I've moved!

Managing two blogs became too time consuming for me this year, and I neglected both as a result.

I hate that.

So I made a decision that shouldn't have been too difficult now that I look back on it: I'm only maintaining one blog now. Although I may never live in New Jersey again, I hope to publish more books. We are no longer Okies in Joisey, so it seemed proper to let this one fade away and keep my blog at my website www.brandibarnett.com.

I plan to place more Okies in Joisey-esque entries on the Brandi Barnett blog than in the past, so whatever you enjoyed here I hope you find there--and more. With the extra time, I hope to add pictures again and dress up the page a bit. We'll see how quickly that happens!

Please visit me at http://brandibarnett.blogspot.com.

Unpacking

It's official. We are truly moved in. We're still unpacking, but Max is sleeping in his crib rather than a pack and play--and as of today, we finally have Internet service! Sure, we still have boxes rather than a dining table in the dining room, but they're diminishing. Certainly, we still have wires from electronic equipment that isn't hooked up.

Our house is not baby proof.

Until about an hour ago, I thought we had plenty of time. That's when I looked up to discover that Max was no longer on his playmat. He was about two feet from it, lying on his back and still pushing with his feet.

There's gonna be a whole lotta babyproofing goin' on.

Yes, I look tired!

My mom dropped by and took this picture. Too bad she didn't arrive a little sooner because she'd missed all the fun. By the time she arrived, all that was left to do was take a picture and laugh at me.

I answered the door in tears. I was trying to unpack--still am, in fact--and Max wasn't interested in helping. We'd just introduced carrots to his diet, and he must not have enjoyed them much because I kept having to change his diapers.

This picture was taken after the last diaper change. I knew the situation was hopeless. I tried to use wipes but ended up grabbing a fresh diaper to help clean up the mess. I even had those disposable pads on the changing table and tried using it to fight the Battle of Poo. No use. I finally just gave up and stripped him down on the changing table. Then I took him into his bathroom. One sink already had clothes soaking from earlier that day, so I plopped him in the other sink. I looked down to discover my attempts to avoid being covered in "carrots" were all for naught.

Then the doorbell rang.

Saved by the bell!

His outfit, by the way, soaked for a week and had to be washed three times. I don't know if it's my imagination or not, but I think I can still see signs of carrot on the back of his shirt.

Scrub a dub dub

We arrived late Saturday night. Determined to stay in our house, we hauled in blankets from the car and were relieved to learn my mother had put sheets on the bed. Ah, a mother's touch. We put all of our things in the master suite, which is the size of our tiny apartment back in NJ. For days, I felt uncomfortable venturing out into the other living spaces...to live...when our little cave was more familiar. I'm remembering what it's like to live in a house again, though. And it's nice.

Even though we've spent every day doing piddly detail things, it's still nice. We've done a lot of cleaning. Don't get me wrong. The previous owners left it clean. However, we had a bit of renovating done, and granite dust combined with grout to sprinkle our new carpet and wood floors. Blech. We've done a lot of cleaning on our hands and knees. Finally the dark wood shines. The rest looks great, too.

Our furniture from NJ should arrive this weekend. We're hoping to have everything ready. My parents have been a godsend. Not only had my mom cooked breakfast for us most mornings, but also my dad has cooked dinner. They like spending time with Max. We like having time to do things. I can't accomplish much when I feel like I need to play.

I'm amazed at the time required to do the tiniest details. We've spent more time and money on shelf paper than I like to think. It's not really shelf paper, though. It's this stuff that you can actually toss in the washing machine.

Which we don't have yet. We ordered a washer and dryer yesterday. Lowe's was having a sale so we went ahead and ordered our fridge, too. The dishwasher should arrive any day now. The rest should arrive on the 22nd. That's when we're supposed to get the cable and phone.

Yes, you read that correctly.

