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Wednesday, September 17, 2014

GO(ing to see the) BIG BLUE!

The other day, Mom and I were talking to someone about my having two boys. "Much as she loves sports, she's really made to be a boy mom," Mom said. There's probably a lot of truth to that. I'm 37 years old and STILL can't apply eyeshadow the right way, but I can tell a zone defense from a man-to-man as soon as the starting five has taken the floor.  Given that, I've been really excited to take the boys to Lexington twice this summer to see the breeding ground of our beloved Cats. 

The first trip was in July. On Daddy's birthday, we met him and Mom in Lexington and even got to tour the UK basketball practice facility. While we were there, the strength and conditioning coach (Rock Oliver) came over, pinched Freddie's thighs, and said, "This one can leg press 500 pounds." During the visit, we also saw Coach Cal across a room. He waved and, later that day, called Daddy to see how the boys had liked their visit (I'm writing this down, so I can always tell them these anecdotes about their Wildcat heritage). For as excited as I was to hear of this call, you'd think I'd shaken hands with a Beatle or something.

Our second visit was for UK's football game against the Ohio Bobcats. It was a long day after a long (for them, anyway) trip. We headed to the Stadium about 12:45, waited in line for the CatWalk, and then sat in the JMI Sports hospitality suite before hitting the field and, ultimately, the JMI suite. Freddie, who spent the whole time in the stroller, was pretty nearly perfect. Jones was ... not. He wasn't terrible. He actually handled it better than I thought he would, but he definitely had those moments that made me think, "I am NEVER LEAVING THE HOUSE WITH HIM AGAIN." Of course, I will - we've got tickets for Midnite Madness next month, in fact - but I won't do it without wondering why in the world I am so hellbent on passing on not only my love for the Wildcats but also my love for roadtrips.




















Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Family Photos


My name is Kristin, and I'm a terrible blogger.

There have been a gabillion things this summer that have made me think, "I need to blog this." Freddie's crawling now; he (finally) got his third tooth; we spent this past Saturday nite in Andy Griffith's childhood home.

So much going on.

But then comes the boys' bedtime, and after that, I am as useless as a matchbook in a swimming pool. In other words, those "gabillion things" are gone with wind, the same way Jones's love for swings was replaced with an obsession for slides - something ELSE I should've blogged about.

Near the top of the list of things I need to blog about is our family photo shoot with my good buddy Brooke. Jeremy had a men's conference in Nashville in early August. As soon as I heard that this was on his agenda, a visit - and photo shoot - with Brooke was added to mine. Jeremy rode up with our pastor and some other guys from the church on Friday, and the boys and I met him there on Saturday.

Sunday morning, the day of our shoot, dawned hot and humid, as days do in the South in the summertime. We got ready and got on the elevator. I was feeling pretty miraculously organized to have us all fed, dressed, packed up, and ready to roll by 9 a.m.

Then, we boarded the elevator.

Jones was showing us how he can push the buttons (because: BUTTONS!).  When we got to the lobby, Jones let his hand slide on the door as it opened. The problem was that, when the door got to the point that it recessed into the wall, it kept recessing, his sweet little hand still resting on it. Stuck. The child's hand was stuck in an elevator door at the Franklin, TN, Embassy Suites, and all I could think was, "Can she PhotoShop the 'swell' out of his hand?"

That's not true - what I was REALLY thinking is, "Oh, my gosh! Oh, my GOSH! OH, MY GOSH!" Jeremy and I took turns tugging, my having laid Freddie on the floor of the elevator to free up both of my arms in the service of freeing Big Brother.

The hand would not budge.

Would.not.

Praying and panicking, panicking as I prayed.

Jeremy finally pulled one of the door panels toward him at just the same time that I tugged Jones's hand, which - FINALLY - slid out, to everyone's elated relief. The whole ordeal probably lasted seventeen seconds, but it might as well have been a week and a half for the way it felt  to me.

Initially, we weren't sure whether or not to take Jones to have his hand checked out or not. Then, he was consoled by a bag of Cheetos given to him by the front desk clerk - herself the mother of a two year old. At that point, we figured it was safe to go on with the shoot.

Though we probably shouldn't have.

Jones was a BEAST (I now think it's because his shoes were too tight ... good job, Mama), and Freddie was all drool and eczema, and nothing, not even Brooke's adorable niece and nephews or their precious dog Pepper, could console either one of them.

I left, though, knowing that Brooke would come up with SOMETHING frameworthy, and she DID. Here are a few of my favorites, though, as she always does, she got a million that I just love. The problem is always narrowing them down to hang in the hallway.

Thanks, Brooke, for, once again, getting some super shots of my baby boys!














Friday, August 22, 2014

Shake it Off

In a lot of ways, it pains me to write this post in the same way it'd pain me if one of the boys picked "Cats" as their favorite musical.

In other ways, it thrills me to see Jones react so strongly, energetically, and passionately to music - all kinds of music (remember his dance to "In the Mood"?) - so in the spirit of accentuating the positive, that's what I'm focusing on when I post Jones's dance to Taylor Swift's - okay, I'll admit it - maniacally catchy "Shake it Off."

He first heard it earlier this week when I clicked the video link posted by a friend on Facebook. While he was playing with his Wiggles drumset (are your boys jealous, Lori?) this morning, I played it again to see what he'd do.

