My Crazy Life...in Pictures

Historical Day

2010-02-12T17:04:00.009-06:00

Don't you love being a witness to an historical event? No, I'm not talking about the Saints and the Superbowl. If you haven't heard about that one yet I'm sure you're enjoying the underside of a very comfortable rock. I'm talking about snow. In fact, I'm talking about reports from several sources I've seen that indicate this is the first day in recorded history that snow is on the ground in all 50 states.

To me, that's one of the most impressive elements of this day. But given the opinions through the years of what must freeze in order for the Saints to win the Superbowl, I have my suspicion there's more behind this impressively cold weather than meets the eye.

Here are some special moments of the day!

Cheap Pets and Expensive Linens

2010-01-23T14:57:00.004-06:00

The no-so-bright dog I speak of sometimes is a pound puppy. She's a good dog, but is not very bright. But what should I expect from a very cheap pet, right? Given her lack of intelligent life up top, we often refer to her by her acronym name: U-WODD, which stands for Useless Waste Of Dog DNA.

Well, this not-so-bright one pulled a very not-so-bright stunt last week. She ate one of my favorite dish towels. Red is my favorite color so I'm sure that's why she chose that particular one to ingest.

As you can imagine, dish towels are not very digestible. Especially when, it seems, you chase them with some rubber bands. It can make a nasty mess in the intestinal tract of an animal. So after multiple x-rays, several medications, a barium series, and finally a nice abdominal surgery followed by several days in the hospital we have our not-so-bright but cheap pet back. She's recovering nicely, but that's turned out to be one very expensive dish towel that I'll never use again!

Parting Ways

2010-01-15T11:30:00.005-06:00

How do you know when it's time? When to say it's the final curtain call? When to end it gracefully, before anyone gets hurt? When to close the door and just walk away?

This has been on my mind for a while. I'm still not ready to throw in the towel, but I've come to realize the messages are becoming clearer.

Yes, it's been a long and tumultuous ride. There have been good times and bad times, and even scary times. But last night it really reached a pinnacle. I fear the end of the road is near. But how do you really know?

When the trust is no longer there? When you're not comfortable any longer? When it becomes more about the journey and less about the destination?

Truth be told, I've changed. I'm not the same person I was ten years ago. I'm not the same person I was five years ago. When it comes right down to it, I'm just not a mini van kinda gal any longer. I'm not sure I ever was one. And I think it's coming time to move on.

My trust is diminishing. My fears that I'll be left high and dry are increasing. I'm losing my confidence in it's ability to provide for my needs. And the subtle messages are frightening.

While experience has taught me (unfortunately many times over) that there are alternative means for stopping, I still prefer brakes. Overwhelmingly I prefer brakes.

This message has become more frequent in recent years. I'm about out of services to offer it.

I think it may be time to...**gasp**...car shop. If you know me, you probably know I have a strong dislike for shopping. I guess I'm not a stereotypical female in that way. I'd much prefer swinging in the park, walking through the woods, camping by a lake, or reading a good book. You can even add dental work to the list of things I prefer over shopping.

And if you know me you may also know I'm a shrewd negotiator when buying vehicles. There have been instances through the years when D probably prefers the serene comfort of a combine harvester over sitting next to me at a car salesman's desk.

I guess I'll have to be biting the bullet soon and moving on...closing the door on the van before it breaks down and we get hurt. And I promise I'll try to be nice to the car salesmen. In fact, I'll even try to approach it with a better attitude. I'll call it a "car negotiating challenge" instead of the much dreaded shopping word. That should help.

Priorities

2010-01-08T09:52:00.008-06:00

Yesterday afternoon there was a slight knock at the door. The boys rush to it asking, "Is it Daddy; is Daddy home from work?"

I smile and gaze out of the window. "Even better," I say. "It's FedEx with my new shipment of coffee."

Well hello there, Sunshine. What will you be assisting me with today?

I spent a little time this morning getting acquainted with the new delivery and thinking over life's pressing questions. Questions such as why my kids think D knocks on the door instead of uses his key to get in. I must admit it has me befuddled, in a caffeine-hyped way.

And in case you are concerned, there are more cases of coffee in the pantry. I've experienced running out before and it's not pretty.

A New Yardstick for Bad Days

2010-01-05T14:15:00.012-06:00

Someone comes up to me today and tells me she's been enjoying reading my blog. Mmmm, say it a little more slowly, please. Bllllloooooggggg, you say? I'm not sure what you mean. Oh wait, I have a niggling little recollection of something called a blog. On a side note, is that not one of the funniest words, niggling? You've got to love a word that rhymes with giggling, wiggling, and jiggling. I laugh every time I write, read, or say "niggling." Which thankfully is not often seeing it's quite hard to work the word into casual conversation. If I did, and laughed every time I said it, people may think I'm weird. Okay, weird-er.

So back to the blog thing. I figured I'd better revisit all those lonely, forlorn ones and zeros I've created somewhere in cyberspace. Here I am and I'll catch you up on some of the better points of the last few months. I'll start with a story about my friend.

I have a friend, a childhood friend from so long ago that some of my earliest memories have her in it somewhere. If a memory doesn't have her in it it's probably because one of us was punished from playing together. As a sickly little child in and out of hospitals, I recall many times thinking how I must get better so I can go home and play before she wears out all the new toys she's probably getting. I was so very shallow back then. I'm much different now, you know.

My family moved, then her family moved and we lost touch. We saw one another a time or two in high school, but never were able to spend time together again. Fast forward to last summer, when I attended the orientation meeting for our homeschool group. What a surprise to see her after all these years! We have a lot in common again, and I enjoy her company very much.

We decided to take our punks (okay, my punks and her darling children) to the corn maze one day during the fall. D had never had the chance to meet her and he got to tag along with us. My poor friend had one of my kind of days and encountered one obstacle after another getting to the corn maze. Finally she got there and was feeling much relieved, as evidenced on her face. She began to relax after a harrowing morning.

We took the kids to the animal encounter area where they get to pet and feed animals, then watch a pig race.

The pig race. Not just any ol' pig race, mind you. It was a Special pig race where each pig had a kid chosen out of the audience to cheer him or her on. If the pig won, the kid got a prize. After a few of these races, the grand finale was announced. My friend's son was chosen to cheer the pig, but since this was the last race, it was the bestest one. The cheering kids got to bring an adult with them to help out. They had to cheer loudest of all in the final race, and as an incentive the losing parent had to kiss the losing pig. Oh my!! My friend and her son so diligently cheered but luck was not on their side that day. I saw the stress returning to her face.

Oh boy did the stress of the morning return to accompany the stress of losing the race.

But she did it!! And without a meltdown even. However, she only proceeded once she was assured the pig was cleared from having the swine flu. Personally, I'd have asked for a doctor's note. But that's just me. She's a stronger person.

I could only get one shot, since she wasn't very happy with the event and didn't try to make it last for my photographing pleasure. But as you can see in this closely cropped version she did kiss the pig. Sort of.

Now as part of my daily drama and tongue-in-cheek bad days, I have a new yardstick by which to measure. If someone asks how my day has been, I've been known to say "It could have been worse. At least I didn't have to kiss any pigs!"

One Tough Year for One Tough Lady

2009-09-05T22:38:00.005-05:00

Take a look at this picture and I'll bet you get goosebumps.

This is my grandmother's car. My grandmother, some of you may remember, lost her husband just one year ago after a terrible botched surgical disaster. A week after we buried him she lost a large portion of her home to Hurricane Gustav. A tree also landed on this car. It survived, and so did she. The house and car were fixed and she kept going. She's had a tough year but was finally moving onward.

