tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854139303040958862012-04-15T16:02:16.258-07:00Are you a new mom? On your way to being a new mom? Struggling to keep your sanity? Join the club.Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.comBlogger192125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-24744425034186315112012-01-06T18:29:00.000-08:002012-01-06T18:29:03.265-08:00

Day 6 of the 365 project: This morning, T Junior was stomping around and roaring. "Hey, T Junior," I said, "Can you help me clean up your mess?" He stopped. "I'm not T Junior, I'm Darf Vader!" So, for today's picture, I asked him to make his "Darth Vader face." This is what I got. The Greek yogurt on his chin completes the look.

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-15557586721972817482012-01-05T15:45:00.000-08:002012-01-05T15:45:57.699-08:00

Well, actually it's Day 1 for me. I love the idea of documenting life with one photo a day. So, here I go: This photo from this morning is a pretty good example of my life right now: kid, puppy, mess. Yep. I wanted to get a picture of T Junior this morning, but he wouldn't let me take one. So, I said I'd take one of Ray instead and this is what I got. I actually like it. Here's my page on the

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-39330358577237024392011-12-31T20:48:00.000-08:002011-12-31T20:48:02.037-08:00

T Junior was so excited to visit Santa this year so he could tell him what he wanted for Christmas: a football, a soccer ball and a train. (And he was so good on Christmas morning. Taking turns. Stopping to have breakfast. Picking up scraps of wrapping paper. Saying "Thank you.") I was very proud of him on the day we went to see Santa. We stood in line for an hour because Santa had to go feed

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-90148926204819036982011-12-20T11:38:00.000-08:002011-12-20T11:38:58.996-08:00

Have you seen The Polar Express? I have seen it 100 times. And that’s a low-ball estimate. We introduced the holiday film to our son last Christmas. I remembered "The Polar Express" book and its beautiful illustrations from when my sisters were younger, but I’d never seen the movie, which is computer animated and features several characters speaking with varying intonations of Tom Hanks’s

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-17066924756243536572011-12-15T12:07:00.000-08:002011-12-15T12:07:17.290-08:00

Don't we have enough to do during the holidays? When did that creepy Elf on the Shelf insert itself into Christmas must-do traditions in this country?  Oh, wait. Maybe I missed it in my cookie-making, picture-taking, pie-baking, light-hanging, tree-decorating, presenting-wrapping, money-spending, carol-singing, card-writing, advent-opening, party-planning, house-decorating frenzy. Okay, so I

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-23762630765041496542011-12-01T07:00:00.000-08:002011-12-01T07:00:07.902-08:00

I haven't had a dream that I've remembered in a long time. I used to have dreams. Vivid ones. Sometimes I wished I didn't remember them. But, lately, I haven't remembered any. What do you think that means?

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-32576813769206972532011-11-30T21:31:00.000-08:002011-11-30T21:31:44.225-08:00

Steaks sizzling Smoke swirling Hood sucking Onions popping Puppies pooping Dishwasher crashing Laundry thumping Dog jumping Puppy howling Muppets blaring Stomach gurgling Child? Silent

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-83216039181239344712011-11-30T06:16:00.000-08:002011-11-30T06:16:10.081-08:00

I bought this big ol' teacher's desk four or five years ago. It appears to be from the '50s. It's solid wood, extra wide, and I love it. When I brought it home from the Goodwill, I made Mr. T and his friend haul it upstairs and put it in what was our office at the time. I never knew how they got it in there, just that it was a pain in the butt. Well, the office turned into the baby's room, but

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-42235083645786419052011-11-27T08:29:00.000-08:002011-11-27T08:29:28.640-08:00

"This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy." "It's pissing me off, actually." "Well, excuuuuse us for living." Me and Mr. T love talking in movie quotes. But usually pretty random ones. (In order from above: Vacation, You've Got Mail, The Muppets Take Manhattan.) The lines just infuse themselves into our conversations. I just know that T Junior, when he grows up, will be watching some (

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-23473126613679895122011-11-23T22:16:00.000-08:002011-11-23T22:16:16.174-08:00

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Guess what I will not be doing this year. I will not be baking a turkey for hours. I won't be peeling apples for pie. I won't be baking. I won't be stirring. I won't be mixing. Since me and Mr. T have been married, we've essentially done something different for Turkey Day every year. We've made a tiny Thanksgiving meal for two adults and a baby, we've gone to our close

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-34408498403127754372011-11-22T21:39:00.000-08:002011-11-22T21:39:28.546-08:00

I don't get it. What's with all the stuffed animals in my son's bed? Let's see, there's Eeyore and Pooh, then big Tigger and little Tigger, Boo Husky, Go Cougar (small), Go Cougar (big), green monkey and, last but not least, tiny boxer. T Junior's still in his crib (with no side), so it's getting a little cramped in there (big boy bed coming for Christmas). Tonight, he proudly showed me how

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-65718126337011777852011-11-19T20:41:00.000-08:002011-11-19T20:41:07.537-08:00

I was washing T Junior's face tonight when I spied a little piece of boxer hair sticking out of his nose. Made sense as he was wrestling with Mr. T before bedtime. Side bar: Why do dads insist on riling up children and dogs before bedtime? Okay, back to the story: So I saw the hair and I made him tilt his head back so I could just grab the end of the little hair and pull it out. I can't

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-10357346587807207242011-11-18T22:46:00.000-08:002011-11-19T09:02:06.129-08:00

Mr. T just came downstairs. He was up there playing on the Xbox. I've been downstairs writing. This was our conversation: Mr. T: What'd you do on your Saturday night? I wrote. That's nerdy. (mocking laughter) Me: What'd you do on your Saturday night? I played video games. That's geeky. (disapproving head-shaking) Mr. T: NERD! Me: GEEK!

