We’re laying in bed this morning trying to convince Jessica to lay down for 10 more minutes when she see’s Aaron’s exposed chest. She affectionately calls any nipple a “beep beep” so she pointed out his beep’s and then her own and then she turns to me and says “Mommy has BIG BIG beep-beep’s”
{speechless}

Jessica’s new infatuation is ELMO! I bought a DVD when she was teeny tiny thinking that maybe I could get a shower alone if she was distracted. That never worked … but then she found the DVD last week and I played it for. Who knows what’ll keep her attention these days.
ELMO does. She calls for ELMO when she wakes up, when she’s eating, when she’s playing. She’ll bring you to the basement door, where the only TV is in the house, and all for ELMO until you open the door and let her rush down to wait for the show to begin. She’s even singing his song, LA LA LA LA …
This morning while she’s eating breakfast and I’m reading my daily blogs to give me a sense of companionship for the day in motherhood – she starts chanting ELMO ELMO ELMO and then, just in case I didn’t HEAR her say it – she’s now whispering it to me … elmo elmo … like it’s sacred and I better listen to her – she needs ELMO!

Tonight I hosted a shower for my cousin Lindy at our house. This had to have been one of the funnest showers I’ve been to or a part of in a very long time. It was really small – just family, which I think made it more comfortable to sit and chat. We only played one game – the UNDERWEAR game and then opened gifts and ate and talked for 2 and half hours.
It was great. I had one of those moments tonight though. I was telling the story of my first training bra … you know how it goes. I was in third grade and because my genes are quite well endoud I needed a bra at the age of 8. I had marshmallowy hershey’s kisses poking out of my shirt. One day my mom gave me this white thing and told me I should start wearing it under me shirts. It was a special thing. Something I was allowed to do. Like a gift.
Only I was the only girl in my entire grade who was wearing a bra and actually needed one at 8. The story went on to describe how my life ended one morning when the boy I wanted to marry accidentally saw my bra because of the shirt I was wearing and a hug went array with a little girl friend. I mean, I wanted TO DIE. To this day I remember thinking how embarrassing it was to have my future husband see THOSE THINGS.
His name was Chris and I was hopelessly devoted. Too bad he never had a clue.
I kept telling the story because everyone kept laughing, but for the life of me I didn’t get what was so hilarious about this story. Sure, it’s embarrassing and can’t you imagine being 8 and completely mortified … but people’s faces were turning different shades of red from laughing. I just didn’t get it. Nothing was too special about the story or about how I was telling it.
Later my mom said to – Jodi, you are so funny some times. I don’t get it. I mean thank you! I like making people laugh – but it’s completely on accident that comedy would ever actually trip out of my mouth.

Here’s to hoping that Kerrie doesn’t read this website tonight. I can’t hold this back any longer. I made the cake today – and this is the master piece.
Voila:

Mwahahahahahahahaha. I need to find the photos of the shower she threw for me – y’all’ll think I’m an angel. Honestly.
The shower I received from Kerrie came fully equiped with a penis cake, anatomically correct with flesh tone icing and a few other surprises. Then came the penis straws I had to use and the penis wind up toys I had to play with. My mom was there. Not much embarrasses me – but when I opened a gift from my sister-in-law and it happened to be this book I was MORTIFIED. Which intensified when I was told that MY BROTHER helped pick it out.
Thats one of those moments in life that you’d like to erase from your memory, knowing that your brother had a say in the book on sex that his wife was buying for his BABY sister. Maybe that’s not weird, maybe it’s normal – but it made me turn 37 different shades of red. Kinda like my first kiss – after said boy was finished trying to shove his tongue down my throat I told him that was the grossest thing I’ve ever done. And then I told my brothers about that.
Needless to say they were hooting and hollering because I didn’t like kissing boys at the age of 14, especially not when tongues were involved – but I’ll never forget that either. Nor will I live it down.
Or there was that time when I asked my parents what a BONER was at Sunday dinner with my Grandma in attendance, yeah – that one doesn’t go away either.
I could go on with the number of embarrassing things I’ve said or asked my family – but I’ll stop while I’m ahead. Here’s to making more embarrassing memories with Kerrie!

Things Jessica has thrown in the toilet to date:
A number of her socks
Her sippy Cup
Her self.

When I was 16 I took a trip out to Washington state to visit my aunt who had just had a baby – and also to sneak up to Canada to get a tattoo … that’s right people … I have a tattoo – and a big one at that … I actually have 2.

