Working 9 to 5.

Last night I went to a Mary Kay party. It takes a special woman to be a successful Mary Kay consultant. A woman not like me. How do I know this? Well, in the time before Tyson I held many a job. Among the TEN jobs I had in college, I worked at not one but THREE telemarketing places (yes, that was me you hung up on), sold jewelry at the mall (that was the best of the sales jobs) and sold t-shirts door to door.

Yeah, t-shirts.

These shirts had coupons on the back for a bunch of free stuff and the proceeds went to the boys and girls club. A nice idea, but unfortunately the shirts were totally ugly and really, who buys a shirt from a door to door salesman?

Well, besides college age boys and families who felt bad for the 20 year old girl wandering around at night in the winter.

Surprisingly, the t-shirt place went out of business and I think I quit two of the telemarketing jobs by calling in sick about 10 times in a row and then just not showing up.

Needless to say, those jobs were conspicuously absent from employment applications.

As you may have noticed there wasn't a sales job that I could resist in those days, so when Mary Kay came a knockin', I signed up. And so did my roommate. After going to a couple motivational meetings and learning the right way to put on nail polish I decided that I didn't like to sell stuff and I definitely wasn't going to win a pink Cadillac by peddling makeup to poor college students.

A few months later I got a letter in the mail that read something like:

Oh no! It looks like you have been TERMINATED for not keeping up your sales. Happily, all you have to do to return to Mary Kay is sell another product...

I forget exactly how it went, but this was basically the gist. So yeah, I got fired from an at home business where I was my own boss.

This was information I neglected to mention to our consultant last night where I laughed too loud, only spent $10, and tried to get everyone else to buy their stuff from me.

Just kidding!

I'm the stinky cheese man!

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your eyes.

For we have had total success in the bath department. Along with your wonderful suggestions, I found something that helps Logan be happy and content while I bathe him.

Singing primary songs.

I discovered he loves primary songs a few days ago when he was being just a tad fussy. I got him to take a pacifier and started singing. He spit that paci out and started grinning and cooing at me. I sang every song I knew, some of them twice before he needed the paci back and went to sleep.

So that's what I did during his bath.

*sidenote* I'm watching biggest loser right now and has anyone noticed that Jillian Michaels runs like an awkward person? I would not imitate her style if I was you.

Anyway, I sang him those songs and he was so content he let me wash the lint out of his toes and the stinky cheese out of his neck rolls.

What?

My child is perfect and smells like roses and don't you forget it.

In addition to the bath my own faucets started running and leaked all the way through my shirt and my jeans before I even noticed. Apparently I had pulled my legs up to my chest at some point or something. Who knows? My worst fear right now is that it's going to happen while I'm in public and totally embarrass me. Like when I'm conducting the music in church or wandering around the grocery store or something. Especially since I don't seem to notice until there is enough milk to feed my child on the front of my shirt.

And I do wear pads in case you were wondering.

The flow overpowers all.

Do boys read this blog?

If you are boy reading this blog and you feel awkward right now, I'm sorry.

Just think of how I feel with liquids gushing out of my body at inopportune times.

Would you like me to end this entry with a picture of my lovely totally non-stinky child?

My pleasure.

I think...

Logan just broke my ear by slamming his head into it. I heard a crack.

He appears to be fine. I am crying.

Just kidding, I'm not. Even though it hurts.

Oops.

Well, the kid had another blow out and I had to give him a bath by myself again.

And even though I was careful to keep the water and my hands warm... screamfest.

Apparently a cold wipe on the back is as effective as an ice cold hand and there was no amount of high pitched talking and trying to get his attention that was gonna make him forget it.

Poor kid.

So I gave up on getting him dressed afterward, wrapped him in a warm blanket and snuggled him for the next three hours. I think he forgave me.

Can I just say that I am so grateful that this baby is cute to me? I was super worried that I would have an ugly baby. Do other people feel this way? I figured I would love him no matter what, but I felt like if he was ugly I would be able to tell. And be secretly sad. Is that bad?

This totally makes up for getting pooped/spit up on every hour today.

Happy Halloween!!!

Love,

The Lowders

p.s. Logan is a giraffe in case you can't tell. A giraffe who's hood is too big.

Pumpkin patch!

Well folks, its time for the obligatory pumpkin patch photos! We took advantage of some gorgeous weather on Saturday and went to battle the crowds.

But first we got distracted by Logan in this outfit for the first time and took pictures.

My friend loaned me her moby so I could try before I buy and let me tell you I love it! Logan is so happy being wrapped up and carried around. Putting him in it pretty much ceases all crankiness.
He was super into the pumpkins let me tell you what.
Speaking of into pumpkins... Tyson loves to find the biggest pumpkin he can that stands up on its own. Our traditional location in Utah just writes a price on the pumpkin, this place charges by the pound.

87 lbs later we were on our way.

It was pretty awesome watching Tyson carve that beast.

It was just a little bit thick.

Oh look! It's as tall as the baby!

The obvious next step is putting him in the pumpkin.

Tyson's pumpkin is representative of something in your house. Props if you can guess what it is.

This post brought to you by one handed typing moms of america.

One month

I can't believe my bitty baby is one month old today! Bah! I'm pretty sure this has been the fastest month of my life which seems weird since I've been awake for more of this month than any other. This has also been a month of much learning. For example, I learned how not to give a baby a bath by yourself:

1. Don't pick up a naked baby with ice cold hands. The baby will scream as if shot and continue screaming for the duration of the bath. (I'd cry too)

2. Don't fill the tub with the perfect temperature of water and then spend the next 20 minutes playing with baby. The water will cool to an uncomfortable lukewarm before he's even in there and the baby will scream for the duration of the bath.

3. Don't hold the baby awkwardly by one arm while bathing him. He will slip and squirm and startle and feel like he's falling and scream for the duration of the bath.

4. Don't leave the towel on the bar.

5. Don't stand in the middle of the bathroom holding a screaming, naked, freezing baby at arms length while wondering how to get the towel off the bar.

6. Don't spend several minutes calming a naked baby wrapped in a towel. It is better to get the torture of bathing and dressing over all at once.

Yeah, it was rough. Let's just say it took a lot of snuggling, rocking, and hair brushing (he takes after his mother in liking that one) to calm him down and convince him to forgive me.

In honor of his one month birthday I meant to take a million pictures and show them ALL to you, but alas, I left my camera at Tyson's parent's house so here are a couple pictures from a few days ago. He still basically looks like this.

Here he is trying to smile at me. He's almost mastered it, heh heh. It does make me wonder though, since I know he's imitating me, how much of a goober I look like grinning at him.

And here he is looking a bit more normal.

Happy one month birthday son!