Friday, September 30, 2011


People have been mispronouncing my name every day for the last 29 years. I get Callie, as in California, FAR more then I get Kali, as in Kaylee. I blame my parents. Obviously phonetics weren't taken into consideration at 4:57 a.m. on March 22, 1982. Unfortunately, it's me who's been paying the toll ever since. Part of me feels rude when I have to correct people. Then again, part of me feels it's rude when someone doesn't call me by the right name. Most can't help it. They're strangers, what do they care? It's the ones who see me daily that slay me. Or the ones with the memory similar to the life span of a fruit fly. They're my favorite. They're the ones I TELL my name to in a conversation and they repeat it back to me at the end of said conversation, only to say it wrong. Here's a tip: if you can't remember what I told you five seconds ago, and being a new mom believe me I can understand, then just don't try!

I have to say, though, that my all time favorite name memory was the day I graduated college. They were announcing the summa cum laude recipients (thank you, thank you) so they could stand and be recognized by the audience. Seconds after the announcer said "Callie Miller" my Mom, one of the more vocal people of the world, shouts, "Iiiiiiiittttttttt'ssssssssss Kaaaaaaaaaaaayleeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!" We're in a giant dome mind you. Thousands of people in ear shot. You would've thought she had a megaphone it was that loud. I just had to laugh.

Now before I was married, I could count on everyone at least getting my last name right. Really. You can't f*ck up Miller. Now that I'm a DeBoer however, as in DeeBoar, it's hopeless. "Callie Debower?" Ummm… nope. "Kylie Devore?" Try again. "Katie Debber?"Shoot me now.

Needless to say, I hold the phonetical spelling of a name very close to my heart. The day Maci was born though, I figured we picked a name where you really can't go wrong with how it's pronounced. It's a giant store for crying out loud. Everyone knows Macy's right? The giant red star? The Thanksgiving day parade? Apparently not without the "y" they don't. So yeah, the other day, I got a voice message on my cell phone from our pediatrician's office saying, "…and we're calling to confirm the appointment for Macki…" as in Mackee. WTF? Seriously? Thank God they didn't try and say her last name. I might have gotten out my megaphone.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011


Brace yourself, the following is a photo dump…

Bear hug for the Pops
Little baby in a biiiiiiiig car seat
A fish outta water
"Umm… excuse me…"
Who says a girl can't wear dino PJs!
The affects of Mama's milk
Smoochin some chubby cheeks
"Loud noises!"
"I got my eye on you."
Nothin cuter then a baby yawn
If she aint got the Nuk, she's got the thumb
The first cloth diaper!
Whoa… the white balance is a wee off
Happy baby
Still happy baby
Flexin her muscles
One of the last nights she slept in the Pack n' Play
Maci's Running Man
Sportin her spare chin
Snoozin in her swing
"Dad? Should we be ghosts for Halloween?"
She represents the Lollipop Guild
The sly smile
Pre shots – happy as a clam
Post shots – band aids over the battle wounds
Dirt sleeves!
Fist bumps for Uncle Ty

Tuesday, September 20, 2011


I am, what some would call, a picky eater. I prefer the title, simplistic eater. If I can't spell it, pronounce it or grow it in my back yard, chances are I will shy away from it. For example, a week or two ago some neighbors were sitting around a bonfire and a couple detailed one of their latest meals that they uberly enjoyed. I looked at Shawn and was like, "I have no idea what the hell any of that stuff they just rattled off is." Now, I have gotten better, thanks to my adventurous husband and said pushy neighbors, but I stick to my guns whenever I can or am allowed to or won't be stoned for it.

For me, it's a texture thing. Be warned, I will gag if you try and make me chew through an oyster. Which, by the way, is a giant, thick, snail of a food. Texture or not, I don't know how anyone eats those things! I also refuse tomatoes, pineapple, asparagus (or asspergrass – right, Beaner?), all seafood and mushrooms. Mushrooms which, according to my late-the-great Dad, are cultivated on horse shit and I couldn't agree more! Slimy, tasteless, sponges that they are! Brace yourself, I also don't like apple pie or apple crisp. It makes my innards turn just thinking about trying to chew a warm apple. Bleh. It's all in the texture. If it takes more then a couple good bites to break something down, it wasn't meant to be broken down. If it starts to string apart in your mouth, it's best to spit it out. If it can look at you from your plate, throw it back in the ocean!