Like most ladies her age she's very persnickety about her hair. She goes to get her hair "done" every week. Every Friday. This Friday morning when she left home to have her hair done, she was rear ended by an 18 wheeler. A very large truck that carries very heavy loads. She was at a complete stop waiting to turn but the truck driver didn't notice. He plowed into her going 45 mph. That's the speed limit. I bet he was going faster.

Can you believe none of her 82 year-old bones broke? She's been hospitalized since then. She's quite shaken, bruised, and in a lot of pain. But nothing was broken!! She said she saw Jesus standing by her. Obviously He's not ready for her yet, and for that we're thankful!

The Gluten Monster

2009-08-19T09:12:00.005-05:00

Yesterday was one of those days. In the whole scheme of things I guess it wasn't too bad, but it was still one of those days.

M was in his Destructo Baby mode, but the funny thing is that he doesn't realize he's destroying everything. He thinks he's helping. He thought he'd help me by cleaning my bathroom while I was getting the Bigs started on their schoolwork. Granted, the bathroom could use a good cleaning but his disinfectant of choice happened to be a new tube of toothpaste opened just 11 hours earlier. He ran past me toward his room as I was helping N with his vocabulary words and I caught a whiff of toothpaste. I knew immediately where to go since he was with me when I opened the tube 11 hours earlier.

I guess he heard the panic in my voice as I headed to the back of the house and he followed, albeit at a good distance. I find an empty tube of toothpaste on the blue sparkly counter. The counter sits atop blue sparkly cabinets, in front of which are blue sparkly floor tiles. Nearby are a blue sparkly toilet, a blue sparkly shower, and a blue sparkly bathtub. Honestly I don't know how he had enough time to do it all. I'm beginning to think he has a twin but my family didn't want to send me over the edge so I only see one at a time.

He's hiding in the doorway, with his arms and legs a very unnatural blue sparkly color. UGH! As I evaluate the best way to tackle this cleanup I notice sitting very inconspicuously in the midst of it all is the toilet brush. Double Ugh! I see a subtle swirly pattern in the toothpaste layer on pretty much everything. I ask anyway, though I already know the answer.

"Mommy, I wanted to help you clean the bathroom. I scrubbed it in for you. Are you happy?"

Heck no, I'm not at all happy. He knew it before he asked, but I didn't say anything. I changed my thoughts on cleaning up from one of wiping to one of hot water and bleach. Really hot water. Lots of bleach. I started with cleaning him up, sans bleach. Then sent him off to play. Big Mistake.

A new school year = new school supplies, which include Elmer's school glue. M always calls it gluten since we, for obvious reasons, don't let him have any of it, either. While I'm cleaning and the Bigs are doing their schoolwork, he's quietly painting himself with school glue. I turn around to get more cleaning cloths and see him walking stiff-legged with arms outstretched moaning in typical monster fashion. "I'm the Gluten Monster and I'm after youuuuuu!"

The thin coat of glue has now dried and it's peeling off of his arms, legs, face, and hair. What a sight! J and N clean up the glue he's spread around and I finish the bathroom. We sat him at his kid table to color with strict instructions about not getting up.

Sitting there, he manages to take a scribbled on coloring sheet and stick it to the wall next to his chair. "Look Mommy, I made a sign for you. What does it say?"

It clearly says for me not to have any more kids.

When I Wanted to be a Cartoon Character

2009-08-18T09:51:00.008-05:00

Yesterday was B-day for N. He got his braces and palatal expander put on. He was so nervous, anxious, jumpy, and apprehensive. Me? I was downright terrified. Afraid they'd hurt my little man, you ask? Not so much. Afraid my little man would have a big man sized meltdown is more accurate, but yet still understates the emotion of the moment.

If you know him, you know he has a tendency to whine. If you don't know him, here's the deal. He whines. A lot. About everything. All the time. He's a complainer too. I love him dearly, but he has the ability to send the strongest among the population on a quest for mind-altering substances.

Needless to say I was terrified of the journey on which we were embarking. Braces hurt, expanders hurt, and the process to have them put on can be long and tedious if you don't work with the orthodontist and stay still. Did I mention he's ADD too? Sitting still for an hour and a half is asking way too much. Heck, sitting still for a spelling test is asking for too much most of the time! I was dreading this day, and even contemplated waiting a few more years. After talking with the doctor we made the decision to go ahead though, since time was working against us as his bones become stronger and less movable.

So there I sat in the waiting area, sweating it out and thinking of the strange thing I just did. I just wrote a check for a small fortune, which buys N almost two years worth of whine. Parents do very illogical things at times.

They call us to the back. The nurse tells me it will take an hour and a half, and if I have any errands to run or anywhere I need to go I can come back and get him. Uh-oh. Do you know how, in cartoons, a character will lift one leg, you hear a PEOWNNNNnnnn sound, then see some squiggly lines and a bunch of dust where the character once was? I thought for a fleeting moment I could be a cartoon character.

Then I feel a tiny, gentle hand on my arm and I knew without a doubt I could never go PEOWNNNNnnnn and leave him. He's eight now, but he's still my baby and always will be. I'd no more leave him alone in that situation than I'd eat mushrooms. (I know for a fact I'd rather eat mushrooms than leave him there. I'd swallow them whole and hold my nose if it came down to such a choice, but I'd still ingest them!)

Off we go and to my total and complete surprise he never complained or whined. He sat as still as he could, though the doctor laughed and told me he's a wiggly one. "Oh really?" I asked. I looked so surprised. "I guess he must be a little nervous."

I'm so proud of my little man, who sat there and stared the next two years of braces in the face and said, in his own way, to bring it on! Then he came home and whined until I let him play Wii.

He's getting a good look at the new expander. Such a strange contraption!

Time to glue in the expander and prepare for the brackets on the teeth.

This ain't our first rodeo. We did the same dance two years ago with J. This doctor knows his stuff and J's teeth look fabulous!

Sorry Bud, the pout is cute but will not get you anywhere.

The final result! He wanted blue bands around his brackets since blue is his favorite color. He's not going to get the wires for a bit because we'll be expanding his palate so rapidly. The wires would be bound too quickly or we'd have to change them too often to accomplish anything. He'll get the wires soon when we slow down the expansion rate. It's so complicated!

I'm so proud of him. So far so good with the whining. A little whining and a little Advil goes a long way. I'm proud of me too. I made it through my terror with only the minimal of mind-altering substances...I added extra shots of espresso and chocolate to my morning mocha. It did the trick!

Book Day!!

2009-08-06T13:07:00.006-05:00

I love the UPS Man. He brings me such wonderful things. And somehow he knows exactly what I want.

Yesterday and today the UPS Man is the Book Man. He's bringing our new school books. I usually order way before now, but this year I'm being a little more conscientious of the fact that I don't need to buy their stuff three or four years in advance. I'm realizing it just doesn't take that long to make lesson plans. However, it does seem to take that long to find science experiment supplies.

So we've been unpacking and sorting through boxes and the punks are so very excited. I hear you laughing. Seriously, they are. They abandoned the unloading and putting away of groceries because they were so anxious to open the boxes. They even decided it was more important to sort by subject and grade rather than clean their bathroom and vacuum their rooms. I'm glad they're so into school this year. I guess you still don't believe me, though.

He Snow Angel

2009-08-05T12:39:00.003-05:00

The title makes no sense unless you say it faster. I'll explain why but first I often wonder if the title of my blog should be something like "The Mischievous Antics of the Babiest" or "Earning the Grays--One by One." I don't think people really believe me when I tell them stories of M. I've decided to take pictures. I can use them to blackmail him one day when he's getting married. You better pick me out a really nice nursing home or I will show her what her kids will be like.

