We’ve been having some all out screaming fits trouble with Baby Evan recently, probably due to demon possession teething. (Side note: When does teething END? He’s got 12 teeth with his incisors canines coming through right now.)

Once he stops being distracted by something specific or if I try to interrupt something he’s enjoying – throwing rocks at smaller children, hurling himself down concrete steps, biting the dog – he starts WAILING and goes all boneless and thrashes and flings his head backwards and throws a 100% genuine old-fashioned American temper tantrum.

Let me tell you how fun it is.

The teething is also making our usually peaceful nap and bedtimes into a process that involves every teething remedy in our arsenal combined with endless rocking and basically letting Baby Evan cry it out while in our arms. Several times in the past few days it has also involved letting the baby sleep directly on me for several hours (despite the RECORD HEAT and weird rash I now have from sweaty baby head on my chest) in the hopes that at least ONE of us can get some rest. Like yesterday:

Awwwwwww. Ok, so sleeping baby is not so bad. I think this is officially one of my favorite pictures ever. Cuddly naps on the couch make all the screaming so much more tolerable.

p.s. For the record, my boobs look huge like that because a) I am wearing an UNDERWIRE, NON-NURSING BRA for the first time in more than 18 months and b) despite not nursing for the past four days apparently my body is still trying to feed at least one, maybe two children and refuses to completely stop making milk. I’m about 24 hours away from pumping out of fear of a plugged duct.

p.p.s. I just occurred to me part of his sudden cuddliness is due to the weaning. Before when he needed some attention he just asked for milk and I didn’t really notice how much time we spent sitting together. Duh.

A few weeks ago, all my friends started pulling out these adorable Planet Wise wet/dry bags at play group and my inner green eyed monster immediately started gnawing on my common sense and INSISTED I had to get one too, even though I already had a wet bag and didn’t really need to be spending money on frivolous things.

But I bought one anyways, at my local fabulous baby store Papoose, and DUDE. It was SO NOT A FRIVOLOUS PURCHASE.

First off, it’s totally leak-proof, due to some sort of magical seaming and sealing process. Which means my biggest cloth diapering fear (carrying around a dirty diaper and having everyone think that smell is me) is totally gone. No poop smell or other kind of leakage. Exhibit A:

Magic non-PVC waterproof lining

Second, it has TWO POCKETS, one with the waterproof lining for wet stuff and one unlined pocket for your clean stuff. Brilliant. For someone who cloth diapers it means no digging around in my bag for the wipes and the extra insert and the diaper which is now full of Goldfish crumbs and sand and how did that green paint get in there? You could even do what my friend Megan has done and downgrade your GIANT DIAPER BAG to a cute little handbag and just use the snappy handle thing to attach it to your stroller or bag or whatever when it’s full. Exhibit B:

My cutest cloth diaper & my wipes case in the pocket.

Third, it’s freakin’ adorable. And large – 13″ x 16″. Exhibit C:

My print is called "Art Deco"

And just in case you thought I was lying about all my friends buying them first, Exhibit D:

Just from last week's playgroup, our collection of Planet Wise bags. Thanks to Connie & April for letting me be a weirdo and take pictures of your dirty diapers.

I sent Planet Wise an email letting them know I was going to sing their praises on the interwebs, for no other reason than I spent FOREVER looking at stuff like wet bags and diaper pail liners when we switched to cloth and I wanted to make it easier for anyone else trying to do the research. I also hinted at maybe doing a giveaway if they did that sort of thing and would be willing to work with a teeny tiny blogger. Shockingly, Lori emailed me back and said YES. I’m afraid she might be suffering from a head injury of some sort.

Which means YOU my friend, might be the proud new owner of one of these adorable bags in the pattern of your choice. Even if you don’t cloth diaper, these bags are perfect for dirty gym clothes, wet bathing suits, potty training, running clothes, or anything else that’s damp and possibly smelly. They’re cute and spacious and machine washable so you can just toss them in with your diapers/dirty stuff – even in the dryer.

TO WIN: Just leave a comment. That’s all.

If you want to check out the Planet Wise website and tell me which pattern you would pick, feel free. If you want to tweet about how awesome I am for giving you a chance to win the best wet bag ever, that’s awesome. If you want to like me on Facebook or vote for me on Top Baby Blogs, I’d appreciate it. If you want to tell me how much you hate these stupid reviews and giveaways, I’ll accept that too. But you only get one chance to enter with one comment. US addresses only please. (EDITED: OK MY DEAR CANADIANS! If you want to enter I will have Planet Wise ship the bag to me and I’ll cover the cost of mailing it to you. Because THAT is how much I love you!)

Good luck! And I’m wicked jealous of whoever wins. Free stuff is cool. Contest ends at midnight, July 29th. Winner announced first thing Friday morning! GIVEAWAY NOW CLOSED. SORRY :(

p.s. If you DON’T win, don’t despair! You can find a retailer near you here. Of course, Papoose also has an online store. Just sayin’.