Thinking about it more, it's also a bit of a smell thing. Like Chinese food? If I can't stand the smell, why on earth would I go through with eating it? Or frozen dinners like Lean Cuisine? They all have the same smell. Seriously. I think it's the waft of salt in my opinion. Or let's consider seafood again. Fish stink. Period. Shawn and the men in his family head north to Canada every year to go fishing and not one person likes to eat fish, except Shawn. This means at any given time, we have an exuberant amount of Canadian fish in our freezer. Then when he decides to cook it, we're guaranteed not to have any guests for days because the sheer smell of our house after the fish fry deters even the relentless of solicitors (ie Custom Remodelers). Much better then our "No Soliciting" sign does I might add.

I often times find myself wondering what the big deal is with the way I eat? Why should I be made to feel bad? Why should I have to put big icky tomatoes in chili for everyone else just so I have to pick them all back out again? Why can't I go to Subway and simply request some meat and cheese? Why can't I go to Taco Bell and get three soft shell tacos with no lettuce? Why can't my favorite meal to order be grilled cheese and fries? Aside from the fact that I could use a little more greenery in my diet, I am happy with the way I eat. I enjoy eating with my Iowan brother Ty or long lost friend Jordan or my ex-coworker Steve because we eat alike. The other day at work, when I wasn't the only one picking the unknowns out of the sautéed noodles we were having, I found myself longing for a friend that eats like me again. Until I find that someone, consider the search on!

Tuesday, September 13, 2011


Maci Mae is back at daycare today for round two. She did extremely well on day one, by the way, and has quickly made two new friends in the process. This milestone has lead me to learn two very important lessons worth sharing:

1. I will never again be on time.

I assumed this would come to fruition when I returned to work. I knew I would have to deal with not only getting myself ready, but a baby as well. I thought I might be able to avoid this conclusion but no, I was wrong. Thank goodness I opted (and was granted permission) to return to work on a Wednesday allowing myself a couple trial runs at this new morning routine. It's now obvious how badly I needed the practice, a good (morning) swift kick in the ass and a slightly harsh reality check.

It immediately becomes apparent how unpredictable babies are when you are trying to be somewhere at a certain time. No matter the preparation, something will inevitably throw you off schedule. Feedings, diaper changes, dogs, traffic or worst case scenario, all of the above. Since yesterday morning, I've moved my alarm back (earlier) 30 minutes and fear tomorrow, I'll have to add another 30 minutes. Partly because it took longer to ready Maci this morning then I guessed and partly because I hit the snooze button a good three times. No matter my opinions on the subject, I'm realizing that I will have to force myself to become a morning person. Either that or I'll have to forgive myself for that Pepsi I so desire first thing in the morning to help aid me through this process.

2. Never underestimate the power of a trip to Target.

I feel like a new person. I just returned from my inaugural trip to Target, sans Maci, and managed to escape the complex without one, single, baby item. *air fives all around* In fact, everything I purchased was for me. Little ole me. It was nothing fancy mind you, some makeup and some Pepsi (see paragraph above), but all items were sorely needed for this Mama and their purchases have been put on the back burner for what I decided was way too long.

Mid-shopping, I took a minute to marvel at my options for time management. I was allowed to stroll through whatever isles I wanted. I was able to take some time to meander through the end caps and contemplate buying something I really didn't need just because it was on sale. I was granted the freedom to be able to really think about what I needed to get while on this trip as opposed to trying to sneak in and out with the essentials before Maci awoke and alarmed the entire store that she was in need of a boob or a clean pooper.

This education I'm earning is worth every penny, lesson, trial and tribulation when I see Leo give Maci a kiss, Norman give her a sniff, she gives Shawn a smile or I'm able to coax a coo. Next up, I'm officially back to work tomorrow. Lord grant me (and those I work with) the strength…

Monday, September 12, 2011


I dropped Maci Mae off at daycare for the very first time this morning. Since then, I tried to unlock my house with the Mazda car key, tried to pay at the grocery store with a business card and drove to my OBGYN's office instead of the chiropractor's office where my appointment really was scheduled this morning. I'm either deathly devoid of sleep, emotionally drained, in denial that my baby is with a stranger (stranger to her that is, not to me – I happen to be in love with Bree, our daycare provider and good friend of mine) or all of the above because I feel like a complete zombie today. With the exception of feeling sick to my stomach last night, no emotions are oozing out yet. I seriously think my body, brain, heart and mind are refusing to process anything that is occurring today. Autopilot is definitely engaged… either that or I'm a terrible mother for the absence of intense feelings and for mildly enjoying the freedom to get a few things done.