This is what happens when I iron clothes. I found him stomping in the baby powder. When I return with the vacuum I find him making snow angles. I guess southern kids need to improvise snow scenes.

I now realize the best way to avoid this in the future is to stop ironing. I think I'll probably have to put the powder out of reach instead, but the first plan sounds like the best one to me!!

A Correction

2009-07-09T09:14:00.002-05:00

I have to correct the previous post. M does not have chicken pox. He says he has "chicken foxes." At first he told me he had "chicken punks" but after trying to correct him, I decided I really liked fox better than pox too.

I love the little things they come up with!

A Rash Independence Celebration

2009-07-06T23:50:00.007-05:00

We celebrated July 4th as we typically do each year. We spent the day with D's family, the kids played in the pool, and everyone complained about the oppressive heat. I vote we move July 4th to the Spring from here on out. I'm working on a plan for it. I'll have to get back to you on the details at a later date.

I love taking pictures of the kids in the pool. I have so many and after a while they start to all look the same. But as soon as I take one picture, the next scene/smile/dive/pout/whatever is better than the last. Or so it seems until I sit down at the computer and look at hundreds of pictures of a head floating in blue water. I'll show you what I mean.

Here's the best smile ever. It speaks to me. It tells me what a great time he's having. Keep on grinning, dear one. The braces go on in a few short weeks!

This picture screams to me that Daddy tickles while protecting. They love swimming together, if that's what you'd call it. It looks more like the bouncy baby--tired Daddy underwater shuffle. I'll stick with the word swimming for simplicity.

This picture shows the preteen angst/boredom look I'm seeing so much of lately. Will you make it go away, please?

So what does the title of this post have to do with swimming on the 4th? (Point, meet Stacie; Stacie, meet Point...) Back on track now, I've been fighting a nice little rash on M for almost a week. A week for a rash with no other symptoms is my limit before I turn it over to the professionals. I noticed it was worse after the weekend swim, so off we went this morning to the doctor.

His rash is actually three rashes. First, there's a nice uniform and bumpy heat rash. Then comes the longer lasting viral rash thingie (that's formal medical terminology--you can look up like I had to if you don't understand it). For the icing on the cake we have the red, bumpy, easily identifiable to everyone but me, and much hated Chicken Pox. The doctor politely but firmly made us exit the back door to prevent spreading and sharing the good fortune.

Now I'm tasked with calling everyone we've come in contact with the past few days and warn them to be on the lookout. There were a lot of kids in the pool. My nephew spent most of last week with us. We had friends from out of state over for a visit. We went bowling a lot. It's such a social time of year!

I've called most of them and not a single one has cursed me out...at least not to my face but my ears are really burning.

Now my next task is to run away. Far away. You see, I just realized there was something I forgot to do 30 years ago. I forgot to catch Chicken Pox myself!!

Stay tuned for the next episode of "As the Spot Emerges."

Boudreaux's

2009-06-29T18:38:00.006-05:00

M loves Boudreaux's Butt Paste. Actually, he loves the name more than anything. The product doesn't really do much to help any rashes he has. He responds better to Desitin. But Desitin is called Boudreaux's at our house, to humor the Babiest of course.

I missed him for literally three minutes. It was probably more like four by the time I checked his usual haunts.

This is what I found when I discovered him. He told me "Mommy, we're all out of Boudreaux's. Will you go to the store and buy me some more?" Ummmm, NO!!!

In case you are not savvy in the diaper rash protection genre, Desitin is designed to stick to the skin and protect it, not wash away with a liquid. It doesn't easily come off furniture or little punks.

'Nuff Said

2009-06-25T22:39:00.000-05:00

Holy Bats and Balls Batman, Did You Watch That Game?

2009-06-23T00:33:00.007-05:00

Oh my, I still can't sleep! If you didn't watch it, I hope the recovery from the coma goes well. And I hope you had your DVR set up prior.

I have a confession. I was totally put out after the top of the 10th when my Tigers couldn't capitalize on the bases loaded and one out. I thought it was over and proceeded to fold a load of laundry. Totally off subject, but does that stuff ever stop? Anyway, I was thinking they just didn't seem to want it enough. But then it all came together. Whew! One down and one to go!! Way to go, boys.

I think we'll be eating some steaks while watching game two. Beef steaks. Longhorn beef, maybe? Ya got that, dear brother-in-law?

Hmmm, do you eat Longhorn or just laugh at them for looking so funny?

The Preparations are Under Way

2009-06-20T08:54:00.018-05:00

Let me first provide you with some answers before proceeding. No, we do not know where he gets this stuff. To address the obvious, but unspoken assumption: No, we do not speak like this to each other so he did not get it from us.

Now that that's out of the way, on with why I'm making preparations, and what I am preparing for.

During the really dark times of M's regression I wondered if he'd ever develop the ability to verbally communicate his needs, wants, desires, intentions, etc. That wondering disappeared over the course of the last year...and boy did it disappear!!

He communicates his intentions quite clearly now.

Last week as I was dressing the little guy he smiled at me and said, "Butt." Just one word. And a big smile. It communicated all he needed to at the moment, and was intended to get a strong reaction.

I thought it best to ignore it. Next came "Butt. Butt. Butt." I still didn't bite. Finally after he was dressed and, I suppose able to adequately run from me, came the biggest challenge. "Buttbuttbuttbuttbuttbutt" while running around his room smiling. I'd let him win this round by not taking him on. I walked away thinking I was being a good mom by not reacting.

Not so.

Later as I was resting on the couch the following transpired:

M, walking up to me: I like to kick butts.

Me, thinking WHAT DID HE SAY?!?!: What did you say?

M, the smile is getting bigger: I like kickin' people's butts.

Me: Why do you say that?

M: It's fun to kick butts.

Me, trying not to explode in laughter and shock: You shouldn't say that. It's not nice.

M, eyes sparkling because he now has the upper hand, leans forward and points his crooked chubby little finger at me: I'm gonna to kick some butt...and I'm startin' wif you.

Me, oh never mind, I wasn't able to say anything. I was hyperventilating from the laughter I was unable to hold in any longer. He won round two, but the match wasn't over. I sought to compose myself while he ran around the room dancing.

Round three was beginning.

For his next move M pauses the dancing-running thing he's doing, looks over at me, points his two index fingers at me and pumps his hands back and forth. "Preeeepaaaarrrrre for ya butt-kickin'!"

The match is over and I've thrown in the towel. Let me again say we do NOT speak like this to each other at our home and I do NOT know where he comes up with these things. Promise.

But I'm preparing for my upcoming butt kicking with a sense of humor and a sense of dread.

Meet Nelson

2009-05-28T13:36:00.004-05:00

This is Nelson. He's a member of our family. Unfortunately he's not the real Nelson. D and I were sincerely hoping he'd stand in for the real one. Apparently our brilliant idea of a pretend Nelson didn't work.

I know you're now thinking, "She's finally flipped her lid--we knew it would happen one day." I'm okay though. I did drop a lid this morning but I haven't flipped one yet. I do need to elaborate so you have an idea of who the real Nelson and who the substitute Nelson are.

This past Christmas we had the fortune (or misfortune, depending on how you look at it) of meeting a cat named Nelson. A few short days before Christmas we took the boys to the pet store to buy gifts for SissyDawg. As is the case with most people, we took a walk by the animals available for adoption. Mistake. Big Mistake.

M locked eyes with a very cute black cat named Nelson. The infatuation was reciprocal. M wanted to know everything he possibly could about the cat, and their eyes followed each other from one side of the store to the other. It was sweet, in a disturbing stalker-ish way. We visited Nelson several times that evening before leaving the store and leaving Nelson behind. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Not hardly.

