the puce tote bag

As I mentioned in my last post, while we lived in the city we rented J’s house out. We listed the house on craigslist, I interviewed renters and ran a background/credit check on the woman I liked best. She was a single mom with a daughter who was in her junior year of high school, and the mom didn’t want her to have to switch schools. They seemed perfect.

With the exception of one bounced rent check (that the renter immediately gave us cash for), they were good tenants for the most part. The house was crammed full of stuff, and they weren’t the tidiest people, but nothing was broken or torn up and to my knowledge there was no meth lab in the basement.

I did let the woman paint interior rooms with the agreement that I’d take the cost of repainting off of their deposit. The colors they choose were AWFUL. Like diarrhea brown in the hallway and bedroom, and dark red in the bathroom. Every time I pee I want to scream REDRUM really loudly. Not because of burning or anything embarrassing like that, but because I keep thinking of the scene in The Shining where red blood is gushing down the walls. I need to repaint that room asap.

Anyway, after we moved back in I noticed that the recycle bin was overflowing with Busch beer cans. I’m talking at least 200 beer cans. Which is odd, because how does one woman drink that much beer? But then the neighbors started stopping to say hello and welcome us back, and I started hearing disturbing things. For starters, the daughter, who just graduated from high school in May, had multiple keg parties where the cops had to break up the drinking. Oy. Our next door neighbor said he went outside one day and the daughter and three of her friends were on the back patio smoking. And by smoking, I am talking about something other than cigarettes. Our back patio is not exactly private from the neighbors, so that’s not a good idea at all. I knew the girl’s mom traveled, and I said something to the neighbor like, “Oh my, she must have been really bad while her mom was traveling.”

Uh, hello naïve Sherry. Apparently mom was buying her the beer for the parties, the recreational drugs, not to mention she let BOYS stay the night. Dear god! Who were these people?!? Maybe there WAS a meth lab in the basement!!

Our landlord days are over now, thank god. And lets hope that all those overgrown plants in the back garden are just weeds and not something else.

We just moved back into our old house that we’ve been renting, after selling our city house. Why would we do such a crazy thing? Well, there are a lot of reasons, but mostly because I took a pay cut, I want to one day stay home with our babies, and our big old house was just too expensive.

This was a very challenging decision and move for us. The city house was the house we bought together, and we planned to live there for a very long time. But life got in the way of our plans, and we knew that making a strategic retreat and saving money now would help us in the long run. So we put the house on the market, sold it in a month, and sat down to figure out how to move from 3,000 square feet to about 1300 square feet.

That’s right, we just cut our living space more than in half. And we have another baby on the way.

Luckily, I read lots of decorating blogs where 7 people live in 300 square foot apartments in NYC. It can be done. You just need less stuff.

I have done more purging, selling, simplifying than I ever thought was possible. I still think we have too much stuff, and I’m slowing parting with more things. We had a huge yard sale and made a lot of money to donate to the National Kidney Foundation. I gave away all my scrapbooking supplies . . . . I don’t even scrapbook, so why I had all this stuff, I don’t know. But the biggest sacrifice of all: I donated 8 enormous boxes of books to the YMCA book sale. That was huge.

We’re still trying to get settled into the new house, and the basement is an absolute disaster. But overall, I’m very happy with the move we made. We’re going to be saving a ton of money, and maybe I’ve grown up a bit, but the house now feels like “our” house and not “J’s” house. It feels good to simplify. It also feels good to have a smaller mortgage.

Of course, I miss some things from the old house – the huge island in the kitchen, living two blocks from Tower Grove Park, Charlie’s nursery, my walk-in closet – but for the life of me now I can’t remember why I ever wanted such a big house. There are so many advantages to living in a small home. It takes less time to clean, there are less maintenance costs, the windows open and close, and we have a big back yard. City yards are tiny. (J does not think this is an advantage, as he hates yard work). Oh, and the utility bills are fabulous! $40 electrical bill vs $189 electric bill alone makes the move worth it.

I am still mourning the nursery with the fireplace and balcony though. I may never get over that.

