I will not be posting on here after today.  The new blog address is http://thedilbeckfam.blogspot.com/

It is appropriate that yesterday was Independence Day, because I got a bit of independence myself.  We had our first babysitter yesterday.  Usually the grandparents come through in grand style for us, but as my parents are in Alaska and Jeff’s parents are camping, I was truly worried for a minute.  One of the fab things about teaching at HS is an abundance of potential babysitters.  Candidate uno was one of my favorite students of all time, Heather.  Not only was she in my Honors class, but she was the greatest student aide ever.  She would say things like, “I know you didn’t ask me to, but I went ahead and put those papers away, after I organized and labeled them….”  I will miss that girl.  I knew she would be a fantabulous babysitter for Bradley and Jeff.

Once Heather arrived I escaped for a delicious lunch with Shanna, Mollie, and Bonnie.  We got to talk all about Mollie’s engagement and wedding plans, harass the waiter, gossip about random people, and generally decompress.  When I got home Heather and B were playing on the floor, and B was only mildly impressed at my arrival.  He is such a laid back kid, I knew he wouldn’t go crazy with the new company; I was concerned how Heather would fare with two baby gates that require a graduate degree to open/close, three dogs (we are dog-sitting), a husband (who hid most of the time) on crutches, and a baby who loves to climb.  Of course, she is magical and did great.

Later that day the entire family was able to go to Hannah’s house for a BBQ.  There was tons of delicious food and fun people.  B got to play with other kids, Jeff was able to sit on someone else’s sofa for a couple hours, and I was able to socialize.  It was a great vacation.  We didn’t do fireworks since B was a wreck before we left Hannah and Brock’s and neither Jeff nor I felt like being outdoors in the gross heat.  Anyway, we got a nice recap of all the fireworks on the news later that night. 

I know this is probably the last year Jeff and I can avoid festivities by blaming them on B’s schedule.  Soon enough he will be two and we will be branded Scrooge parents for not letting our kid experience the joy of three hours of waiting in sweltering Monsoon heat for a fifteen minute firework show that will most likely scare the crap out of him.

I hope everyone had a decent 4th of July!

Sorry for silence.  Things have been insanely busy.  I have been trying to maintain a balance between Jeff, Bradley, and my needs over the last week.  It has resulted in extreme exhaustion.  I am about to sound like a martyr, and if you have a problem with it you can stuff it, or, better yet, come over and do some laundry for me.  Basically from the minute I wake up to when I go to bed I am doing chores: (un)loading dishwasher, doing laundry, making breakfast, vacuuming, medicating/bathing/settling Jeff, all the baby stuff, grocery shopping, doing bills, so on and so forth.  Somewhere in there I sneak out for pilates.  Jeff and I have always shared household chores and parenting responsibilities pretty evenly, so this has been a knockout experience for me.  While he tells me he appreciates everything what I am doing, I told him that he can prove it at Christmas, my birthday, and Mother’s Day.

Here are some interesting observations I have made over the past couple days that I don’t have the energy to spin in to a worthy blog:

• At swimming lessons one of B’s fellow swimmer’s name was Gringo.  Yes, Gringo.  His parents were shouting it thru the place and I saw it written on his card, so I know I wasn’t hallucinating.  If you don’t know, that is Spanish slang (not a good one) for white guy.  Poor little kid.
• Jeff and I think B is the Dog Whisperer.  Every where we go he points and days, “Dog.”  When we ask him where, he looks at us like we are the crazy ones. 
• The crazy Barbie from my cardio class (see previous blog, I’m too lazy to link) is actually the yoga instructor at the gym.  I never liked yoga, and now I hate it even more.
• Everyone is getting married.  Between Sept and Nov, Jeff and I have FOUR weddings to go to.  At least I am not 7 months pregnant and in two of them.
• We have great friends and family.  Thank you to everyone who has sent a kind word, offered to help, or lent a hand.  You are so appreciated.

Peace out homeslices.

The whole family has been knocking around the living room most of the day.  What else can we do?  Jeff is strapped into this contraption for four hours at a time that exercises his knee.  Anywho, we are intently watching the marathon of VH1’s I Love the Millenium.   There is a segment about Michael Jackson’s aquittal back in 2003 and B busts up laughing when the screen is filled with MJ’s freaky face.

I suppose that isn’t as funny (hysterical, really) as we thought it was, but cabin fever is setting in.  We will be in a scary place come Tuesday.

Jeff’s surgery went well and we are home.  There are so many things to be said about the crappy nurses at Banner Desert, but I have not slept more much in the last couple days and it would come out like this:

lhddhakjsdhastupidslkjhskjdhaksjdijkdhadkjadbitches.

Tomorrow Jeff is finally getting his ACL replaced.  I swear, his body is that of a 73 year old:  countless broken bones, sprains, surgeries, concussions, etc.  Anyway, it’s the same surgery Tiger Woods just had.  Jeff is getting cadaver parts to replace his ACL, which has elicited the most bizarre reactions from a few people.  My reaction is this:  where do I send the thank you note?  Growing up we couldn’t play with our birthday or Christmas presents or spend the cash until we wrote thank-you notes.  I am a real tight-ass about thank you notes, in fact I am all over Jeff since he has not yet sent thank you notes for Father’s Day (note to the moms, I will send him to the hospital with blank cards so it will keep him busy). 

