was too lazy to make anything - I feel the need to make breakfast, lunch and dinner. Three meals, three sets of dirty pots/dishes, three episodes of cleaning the kitchen. This is all me - he would be happy with a bowl of cereal for breakfast, a hot dog for lunch and sloppy joes for dinner. But me - I don't allow it - I can't allow my hubby to have anything that isn't homecooked...

The weekend...and we have birthday parties, showers, trips to the grandparents. Now I love all of these things. I love seeing friends and celebrating. I love going to Tatay's house and Abuela's house and getting spoiled. But Isabelle's schedule is thrown off since she is held all day. Everyone ooh's and ahh's over her - I get it - she's great - but SHE NEEDS TO NAP! Sorry....kind of got carried away. Babies who miss naps aren't more tired for bedtime - they channel Satan somehow are really difficult.

The weekend...and we have clean-a-thons. Since my hubby is home, instead of relaxing with him on the couch - I feel the need to sweep and mop and scrub and launder and fold and dust and....you get it. I don't like doing things in shifts during the week. If I can't sweep and mop - which the two simultaneously go hand in hand - I just don't do it. And if I do sit on the couch - my husband who wears a halo - grabs the vacuum to give me a break - starts to vacuum. I feel bad that he's working and I'm watching "Overboard" on TBS again - get my tired butt off the couch and try to help.

The weekend...

I do love them still. It's just not filled with the things of once before - late nights, short skirts, toddies....I just need to remember all the other stuff really doesn't matter - who cares if we don't get homemade pancakes (that's what Mimi's is for), or if we miss all of our naps, or the laundry doesn't get done...it's about spending time with the ones I love - Craig and Isabelle - and really - that's all that matters...

"You'll never know..."

This is the thought that ran through my head last night.

Last night...

The night before...

And the night before that...

I looked down at my crying, red nosed, sick baby girl and thought to myself

"You'll never know..."

You'll never know the absolute fear that coursed through my veins when the thermometer read 102.1 and how helpless I immediately felt when I couldn't do anything but hold you and give you medicine around the clock.

You'll never know that my frustration from you throwing up on me - yet again - in the middle of the night wasn't because of you - but because of the fact that I couldn't make you feel better.

You'll never know as I rocked you for hours in the still of the night as you looked at me with tired eyes - that I would give anything to make your little body feel better.

You'll never know the anxiety I feel as I lay in bed listening the monitor - torn between wanting to hear silence so I knew you were finally sleeping - and wanting to hear you cry to make sure you're still taking breaths.

You'll never know how seeing you smile after days of cries makes my heart fill with joy unlike anything else.

You'll never know the endless prayers for you that fill my mind and are spoken to the Father...

You'll never know....until you do....

Until you experience motherhood and the moments that create healers out of illness and warriors out of women.

Until you become a mother and hold your own in your arms...

You'll never know.

It comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes

GUILT - that is...

We've talked about the "G" word before.

But lately, I'm being bombarded with guilt all around.

Play guilt - the kind of guilt where you stick the kid in her bouncy while you check your email, stalk profiles on Facebook or just sit and watch T.V. And if the baby starts to get fussy in the bouncy - you put on some sort of kid show that either involves life size fuzzy monsters or inappropriate adult men singing to your kid - just to get another 10 minutes of "me" time - but after you've let your little one "play" - you pick her up and feel bad that you didn't use that time to nurture her mind by singing songs about spiders or ducks that run away from home

Cleaning guilt - this is the guilt where your house is a wreck, your kid hasn't been changed out of her jammies and it's almost 4pm, and your husband is about to come home from a long day at the office. You half heartedly pick up here and there but know that moving is a better option than actually cleaning. But, you're so tired from the day since you've been on Facebook - erm - caring for your kid that you don't have the energy to clean. Then your husband walks in and sees the house in disarray - and offers to get you a maid since you are so overwhelmed with the baby (...or the internet).

Sickness guilt - this is the guilt that I just experienced - the guilt where you run every scenario from the past few days in your head. Could she have gotten sick from the grocery store, my parent's house, the park, my in-laws house, the car, the stranger that touched the baby even after they read the sign on your carseat that clearly states "Don't touch my kid or I'll kick you in the nads..." or something to that effect. You cry when her fever spikes and feel terrible that you couldn't have prevented the army of germs from infecting her body. You vow to stay indoors forever and never leave the house - you're willing to risk cabin fever and a bout of "Red Rum" and reliving scenes from "The Shining" just to keep your kid well. Then you realize you can't handle being indoors 24 hours a day - and head to Starbucks - and feel bad about that....