Then again, maybe, just maybe I might be an okay mother knowing Maci is safe and sound and in the most loving and capable hands possible and will be just fine upon my return. Huh. Yeah… I like the sounds of that. I'm going with that until the ability to process this returns and I can again put into writing my feelings about the situation, or until I break down into a puddle of tears and Oreo crumbs. Whichever happens first.

Thursday, September 8, 2011


I need help. In so many ways but today I'm honing in on my living room. See that cream, over sized love seat in the photos below? Yeah, that's going. It's not really cream anymore, thanks to the dogs, and while it served it's purpose for the couple of years we've had it, it's usefulness in our casa has expired. Having bought it off of Craigslist, parting ways with it will not be a financial waste because it was dirt cheap. Now, it's just full of dirt. I'm sure it can be cleaned. In fact, it's rather easy to wipe down, I just don't have the time, patience or devotion to continue to care for such a piece knowing our two bassets will just bring it back to it's present state quicker then Maci can take a poo.

So, my dilemma. With said dogs, the easiest furniture to maintain in our house is leather. However, we already have a leather sofa (from Craigslist) that I happen to love and now I'm stuck with what piece(s) to add to it. The question: Do you think multiple leathers can exist in a living room and if so, do they have to match? Nowadays it seems mismatched is the way to go but I cannot find a photo, sample or magazine picture anywhere that shows mismatched leather pieces. Also, what type of chair(s) would you suggest and with what arrangement? Unfortunately, due to budge cuts, the present TV and entertainment center have to stay for now until the fund fairy returns to help us finish our basement and move the (flat screen) TV down there. Considering all that, what say you?

Monday, September 5, 2011


When Maci Mae was exactly 10 days old, my neighbor and good friend Shaina Olmanson visited our abode to professionally photograph the wee one. You should see her camera. I was drooling.

Miss Shaina has the patience of a saint, the eye of a phenominal photographer, the knowledge and experience of a mother and the calmness and ease of a professional and friend. Even though I was mortified that Maci decided to poop ALL over her beautifully white and fluffy blanket within the first five minutes of the shoot, she just wiped her little tushy, put a paper towel over the spot and moved on. No muss, no fuss. Then when Maci continued to poop and pee and poop and pee, she simply laughed, placed the diaper back on her bare bottom and held out until the peanut was empty. Then when Maci decided she just wasn't going to fall back asleep, she leisurely strolled three houses back down to her casa and told us just to give her a buzz when Maci was once again lights out and she'd run back over. I'm telling yah, she couldn't have made it any easier for these nervous rookies! Dealing with a little DeBoer is no easy task and she made it seem a breeze.

The results speak for themselves…

Below has to be one of my (sentimental) favorites. We worked SO hard to get this photo because this was just about when Maci decided she wasn't willing to cooperate for a while. She is sprawled on the quilt made of my Dad's old clothes. Specifically, she is chillin' on the zubazs! I can just see him grinning at the fact that these infamous pants live on and I can't stop grinning about the fact that now Maci will have a keepsake to remember him by. Having her makes me miss him even more then I ever thought I could so it helps to have a part of him with us both for the future. To top it off, the little fold we three share atop each of our left ears happens to show in the photo. Okay, I must stop, before I cry. Again.

The following photos were sort of accidental. We hadn't even planned on trying to get the boys in any shots with the sleeping beauty for fear of it being an impossible mission. Oh what a little cheese, some crazy parents and a quick photographer can accomplish! Now that I see them I feel lucky we gave it a shot because they are priceless! Check out Leo's tongue…

Now, I try not to play favorites with my boys but Norman holds a special place in my heart. He will forever be my first puppy love and my heart melts like the chocolate of his eyes every time he nuzzles in to cuddle with me. He is my old soul and this is my favorite, favorite, favorite, favorite photo. Favorite.

Shaina was amazing. Have I said that yet? I highly recommend her skeelz to whoever may be interested and can't wait to hopefully wrangle her into a few more sessions as Maci gets older. Thank you lady! It's annoying how amazing you are. By the way, did I mention she also cooks? And writes about it? And is phenominal at both? Overachiever…

Saturday, September 3, 2011


Okay so it's not exactly like where's Waldo, more like, where's Leo? Or, which of these does not belong? Or, which of these is not like the other? You get the point. Bottom line, it's cute as hell and I was smitten with Mr. Leo the night he decided to bunk up with the Cornstuble chitlins. No, we did not let him spend the night, for fear of starting an unwanted trend, but we did let him lay there long enough to be cuddled, loved and woo'd to sleep.