We don't get cable, internet, or phone until the 22nd! I'd forgotten how slowly things in a small town can move. Garrett is in a bit of a culture shock, but he assured me there were things he already liked about living here.

That's a relief because I don't plan on moving any time soon. It's too much work!

Casualties

According to Ms. Bib (our GPS), our trip from NJ to OK should take 21 hours. Factor in the fact that we're traveling with an 18 week old, and you've got a different kind of math to do. For example, we're averaging about 5-6 hours on-the-road-time even though we're in the car 8-9 hours.

Yep.

Calculate that.

Plus, last night Max developed an ugly diaper rash. (I had nightmares about it.) After reading all about it online, I feared the worst. To make matters worse, Max started filling his diapers often and well. He doesn't lack enthusiasm or sound effects. He is such a boy. Since he has the rash, we pulled over as soon as we realized he needed a diaper change. His rash is better tonight but not totally healed.

So, with everything going on, a few casualties are bound to occur. Here they are to date:
1. 2 sheets
2. pillowcase
3. 2 pants (mine)
4. towel
5. frog humidifier

The first three are results of Max's overzealous bathroom habits. I read that a baby should go diaperless to allow air to circulate around the rash. Inevitably, Max became a fountain...that backfired. On the bright side, he giggled at my reaction. His smile is always a bright side.

#5 is all my fault. I dropped it when Garrett handed it to me in the parking lot. Its eye is scraped because I'm a klutz. And I'm tired.

Poor froggie.

I guess there is bound to be a little road kill when we travel.

Moving on

We left our apartment in NJ a few days past a year to the day that we arrived. Packing and moving took longer than we expected. Partly because of Max. Partly because of the icy/rainy weather. Mostly because the movers were to arrive at 9 and didn't get there until 11:30. And they were slower than turtles stampeding through peanut butter.

C'mon. Is anyone surprised?

I could go on about the things these guys did to annoy me, but I won't. Let's just say that if we never see our things again I won't be shocked. I'm sure they're perfectly nice people, but their professionalism and attention to detail is what I question. For example, they left a mirror in the living room. When I asked one of the guys about it, he raised an eyebrow. "You want that? Isn't it from Ikea?"

I think that was an insult.

By the time they left, it had taken them HOURS to empty our tiny apartment. Garrett and I then began the cleaning and hole-filling process. Of course, no furniture remained, so I got on his shoulders--an activity that I recall as much easier when I was a cheerleader ** years ago. On the bright side, we didn't fall and the holes were filled.

The latter did not happen without incident.

Of course.

"Oh no," Garrett said.

I looked up from whatever activity I was doing and saw Garrett covered in thick white paste. It glopped from the tube, down his arm and onto the floor. "What happened?" I asked.

As we both grabbed spare napkins and paper towels, he explained that the Spackle had squirted out the wrong end. He didn't know how.

Of course.

At that time, we were convinced we were going to drive as soon as we got out of there last night. (We didn't, though.) Anyway, we were rushed and I instructed him to continue filling holes while I cleaned up the mess.

I grabbed what I thought was a firm piece of cardboard and used to it to scrape the excess goo before wiping it. After a few attempts, the cardboard bent and flipped a gob of goop directly into my eye.

Of course.

I was on all fours crying, "My eye! My eye!" before I realized it didn't really hurt. Garrett frantically read the warning label and instructed me to flush my eye with water.

Oh yeah, I'm totally a handy man.

And I never want to move again.

Happy New Year!

I've always said 2008 was two-thousand-great. How could 2009 compete?

We flew in on New Year's Eve and went straight to Max's doctor. He hadn't slept well for the two weeks we were in Oklahoma, which meant we hadn't slept well either. I spent most nights rocking him in my dad's armchair. He developed a rash on his chest and back that grew as red as Rudolph's nose. On the last day his nose started running. We stayed in Tulsa since our plane left at 7 in the morning, and we had maybe two hours total sleep that night.

The little guy cried and cried. He doesn't cry unless something is wrong.

