Big boy bed: CHECK
All settled in to preschool: CHECK
Pretty much potty trained: CHECK

There’s really no excuse any more; that binky’s got to go.

It’s not so much a big deal orthodontically, I don’t think, since he just uses it while he’s in bed. The main bummer is that he wakes up and demands help finding it during the night. We’ll go in his room and it will be folded up in his blanket, wedged next to the mattress (which is on the floor), or fully disappeared into another plane of existence, at which point we pull out a spare. The other night Daddy J found it on Rainbow’s CHEST, completely visible while he was laying there begging for it. He popped it in his mouth and went straight to sleep.

So, yeah, that part’s annoying.

Also, he’s two and a half, and an awfully big two and a half, at that. He just seems enormous to be still using a binky. And yes, his size isn’t his fault or anything. Inside, he’s still a toddler. Who wears size four or even five kid clothes.

Anyway, we’re ready to retire it.


1. Cold Turkey. We tried this once and it was a colossal failure. You’d think he’d get exhausted and give up on the idea after a while and just succumb to sleep, but NO. He got whipped into a frantic, despairing frenzy: WHERE’S BINKY??? Just went nuts. Obviously, if we don’t let him have binky at all, ever again, he won’t have it. But I think we’d lose our sanity in the process.

2. The Paci Fairy. Sigh. Sure, he loves the book. I mean, Duh, it’s all about binkies. It has grown-ups with binkies, babies with binkies, and fairies holding binkies. Rainbow thinks it’s a hoot to have me read it to him while he has a binky in his mouth, occasionally popping it out to examine it, then popping it back in. However, the whole give up binky = gift for the boy thing is totally lost on him.

3. Surgery on the binky.
I’ve heard of two strategies here: cutting off the business end in a swift beheading and just nipping off a wee bit every night until there’s nothing left. It seems that the sudden lopping off would yield the same result as Option #1, and I’m concerned about structural integrity with the gradual nipping. Wouldn’t the silicone tear and become a chokie while he sucked on it?

4. Piercing the binky with a pin or nail. Might work? Apparently it messes up the proper suckability of the pacifier, although I’m still a little concerned about the silicone tearing. But surely it could tolerate a pinhole without tearing…?

5. Befouling the binky. Douse the binky with something yucky tasting before bedtime. I’ve heard of hot sauce, but I don’t want to, like, hurt him, you know? I’m leaning toward vinegar, I think, or maybe lemon juice. Maybe he’d just taste it and toss it aside without falling totally apart?

If you have a terrific idea, please do share it. Have I left out an option?

Also, if you could help me figure out how to get a 30 month old to nap in a big boy bed, that would be AWESOME.


Remembering sweater dresses in all their figure-concealing glory at Like Totally 80’s this week.

Take a minute to click on the link to Seventeen magazine covers through the years. Amazing what famous faces started out on the cover of seventeen, like Whitney Houston and Milla Jovovich (at age 13!).


On LT80’s, you can find my articles about vintage Elastic Belts and Boy Bands (awww, check out cute little Ricky Martin in Menudo!).

Also check out these 80’s costume ideas: Where’s the Beef?, Milli Vanilli, B.A. Baracas, and Ralphie from A Christmas Story.

(is it just me, or does the girl look like she’s biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing at the beginning of this video…?)

The option doesn’t currently exist to leave comments on the site, but you can friend Like Totally 80s on Facebook and join the conversations there.

Also, don’t hesitate to suggest any 80’s article or costume ideas. I have a blast researching and writing them. 😀


***warning: injury photos follow, if you’re sensitive to that sort of thing. The toe one is especially cringe-inducing.

I don’t know if it’s an inevitable consequence of being a Mama or just the fact that I’m no longer a spring chicken, but regardless, I’ve been mangling the fire out of my body lately. It’s a bummer, because I hate pain, and also because boo-boo’s slow me down. You know, the hobbling and all. I fell on the stairs with Rainbow on top of me a few weeks ago (and am monumentally grateful that he was unscathed) but now have this yucky, weird scar on my arm. It’s like the muscle or ligament or whatever got severed or crushed; when you run your hand across that area of my arm, beneath my skin it’s all: raw chicken, raw chicken, DEEPLY GROOVED IMMOVABLE STRIP OF BEEF JERKY, raw chicken…


It also has this Nike-swoosh sort of scar, which maybe I could make some coin off of in some way, if I started running or something and got in shape.