Disclaimer: I was in no way compensated by any business mentioned in this post for my opinions. I’m not getting anything for free or at a discount for this review and spent my own cash on the product mentioned. YOU’RE the only one getting free stuff. Because I love you.

So between the tax increase (thanks for NOTHING stupid town) and the new minivan (thanks for NOTHING fetus) (just kidding) our budget is feeling a little pinched.

By “budget” I mean “dollars left over in our bank account three days before payday since we seem to be totally incapable of planning or predicting exactly how much we’re spending despite spreadsheets, software and having made pretty much the same amount of money for the last 2 years.”

And by “a little pinched” I mean “I’m considering selling my gold for cash. If I could just remember where I buried that chest of pirate’s booty.”

Unfortunately our largest expenses are all fixed – mortgage, car payments, insurance – so we’re taking a really hard look at our optional expenses. Since we can’t really stop eating or bathing and I would probably DIE without internet (not an exaggeration at all – I NEVER exaggerate) the service on the chopping block is cable.

OMG CABLE.

Growing up, my parents refused to pay good money for TV when it was available for free right out of the airwaves. Of course “available” is a relative term that often meant Dad climbing on the roof to reposition the giant antenna so we could watch whatever channel was currently broadcasting the documentary about soap in English.

We spent a lot of time at other people’s houses who did have cable outside.

When I went to college I was THRILLED to learn the dorms included cable – INCLUDED!!!!! – although I’m pretty sure my dad called to ask if he could get a discount on room & board if he had the connection turned off. Don’t worry, roommates, I’m sure he would have climbed up on the roof of the dorm to install a giant antenna for us.

With that kind of traumatic TV past, I’m having a hard time giving up my cable. I am in fact, throwing a little bit of a hissy fit about it. I don’t CARE that we have Netflix. I don’t CARE that almost every show I watch is available online. I don’t CARE that I can buy a season pass to almost everything else on iTunes for a fraction of our monthly cable bill. I don’t CARE that we have a super-fast desktop designated media computer attached directly to our TV so I can watch all the online shows ON MY ACTUAL TV. I don’t….oh. Well, when you put it that way, I guess I’m being a little unreasonable. Fine.

I think instead of giving up all TV we’re going to go to the absolute bare bones $16 a month cable plan (which is less than we pay for Netflix). Then I can still watch the Today Show in the morning while Baby Evan and I get ready and the Price is Right at lunch. Because it’s not lunch time without The Price is Right and I am NOT screwing around with roof climbing and antennas. It means I won’t have a DVR. It means I have to choose between shows when there are two things on I want to watch. It means when I’m deciding if I should sit on the couch and watch Wipeout or take the baby to the park the first option might take enough effort that I make the wiser choice.

I think it will be good for us and our bank account.

Bullet point 1: I am writing this in the fastest possible way, since my laptop is seconds away from conking out completely thanks to one small person’s habit of ripping the power cord out. It’s now broken and won’t charge at all. New power cord is on its way, until then consider these my last words to you. FAREWELL CRUEL WORLD.

Bullet point 2: You’d think I had some sort of brain damage or been dropped on my head and suffered severe memory loss from all the wailing and complaining I’ve done over Baby Evan’s teething woes. His molars are certainly not his first teeth ever and we got through the last ones relatively unscathed with Tylenol, teething tablets, camila and an amber necklace. All of those have again been located and I have high hopes that in the next 48 hours we will no longer be a family of exhausted, screaming zombies.

Bullet point 3: Although it cost us more than we wanted/could afford to spend, our new kitchen island is already the best investment we’ve ever made. My counter space has literally DOUBLED and my cabinets are no longer overflowing with small appliances that threaten to fall on my head as soon as I reach for a cookbook or a Tupperware container.

Observe:

A reminder of what the space used to be: a giant suck of shoes and crap. Only you can't really tell in this picture since it's from the home tour, when I hid all our junk.

A more accurate view of the space, after the Great Electrical Outlet Incident of 2010

And now we have this. The drawers AND the cabinet have no-slam hardware so never again will the baby pinch his fingers. We're living the high life, let me tell you.

The back side of the island, where we can put a couple of stools. Which means a) we now have an EAT-IN KITCHEN and b) We aren't doomed to eat on the couch for the rest of our lives. Also c) I get to go to IKEA for some stool shopping.

Look at all that space. Fantastic. I have the urge to bake a dozen pies. Or maybe just lick it. Oh and in case you were wondering, it's Corian, which I've always been very happy with.

This also means I have enough space to designate one drawer as specifically for Baby Evan. A Baby Evan drawer, if you will, full of plastic cookie cutters, old whisks, and sippy cups. No more spatula emergencies half way through making dinner when I realize they are all covered in dog hair and drool.

This may not be the kind of island most exhausted mothers dream of, but home improvement beats vacation around here every time. It lasts longer and you don’t end up with a sunburn or sand up your butt. At least, not so far.