The next morning I asked M what he wanted to do that day. He was very specific in his request: "I want to go back to the Dog Store and get that Nelson cat." This went on several times a day for several days, with increasingly pleading doe eyes. It didn't look good for getting out of this one, even with the long and detailed explanation of how Nelson would make him itch. We even had papers from the doctor to prove it. He still wasn't buying into that excuse.

Santa came up with the brilliant idea that Nelson moved to the computer and M could play with him via the Nelson Webkinz. It seemed to work. The Nelson/M connection was there, not as strong, but seemed to be there and it was especially fun for him to take care of Nelson on the computer. I had a false sense of security that Nelson was now and forever a stuffed cat, never a live one in his memory.

Fast forward to two days ago. A conversation takes place. It goes this way:

M, crawling sweetly into my lap: Do you want a pet, Mommy?

Me: I sure do. Will you be my pet?

M: No, I not a pet. I want a kitty.

Me, playing along: What is a kitty? And how do we get a kitty?

M: First we go to the Dog Store. Then we pick out a kitty. His name is Nelson and I want him.

Me, trying to keep a straight face: You can't have a kitty. They make you itch.

M, still not buying the itch excuse: I want to go to the Dog Store and get that Nelson cat!!!

That last bold phrase has been repeated multiple times since. The child has a memory like a steel trap. Unfortunately.

I wll not give in...I will not give in...I will not give in...I will not give in...

You Should See the Other Guy

2009-05-27T11:09:00.004-05:00

Really, surprisingly, the Other Guy (also known as N) is none the worse for wear. At least after that scuffle.

But J did learn a good vocabulary lesson. He now knows very well the meaning of the words "instigate" and "antagonize." Actually, they both know since they both were equal starters and participants in this battle. But I was the finisher!

Boys. I just can't figure out what makes them start wailing on one another for no apparent reason. From my untrained eyes there appears no obvious provocation. I must be wrong though, since it seems merely walking by one another is enough to evoke attack instincts. Lions should be lucky enough to have such great reflexes.

As part of the "what makes you go 'duh' today" moment, I present to you the fact that we are paying good money to have someone teach them to smack others. And do it well. Effectively and efficiently even. Go figure.

They do tend to get along better than most siblings I know. They have their moments, but for the most part they are best buds. As I was explaining to J two mornings ago, he has only two brothers. (Trust me when I say there will be no more.) He'd better think about treating them better to keep them around longer. If you were sitting near a window relaxing and enjoying your coffee Memorial Day morning, I'm sorry his extremely loud maniacal laughter and dancing disturbed your peace.

My Large Mirror

2009-01-09T09:57:00.003-06:00

I'm trying to move to a more minimal lifestyle. The old materialistic, have-to-have-lots, accumulation days have given way to the one-more-stupid-thing-to-dust days.

I have a beautiful full-length cheval mirror. I don't use it much because I really don't do the head to toe, dress to impress thing that often. It's mostly a toy for the Babiest to push back and forth while making dents in the wall. I've been thinking of either sending it away or at least moving it to the attic for a while to see if I really miss it.

This morning my perspective changed when I received this in a forwarded email. Look closely at an area that will get you slapped for looking at in real life. It's hard to see in the smaller image here. I don't know who took the large smiley face photo in order to offer credit, but it does give one pause for thought doesn't it? I think I will just put up with the dents in the wall in order the have the security of not making such wardrobe errors. Then again, the fact that I wouldn't be caught dead in something even remotely resembling the foundation garment in the picture does give me a bit of emotional security.

And it makes me miss the by-gone days of slips. Boy I'm old!!

Sissy's New Pet

2009-01-06T19:22:00.004-06:00

Sissy has a very obnoxious way of telling us something isn't right in her world. We call it her "snake bark." She's identified many snakes so we feel confident with the name. Yesterday morning came a bark that can only be identified as a not-quite-a-snake bark. Close, but not the same thing.

The boys wouldn't let me investigate without proper protective measures. I grabbed a spatula (plastic, of course, since the stainless steel one was in the dishwasher) and took off to the backyard.

Here's what we found.

He's a cute little guy, about 8 inches long and apparently very scared. We put the not-so-bright one in her box inside so the new pet could get away in peace. It took the opportunity and moved. They really have a bum rep with the slow thing...this one could move! It moved toward the fence and must have finally got out.

Then again, I'm hearing a something is not quite right bark right now. Maybe he's back for a playdate. If he is then perhaps they should be known as not-so-bright animals instead of very, very slow animals. Sissy will share the title.

Who Invented Coffee?

2008-12-22T08:24:00.003-06:00

I'm not exactly sure of the answer and I'm not in the mood to research it. However, I do know that on some mornings I really, really appreciate his foresight. There are days I could probably give him a big smooch, but I'm quite certain he's dead. That fact puts my gratitude more on a philosophical level.

Instead, I'd suggest he be given the Nobel Peace Prize posthumously. Under one condition only...

...he must share it with the guys who invented the espresso and the latte.

Have a fun, caffeine-filled day!!

My New Adventure

2008-12-18T21:52:00.004-06:00

I've probably mentioned how things are a little busy for me and they tend to keep me away from my blog for long periods of time. Okay, you're right. I complain about how busy I am and use it as an excuse for not blogging. I confess. I'm not making any promises, but I am working really hard to blog more and complain less. Or sleep less and complain more. Or clean house less and complain more. That sounds like the best plan of all.

On with my story. I've taken on a new project. I started it in the spring and got lazy. So I started again in the fall. I'm lazy at the moment, but will pick it up again at some point. The new project is...drum roll please...lawn maintenance. A more specific description is something along the lines of flower bed reconstruction.

And knowing me you know I don't have normal projects. I decided to do something better described as extreme lawn maintenance. You've seen those Internet videos of people doing extreme sports such as sliding down a mountain on a dinner plate in a Speedo or launching themselves into the heavens using a wrecking ball and a seesaw.

I guess I must have recently partaken of such an influential piece of visual motivation when I trimmed a tree in the backyard. Tell me what you think, please.

You don't think I went too far, do you?

Always be Prepared for Any Situation

2008-12-13T09:32:00.010-06:00

As a mom, I strive to be prepared for every situation. For example, I've never left the house without a completely stocked diaper bag. Nevermind, bad example. I'll rescind that one in case you've spotted my van rapidly traveling toward home with a nekkid child wrapped in a bunch of fast food napkins.

Before I drift off subject again, let me tell you how totally prepared I was for this wonderful snowfall last Thursday. I'm sure you've noticed in the video and pictures already posted there are a few areas where I lacked.

Sadly, the Bigs did not have waterproof shoes.

Nor did they have hats. Thanks CC for calling me down on that one...Ms. Snow Expert! Even if we did have hats and scarves they would have been promoted to snowman attire anyway.

They didn't have parkas, or whatever those big plastic-y looking stuffed coats are called.

We didn't have an ice scraper to get the windshields clear. Then again, barring an emergency we were not about to travel on the roads. Who around here is prepared to drive in this stuff?

Despite all of this, I am prepared. I can prove it!

We have a sled...a real, live, honest-to-goodness sled! Unfortunately we have no hills.

We used our imaginations.

Creativity is Fun

2008-12-12T09:22:00.012-06:00

There are always some things that one must do with snow. One is to make a snow angel. We didn't. The kids had no proper clothing to survive a dive into the snow with our accompanying colds and coughing. Not to mention I liked the pristine beauty of our untrampled yard. It's very picturesque in a suburbia ranch neighborhood sorta way.

Another must do is build a snowman. Our neighbors did a great job. They built snowmen. Normal looking ones with coal (or charcoal, or rocks based on availability) and vegetables used as facial features. How very Frosty-ish. You're half expecting one of them to jump up and exclaim "Happy Birthday!" Okay not really, but you get the point. They're normal looking snowmen for a general population not accustomed to building such creatures.