Breastfeeding guilt - the guilt where everything you eat makes the baby throw up - like her best impersonation of "The Exorcist" - you take everything out of your diet and realize man can live on bread and water alone. But, you sneak in a cube of cheese every now and then even though the baby can't handle dairy - you pray she's over her dairy sensitivity - but quickly realize she's not when you are changing your sheets, your shirt and your baby after another vomiting episode. Then you feel bad you even tried eating like a normal person again.

Weaning guilt - the guilt that you face when you start to contemplate stopping breastfeeding. You long for the days of eating at restaurant without having to give the waiter a list of the things you can't eat. You know in your heart that she'll be just fine with formula but the thought of making her drink from a bottle and not your bubbies breaks your heart. You wonder of stopping is going to be a bad decision - like when you wore goucho pants. So - you decide to continue and put more money away for the day you're getting the surgery to bring your bubbies back up to where they used to be.

Oh guilt. Say I'm not alone in this blog readers...because if I am - I'll feel guilty about that ;-)

Sing it!

To the tune of: "Do your ears hang low."

Inspired by the Walmart commercial, my pre-pregnancy jeans that STILL do not fit, and my own little cry machine :-)

Do your boobs hang low, do they wobble to and fro
Is your hair falling out that you can't make a fro?
Are your hips so much wider that you can't eat that Slider?
Do your boobs hang low!


Do your thighs now jiggle and your arms now wiggle
And your tummy shake when you let out that giggle.
Do the bags under your eyes now turn away all the guys.
Do your thighs now jiggle?

But aren't you the hero for your sweet little nino?
You can nurse that baby while your nurse your Vino.
You gets and hugs and kisses and you're still a loving a Mrs.
Aren't you their hero?

Your life is full of joy with that little girl or boy.
You know songs and stories - you're the keeper of the toys.
You're your husband's goddess - come on don't be modest!
Who cares if our boobs hang low!!

sMILES AUSTIN...

is my homeboy...

What a great game! Craig and I went to the Cowboy game on Sunday. We dominated the Seahawks - which we should do every game.

We had ridiculous good seats and had an even better time.

The only down side was "Mr. OverlyDrunkObnoxiousCowboySunglassWearing Fan" sat in the section next to us. I didn't need play by play or need to hear after every Cowboy possession how awesome they are or need to hear how bad the Seahawks sucked. I laughed when you tried to start a cheer and everyone ignored you - and yes - the boos you heard were for you...

But, I had a great time eating - erm - watching the game.

I don't know what it is - but when I go anywhere where there's a concession stand - I feel the need to support the food stalls - every food stall. So I had a hot dog and popcorn. And a burger. And candy. And beer. But - we had to go up stairs to get to the concession stand - so it all kind of cancelled out ;-)

The Death Star aka Jerry World aka Cowboys Stadjium (yes - I spelled that right....true P1's will appreciate it...) was pretty impressive. It looked like a spaceship and had the new car smell all around. The bathrooms were awesome - the toilets flushed and everything. Jerry even built platforms for drummers to play on while two strippers - erm - dancers danced during the game. The screen was huge...you know what they say about a guy who builds a big screen....big screen...big -------- picture....

The 'Boys played great. The Cowboys Cheerleaders only caused me to emotional eat a little bit. And for the record - I was actually asked to cheer with them - but I looked at the uniform - then took one look at my breast feeding, National Geographic, deflated balloon boobies and my stretch marked, jelly baby belly and thought - "I don't think Cowboy's fans could handle all this hotness..." So - I politely declined.

We paid a sh!t ton for tickets, parking and food - it was worth it. An afternoon with my man and My Boys...couldn't ask for much more...

Family pic before the game...and yes...Craig's finger is in a REALLY bad place

In the car - so excited!

Me eating a hot dog


Jerry World


Great Seats!

Kind of hoping Stroller Strides will get me in this kind of shape

I'm bored...when you're winning by 20 it's kind of hard to stay focused

Halloween!

So stinkin' cute! Happy Halloween!!

Isabelle had a great first Halloween.

We started the weekend off at Stroller Strides on Friday where she got to trick or treat with all of her buddies.

Stroller Strides! Yes...we are wearing mustaches...

Saturday we went trick or treating at Tatay and Nana's house in the morning and then to her Abuelo and Abuela's house in the afternoon.

She had a costume change when we got back to our house, then she melted down, took a 3 hour nap and went back to sleep for the night! What a busy day for our little lady giraffe bug!

Nana and our lady bug

Tatay and Iz

Yeah - they have the good stuff...

Abuela is happy to see me :-)

Yup - I'm even cuter up close

Abuelo is funny!

sweet...

Got him wrapped around my slobbery little finger...