I know everyone has been anxiously chewing off fingernails wondering when I was going to post again. Fear not! I am back to regularly scheduled posting, after a much needed hiatus. We moved the blog to a new server, gave it a face lift, and I went through some posts that I decided maybe needed to be a little more private. There are some definite weirdos in the internet world, and I think I will (mostly) avoid religious and political posts in the future.

But don’t worry, you’ll still get to hear all kinds of gory things about childbirth, baby poop, and the strange things that seem to happen to me all the time.

Stay tuned to find out all about our big house sale, Charlie’s first birthday, and much more.

We need a fake name for BabyFamousJ #2.

If you didn’t know I was pregnant with the second bambino, well, now you do! When Charlie was an inside baby he was called Rocco. J feels that we should have equal opportunity naming and call this baby a girl’s name. However, the only fake girl name he can come up with is LaFonda, and that is just not something I can say with a straight face. In fact, I think I kind of scowl and grimace when he says it.

So, if you are bored, please give my baby a fake name. I don’t believe in equal opportunity naming, personally, so I will accept boys and girls names.

To inspire you, here are 10 facts about this pregnancy:

1. I have progressed from morning sickness to evening sickness. Dinner is no longer a friendly prospect.
2. I am about eight weeks along. Or something. The baby is due on Black Friday. I have a vision of my water breaking while the turkey is being carved or during a mad dash to Best Buy to purchase a $99 iPod.
3. I am perfectly aware that I will have two children under the age of two. I realize that means I will have two children in diapers. When you’re changing one pile of poop, I don’t really think another one makes that much difference.
4. Even though I throw up A LOT (see #1), the Wii Fit informed me that I’m getting fat. Now, I’ve only gained 4 pound. Okay, maybe like 6 pounds. Whatever, the point is that the Wii Fit does not have an option to say “I am with child” and that really pisses me off. I don’t need Japanese electronics making fun of my delicate condition.
5. I have reached a level of exhaustion that is equivalent only to the day after a weekend float trip on the Meramec where PBR is drunk for 48 straight hours.
6. The heartbeat at our second ultrasound was 150. Totally having another boy. Unless you look at the Chinese Gender Chart, which informs us we are having a girl. I’m calling boy.
7. No, we are not finding out the sex this time either.
8. I have already started making a pros/cons list of where I want to give birth. I would love to have a home birth, but there is a slight medical issue with J and I having opposite blood types that may cause the same jaundice issues that Charlie had. If we catch it soon enough after birth this time (if it happens), we could avoid going to a special care nursery. If I gave birth at home, I’d almost surely need to go to the ER with the baby right away to have he/she tested for Coombs disease. Which kind of defeats the whole purpose of staying home. All I really want in life is a damn tub in my labor room. If I have to bring a kiddie pool and blow it up myself I will.
9. Charlie and baby will share a bedroom. We will be living in a smaller, yes smaller house by the time this baby is born. It’s good to be a close-knit family, right?
10. I am thrilled about the new baby, but I have been feeling a little sad. As soon as I got pregnant my breastmilk supply dropped drastically. Charlie was crying when he’d eat because there wasn’t enough, and now it is completely gone. I wanted to breastfeed for a year, we made it over 8 months, which is still a great accomplishment! I just miss that special bonding time between Charlie and I. Oh, and formula is a pain in the arse. Whoever says formula is easier obviously does not have the logistical problems that I have remembering to bring enough bottles and powder everywhere. All I had to remember before was my breasts. Not to hard to forget those!

And now, I am off to bed. Because this baby makes me a very tired momma.

Today was apparently “Bring Your Kids to Work Day”. My boss brought 2 of his grandkids. When he brings them by my office to introduce me, he says:

“This is Mrs. LeBlanc. She does …………….”

I have no idea what he told those kids I do. You see, I was in deep shock and denial that I was a Mrs. LeBlanc. Not because I don’t love being married, but do you know what this means?

I’M A GROWN-UP PERSON.

Oh dear. How did this happen?

Ever since I found out I won the contest to spend a day with Clary Pfeiffer, J and Jacob have been teasing me about my “dream date”.  Yes, I was a little excited.

To prepare for my day, I decided to buy a real lens for my camera.  The 18-55 mm lens that comes with the Nikon D40 was just not cutting it, and I’d been looking for an excuse to buy the new Nikon 50mm/1.4 prime lens. What a perfect reason!  After all, I couldn’t go have a dream date with my favorite photog with a kit lens, now could I?