Like this one.

And this one.

This one.

Yes, even this one.

Now to our pristine yard. Remember it? I stepped gingerly around and took pictures of it for my own personal imaginary postcard, then went to take a short nap. I'm sick and must get plenty of healing rest. When I awoke I noticed the snowman haven our yard has become. All four boys (yes, even the tall 40-something one) took part in recreating the suburbia ranch neighborhood version of Attack of the Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goons. Bill Watterson is considered a genius in our home, and his books are part of our Classic Literature collection.

So enjoy our lifelike recreation of his work as it transformed my lovely winterscape.

Still Photos of the Great Chill

2008-12-11T20:52:00.016-06:00

Here are some sights from around the ol' homestead.

The front of the house looks so pristine and, well, inviting. I just want to run though the snow making tracks and messing up the beauty of it. Actually, I don't. The kids wanted to. I made them play in the backyard until I had enough pictures to satisfy my OCD-ness.

Here's a side view from the street. I'm not usually a fan of River Birch trees, but this look may change my mind. Now that I've given it some thought I still don't like them much. But I guess it's okay to like them a small fraction of the time...maybe one three hundred sixty fifth of the year. Snow years only.

This is the view from the end of the driveway. The barbed wire fence is so pretty covered in snow. I think it would be absolutely gorgeous if it were a wooden rail fence. Maybe I'll build one for the next snowfall. Oh wait...it's not our fence. The property owner behind us put it up. Probably to protect his property from our boys and dog. He may not like it if I took it down and built a different one. Too bad because I really did want to build a fence and would have started first thing tomorrow morning. Yep.

So this is the beauty that is our snow day. I'll post some more pictures soon. I have many, many, many to sort through. Unfortunately its become apparent that my old computer doesn't like my new camera. The complaining, fussing, griping and moaning it does over the size of the files is getting on my nerves fast. Of course the Babiest forcing size D batteries in the DVD drive doesn't make it want to strive to please me either. I'll work as fast as it will let me to put more pics up!

My Resurrection Post--AKA The Great Snowball War of 2008

2008-12-11T19:21:00.005-06:00

Okay, weather like we have been seeing today in South Louisiana is just not normal. If there's ever been a reason to revisit my long forgotten blog this is it. So here we go.

By the way, I know you're on the edge of your seat wondering where I've been hiding out. I'm not going to bore you with how busy I've been (at least in this post) but will explain everything later. I know you're hoping it's much later!

Anyway, to the subject at hand. The Great Snowball War of 2008, which never actually took place. The Bigs were so busy and worked so hard to create fortresses to protect themselves from the impending war that they never actually got the chance to have the war. Just a few stray shots here and there during construction.

They quickly got too wet and cold to stay outside. We're just not equipped for this type of precipitation. A trip inside, a break with a snack and a change of clothes and they were off again. I'll make another post for those still shots. In the meantime enjoy the video and ignore the gravelly voice. I'm trying my best to get over this nasty cold but my body has other ideas.

All Better Now!

2008-04-12T12:48:00.004-05:00

The whining has ceased, at least for now. It's amazing how a nice steaming cuppa and clean clothes can change your entire outlook.

Have a great weekend!!!

Who Is Watching the Baby?

2008-04-11T23:39:00.010-05:00

Never, ever assume the other parent is watching the baby. That should probably be enough to give most parents whiplash nodding in agreement, but I'll elaborate for the sake of clarity.

We love holidays. Especially Easter for its special meaning to our spirits, its significance in our lives, and its fun traditions. We really enjoy when it is time to dye the eggs.

See the lonely looking eggs sitting in the carton patiently waiting for their debutante party? They look like little no brand name generics in their white packages. All they need is the word EGG stamped in bold black letters. Or maybe not.

See the color tablets just sizzling in the cups? I love the smell of vinegar for this very reason. It reminds me of coloring eggs, and wine left in the fridge too long. But that's another post for another time.

See the look of patience on his face? See the look of leftovers on his face? Poor kid deserves a mommy who takes more pride in his appearance on the web.

Blastoff into colored egg land! By the way, the eggs are not a product of Chicken Elmo spotted in the background.

And they're just right! Perfect tones...hues...the density of the color is spot on. The texture of the colored shell and how it reflects the light is quite remarkable. Yep, that must be what J was thinking as he wrote on one egg the sweet sentiment N drools, J rules.

"I don't remember doing this last year. Do we get to drink the juice and eat the eggies?"

Here are the final results. Aren't they gorgeous? I'm sure you're wondering about the missing three. Don't ask. It's really a sad tale.

So where does the mishap with baby-watching come in? The night following Easter I was working on the computer, D was watching television in the back of the house (March Madness, baby!), and the Bigs were in bed. Babiest doesn't seem to realize there are times when small ones must sleep so he was playing throughout the house. As parents sometimes do, I thought D had him, he thought I had him, and Babiest was enjoying the freedom. He dragged his step stool up to the bucket of eggs, somewhat broken from the multiple hiding/finding games, and began stirring with a rather large wooden spoon.

The result was a disgusting concoction of colorful broken eggs smushed together for effect. We laughed when he was discovered, praised him for his "beautiful egg salad masterpiece," and refrigerated the evidence to show the Bigs the following morning.

Evenings when we are both preoccupied, we now are heard calling out frequently, "Who has the baby?...What is he into now?...What. Was. That. Crash?"

You Can Bring the Cheese...

2008-04-07T22:10:00.007-05:00

...And I'll supply the whine. We'll have a nice little pity party, okay? What's wrong, you ask? How nice of you. I suppose if you're not the least little bit curious you could click the little X in the corner of your browser right about now.

Well, here's the problem. I ran out of coffee. It's a drastic thing, one that I really didn't plan on. It just happened, and I'm really suffering. I thought I had an extra unopened bag in the camper but, alas, no. Only a few boxes of cereal and a can of Pringles. No precious coffee. I tried to go buy a couple of bags today but got extremely insulted at the grocery and stomped out leaving my groceries on the conveyor belt. It's the principal of the thing, the thing being deceptive advertising, and I'm all about principals. Except when I need coffee. I almost went back and through another register, but I didn't have an extra hat in my possession to make a disguise.

I've also been fighting a headache for a couple of days. This afternoon I finally realized the correlation between the two. Insight, but still no coffee. I did manage to raid every last little bit of chocolate Easter candy I could find and polished off about a fourth of a bag of chocolate chips (it was all I had left). Still no relief. I'm going to a different grocery tomorrow.

My washing machine died. It lived such a short life and was such a pain in my side for its entire existence. I miss it only because I have laundry piling up. And I'm so not a laundromat kinda gal. I did go to one on Sunday afternoon, along with the rest of the population of washer-less people. They are an interesting and eclectic bunch. I don't think I fit in with them though. I spent the first five minutes of my laundromat visit wiping the inside of the machines down with my Lysol wipes. I have issues with germs, especially those belonging to other people that may soon be swishing through my underwear. I get hives just thinking about it.

I went washing machine shopping today. I've been looking forward to this day for the last three years I've had that pathetic excuse of a washing machine taking up space in my laundry room. I've narrowed it down to two or three models. After I had my heart set on a nice new space age looking machine sitting in my nicely decorated laundry room, I had the unfortunate insight to realize that my laundry room is backwards. The washer connections and dryer vents are on the wrong side of the wall for the machines I want and the doors do not reverse. I'm thinking I'll just buy longer cords, hoses, and vents, switch sides, and call it good. Or I could remove the overhead cabinets, stack the new units, and fill up the extra space with something fun like a new vacuum cleaner. I hope it all works out one way or another soon because I really don't want to go back to that laundromat. And D doesn't want to remove a wall of cabinets.