As expected, he went bananas, shaking his plastic maracas and saying, for the first time, "shake!" In fact, you can hear him saying it on the video.

You should know, though, that from here on out, I'll only be playing George Strait, George Jones, or just about anybody other than Taylor Swift as he plays around the house.

My reputation is at stake!

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Granuloma, Be Gone!

If you've ever gotten up close and personal with Freddie Bear's belly button, you may have assumed that he swallowed Rudolph. Since his umbilical cord fell off, he's had what looks like a red-nose glowing from the hole of his belly. 

But it's not Rudolph. 

Instead, it's an "umbilical granuloma," which sounds so much more scary than it actually is. What it is is a little pocket that didn't seal completely when the umbilical cord was clamped off. It's totally benign; he can't even feel it. I, however, feel great frustration every time he gets little blots of blood on each outfit he wears, thanks to the persistent ooze of this little thing. 

It doesn't hurt Freddie at all. If we hadn't done anything about it, skin would've eventually grown over it, but Dr. O'Donnell, our beloved pediatrician who reminds me VERY much of Andrew McCarthy, recommended we do something, because, as he got bigger, Freddie would pick at it and make it even messier.

Dr. O. tried three times - at Freddie's two, four, and six month check-ups - to get rid of it with a silver nitrate stick; it's never worked. At the six month appointment, Dr. O. said it has a super thick stump, which is why the silver nitrate wouldn't work. We left his office with directions to call in for a referral to a surgeon if it hadn't fallen off in two weeks.

It hadn't.

So, on Tuesday, we were sent to a surgeon. 

That, like the name of the granuloma, also sounds so much more scary that it actually was. We went to a beautiful facility - Mission Children's Hospital Outpatient Center in Asheville - and saw a doctor who's name I don't remember, which is fine, because I don't think he told it to us in the sixty-seven seconds he spent with us. As a nurse and I held Freddie down, the surgeon tied a knot around the granuloma. He was hoping it'd starve its blood supply and cause it to dry up and fall off. 

That's exactly what happened. Today, when I changed Freddie's diaper after his morning nap, there it was, a tiny little raisin, laying on his fleshy belly. 

Speaking of which, Freddie's belly keeps getting less and less "fleshy." He's gone from being 66th percentile for weight at his six month check up in July to being 50th percentile (and 55th for height) at the appointment earlier this week. At least, HE'S slimming down, which is more than I can say for myself. 

Anyway, I am so glad to have this - finally! - taken care of, and I'm so grateful that God heard my prayer that it'd be resolved without surgery (which was the next step, had the surgical knot not worked).

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Instant Classic

I could do nothing but sit around and watch this all.day.long.

In fact, that's pretty much what I did yesterday.

a Few Things About Freddie Bear

First things first: Freddie Bear has started standing. Provided he has something to lean on - an ottomon, his crib railing, the sofa - he can stand for as long as I'll let him. He's also getting his knees under him and rocking back and forth on them, so I'm betting he's crawling in the next few weeks.

Second of all, Freddie has started eating (some, very small bites of ...) table food. When Jones was an infant, I read that babies are ready for table food when they start showing interest in it. Jones never really did. He'd eat anything I'd give him, but he didn't whine if I just fed him formula instead.

Since he was just a few months old, Freddie has been very aware of when people are eating. Initially, he'd just stare down a plate, but lately, he's gotten more aggressive about it. For instance, Dolly kept the boys last nite and said Freddie literally dug in to the meatloaf she was serving her boys for dinner.

Well done, Son.

Taking things like this to be Freddie's "interest" in food, I've been giving him the teeniest little bits of things, like peas or Saltines or, today, the free cookie Ingles gives out to kid shoppers (I swear he ate more of the cookie they split than Jones did; he'd literally screech if I didn't shovel it in quickly enough).

Apparently, Freddie's sees these few forays into "people food" as a license to chow down.

Today, I put Jones down for his nap and left Freddie playing in the den. A minute and a half later, I came back in and found Freddie, laying on his back, happy as a pig in slop, gnawing on a bite of bagel that Jones had left out on his breakfast plate. How in the world the child got to it, I will never know.

I guess where there's a will, there's a way.





Ride, Ride, Ride

Anyone who reads this blog knows about Jones' love for Tec the Tractor.

Since he was about seven months old, Jones has been obsessed with this Welsh-import on the BabyFirst TV network. The problem with Tec is that we don't get it here in Canton. Mom and Daddy do in Greenville - that's where Jones was introduced to it - but for non-DirectTV subscribers in Canton, NC, BabyFirst TV is a no-go.

That means buying a $25 DVD with only three episodes on it and, while you wait for said DVD to arrive, letting your son stream episodes of "Tec the Tractor" via YouTube on your iPhone.

That's what Jones was doing this morning when Jeremy was about to leave for work.  He's been working out of a makeshift office in his parents' basement this week and suggested taking Jones with him for an hour or so, so Jones could visit his Nan and ride his Pop's tractor. I jumped at the suggestion and promised to come pick Jones up as soon as Freddie was up from his nap.

Just before we left the Pressleys when I picked Jones up, Jeremy took a few minutes to pull something ELSE that Jones could ride out of Pop's garage. It was his old "chopper," and though it took him about 16 minutes to maneuver his way into a seat better suited to his seven year-old self, Jeremy proved that the thrill-seeker gene still runs in his blood.