Anyway, here is what my letter would say:

Dear Kind and Giving Dead Dude Deceased Sir,

Thank you so much for part of your knee.  My husband will enjoy it tremendously while he plays hide-and-seek, soccer, baseball, and potato sack races with our son.  I, too, appreciate it so Jeff can  accompany me on long trips to the mall and run all the extra errands he has been slacking off on in the past few months.  I want to assure you that we will not abuse this gift of an ACL like Mickey Mantle on St. Patrick’s Day.  We will treasure, respect, shine and buff the precious ligament.

Yours truly,

KD

I weighed in today (for Weight Watchers, not my heavy weight title match against Tyson) and I LOST FOUR POUNDS!  Phyllis, my friendly neighborhood WW cashier/scale Nazi, was extremely excited for me.  I am quite relieved after the last hellish weigh-in.  I was sure if I gained this week I would stop at the corner store for frosted sugar cookie, large Coke, and a hot dog with lots of mustard, ketchup, and onions (mmmm, mayo, too, if I’m lucky).

Anywho, B and I are leaving WWs and celebrating by high-fiving and dancing to my lively rendition of Wannabe.  Yes, the one by the Spice Girls, why are you judging me?  We were silently accosted by a crotchety old couple.  Why the bitterness?  Is it a crime to teach my son the classics?  Killjoys.

Driving home, it was like a miracle from the fat (and possibly gay) gods:  my iPod came to the exact song we were celebrating to.  B insisted we listen to it a second time for good measure, you see he is choreographing an interpretive dance and wanted to make sure the second verse flowed well. 

I must keep up my refound healthy ways.  Now, off to pilates…

Remember sick days?  Laying on the couch in your PJs with a Kleenex stuck up your nose or the designated barf bowl within arms reach.  Every fifteen to thirty minutes the kind soul who stayed home with you would check your temperature, bring you a Sprite, administer meds, etc.  I don’t know about you, but I think there is something medicinal about daytime TV: Price is Right, Family Feud, Montell Williams, and Maury.

It turns out that sicks days for parents is not that much different.  On top of his lingering cold, Bradley has a stomach bug.  How do I still adore my child after I watched him puke while simultaneously forcing out a snot bubble?  Damn, I love him!  Anyway, I sat in my PJs all day, watched daytime TV, administered Pedialyte every now and then, while launching for the barf bowl at the first sign of heavage.  It’s like a really gross circle of life.

Funny side story:  One time, when I was little, I had the flu and my dad stayed home with me.  I couldn’t eat much, but for lunch I got hard-boiled eggs and Sprite.  That is just a gross combo if you don’t have the stomach flu.  When my mom got home I told her between heaves over the barf bowl and traumatized tears what Chef Dad had served.  Man, was he in trouble!  He never got to stay home with me again.  I think he did it on purpose.  Like when you accidentally drop a plate while doing the dishes.

I am one of those people that can give it and take it.  Hmmm.  What I mean is that if you come at me with any type of shi-poo-poo (I was told the other day I cuss too much), then expect me to return the favor.  When I was little my parent’s called this “Keiko Comebacks”: so sweet and endearing.  Now, I am bitchy and irreverent.  I am going to try a new tactic.  I have decided to hone a new skill:  passive aggression. 

Why, would you choose to be (even more) obnoxious, Keiko?

Well, I am glad you asked.  See, passive aggressive behavior (PAB) just PISSES me off.  I am a firm believer in saying something if you have something to say.  I see PAB as the most infantile behavior.  It’s like saying:  “Gee, I know this is pissing you off, but I am going to make you be the bad guy because I am being SO sweet.”  I used to think that people who exhibited PAB really thought they were being nice and trying to diffuse a situation, now I know they are just dumb.

I know you what you are thinking.  So, Keiko, you want to be dumb?  Noooooooo, silly.  I figure if I practice PAB perhaps I will learn something from it and it won’t have the effect of turning me into a raging green monster with tattered purple shorts.  Another reason is because I have a hard time ignoring people’s piss-poor behavior and rather than rage against the infantile PAB, I shall go with the flow.

While you allow this to sink in, enjoy passiveagressivenotes.com.  (I would give yourself an hour or so.) 

My bathroom is done!  Jeff said it was finished last week, but I said it wasn’t until the hardware was on the doors and drawers.  That might seem picky of me, but Jeff said the kitchen was done and we were missing baseboard for months. 

Here is a list of things Jeff (with a lot of help from Di and a bit from me) has redone in our home.  This will stroke his ego and fulfill my love for making lists.

• Flooring.  Tile downstairs and bathroom (lots of Di, Jeff, and I)
• Landscaping the backyard (lots of Di & Jeff)
• Shelving in B’s closet
• Redmod the master closet (one of my faves)
• All new kitchen cabinets and island
• Dedicated laundry room
• Garage cabinets (ghetto, yes, but functional)
• New baseboards downstairs and some upstairs
• Update the master bathroom (finally)

I am sure there are more, of which I will be pointedly reminded of, but…

The Master Bath

 The Kitchen

I don’t know where my pics of B’s room is, but I will post when I find them.