October 13, 2011

New Protocol

I’ve decided that the word “protocol” in the medical field is synonymous to “outrageously expensive” and “more difficult than running a marathon upon implementation”.  I’m going to start using the term as such.

Woah, Eloise! That new hip is totally PROTOCOL!

So, a little over a week ago I started a new protocol for fibromyalgia. For those of you unfamiliar with this blog, I have ridiculously poor health for an active and, ahem, YOUNG person. I am on a mission to improve it.

This new plan involves a super-strict elimination diet, buckets of supplements, new meds and physical therapy. Oh, and a few lifestyle changes. As in…quit trying to work ridiculous hours while caring for a maniacal two-year-old, writing a novel, building a house and fighting debilitating health issues, YOU MORON.

So I cut the dairy, beef, wheat, oats, rye, barley, sugars, majority of fruits, artificial sweeteners and alcohol.  I reduced my chicken and egg intake. They let me keep the caffeine for now (you lucky bastards). Someone must have known that they’d be held accountable for a homicide if they took that away immediately. WE HAVE GUNS IN OUR HOUSE, PEOPLE.

I take so many supplements in the morning, I think half of my daily caloric intake is in pill form. Please note, pills are not nearly as delicious as a doughnut. Plus, I’m taking the new meds and doing my exercises and basically being a Very Good Girl. Even with ice cream, pizza and wine in the house. Ice cream! Pizza! Wine!

Where the hell is my trophy?!

You guys, Tuesday was my trophy. Although I wasn’t farting sparkles and dancing in glee – I felt better. I didn’t use any anti-inflammatories, pain killers or muscle relaxants. I didn’t even realize it until the next day, but then the awesomeness hit me.

So THAT’S what it’s like to be normal!

But then…I went to physical therapy, aka Camp Awkward & Painful, where they tortured me and promised future pain. Leaving, I could tell my neck and shoulders were about to knot up. My shoulder was creeping up above my right ear and completely reducing the need for me to wear a Halloween outfit because I was shape shifting into a super awesome zombie. Hey y’all, FREE COSTUME!

I immediately had to eat a banana (GASP! The sugars!), and take ibuprofen and muscle relaxants.

But Tuesday – Tuesday was progress. And although it didn’t have quite the same comforting effect as a diet Coke, it’s something. I’ll hang on to that. In the meantime, can someone PLEASE eat a bag of candy corn for me while I eat this bowl of spinach?

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October 5, 2011

25 and Live!

Dear Roper,

You are now 25 months old. In the real world (that strange place outside of this blog) I no longer have to refer to your age in months. I think that two years is the universal age when you can stop the “he’stwentymonthstwoweeksandthreedays” insanity.  We’ve graduated to half years now.  However, in this blog world, you will be 192 months old when you get your driver’s license.

Speaking of stats….you sir, are 31 pounds of Pure Awesomeness.

You get your concentration and good-natured attitude from your dad. But your personality, whooooo boy! Little Bear, you have my personality MULTIPLIED BY SEVENTEEN. And I hope you never learn to dampen that personality and enthusiasm just to fit in.

Your current exuberance is like me when I’m over-caffeinated, energized about a project and walking into Caffe Mela to get even more coffee. No filter, and everything is REALLY EXCITING. The people who run in to me then get the true Molly. I hope you remain unfiltered and true. You have an amazing spirit, a contagious grin and just being yourself is the way to go because you’re the best at being YOU.

Together, we’ll probably embarrass your dad a lot in the years to come. And it’s going to be AWESOME!

After much discussion and deliberation, we have decided that your personality – your MOJO if you will – may indeed be housed in your hair. So your dad and I have decided to hold off on cutting it. Yes, I put it in a ponytail and you looked like a darling little girl, but I didn’t care. Your dad didn’t even mind. Well, he cringed a bit but he didn’t go running for the scissors.

Your mojo is too important to just chop off. It lights up people’s live and I just can’t take that away from your fans. It’s like taking away Steven Tyler’s microphone scarves, Angus Young’s short pants, or Eddie Vedder’s red, black and white guitar.  NOT OK.