So, we took him to the doctor where they gave him an antibiotic and Nystatin. Why the antibiotic? They claimed they didn't know what was wrong with him, so they gave him both. Hmmm. We didn't like that much.

Quick aside: After consulting other medical professionals (online and otherwise)...and knowing that 99% of the antibiotic gushed onto his bib but the rash is disappearing from the ointment, we've decided to discontinue the antibiotic and continue the ointment.

Since I do nights better than mornings, I volunteered to take the shift until midnight with Max so that Garrett could sleep. He hit the sheets around 6 and woke up about Max's bedtime to offer help. I shooed him off because I was determined to kick his butt out of bed if Max whimpered after midnight. Max slept much better in his own crib than a Pack and Play. The evening went fairly well, and I was asleep when 2008 faded into history.

After the morning feeding and cleaning rituals, I was about to drop. I told Garrett, "Okay. Now your turn. I'm going to go to bed and try to get some sleep."

He nodded. "You should." He gripped the side of the crib. "There's just one thing...I think I'm going to throw up."

And he did.

All day.

Happy flippin' new year.

I hope it improves.

An accent? Me?

I called to book a room for the HAWK Writing Workshop today. The lady taking my hotel reservation asked, "Where are you from? You have a slight East Coast accent."

Me. An East Coast accent.

Over the years people have often stopped me in our travels to ask if I was from southern California. Personally, I don't think I have much of any accent except when I am super relaxed or emotional.

When I told Garrett at lunch, he laughed diabolically.

I'm gonna have to sprinkle in an occasional "fixin' to" and "ya'll" if I want to maintain my Okie girl sound. 'Cuz if youse guys think I'm going to sound Joisey... fuggedaboudit.

Click here to learn more about America's dialects.

The Case of the Missing Key

Most of the move went smoothly. We even went so far as to admit to each other that nothing really difficult had happened to throw a wrench in things.




Big mistake.



Along with a zillion other Fords, Garrett's truck was recalled. We didn't have much time when we were home, so we had to cram in time to take it to the dealer. It seemed necessary. I mean, who wants a car that spontaneously combusts, right?



Anyway, when the time came, he couldn't find his key. Anywhere. We looked all over the place. He long ago lost the automatic locker with the car alarm. I think he must have been using his spare because I didn't have one. He didn't have it on a keychain, either. Our growing concern was that I'd thrown the only existing key in the trash or in a random box because the number of random and seemingly homeless keys I discovered while packing was astounding.





Several hours and $65 later, a nice guy from Econolock supplied us with a key.





The next day we found the key under the bed. That's it beside my boxed wedding dress.Keys are like socks in the laundry. Sometimes they have a mind of their own.

When he finally left to go to the dealer, I heard a loud car alarm that lasted a long time. Eventually, it dawned on me that it sounded familiar, so I went outside. There was Garrett's truck with the hood up. I called to him, but he couldn't hear me. Then, just as quickly as the annoying noises had begun, they silenced.

Garrett emerged from behind the truck and marched toward me with a dirty black object in his hand.

All of the tools were packed. The car alarm thingamabob was long gone. So, he did what any red blooded American man would do.

He ripped it out with his bare hands. Grrr.

Moving pics

It felt good to be Oklahoma. This sight greeted me when I stepped outside the morning my parents arrived to help pack. Obviously, it was uplifting.

I think the fun had worn thin by the time I took this picture:

As you can see, many children look at my dad in awe at Christmastime. They think he lives at the North Pole. Usually, his beard is whiter. As so many guys do, he has fun with facial hair. He found some of his old mustache wax that was brown and decided to put it on his mustache and part of his beard. My mom claims that he works hard to become a "town character."

The next day, Garrett arrived and his parents joined us in packing. Here's Don after going on a coffee run:

Here's our moms sifting through the stuff we'd planned to donate:

All in all, it was pretty smooth and our folks really helped.