On a positive note, we've done some furniture rearranging and I now have a schoolroom. I no longer have a formal dining room, but it was merely used for stacking miscellaneous stuff I didn't know where else to store, so that's okay. We're enjoying it a lot and it's coming together nicely. I'll post pictures of it soon. As soon as it's organized. Okay, maybe you'll never see pictures, but you can see it when you come visit. Just don't tell anyone how unorganized it is, okay?

Unfortunately the schoolroom is not making school easier at the moment. I'm so tired of negotiations and complaints. Every statement is preceded with "Do we have to..." Dear sons, you have to. Trust me, you have to.

"So where is this whine headed?" you're wondering. Me too; I've been at it so long I lost my train of thought. Oh, I know. I remember now. The burning question is what does a caffeine withdrawing, washing machine deprived, headache-y mom do when feeling especially snarky? She turns it around and has fun with it, of course. There's no sense in living if you can't have fun with the bumpy parts too. So as an introduction to our new schoolroom, I created a sign welcoming new students and their visitors.

Provides much needed insight into the school and its pupils, don't you think?

Of course I'm just kidding with all of the whining. I've got my tongue planted firmly in my cheek and I'm very blessed with my life, bumps and all! Enjoy your day and have a little fun too!

The Great Play Dough Adventure

2008-04-03T09:50:00.005-05:00

Most parents take certain things for granted. For M, though, the idea of pulling out a couple of cans of play dough for his entertainment wasn't possible because... Store bought play dough is made of flour. The flour is made of wheat. Wheat contains gluten. Gluten is a no-no.

Kids eat play dough. Have you ever met one who hasn't? For that matter, I'm sure if you reached back into the recesses of your mind you can remember the distinctly salty taste of play dough yourself. I'm right, I know it.

To build childhood memories as normal as possible for the three of them, I pulled out some rice flour, salt, and food coloring and made them some play dough. Of course M ate so much I thought he would get sick from it. But when the Bigs pulled out their play dough toys it all became apparent what the stuff was for. It was for playing and snacking.

Fun memories!

TWO!!!

2008-03-30T12:54:00.002-05:00

Yes, TWO! Oh so very, very, very two...

For Crying Out Loud

2008-03-29T13:21:00.005-05:00

I've recently been quite perplexed why the Babiest wakes up from his nap screaming. Loudly screaming. I finally figured it out. He can see his reflection from his bed. It can be scary for a little one, I'm sure.

In fact, I'd scream too if I woke up looking like that. Come to think of it, I do look like that. I guess that's why he wakes up screaming in the morning also...just the thought of me coming to get him out of bed frightens the bejeebies out of the little guy.

I'm off to move a mirror and place a hairbrush on my nightstand. It should be a more peaceful day tomorrow. Have a great weekend!

Therapy and Football

2008-03-28T14:44:00.005-05:00

While I've been taking pics of the guys playing "front yard football" my blog has been in therapy working through its abandonment issues. It's doing better now, but since its insurance ran out before therapy was completed we're still working out a few things. In the meantime, enjoy some pictures of our game while the blog comes around.

For Christmas I Want...

2007-12-21T11:36:00.000-06:00

A picture of my kids with Santa. This one is not what I had in mind. J is much too mature for such nonsense. He'd rather help me jump around and make faces trying to get the other two to laugh. Or smile. Or at least look interested. We did make the other people in the line smile with our antics. I'm sure it was in a patronizing, can-we-get-this-show-on-the-road way. I didn't get what I wanted; neither did they.

N agreed to do it without hesitation. Later he told me it was because last year he received a coupon from Santa for a free cookie at the mall cookie store and wanted another this year. He didn't want to ante up the funds himself so he chose Plan B, a picture with Santa, as the best option. Now, this is the punk who can't remember a Grammar rule two minutes after I teach it to him, but he can remember an obscure cookie coupon from a nasty, drunk, mall Santa a year ago. ARGH!! I guess I can live with reluctant participation and an ulterior motive.

M screamed. All toddlers scream at Santa. At least that's been my experience of three. Not a very large data sample, but let me tell you they've all screamed. It's okay, Santa is scary. I feel sorry for putting all of them through that trauma. But not sorry enough not to do it. I don't think I could live with myself years from now if I don't have screaming Santa pictures to gush over with their girlfriends.

So here's the final outcome. We're going to try a different approach this weekend. Maybe. If my nerves can take it.

The Lights of the Season

2007-12-20T23:48:00.001-06:00

For a couple of evenings this week, we've been riding around enjoying the incredible Christmas displays set up in the area. Some people take a Less-is-More (or in our case a None-is-Best) approach to decorating. However, some go all out...a little crazy...over the top...call it what you wish. I just think they have an amazing gift and quite a talent. I'm sure it takes Herculean effort to set up some of the displays we've seen. Which brings me to my two conclusions. You knew that'd be coming, didn't you?

Conclusion #1: Some people have entirely too much time on their hands around Thanksgiving. They must go out to eat. And race around Christmas Eve buying all their gifts. So they can decorate during the in-between days.

Conclusion #2: I need to find out a way to borrow a few hours of their time. I'd love to have them come entertain my kids so I can deep clean my bathrooms and reorganize my closets. Better yet, I need to have them come deep clean my bathrooms and reorganize my closets while I entertain my kids. Yep, that sounds like the winner. I wonder if they shampoo carpets too.

Enough concluding. I know you really want to see the Christmas displays. Here is one we visited in a nearby neighborhood. Since Ah-boons play such an important role at our home, we refer to this display as the Ah-boon House. It's really a huge display that stretches over the lawns of several houses. I didn't know that many inflatables existed. I still don't believe they do. I think it's the same snowman in different clothes and different poses. Same Santa, too. Okay, okay. I really do believe it's that many. Seeing is believing.

Platforms are constructed to elevate the inflatables in the back. Tiered approach to ah-boon overload. Hmmm, interesting.

Here is the walking path down the driveway.

The backyard has a carnival feel.

Plus the sound of many air pumps. And enough penguins to populate a Pole.

Did you notice the snow globe on the left side? The freakishly large snow globe that I feared would suck me into it's snow world and make me live there where people watch me all the time. It has an identical twin on the right side of the picture too. I should probably see a professional to discuss my fears. But first I need to deeply contemplate what happens to me during the daytime when my snow world is a deflated pile of nylon.

By the way, I finally relented and used a flash. The area was just too dark. I hate it when that happens. I prefer the dark and moody shots with no flash. Unfortunatley the back area of the display was too dark, and I was too moody.

There's that snow globe in the back, taunting me. I think the freakishly large snowman beside it is the snow globe security guard. He's got a broom and he's licensed to use it.

Time to go. Really, I can't get away from the globes fast enough.

Back to the front of the house. There is a house back there, really. I saw bits and pieces of it.

It's right behind the whole row of snow gl--

Moving right along...

Elmo is always good for a smile. He's not scary at all. Unless he's over 12 feet tall. This one appears to be only about 10 feet. We're good.

Now polar bears over 12 feet are another story. That's the eave of the house just above Pooh's hand. I'm going to take a sedative now and tell you about another (less traumatic) display tomorrow.

An Update on the Burns

2007-12-06T12:02:00.001-06:00

Many have asked about M and his burns. I apologize for not posting updates earlier. I keep forgetting, what with all the other very important things I have going on.