This is the one I got when I was 16. Allow me to repeat myself, I was 16. At the time the jeans that were being sold in stores were high enough to cover this, now however I’d be lucky to find pants that didn’t show more than modest things when I bend down …
Anyway, I’ve thought about getting it redone because I’ll have it for the rest of my life, I might as well like it – and I’ve asked a few creative family members to assist me in this endevour because, let’s be honest – there’s no trusting my creativity to being permanantly inked. Neither of my family members has promised to do anything with it other than look at it and if they’re intrigued will actually do a thing to it for me … which is fine and completely understandable – but I do desperately want to do something about this.
So, I’m asking you, dear internet – if you want to and have the time and energy, PLEASE feel free to submit a revision of this current debacle on my lower back. The idea in the first place was to get a SMALL tattoo of an Aferican tree, from where I was born, but it turned into this when all was said and done.
So I do love trees, feel free to make it an illistration with bold lines or a simple recreation without the stupid maple leaf or star. Whatever you do – email it to me and I’ll post the revisions on my site, then I’ll get it REDONE and I’ll probably reward you with a large chunk of change to JP’S COFFEE downtown Holland, MI.
My other tattoo is on my right foot – actually on my toe.

All this from a good little dutch girl.

For the past 4 or 5 months, I would say, we’ve been using size 4 diapers for Jessica – and when you see them next to her – they look half as big as she does. We know this, however we were going by the weight index on the box and when she got within 4 pounds of the minimum we went for it.
I recently bought the size 3 because she’s still in that weight class as well and they have about 22 more diapers in their package than the size 4 does, FOR THE SAME PRICE. So I figured, what the hell.
Then I remembered the other reason we went to size 4. Blow outs. Leaks. Laundry.

It finally happened.
We were at a family dinner at my moms house over a year ago – my nephew was between 10 and 12 months old (he’s now a little over 2) and my brother told us a story of how when he was changing Kael’s (my nephew) diaper he reached down there and smeared poo all over himself.
Now I’m sorry to even have to recall this mental image. I was completely disgusted when I heard this, but my brother said – Just wait … it’ll happen to you.
And it did. This morning. I’m so sorry Jessica to even write about this on the WORLD WIDE WEB … but I just have to.
Jessica was eating her a morning snack and wouldn’t sit still – not like she wanted to get down, just couldn’t get comfortable. I figured it was probably a dirty diaper – and I would change it when we were done eating.
After she finished eating she just wanted to be put down to play, and instead of changing her right away, I let her. She wasn’t really happy just playing either, kept wanting to be picked up and then put back down … etc. I decided it was time to just change her already.
I lay her down and undo the diaper … that’s when slow motion kicked in and I saw her chubby little arms reaching, her hands stretched out, that’s when it happened. She smeared the poo – I freaked out for about a second, then I laughed, then I thought how disgusting this was and hurried to clean up her hands before she touched something else.
Turns out she wasn’t interested in the poo – but more in the massive itching rash underneath the poo. No wonder she couldn’t sit still.
Someday you’re going to absolutely FREAK OUT when you find this, if it’s still not on the internet somewhere it’ll probably be logged in your baby book. And your boyfriend or fiance or girlfriends will be reading it out of curiosity and then all of a sudden you’ll scream and yell “MOM!!!!!!!!” and I’ll know EXACTLY what you’re reading. Just know I love you, all of you – even your little poo hands.

It’s hard to really ever forget what birth was like, seeing as how my body loves to re-enact the entire ordeal every 28 days. I’ve been without this re-enactment since we found out I was pregnant, and since I’ve been nursing … I’ve been able to trick my body into leaving me the hell alone.
No more. She came back, with a vengeance.
I got a letter from the government, I believe it was, to approve this certain pain killer I’m on which allows me to drug myself stupid whenever I have cramps, they’re THAT bad. But seeing as how I’m still nursing …
You do the math. I’ve slowly begun to think that procreating again in the future would be an option for us, that I might actually want to do that all over again. Until now.
I want another epidural.

The terror of the teeth has lessened, thank you Lord. We’re now back to enjoying the small things. Such as Jessica’s determination to make out with every surface possible, this morning the stove was attacked.
Right now it’s my leg. I think she thinks she can get her mouth on anything vertical and will it to be bitten. And I have photos – so that at her wedding we can assure her husband she’s had PLENTY of practice kissing. Unlike her o-so-innocent father, who had waited to kiss me until he proposed.
HA!