This past month you’ve spent a lot of time up at the property. You’re actually very helpful and have joined in the traditional family pastime of picking up rocks. Congratulations, you’re officially a Steere. You had a cool birthday party, played with friends, went to the fair and watched a Wenatchee Wild hockey game. You also can count to ten and freak me out by blurting out 7- to 8-word sentences.

When I drop you off at daycare on Mondays and Wednesdays, you march up the path ahead of me giving business-like waves to the other parents, as if you’re their boss and you’re heading in to check on their work. It makes me laugh every time.

Little Bear, you keep us laughing (and sometimes yelling) on a daily basis. We love you so much. It’s a blessing to watch you grow up and grow into that ginormous personality of yours. Each day is an incredible gift. Thank you.

Love,

Your Mama

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September 2, 2011

Another Trip Around the Sun

Little Bear,

Congratulations – you just completed another ride around the sun! Today, you are TWO YEARS OLD. I don’t know about you, but for me it’s been the most fulfilling, challenging, joyous, destructive twenty-four months of my life. And fun. Did I mention FUN? Please refer to yesterday’s video post recapping our two years together.

Last year, your birthday made me weepy as I mourned the loss of my “baby,” knowing I could never get that time back. This year, although still a bit wistful looking at older pictures, my heart is wide open instead of being squeezed tight in fear.

I’m uplifted by the potential of your life.

I look forward to every change and stage in the growing up process. I can’t wait to see what you’re like at sixteen and twenty-five and fifty-seven. I don’t care WHAT you’re going to be, but WHO you’re going to be. One thing I know is that you’ll be bursting with personality and well-loved, because you already are.

As for this past month, you were busy as always! You’ve learned to count to five and have a new passion for stickers. Especially stickers off of pieces of fruit – you wander around with those on your head all day. You’re obsessed with cars and tractors and can play with them for hours up at the property while we work. You have a wicked sense of humor and keep us laughing as well as everyone else you interact with.

Little Bear, you just have a way of bringing joy into so many people’s lives. You engage people in a way that is startling to me sometimes.

I have never smelled stinkier feet in my LIFE. You have your mama’s sweaty, nasty feet only they – and I never thought this was possible – are worse than mine. Way worse. As in, OPEN THE WINDOWS OF THE CAR AND CHECK FOR ROTTING CARCASSES NOW worse.

And I still kiss your toes.

When you see a bag of chips in the store you shout “CHIPPEEEEEEE!” in a strange, guttural, perhaps-we-should-call-an-exorcist voice that sort of freaks out the other shoppers and makes me giggle hysterically. Sometimes you’re so smart, you creep me out. But then I remember that you still crap your pants.

Sweet boy, it’s the last day of your previous contract and I would like to renew if you’re up for it. I am honored and proud to be your mom. You’ve stretched my heart wide open and every time I think I couldn’t love you more, I do. Happy birthday Little Bear!

Love,
Your Mama

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September 1, 2011

Thunderstruck! Zero to Two Video

Roper turns TWO (gasp!) tomorrow so I made a video of his first two years of life. It’s appropriately set to AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck.” Because, if I didn’t have to be all responsible and whatnot, I would totally be an AC/CD groupie.

I still might.

At one point, Toby wanted to name Roper “Angus.” As in, one-letter-away-from-anus. As in, “Come here Angus Steere, you delicious slab of meat!” The only way that would have happened is if I could give him “Young” as a middle name. Or “McKinnon” if I was feeling all compromise-y. The kid would have been a little bit country and a little bit rock ‘n’ roll. And I would have sent Angus Young pictures of his newest namesake in hopes of free swag.

Behold – two crazy years in under five minutes. It’s been a wonderfully wild ride and we remain…THUNDERSTRUCK!

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August 16, 2011

Facebook Awesomeness

Disclaimer: This post may not make any sense because I’m watching Bachelor Pad while I write it. Because I OBVIOUSLY DON’T VALUE MY BRAIN. 