He's doing extremely well. He's healed great and except for one small area, we see no lingering scarring. The exception we're treating with scar cream (when we remember) and hope it goes away eventually. I really don't think he remembers what happened, but he does have a rapid and respectful response when one of us tells him "Hot." At least most of the time. Sometimes, since he's the Babiest, he can't hear anyone correct him. No one should ever tell the Babiest "No" for any reason. Only in his world. In mine, we should have named him No and cut out the unnecessary words that follow or precede No when speaking to him.

What Kind of Idiot Am I?

2007-11-23T13:34:00.000-06:00

Yes, I must be one. You can stop counting the traits that prove this label. We're going to concentrate on just one right now.

So here I am, going about my merry little life, when all of the sudden Black Friday hits. If you don't know what it is, I'm impressed. You are not swayed by mass marketing like yours truly. Like many thousands of other idiots I leave a nice warm snuggly bed bright and early (actually still dark and early) clutching onto lists, fliers, sales papers, coupons, and newspapers and take off.

This is my self-portrait. My arms are too short to take a picture of myself at 4:00 in the morning. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. But I really am this skinny...and I do dress this fashionably too.

Did you know there is a lot of traffic at 4:30 am on Black Friday? Interestingly enough, all of the traffic lights are synchronized perfectly, unlike during daylight hours. At least I think they were. They were for me anyway. Hmmm...

This is Toys R Us at 4:38-ish. Notice how far away it appears? Appearances are not deceiving. I didn't actually get in the TRU parking lot, but two lots over.

Here is Circuit City at 4:39-ish. How convenient that some fabulous city retail planner would put these two money pits next to one another! It sure makes my Black Friday flow a little more smoothly.

Speaking of city retail planners, I'd like to find out why a metro area this size has only one stinkin' Toys R Us. I'd like to speak with this person and maybe show him a nice parcel of land a few blocks from my house.

Then again, maybe not.

Did I mention the size of the line? Or the fact that it's cold? Or that it's now raining? Or that it's 4:40-ish in the morning? So after standing in line with half of the other parents in the city at this one and only TRU, I manage to get the heck outta the place two hours later.

This is Target at 7:17-ish. Crowded also, but better. At least I'm in the same parking lot.

Here's Stage at 8:13-ish. Even closer, wow! Of course by now nothing I wanted to buy remains. I persevere, but at a quicker pace.

Here's WalMart at 8:39-ish. Yes, I'm in the very front space. I saw the parking lot at 4:20. Even I'm not that much of an idiot. But I was on a quest for a box of graham crackers, and they could wait until 8:39. I bought them without even so much as standing in line.

I was quite fascinated by a radio advertisement I heard repeatedly during my morning drive informing shoppers of WalMart's status as the largest importer of Chinese-made products in the US. Perhaps it had some people listening and thinking. The entire time I was in the store, messages over the loudspeaker kept announcing the availability of doorbuster merchandise that, in years past, would have been sold out in an hour.

The following series of pictures I affectionately refer to as "the long road home."

I'm now putting up my feet and sipping a well-earned latte while I contemplate what a great wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt...and idiot...I am.

I hope you had a wonderful and blessed Black Friday Eve. That's Thanksgiving to all you non-idiots of the world.

I'm Happy Today

2007-11-18T07:16:00.000-06:00

Some things make me very happy.

But other things make me completely ecstatic.

"It was what it was."

That is an amazingly profound and deep intellectual statement. Boy how I've missed such tremendous insight. Or not.

We bleed purple and gold, of course, but don't even mention to me that Mrs. Saban has been seen house hunting around here. LaLaLaLa, I can't hear you. There are some things that don't bear repeating, in words or, most importantly, actions. Hmph.

A What Tree?

2007-11-16T09:33:00.000-06:00

So do you know what this picture below is? I thought I knew as well, but apparently we're being sent down a convoluted trail, one which is disturbing on so many levels. I'm not confused though, and I'll clear it right up.

This is a Christmas Tree. Specifically it is my Christmas Tree from last year. It is not a "Family Tree" (ya hear that Lowe's?). Nor is it a "Holiday Tree" (ya hear that Target?).

My family is sitting under it. Actually, they are fighting under it. That doesn't change the title of it one iota. That merely makes it a family's Christmas tree or a tree for display during the Christmas holiday. Can you see the difference?

Here's where I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Shhh. Don't tell anyone, but it's not a real tree. It's an artificial one. Pick yourself up off the floor now and admit you are shocked that such a lifelike beauty is actually made in a manufacturing plant and began as a bunch of plastic pellets.

You know this is leading up to something. At least you're hoping it is, right? Well, the tree is getting old and losing lots of needles (see I told you it was lifelike). It will probably need to be replaced soon. Next week I'll drag it out of the attic to see if this is the year, or if it can hold out one more season. Regardless of when I replace it, I do know what I will buy. And what I will not.

I will not buy a Family Tree (sorry, Lowe's). I will not buy a Holiday Tree (sorry, Target). I will buy a Christmas Tree. Bless you, Hobby Lobby, for calling a spade a spade...and a Christmas Tree a Christmas Tree!

Now I'm going to wash the political correctness rant off my fingers. The next post will be back to my regular "aren't my little darlings just perfect?" posts to which you look forward. And believe unequivocally.

The First Snowfall of the Season

2007-11-13T20:32:00.001-06:00

The first snowfall conjures up images of a magical time, a time of enjoyment and bliss, a time when people of all ages are like kids playing in the soft whiteness. Did I mention fact that we live in the south? The deep south? And the fact that I'm overwhelmed in papers, files, and excess documents everywhere? Stuff that must be shredded.

So welcome to our first snowfall of the season...my style!

We had a blast, but what was even more fun was the following night. I shredded about ten times more paper, and had two more kids joining in the fun. Of course I forgot to take pictures until halfway through cleaning time. Some things I will stage to get a good picture, but five garbage bags of confetti does not qualify. I guess you just have to take my word for it...it was so much fun and so much mess!

I think Babiest decided to hide some for later. I've found handfuls in a couple of different drawers, a pot, his closet, and the Little People Farm (I'm guessing for animal bedding since we've lost the hay bale). I doubt I've found all hiding places because some kept appearing today, but I never found the stash. Too bad it doesn't melt and disappear. I wonder how long I'll find paper shreds in hidden places...

You Know You're a (Baby) Redneck When...

2007-11-02T16:04:00.000-05:00

You must always teach your kids to define themselves and you must give them a sense of self-worth from early on. In an attempt to define the Babiest, the Baby Redneck looks like a very appropriate category. In order to determine if he qualifies as a Baby Redneck, let's look a bit closer, shall we?

A Baby Redneck likes miscellaneous colorful plastic things in the yard...

A Baby Redneck never lets his swim diaper match his rubber stomping boots...

A Baby Redneck accessorizes with a hose pipe and a plastic sprinkler...

Yep, I think we've found the right category. But I'll not let him place any large appliances on my front porch. Without my permission.

Deal, or No Deal

2007-11-01T21:52:00.000-05:00

I'm not really going to say much about what's been going on. Here's the abbreviated version: burns (but you probably already read about those) pneumonia, more pneumonia, yucky virus, ear infection, more ear infection, and more ear infection, termites, and a very nasty stomach virus (repeat that to yourself four more times, please; I don't have the energy to retype it). I'm not going to say all is finally well here because, ahem, I'm not quite ready for that much commitment. My commitment-phobia pops up in the strangest places, as you see.

Needless to say a lot has happened since I last posted. I'll walk you back through everything in upcoming posts, but for now I'll just start at the, um, now. Okay, ready?

