Movin' on up...

The Rough family has relocated...a few miles...yes, to the "eastside."

Translation: We've switched from Phoenix to Scottsdale.

And by a few miles, I really do mean a few miles. 6.3 miles, according to Google maps.

Jim and I decided to take advantage of the current real estate market and low interest rates and buy a new place that we could make our own.

We got a semi-fixer upper for a scorching price in a beautiful neighborhood, next to a pretty public park with a playground, soccer fields, and nearby horse properties.

Moving in has been a long time coming. We put the offer in way back in October, but the closing was delayed...and delayed again, partly because the sale had to be approved by the courts.

We finally closed on December 23, and then promptly left town for a week. By the time we returned to Phoenix on New Year's Eve, we realized we had exactly four days to pack up and move all of our accumulated possessions to the new abode.

In that time, we also had to get a deep cleaning done on the new house, carpets cleaned on our old house, floors stripped and re-sealed on the new property, cleaning done on the old property and sign a bunch of paperwork to rent out the place I bought when I moved out here back in 2003.

I seriously wanted to tear my hair out.

It was so insane that Scott and I actually crashed at my mom and dad's for two (or was it three?) nights because Jim and I didn't have time to get a crib set up in the new place.

Coming on the heels of a week-long, 3-city trip where we spent the holidays with Jim's family, well, that meant my poor Tank slept in six different beds in the span of about 9 nights.

No bueno.

But....we're starting to feel a bit more settled.

A semi-fixer upper comes with a whole series of headaches, including 30-year-old kitchen appliances that don't work, an unmaintained roof that leaks, a broken garage door, a non-existent irrigation system (and hence, semi-dying trees), a three-decade old pool with somewhat functioning equipment that is not fenced and way too accessible to an always-on-the-go toddler, outdated fixtures, horrid paint and a random assortment of plumbing and electrical issues that have a tendency to strike at inopportune times.

The first month has been somewhat stressful and hellish - but we've gotten through it.

The garage door and roof have been repaired, there's a new sprinkler system providing water to the trees, a nice secure fence surrounding the pool and new stainless steel appliances in the kitchen.

We've made enough progress that I can now start to focus on all that we've gained - an extra 1,100 square feet, a 1-acre lot where Scott can roam and play, a more open, modern living space with vaulted ceilings and a kitchen island that's perfect for entertaining, an extended three car garage, and a beautiful, safe neighborhood that feeds into top-rated public schools.

This place is also special because its the first - and likely only - house Jim and I will purchase together. This is the house we will make our home, where we (I hope) will grow old and raise our children. And I love that.

And Scott has proved that once again he's adaptable - a total champ.

After two or three restless nights, he settled into his new big boy nursery/room with ease. And he loves roaming the backyard, and the new patio, which is, by the way, big enough to hold his new "bbq grill" and outdoor playhouse.

So here's a few pics (finally) of our Home Sweet Home.

Front of the new house. Love the circular drive.

Roof repair...admit it, you are jealous of our big green dumpster.

Scott entertains himself by playing in the new cabinets on moving day.

Three days later... the crib is set up, and he's enjoying his new Lego table.

Good thing bulk trash pickup is a monthly service!

While Jim "fixes," I decorate. Had a blast creating this monkey mural in Scott's new bathroom.

We have two of these floor to ceiling brick fireplaces - one in the family room, and this one, in the master bedroom. LOVE them.

Our redone family room. The new rug cuts down on the echo from the saltillo tile.

Jim's "man cave." A built-in wet bar, with sink, margarita machine and bar fridge.

More decorating. Our new family photo gallery.

The new removable, mesh pool fence mid-way through construction.

Scott checks out his new digs from his backyard playhouse.

Mr. Independent

I received a good amount of feedback on my Facebook status update this morning.

I lamented watching Scott walk/run into the daycare room all on his own, without even the slightest glance back at me and nary a thought in his little head (or so it seemed) for the mommy he left in his dust.

Most everyone sympathized, and a few mommies pointed out this independent streak is actually a good thing - my little boy is growing up and has the confidence to go forward without my help.

I guess I get that - its a good, and valid point. But his behavior still makes me a little sad.

When Scott was a baby - an infant - Jim and I talked about "when he's older." As in: we can't wait until he's older and he can interact with us, he won't wake up every three hours, we can take him places, he can talk and tell us what he likes and doesn't like.

Well, we're there.

Tank shows us everyday that he's becoming a strong little man. His own person. He can be fun and exuberant, whiny and willful.