You guys, I’m on Facebook ALL DAY. It’s a huge part of my job. And for the most part, I love it. Mostly because of the mockability (I’m declaring that a word) of it all. There are certain things that people do on Facebook that entertain me to no end. Which doesn’t mean much because I’m easily entertained…but here are a few of my favorites:

Awkwardly cutting people out of profile pictures. All. Time. Favorite. Seriously, I should win some sort of award for resisting the urge to tag that random ear or arm in the edge of the photo where you cropped the owner out. What’s the deal? You’re mad at the person in the picture, but you looked really hot so you just HAD to make it your profile picture? Or was the other person so hot that they were making you look bad? Or was the other person holding a dildo while eating a cupcake? You see, I will make up a story in my mind that is more saucy than what’s actually going on.

Vaguebooking. This is a popular one. Why do people post intentionally vague status updates to prompt friends to ask you what’s going on? For example, “Going to the ER while on vacation wasn’t on the itinerary.” (OK, that’s actually a comment I would make…but hopefully only after I say something like “Roper has an ear infection.” You know, so people don’t think we’re dying.) The best is when people’s entire Facebook feed is alternating between vaguebooking and “look how awesome I am” posts. LOVE! How about you just post “I’m insecure and need you to tell me I’m awesome. Hourly.” Dude, I’m on Facebook ALL DAY. I will tell you you’re awesome. Hourly.

TMI: Before I even start in on this, I will fully admit that I’m the filterless friend that gives Too Much Information on occasion. Ok, on most occasions (see above dildo reference). But my kid’s poop is HILARIOUS. Your kid’s isn’t. I’m kidding! Sort of.

Online friendliness – in person awkwardness. I apparently love awkward situations because I think this one is awesome – it’s the person who fawns over you on Facebook, pressing the “like” button as if it’s a crack dispenser and LOL’ing all over the place. It’s nice on the ego and all, but when the same person hardly acknowledges you in real life or, even better, is a rude donkey to your face, it’s baffling. And I’m obsessed with baffling human behavior.  Just ask my husband. He has to listen to me dissect people’s every move. Why do you think she moved the salt shaker? I bet she’s angry with her sister.

Not responding. Guess what? This is social media, not a reader board announcing your activities. It’s also not your diary. But it does make me giggle when I see someone post their vaguebook status or “aren’t I awesome” post, get a ton of responses about ohmygodareyoudying or you’rethemostfabulouspersonI’veevermet that are met with…*crickets*  Oh, the awkward silence. If you’re begging for attention, at least thank your minions for providing it.

Why yes, I have done every single thing on this list. Which makes it EVEN MORE AWESOME.  Because we’re all delightfully human and Facebook gives us a daily slice of that. Sweet Fancy Moses, does it ever!

P.S. I’m sorry I haven’t been posting much recently. Here’s the deal – I have some douchebaggy first-world problems* that include things like too much work, too many activities and a really awesome family with whom I want to spend as much time as possible. And we’re building a house. Um…and I do things like waste 1.5 hours watching Bachelor Pad while writing snarky blog posts. I know, POOR ME, right?

It’s a good life.

*I’m pretty sure I owe Nanea Hoffman royalties for the use of that phrase.

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August 4, 2011

23 Months – More Prime Time

Dear Roper,

Your mama’s excited because you are once again a PRIME number.  On Tuesday you turned 23 months old.  Watch out world!

The other night, your dad was heading to the property so he came in to say goodbye/goodnight to you as you were frolicking in the tub like a slippery little seal.  When you realized he actually left, you were having none of it, so you climbed out of the tub and I had to chase you down the stairs with a towel.  We ended up outside (you, nekkid) waving and blowing kisses to Daddy as he drove off.

Then, I watched you run back inside with your naked little buns just a wiggling (squeeee!) and I found you with your head in the toy bin and a GIANT PILE OF DOOKIE below you.  When I gasped, you looked down, moved to the side, crouched by the pile, pointed, and in the cutest little baby voice I’ve ever heard, you whispered “Gross.”

I COULDN’T HAVE LOVED YOU MORE.  My heart expanded like a hot air balloon and I wanted to give the whole world a hug.