Then yesterday morning, I popped in to the pantry, failing to take in to consideration that Daddy J had installed these racks for pot lids, and slammed my shoulder into the edge of one. Owie.

And then, I was moving Rainbow’s tent on the front porch and knocked one of the boys’ bikes over. The pedal totally crushed my stay-home piggie. It’s all mangled and bruised and swollen, also cut in two places.

(taken right after the incident, pre-swelling)


I called Goonie, who’s an RN, and she suggested I go to a doctor when she saw the picture that I tearfully messaged to her. But, phhehh… I hate waiting at the doctor’s office. She guessed that the toe is broken, and that the doctor would immobilize it by gauzing and taping it to the unhurt toe next door.

So that’s where we are today, scarred and taped and limpy.

Everything else (other than the economy, HAHAHAHA. I’m now reading Super Sad True Love Story and finding it awesome and addictive and terrifying) is going great. It is such a huge bonus that Rainbow uses the potty, I can’t even tell you. He still has occasional #2 accidents, but this morning, all by himself (Mama, SHUT THE DOOR!!) he had a big ol’ substantial b.m. And forget the froggy potty; he’s a grown-up toilet guy now.

Also a huge bonus that he loves his preschool. He has this little gang of pals there who greet him joyfully. It’s Rainbow! Hi, Rainbow! I play dinosaurs or cars for a few minutes with him and his little posse, and then leave my contented 2.5 year old to play.

We generally do preschool 4 times a week now, which is more than I ever did with the other boys, but he LOVES IT. Rainbow’s such a social butterfly that he insists on pouncing on all visitors and coercing them to play kitchen. He’ll wake up and beg to go to Chuck E. Cheese or Discovery Center, to go see our weekly playdate pal, to go see cousins, to go to school. To “go see some guys.”

So, yes, hallelujah for a safe, affordable preschool that he loves.

Brad has a part in Much Ado About Nothing (Barachio, I think) and Rockinrolla’s 8-man football season is in full swing. First game is tonight! I’ve been working quite a bit with test writing and articles for Like Totally 80’s, both of which I enjoy tremendously. It looks like I’ll have another article published in Adoptive Families magazine, too, as soon as I get some hi-def pictures taken.

Salad days, mangled body and all.

there and back again

It was our seventeenth wedding anniversary on August 13. It seems impossible. I pointed out to Brad that I had been married longer than he’d even been alive, and he very deadpanned-ly said, Yep, that’s how it usually works, Mom. I guess the weird thing is that I have two children who are now old enough to be adult-sized and generally mature-ish. Weird.

With Brad and Rockinrolla off with my mom and her husband to Yosemite, and Goonie ready to babysit Rainbow, we wanted to have a grown-up getaway. And also wanted to see our friends K and A and their daughters in Atlanta. Originally, we were going to do a road trip to the Georgia coast, but then Daddy J priced tickets, and it turned out that there were some fabulous deals to our favorite place in Mexico.

We started with two nights in Atlanta at the Ritz (Daddy J got a corporate rate!) and hung out with my friend’s family at their neighborhood pool all day on Saturday. Fancy Thai dinner with them that night, then on to Playa del Carmen.

A bathwater-warm pool, really impressive resort food, water aerobics (for me) and volleyball (for Daddy J) and tons of reading (both of us), and muchos mojitos while we broiled. A friend from town visited at the resort one day, which was fabulous, and we went in to town one evening and caught up with some local friends at a bar. We swam in the ocean on the last night, with an almost-full moon, and it was one of the most magical times ever. Clear turquoise water and moonshine sparkling on the waves. A gorgeous, decadent trip.

I missed the tar out of my little baby, and kind of felt like I had my arm reattached when we got home to him. He did great with Goonie and at preschool while we were gone, and is now a full-on potty man with rare accidents. Brad and Rockinrolla started 10th and 9th grades yesterday; they are thrilled because their cousin began 6th grade this year.

And now the house is starting to wake up. Boys will get ready for their schools, the carpet shampooer is coming this morning (hallelujah!), and I’ll get back in my work and writing routine.

It’s nice to be home.

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