Tag: parenting

Who the heck are Chip and Bobo?

Chip and Bobo are pseudonyms for the two little rugrats I am proud to say I had a hand in making. Bobo is a precocious soon-to-be four year old whose favorite word at the moment is “Why?” Chip is her sweet little brother whose favorite word at the moment is “Uh-oh” (more on that later).

The real question you may be asking is, “Why this blog?”

Truth be told, after almost four years of parenthood, I have yet to compile a baby book for either of my children. My sister, a really talented scrapbooker, actually made me this beautiful little baby book for Bobo when she was born, complete with all of the pages laid out, etc. I have to abashedly admit that I started that some time ago, but the mere act of printing out pictures, gluing them on the pages and writing little captions put me on overload. It made me realize that a baby book for my daughter may be a lost cause at this point. Chip is probably really going to get the short end of the stick in that department.

Every time I tell my dad a story about the kids, he laughs and says “I hope you’re keeping a journal of these things. You think you’ll remember them later, but you’d be surprised what you forget.” Heck, I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast most days (let alone remember if I actually ate), so I believe wholeheartedly that’s true.

Thus, this blog is my 2010 New Year’s resolution.  It will be my 21st century version of my dad’s journal, or my sister’s scrapbooking. I realize how quickly my kids are growing up, and I want to have some sort of record of the things they said or did that made me want to laugh, cry or run for a bottle of Pepto Bismol. For the purposes of this blog, no real names have been used, in an effort to protect the i-did-it-but-i-want-you-to-think-i’m-innocent(s).

For those curious (or for the few folks that have actually read this far down), Chip and Bobo are actual nicknames we gave our munchkins while I was pregnant. While browsing through baby naming books, J thought it would be great fun to call our daughter “Bodacia”. I quickly vetoed that name, for two reasons:

  1. Being a teenager is hard enough without a name like that. Apologies to anyone named Bodacia. Really.
  2. He wanted to call her “Bo” for short. Can you imagine… “How do you spell your name? B-O.” No, thank you.

Thus, the name Bodacia wasn’t chosen, but henceforth our unborn daughter was referred to affectionately as Bobo.

Two and a half years later, as we were trying to break the news to Bobo that she’d be a big sister in the spring, the first question that came out of her mouth was “Why isn’t Momma’s belly big?” We explained to her that her younger sibling was still really tiny, probably no bigger than an M&M or chocolate chip. Again, the nickname stuck, even as momma gained 50 pounds throughout the pregnancy and clearly had more than just a chocolate chip in her belly.

If you’re interested in following the adventures of Chip and Bobo (and, occasionally some tidbits about their parents), please check back!

Aah, beer. I missed you, my friend.

I discovered a new kind of decadence today.  They have this new lime-flavored Bud Light, and I have to say, I am hooked.  Seriously, it’s the best thing since… well, regular Bud Light.

Living in Portland, the home of the microbrew, I often get strange looks when I go to a pub and order my regular.  I usually skip over the 12 different kinds of locally fermented brews they have on tap and go right to the domestic beer section.  What can I say… I’m a simple girl.

Drinking beer was one of those guilty pleasures I really missed while pregnant.  For me, there’s nothing better than cracking a cold one open after a long day of work and snuggling into bed with a chick flick and some knitting.

Tonight, I had just settled under my comforter, Bud Light Lime in hand, when I hear Chippy’s little wails in the other room.  I had just fed him a little while before, so I knew he wasn’t hungry, but I trotted down the hall anyway to his nursery.

I picked Chip up and started rocking and bouncing him.  The bouncing must have knocked out some gas that was lodged in there; he let out a tremendous belch, and his cries immediately subsided to little whimpers.  “Well, that was easy,” I thought to myself, as I continued to rock him.  I leaned down to give my sweet one a little kiss on the nose, which was when I heard the gurgling.

I have heard of projectile vomiting before, but I had never, thankfully, experienced it firsthand.  They definitely call it “projectile” for a reason; this was not your average urpage.  Unfortunately, my first experience with projectile vomiting was at close range and, even more unfortunately, when my mouth was open.  Fortunately, very little actually got on the baby, which was amazing considering mom’s face was dripping with half-digested breast milk.  All I can say is “Eeew.”

Gagging, I scrambled for the nearest burp cloth to try to sop up my son’s blow.  Meanwhile, Chippy gave a little sigh and snuggled contentedly into my arms, obviously feeling much better.

As he drifted off to sleep in my arms, I thought about my friend Bud waiting for me in the other room.  It sounded pretty good right about now.  Right after I get some mouthwash, that is.