I mean, when did you even learn the word gross?  I swear, you’re going to have a larger vocabulary than me by the time you’re four at the rate you’re learning.  And since your brain is a giant ShamWow,  I’m trying not to swear or call people douchebags when you’re around.  Which is HARD.  Because there are a lot of them out there.

Little Bear, you have been so ridiculously charming, engaging and downright hysterical recently that it’s been hard for me to leave you for any length of time.  Even for a couple of hours.  So, the fact that July held our two long weekend getaways of the summer (without you) was a little hard for me to deal with.

You were fine.  Even great.  Mama, however, was NOT.

First, Daddy and I went to Whistler for four days to mountain bike.  Roper, Whistler is the mountain biking mecca of the world and we fully expect you to love it.  There were quite a few kids as young as you riding their striders through the pump track and little practice jumps.  We have big plans for you, Son.  The following weekend, Daddy and I went to the Sportbike Northwest rally for three days where we rode fun twisty roads on our motorcycles.  You can start early on the dirt bikes, but the street bikes will have to wait until you’re older.  WHAT WITH THE LAW AND ALL.  Sheesh.

ANYWAY.  Both weekends were a blast, but I missed you so much that it gave me anxiety attacks (have I mentioned that your mama is high-strung like a poodle?)  I hated not being able to be with you when you woke up and not being the one to tuck you in.  I prayed for your safety and health every morning and night.  I missed your smile, your giggle, and the way to concentrate so hard to figure out each new thing you encounter.  I missed your exuberant kisses and your clown hair.

It was if my heart was walking around outside of body.  More likely, stomping around on thunder paws and jumping every third step.

Of course, you were busy having a blast with both sets of grandparents and even your second cousins.  You’re such an adaptable little dude! You had no problem traveling from family to family – always excited to see who you’d be hanging out with next. I guess schlepping you around everywhere I go and not sticking to a schedule has paid off a bit  ;)

We spent the fourth of July down at Crescent Bar with your Oma, Opa, cousins and a whole herd of Steeres and you thoroughly enjoyed it.  You love hanging out with the older kids, riding in the boat, playing in the pool, riding bikes and playing on the golf carts.   Apparently you aren’t impressed by fireworks.  You covered your eyes and promptly fell asleep.

We even went on a hike with three generations of Ropers - John Roper, Tobin Roper Steere (Daddy), and YOU!

Dude, these days you’re a bit of a human juicer.  You must be going through a giant growth spurt again because all you do is eat and sleep right now.  I feel like I’m stuffing weeks worth of fruits and vegetables down your gullet each day, and yes, you return it all in a less palatable package.  Like that giant dookie on the floor.

I love our conversations in the car when you talk my ear off about who-knows-what while using wild hand gestures and animated faces.  You still put up with me crawling into your crib when you wake up so we can talk and make each other laugh.  Your dad usually lets you win your wrestling matches with him.  You hug your little friends and even stole a kiss from one of the darling little girls at church.  You still adore hiking and swimming , and I have a feeling we’re going to be a future shelter for every stray in Valley because you love animals with every fiber of your being.

And I love YOU with every fiber of my being.  My heart grows every time you give me a hug and kiss.  And you have the best lips for kissing.  They are GINORMOUS.  Your dad might make fun of you now, but the ladies are going to love you.

Thank you for providing so much joy in our lives, Little Man.  We love you.

Love,

Your Mama

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August 1, 2011

Love Notes Between Nerds

Those of you who know me well, know that I have a slight obsession with prime numbers.  They make me very, very happy.  Yes, I am a GIANT NERD.  Who married an equally giant nerd.  And while I fervently hope, for Roper’s sake, that nerdiness cancels out in breeding…I’m not optimistic.

In case you ever wondered what Nerdy Love looks like, here’s an email I received from Toby last week, in its entirety:

“For some reason I figured out an equation that can turn any number into a prime number.  Maybe this can be your motto?  Better make a necklace with it engraved in it :)  Anyway, it made me think of you.

X3-(X-1)3 = prime number”

*SWOON*  I have only tested a handful of numbers, but the equation seems to hold true.  To all my nerd friends – can you prove or disprove this equation?  Because if it’s true, MAMA’S GETTING A NEW NECKLACE!

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