Rhymes with terrific

I’ve haven’t been very prolific here on Ye Olde Yestertime Blogge for the last few…well, months, really. Actually, I’ve been quite antilific, I think. I feel bad when I’m antilific. I feel guilty for not being prolific—and so I’ve decided for my MLK Day Resolution that for the Year of Our Lord 2011, I shall now be, simply: Lific. I think Dr. King would be proud.

Hang on to your seats, this URL might start to be kind of a bumpy read. Startiiiiiing…..NOW:

Notes to my future self

While cleaning out my bedside table drawer yesterday, I came across a tiny, very cute notebook with a tiny, very cute owl sitting atop the letter R on the front. Inside was a journal (of sorts) that I kept when Rosie was about six months old. She was struggling with her sleep schedule, which, quick tangent: that really should be the name of her autobiography, now that I think about it. Struggling With My Sleep Schedule: The Rosie Mae Story. Well, either that or GET OUTTA MAH FACE: The Tale of a Girl and Her Errant Strands of Hair.

Anywho! Here’s an example of one night’s log:


DAY 1: Wednesday, 4/22

7pm—nursed, rocked with pacifier to sleep, fussy

8:30—woke up, fussed. Picked up and held, put back to sleep. 10 minutes.

8:45—woke up again. Nursed one side, put down, woke up immediately. Tried two more times, woke up both times. L finally lay down w/ her in N’s bed. They slept there.

10:30—moved her to her crib, she woke up. DUH. Nursed, L bounced her until she fell asleep at 11:30

12:30—woke up. Moved her to our bed, nursed.


Some ungodly hour, I can’t see the clock BECAUSE IT’S THE MIDDLE OF THE FREAKIN’ NIGHT. Awake again.

5:30—up for the morning.


That was word for word. I was a little testy in the wee hours, apparently.

After perusing the record I kept of those soul-draining nights, I decided that I should keep the notebook where it was in the drawer, right next to my now-sleeping-through-the-night self, as a reminder for all these current evenings as I am returning her to her bed eleventy four times, rubbing her back ad nauseam to infinity times, reading her all of the stories ever written and finally pulling out the First, Middle and Last name while instructing her to GET BACK IN YOUR BED RIGHT NOW before she finally gives up and conks out, that it could be much, much, MUCH worse.

I’ll save the Journal of Two Year Old Bedtime Woes for when she’s 15 and I have to change my tune to First, Middle, Last: GET OUT OF YOUR BED RIGHT NOW and need reminding that once, I entertained thoughts of duct taping her in it, just to get her to stay. It’s all about that 20/20 hindsight, is the way I figure it.

Pity the fool

Check out this brand new burglar alarm we installed right inside our front door:

The best part is how there’s an anti-theft component, and then a back up anti-theft component. Ain’t NOBODY stealing our TV, son.

Hey, I updated Flickr

But don’t throw a party or anything, it’s only like 30 photos, and I’m still all the way back, plowing through last summer. I’m working on it though. Like I said at the beginning: Lific, you guys. Lific.


1 Leigh Ann Laney { 01.17.11 at 5:15 pm }

best. picture. EVER!

2 Carol { 01.17.11 at 8:51 pm }

Though I’m not deterred by the burglar alarm and back-up burgular alarm (love the photo!), I am ever-so-excited about your Year of Our Lord Lific self. Welcome back to lificness.

3 Dorothy { 01.19.11 at 9:07 pm }

You have made me laugh out loud (while alone in my office) two days in a row. i needed that. thanks.

that picture is great.

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