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-15234118624403752452010-12-08T21:29:00.000-08:002010-12-08T21:29:54.159-08:00

Remember those Denny's commercials with Nannerpus? You're welcome. So, yeah, the Nannerpus song sometimes gets stuck in my head...like whenever I see a banana. A couple of weeks ago I sang the song to T Junior, who is almost 2-1/2 and picks up stuff pretty quick. He is really good at memorizing stuff (just FYI for all you babysitters out there). Anyway, I always end the song with, "Guess

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-24644000611089583792010-09-22T14:03:00.000-07:002010-09-22T14:03:12.990-07:00

What would it be like if there was no night? No riding off into the sunset. No stars to wish on. No “Goodnight Moon.” Monday evening got off to a late start. Normally, T Junior is stuffing handfuls of dinner into his mouth by 6:45 p.m., 7 at the latest. But sometimes plans get the hiccups. Like when you have tacos on the menu for dinner, but it turns out you only have three tortillas left…and no

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-29900860822793698002010-09-05T21:30:00.000-07:002010-09-05T21:30:12.570-07:00

Last week, there was a giant brown moth in the living room. The biggest moth I've ever seen. Not smushable. It landed on the carpet, I got a big glass and slid a thin piece of paper underneath. Then T Junior and I went out the front door and set it free. A few days later, I forgot about the moth. T Junior (now 27 months old) did not forget, and he recapped that exciting day's events for me.

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-11830091188892795452010-08-22T23:58:00.000-07:002010-08-22T23:58:23.718-07:00

Isn't it funny how one little letter can change the entire meaning of a word or sentence? Saturday, we went to the dog show. It's only a couple towns away, so it's a short drive, but boxers started at 8 a.m., so we ate in the car. I made T Junior a bagle with butter, and here's what I heard in the car: "Mommy, Mommy! My beagle has butter on it!" Then a few minutes later, "Mommy, Mommy! I

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-51137287527900539532010-08-22T23:31:00.000-07:002010-08-22T23:31:14.899-07:00

I never update this blog anymore, and I feel very guilty about that. This is where I should be jotting down the things I don't want to forget about T Junior. Well, maybe not here, but in a journal, at least. I'm feeling sort of...blech...right now. It's 20 minutes after 11 at night and I can't sleep. I can't pin the reason on one thing, it's a bunch of stuff and my brain just circles around

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-73006065462998974642010-08-02T09:58:00.000-07:002010-08-02T09:58:36.970-07:00

Yesterday, we hung out at the Enumclaw Highland Games for several hours. Of course, I brought T Junior's soccer ball. We passed, we played keep-away and he dribbled the ball around our blanket. He's getting pretty darn good at keeping control of the ball at about 26-months-old. He fell on the asphalt twice and had a nasty skinned knee about which he cried. While playing soccer in the grass, he

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-67024317293506260612010-06-21T07:00:00.000-07:002010-06-21T07:00:05.309-07:00

We have been working on this. For a long time. When T Junior started talking before he turned one, we began insisting on "please" and "thank you." The word "daydoo" came easier, I guess, and he began saying it when reminded around age 1-1/2. And it became routine before he turned two. He doesn't need to be reminded every time anymore. But "please" was more difficult. Probably because it's not

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-88416329198607905352010-06-20T07:28:00.000-07:002010-06-20T07:28:40.785-07:00

Happy Father's Day!

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-39748632010091069732010-06-09T11:35:00.000-07:002010-06-09T11:35:24.385-07:00

I'm pretty excited. I really wanted to post this on Facebook, but I'm not sure it's appropriate. T Junior went poo-poo on the potty today. All by himself. Woohoo! This all started at his 2-year-old doctor visit on Monday. His doctor said we could start potty training if we wanted to; if he was interested. We've already sort of been doing this. It's not that he's been disinterested. More like

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-42328813374705557772010-05-27T21:27:00.000-07:002010-05-27T21:27:11.622-07:00

I almost cried as I held him tonight, swaying and quietly singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star in our regular bedtime routine. How much longer will I get to do this? Happy birthday, buddy. Hope all your wishes come true.

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-57820621179936652032010-05-09T09:44:00.000-07:002010-05-09T09:44:31.961-07:00

The day I became a mom. My mom. Mr. T's mom and her mom.

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185413930304095886.post-69616053502883556142010-04-29T11:44:00.000-07:002010-04-29T11:55:22.184-07:00

Yesterday, T Junior’s day care provider called me at work because my 23-month-old was cussing. She wanted to know what we were doing about it so she could be consistent. “What did he say?” “He said, ‘Darn it. $hit sucks.’” I laughed and laughed and laughed. Then I composed myself. “Oh, actually, he said, ‘Darn it. Say shucks,’” I explained. I told her how this phrase came to be. “So,” I

Kerrie T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00538129698829932559noreply@blogger.com6