As I watch him, I vascillate between incredible bursts of pride and pangs of longing and sadness. I love that he's developing his own likes, dislikes, fears, interests.

But he's becoming less and less a baby and I am constantly reminded of little things I miss:

--How he used to let me rock him to sleep in bed or in the comfy glider in his room, his head perfectly curled into the crook of my arm.


--How his little hand would grip my index finger while he drank his milk.


--How he used to splash like a Buddha baby in his infant bathtub. 

--How he loved to be bundled into his Miracle Blanket/swaddler at bedtime, but then would delight in kicking both legs simultaneously, like a prisoner trying to escape a straight jacket, until he propelled himself in a 180 degree half circle around his crib, wore himself out and fell asleep.

It wasn't too long ago that Scott actually DID fit in one of those Bumbo seats...now they just make  great play toys.

Everyone tells you when you have kids, time flies.

That is and isn't true.

Individual days can sometimes stretch out for an eternity and leave you feeling like you are wandering through a desert without even a mirage or the slightest hint of water.

But collectively, they zoom by in a mind-blowing blur.

If I've learned anything in the past 16-plus months, it is to enjoy every fleeting minute with my kid -- even the ones that make me want to rip my hair out at the follicles.

Because tomorrow, I am going to look up at the breakfast table at a six-year-old who his headed off to his first day of kindergarten. And one all too soon day after that, I am going to be helping my 18-year-old pack up his room for college.

(And for the record: On both those occasions, he will not be allowed to leave without at least SAYING goodbye to his mama.)

Scott, trying oatmeal for the first time.  Jan 2011

Scott, devouring his own turkey leg. December 2011.

Furry Red Muppet Monster Obsession

Elmo, the bedtime buddy.

What is it about the toddler brain that causes it to become utterly fascinated with a certain red muppet monster?

It's like someone flipped a switch deep within Scott's head and activated the "Elmo Obsession lobe."

Sure, the kid has long enjoyed "Play with Me Sesame," -- even breaking out into a big grin at the opening notes of the theme song. And I think his first crush was on Prairie Dawn, the little piano playing blonde-haired muppet girl.

But this is different.

Scott has a new, stuffed Elmo. It's permanently attached to him. It goes to the breakfast table, to daycare, he tried to bring it in the bath too.

Scott says only a handful of words with regularity -- "mama," "daa-da da da," "baww" (ball), "dahhnn"(down)...but suddenly, "Mem-MO" is in heavy rotation. He says it while pointing to the dog, as he's walking through the house, and whenever he enters his room.

The stuffed Elmo I bought him has become an extension of his body. Like a third arm. He has a Rock 'n Roll Elmo that plays drums, the tambourine and sings. For the past week, at bedtime and at naptime, he'll only let me read "Mem-MO" related books.

 

Elmo and Scott at the railroad park

Over and over and over and over again.

And there's a new insistence behind his voice. A sudden, underlying, "if you don't make the freaking red monster muppet thing appear RIGHT NOW I am going to have a complete, catastrophic meltdown" kind of tone.

So I guess we've officially entered the "Elmo Phase"...kind of makes me wonder if the good folks at Sesame Street have put some sort of subliminal messaging in their television show that only toddlers can hear and respond to.

Em-MO! I don't care if we've read it 400 times in the past two days, mommy. Read it AGAIN!!

The Ladies' Man

It's been almost one month since I last blogged. Between the holidays, a move, a trip out of town, and a new job at work, I've been way too busy to write.

(Check back soon for pics and thoughts on our trip to the Caribbean, our Christmas holiday and finally being in our new house.)

But this...this was too good. I had to type up a quick post.

I've always known (in a completely non-biased, non-helicoptery parent kind of way) that I had a cute kid. I also discovered shortly after his birth that the little girls agreed with me.

And now I know Scott, well, Scott is just like his daddy: he likes the ladies.

According to his daycare teachers, Scott has developed a new routine during group story time and milk time. He'll sit on the floor with the other kids, usually next to one of the little girls in the class.

Then, he'll face forward, look shyly to the side, face forward again, and then scoot an inch or two closer to the nearest girl.

A few seconds later, another face forward, another look, another scoot.

Apparently he inches himself over three or four times until he's positioned himself right next to his closest "girlfriend."

I say closest girlfriend, because apparently, my child doesn't play favorites. He runs his game on several of the little girls in the room.

As I said: like father, like son.
(And I know secretly Jim has never been more proud.)

Scott charms an older woman at a local restaurant. He approached, smiled and batted his eyes. She was immediately hooked.