I visited her at her home studio, which is painted the most awesome color ever.  I have severe office envy now.  And her mac screen is enormous, I think it might be bigger than our tv.  We spent awhile chatting, because we both love to talk, and finally got down to business.  Clary showed me how to use the manual settings on my camera, and I discovered we are both very picky about pens. And yes, I took notes.  I have a baby, I can’t remember anything.  After learning that my camera really isn’t scary after all, we went outside and took a few shots of each other.  I obviously only have shots of Clary, because I can’t very well take pictures of myself.

Isn’t Clary pretty?

After taking some pictures, we went back to the studio so I could learn all the secrets of Photoshop and Lightroom. No, I’m not going to reveal her secrets.  Sorry to disappoint.    I will just say that I learned a lot, but really the most important thing was learning to use my camera and hearing Clary’s philosophy on taking good photos.  And no, I’m not going to reveal her philosophies either.   Win your own contest!

 My opinion – you can have all the fancy lenses, cameras, editing programs in the world – but that doesn’t make a person a good photographer.  You have to have that thing, that gift, that eye for emotion to capture the perfect image.  Otherwise you’re just making poor copies of other people’s work.

I also know this to be true – I have ZERO desire to be a professional photographer. Hanging out with a professional photographer did not inspire me to get in the business. 

a) I don’t have that kind of talent and I know it and

b) the thought of taking pictures of someone’s wedding makes me want to hide under the bed with a box of ice cream sandwiches. 

I just want to take decent pictures to document our life.  I’d also like to avoid The Picture Picture, JC Penney’s, and any other place with a photo “studio.”  They make me sweaty and cranky and I’m afraid of props.  I want my photos to reflect the emotion of our life – the love we feel for each other, the laughter and accomplishments and happiness.  When you think about it though, isn’t that what any photographer should be striving to do?

Anyway.  Enough of all that.  I had a wonderful day with Clary, she is a super fun person and I wish I could just hang out with her and listen to her kick-ass music all day.  Alas, life is so unfair.

PS – I have homework from Clary, I’ll post about that.  Soon!

When I was born way back in 1977 (isn’t it going to be weird to my children that I was born in the 70’s, a totally different century?) my uncle gave me a stuffed dog named Henrietta.  I loved this dog.  I took it everywhere.  She lost her ribbons and her name tag.  She went to college with me.

Then, when I was 25 or so, my real life dog ate her.  I cried.  A lot.

J has heard multiple stories about Henrietta and how much I miss her.  It is ridiculous, I know.  I have searched on ebay for her hundreds of times, and never found anything but a jumbo 5 foot tall version of her.

Well, J is awesome.  He found her.  And won her in a crazy bidding war on ebay with swords and gaunlets and stuff.

Okay, swords were not drawn.  But he did use his spare change collection to buy her.

Behold:

Charlie likes her too:

I have the best husband ever.  Does a 31 year old woman need a stuffed dog?  Nope.  But my kids do.

Thanks J.

I am going to write a BSG round-up post, but I’m still too depressed that it is really over.

In the meantime, I could really use one of these, couldn’t I?

“]

[Battlestar Galactica Black Cylon Toaster - $65

Tonight is the last episode of the greatest show on television.

What will we do without Battlestar Galactica?

How will it all end? Will humanity be saved? Will the Cylons rule the universe?

We shall see.

I’ve noticed in many, many blogs that people use initials instead of real names for their husbands, pets, plants, whatever.

I just wanted everyone to be aware that J’s name really is J.*  I’m not abbreviating it because I fear that a serial killer will hunt us down.  In fact, J lived right next door to a serial killer, so I’m pretty sure the chances of befriending a serial killer twice in a life are pretty slim.  I’m also confident that Toby the Super Crime Fighting Mutt will keep us out of harm’s way. 

Carry on.

*Actually J does have a real legal name.  It’s Julius.  At least that is what he tells people at restaurants, which always freaks me out because I’m afraid they’ll KNOW it really isn’t his name.  You can also call him Famous J.  Or Sherry’s Handsome Husband.