I should also give a HUGE shout out to the kitchen guy, Jim from Roger’s Kitchens. His attention to detail in installing the island in a really awkward space was AMAZING and he didn’t complain once about our uneven floor, crooked walls or weird moldings. He was on time both days and cleaned up every speck of dust. He was even great with Baby Evan! This isn’t an endorsed plug  in any way (not even close – we paid full retail price for that VERY EXPENSIVE island) but I think a good job done deserves some recognition. If you’re in the Eastern Connecticut area and need a recommendation for a custom kitchen guy, now you have one. Roger’s Kitchens. Love.

GET IT? A TATTOO TOUR. TAT-TOUR.

Despite my suburban house in New England, my collection of Better Homes & Gardens magazines and my love of knitting, I am not as straight laced as I sound.

Just a warning for those related to me: if you’d like to continue pretending you have no knowledge of my ink, stop reading immediately. You can pretend I’m too smart/classy/God-fearing/whatever helps you sleep at night to EVER defile my body with an EVIL, VILE tattoo. If you do continue reading I don’t want to hear any of the following phrases, ever:
You’ll regret that when you’re 70
Why would you DO that to yourself?
Jesus kills a puppy every time someone gets a tattoo.

The answers are, No I won’t, because I like art and that’s ok I hate puppies anyways.

Still reading? Let’s start with my least meaningful tattoo:

Savannah, Georgia, September(ish) 2003

Yeah, it’s a lower back tattoo. In my defense, having a tramp stamp was practically required to attend C of C. I used to sit behind girls in EVERY class and stare at their butterflies/tribal art/lilies/Chinese characters/etc and wish I was cool enough for a tattoo. My mom had threatened to stop paying for college if I got one, which scared me enough to wait until senior year. I figured by then she wasn’t going to throw $40,000 down the drain just because of a little flower – although I did call to warn her I MIGHT be getting one about 30 seconds before the guy started.

My sister drew up a rough design for me and E (then just a boyfriend) drove me down to Savannah, since tattoos were still illegal in South Carolina at the time. Funny story, I told everyone at work he was taking me down to propose when it turned out his “surprise” was just a tattoo. Imagine how HILARIOUS it was to go into work on Monday to show off my ass crack instead of my left hand.

Norwich, Connecticut, October 2007 (and also, a teeny tiny baby bump)

For some crazy reason I decided I REALLY needed a ribcage tattoo and wouldn’t listen to anyone who warned me how much it hurt. I spent HOURS on the internet printing out “good” hummingbirds to show my tattoo artist, but he ended up drawing this one for me. He did the vine and the flowers freehand with a Sharpie and the whole thing took 2 2-hour sessions. I barely remember the first one when he did all the black because I was in such a pain haze, but the second one is vividly awful in my memory. SO MUCH PAIN. But in the end I love it so much I’d do it again. The bird is in honor of my uncle Scott who passed away in August 2007, who I think would have liked it, despite what his mother might say if she knew.

Charleston, South Carolina, April 4, 2008

Charleston is my favorite place in the world. I went to school there, I met my best friend there, I met my husband there, I got married there. So when my husband and I went back for my best friend’s wedding in April 2008 we MIGHT have skipped out of the rehearsal dinner a little early so I could get the South Carolina state flag symbol on my ankle. I had originally wanted it on my foot but chickened out at the last minute, which I regret a little bit. I think foot tattoos are classier than ankle tattoos. But whatevs, the guy did a fantastic job and the detail is really good for all black.

Groton, Connecticut November 2009

And finally, the tattoo I got in honor of Baby Evan. It’s an E and a 3 to stand for Evan Richard III but also a butterfly which I thought was pretty clever. Since I got it a few people have asked if it’s a tooth though, so maybe it’s not as butterfly-esque as I would have liked. I’m thinking I might incorporate a tattoo for this next baby somehow so it looks less toothy.

Now, because he wanted to play too, I’ll show you my husband’s tattoos.

Groton, Connecticut, 2006

A guy on E’s submarine drew this up while they were underway. The quality of the work is…not the best but the meaning is super duper special. The cards are the 8 and 7 of hearts and the chip says 2004 – our wedding date (8-7-04). Then if you look on the 1 chip, the middle of “Calypso Ultimate” says “soul” (calypSO ULtimate)…so there are 2 hearts, 1 soul. It’s very sweet without being too dorky. Unless you consider poker dorky. He’s hoping to have someone re-do it in the future to make it easier to read.

Groton, Connecticut, July 2009

Don’t even get me started on this one. I think it’s scary, although I do have to admit the art is fantastic, especially considering the guy drew it on just an oral description of what E wanted. It was in honor of making chief (an E-7 in the Navy for those who care about these things) so there’s a lot of significance in the anchor and the horns. Just don’t ask me to explain it what exactly it is. E’s ultimate plan is to have full sleeves on both arms (Sorry Mom!  And E’s Mom!) but I think his next tattoo will be something in honor of his kids. Plural now.

Be sure to check out the rest of the links below to see some more awesome art!