Dance, Dance, Dancin-Machine!

My son has moves.

It started last month, when he stamped his feet in time to a '60s cover band, during our family vacation. Then he added a head bop. And now, he's discovered the magic of spinning.


Unfortunately, he hasn't quite learned how to stop. Or how to go in the other direction. So he just spins, and spins and spins until he gets dizzy and falls down.

Case in point. Scott gets his groove on at Jim's company holiday Christmas party.
 

(And while it doesn't transfer well via still photo, here are some shots of Scott mid-groove a few minutes later.)

Perfecting the 'head-bop'

Working on my shuffle step.

I am a total ham!

I have to admit, I love that my kid is into music. And that he doesn't discriminate. Country, rock, jazz, holiday classics...you name it. All we have to do is say "Dance, Dance Dance!" and he obliges, with glee.

He likes to play too. He's got a xylophone at home and a drum set that he bangs with gusto. For Christmas, he's getting a toy piano.

I will probably regret fostering this love of music when he's in high school and playing the drums in the garage of our home at all hours of the day and night.

But for now, dance on, young man. Dance on.

Being "Mommy" is Job #1

Sometimes, you have to take a step back. Re-evaluate.

I've spent the past year juggling. Trying to create a delicate balancing act between a demanding career that I love and an equally demanding little boy that I adore.

After 13 months, a non-stop array of respiratory illnesses, ear infections, trips to Walgreens, a flood of tears, and countless stressful nights that have left me with a perpetually painful, deep shoulder knot, I made a very difficult decision: little boy wins.

In October, I went to my editor and asked to be reassigned off the Governor's Office beat. I told my employer that I wanted to cut back my hours and spend more time with my family.

I am beyond lucky.

My husband has been nothing but supportive as I've wrestled (and not usually gracefully) with this decision. And my bosses at the Republic have been beyond accommodating. My request was met with zero resistance, and a genuine desire to find a role that will allow me to keep working and satisfied professionally, while still giving me the flexibility I need at home.

Starting Monday, I cut back my hours. I am still temporarily on the Capitol team, still covering the Governor's Office. But those days are limited. I don't yet know what my new role will be at the paper.

But whatever it is, I am eternally grateful that I still get to keep working.

And even more grateful that I get to spend some more time with this guy. Could you resist this face?

Me neither.

Halloween roundup

Yes. I am aware that is Dec. 1.
I am just getting around to posting about Halloween.

But between the never-ending merry-go-round of colds, earaches, croup, one freakishly bad eye infection, a sick cat, buying a house, a week-long vacation to the Caribbean, and pneumonia, my blogging took a hit.

Month-long hiatus, over.

I need to memorialize Scott's second Halloween. He was here for it last year, but at a mere six weeks old, was asleep in my arms by 7 p.m., and pretty much unaware of anything going on around him. (He did look awfully adorable in his Superman costume though.)


This year,  I "gave" Jim Halloween. He indulged my book-themed first birthday party, so I let him pick the costume. He chose football. Shocker. But, somehow appropriate for our bruiser Tank.

I hit the big time when I found a replica Arizona State University costume online. Never mind it was for kids ages 4-6. I safety-pinned the jersey, and just let the pants be a little baggy. The only thing we couldn't use at all was the helmet. Still, a little of mommy's mascara smeared under each of Scott's eyes, and the "look" was complete.

That's one handsome footballer, no? (And yes, that is one adorable Minnie....Scott's slightly older cousin, Peyton.)

First up was a family trip to Boo at the Zoo, where Scott tried out his new walking skills. It is also the only family photo we have of the entire "holiday."

Next was the Halloween parade at Scott's daycare. He got to join the big kids in the room next door, and after an initial freak out, laughed it up like he belonged there.

Our plan was to go trick or treating in one of my colleague's neighborhoods. But as has been the case too many times in Scott's young life, he came down with croup the night of Halloween. (If anyone is counting, this is time #5.)

So we decided to stick closer to home. Cool night air is actually good for croup, so we loaded Tank on to his big-boy trike/scooter (which he loves) and cruised the streets in our neighborhood for about an hour or so.

Scott discovered the sheer goodness that is a lollipop, and, in the throes of a sugar high, was kind enough to share his second one with Daddy.

Oh my GOD! This lollipop is good, don't you think Daddy?

His cuteness generally netted him extra goodies at each stop, so by the time he got home, his football (of course) themed Halloween basket was overflowing with sweet stuff.

Scott charms yet another neighborhood candy-hander-outer.

Halloween #2 = big success.

Not bad for a first time stash.