To all those that have asked how the boys are adjusting to Miss Maci… well, as you can see, they're doing just fine and are looking forward to her growing bigger and being her buds. Norman, the older (but not necessarily the wiser) of the two is more reserved about the whole situation. Don't get me wrong, he gets his sniffs and licks in occasionally (Gasp! You let your dogs lick your baby?! Yes-sir-y-Bob!). Honestly, I think he is just lazy and is only really motivated to move by food. When Maci starts dropping morsels onto the floor, then he'll sweep in and win her love.

Leo, on the other hand, is much more attentive, curious and devoted shall we say. It is really quite sweet to see him rest his chin on the ottoman right by her head when she's getting a diaper change and on the verge of breaking down. You can tell he just wants to comfort her somehow and will do anything to make her feel better. I was grateful for his presence on Thursday when she was losing her mind mid-change and he came over and affectionately nuzzled and licked her face and she immediately calmed down enough for me to fasten the diaper, zip-up her PJs and scoop her up for some kisses of my own. Life saver that Leo!

That's the scoop on our pooch(es). So… buttons… on your underwear. What's new with you? Got any exciting Labor Day weekend plans? Been to a state fair lately? Ate anything good? Something deep fat fried? Something on a stick? A jalapeno perhaps?

Thursday, September 1, 2011


I have learned an invaluable number of lessons in the past (almost) seven weeks. Some of what I now consider some of the greatest and most impacting I've ever learned. After trying to group or organize these learning moments into some semblance of order that makes sense, I instead scrapped that failing idea and decided to write them all into this melting pot of posts.

Bringing a human into this world has a way of altering your reality. It's a miracle that does not require any previous training or qualifications and forces you to care for something that is completely dependent on you all the while maintaining your sense of self, having faith in the strength of your marriage and not forgetting your precious pooches. Compound all this with the least amount of sleep you've probably ever had and it seems a recipe for chaos. I've learned that accepting this chaos is the hardest thing to do but the feat that reaps the most rewards, of course, should you let it.

All this to say, nothing is perfect and it never will be. Loving the imperfections is my new goal.

I've learned that our house will never be clean enough, organized enough, kid-proof enough, big enough or complete enough.

I've learned that diaper rashes do eventually go away, spit up, poop and other mysterious baby substances do not stain and diaper changes are completely unpredictable.

I've learned to treat sleeping, eating, showering, brushing my teeth, hugging my husband and petting my dogs as commodities that are to be treasured and enjoyed in the (rare) moment.

I've learned to buy an orange changing table cover for all future babies.

I've learned that an auntie / friend / neighbor showing up at just the perfect time to save me from shaking to death from low blood sugar can turn ones perspective upside down on impromptu visitors.

I've learned to save the really deep conversations and arguments with your husband for daytime and not respond to each others jabs at 3am. 

I've learned that babies and small children speak their own languages, are more receptive to each other then to adults and little helpers are a blessing in disguise.

I've learned (although I haven't necessarily come to terms with the fact) that my body will never again be the same and that stretch marks, cellulite and swollen feet build character.

I've learned that a simple tube of mascara can make me feel put together.

I've learned that hovering over your baby while they sleep will not keep them alive and to have trust and faith that they are indeed fine and you're better off sleeping.

I've learned that there is not a more heart wrenching sound in the world then hearing your offspring cry and not knowing why and to that end, understanding that what comforted them yesterday will not necessarily work today.

I've learned that babies can survive a fingernail clipping.

I've learned that it's just best to let Shawn sleep through the night; he has to get up and go to work and I don't. Plus, what good can come from his watching me nurse? 

I've been taught that no matter what gadgets you receive, borrow, buy or try, babies just really want to be held.

I've been taught the value of a Moby wrap, an extra set of hands, hand-me-downs, Nuk pacifiers, waterproof mattresses, a giant cardboard box, a man that loves babies, family showers and paper crowns.

I've been taught that just because I think Mom's way is the right way doesn't necessarily mean that Dad's way is the wrong way.

I've been taught it's okay to get frustrated, cry, feel like a failure and ask for help.

I've been taught it's just best to let the guilt go; nothing good can come of it.

I'm discovering that conversations can only occur on a surface level because I lack the brain power, concentration and memory to delve any deeper at this point.

I'm discovering burps, catching smiles on camera and afternoon naps are elusive.

I'm discovering that water makes the breast milk go round and the best about both is they're free.

I'm discovering that I covet a good book, I miss yoga and I need to work.

I'm discovering how to be a mom and form a bond or relationship with a daughter even though the relationship, for all intents and purposes, feels one-sided at the moment.

More then anything, I KNOW that everything else can and will wait (which is why I'm so terrible at returning phone calls!).


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