So, what's the deal about Deal, or No Deal, you ask? In the past D and I have spent the first couple of weeks in November hiding in the closet, avoiding the sugar-induced pandemonium that follows a tremendous windfall of the trick-or-treating variety. A couple of years ago I came up with the brilliant idea that I could possibly "buy" the candy back from them--for a price, of course. Knowing that the guys are not very concerned about growing their wealth (or protecting their teeth), I had to come up with something really enticing to cause them to give up the stuff they walked so hard to earn. Cold cash wouldn't do it for them. Uh-huh.

This is where Deal, or No Deal comes into play. The boys really like the show, so I made our version of it at home, with Halloween candy as the currency. In the "case" (a gift bag) I had a special mystery treat. On the white board is listed three or four options to earn the case. They choose an option of their liking, but they all end with me receiving the vast majority of the candy. Don't ask what happens to it after that. I'll never ~~admit~~ tell.

So here is the November 1, 2007 Deal, or No Deal.

First we are in accumulation mode...

...and accumulate they do!

Here is the final haul, with very heavy bags. Our neighbors are very generous, especially when a tiny little cow is in the group.

They chose option three, which gave them one piece of candy a day for the next fifteen days. I get to dispose of the rest in exchange for the precious "case." Oh, did I say it was a gift bag? Well, this year I couldn't find a gift bag big enough to hold it. I really couldn't!

So here we are, with the new Super Soakers (Arctic Blasts, of all things) and swim trunks. A plan is formulating. Suddenly a fortress appears.

The fortress needs defending.

Defending at all costs. Get back you filthy invaders!

Artillery, check!

Filthy invader, check!

Target. Site. Attack!

And attack!

And attack some more!

"I can't help you, you filthy invader."

"I'm much too busy being adorable."

The victory laps, er, swings.

And we're off to formulate a new plan. Who wants to be a bank robber today?

I think M chose the right weapon...no reload necessary!

Now, will someone please remind me about this November 1st post, with the Super Soakers, swim trunks, and plastic pools when I start complaining about the hottest day of the year next summer? I occasionally need to be reminded why I like living in the south.

My Full Disclosure Statement

2007-09-13T08:08:00.000-05:00

My boys do not sleep. It's a fact. They require very little, and were born that way. It's not unusual to find J reading in his bed at 1:30 am. Nor is it unusual to find N fully awake and bright-eyed at 4:30 am. At one month old the Babiest began pulling his own hair in an effort to stay awake.

I'm not sure why they do this, except that I think it's genetic. Poor D, he gets the blame for this one too! Apparently, he didn't sleep as a baby either.

Now I didn't find this out until I was completely baffled why J wouldn't sleep. I was a great sleeper as a baby. So was my sister. I was under the mistaken impression that all babies sleep. My theories revolved around him being a premie...until my in-laws informed me that he was acting just like his father. Now why was I not aware of this earlier? Perhaps this is something that should have been mentioned before the wedding? I must have been such a good catch that they were afraid of scaring me off. We'll stick with that theory. I doubt it would have made any difference because at the time, I was not aware of how precious a sleeping baby is...and how cranky a sleepy baby is.

So in the interest of full disclosure I make the following statement to my future daughters-in-law:

Your husbands did not sleep as babies. Your husbands did not sleep as toddlers. Your husbands did not sleep as kids. They have many wonderful qualities, but sleep is not one. Unless you have really, really, strong dominant sleep genes in your family please bank your sleep now. And when you have children I promise to rock them and cuddle them and explain how sleeping makes them grow big as they pull their own hair and flap their arms to stay awake. While you get some sleep. Just take care of my boys, and their children, and I will be there to help.

So there. I've made my point. Now I need a nap. And so do my daughters-in-law.

So a kid stumbles into a bar one night...

2007-09-11T15:43:00.000-05:00

...and it's no joke! I guess while we are on the subject of injuries and emergencies, I'll tell the little story of how N surprised me on my birthday.

It was a very uneventful birthday, which is a good thing given it's the last one I'll acknowledge. We were winding down the evening and the boys were getting snacks before heading off to bed. The way their ginormous appetite works in combination with their supreme dislike for anything related to bedtime, we usually start the process three or so hours before they really do have to be in bed.

N is nearly full after about two hours, so we're doing great so far. He spills some water on the floor and promptly forgets about it. Being the wild child that he is famous for, he be-bops and dances around and slips. His head hits the counter in the kitchen, squarely centering his ear on the edge. OUCH! One look at it and no doubt we're in for stitches.

Now, as luck would have it, we have a nice new after hours clinic open a couple of minutes from the house. And as more luck would have it, we are less than two weeks into the provider change in our insurance that allows us to use the clinic. We're good. So N and I head out. Getting in to see the doctor was fairly quick. He walks in and sweetly asks N what happened. N says "I fell and my head hit the bar." Long pause. Followed by really strange look. "What bar are you talking about?" N looks confused. "The one in the kitchen" he finally gets out. I step in to explain he fell against the edge of the serving bar in our kitchen.

The doctor seems to accept the story. He looks closely at N and asks where the cut and bruise across the bridge of his nose came from. N calmly replies "Oh, that happened last night...I stumbled and fell into the bar stool." Another long pause. The doctor muttered he'll be right back, or something that sounded remotely similar. If I had opened my ears enough to really hear him, the hysterical laughter I held so delicately inside would surely escape from them. Surprisingly when he returned he only brought a nurse. At least that's what she claimed to be, but sometimes I still wonder if CPS officers go undercover as medical personnel.

He sewed up the ear, N stayed very still and quiet, and I took advantage of the opportunity of having a captive audience. I mentioned no less than three times and probably closer to a hundred how I was so glad this was our first stitching but with three boys I felt sure we'd be seeing him from time to time. I hope he bought it.

Little did I know then he'd be the doctor who forwarded us from the clinic to the ER with M. We were nowhere near the bar, doc. I promise!

The Solution

2007-09-10T14:52:00.001-05:00

We are to keep the little pint-sized mummy wrapped up in his gauze bandages. As if putting the ointment on the wounds (like cream cheese on a bagel, Dr. said) with a wooden stick was not hard enough, we must then wrap said wounds with a stretchy gauze stuff, tape the gauze on (no tape on the skin, it irritates him), and keep it on for twelve hours. No simple task at all when we're working with a cranky 17 month old in pain and wanting to go. Just go.

The trip to the burn center proved to be the relief we all needed. With the acknowledgement that the burn would heal well, and had already begun to do so, we took on the task of simplifying the bandaging process. Here is the result.

The gauze comes already soaked in the ointment; we just slap it on. The dry gauze wraps around next, and finally a mesh tube is put over his arm. To keep this all on and to keep the burned part of his back covered they put a larger tube over his head and cut slits for his little arms. A few strings to tie the sleeve to the shirt and voila, we're in business. WITH NO TAPE! Probably the best thing is that we only have to change it once a day, not twice! And he still hasn't figured out how to get it off. He's working on it, though.

I call it his "pretty lace blouse." The Bigs and D give me dirty looks. He really doesn't seem to mind it that much.

In fact, he wants to throw on a little makeup and head out for a night on the town.

Where I've Been

2007-09-10T09:51:00.001-05:00

Okay, I admit I really intended to write a little every day, not every ten days! Unfortunately, sometimes life sends you a detour. And another unfortunately...sometimes that detour you'd rather not take. Such is the case recently with M-the Babiest, a bowl of hot soup, a trip to the after hours emergency clinic, a trip to the real emergency room, and a trip to the burn center.

With a smile like he has, you really can't downplay the magnitude of a positive attitude and a sweet disposition, and of course a heckuva lot of Codeine!

He had such a hard time keeping the bandages on his arm, chest, back, and especially his hand. He's very dominant right, very dominant. Not having use of the right hand really bugged him. We tried initially making him a "boxing glove" and he did use it on Daddy and The Bigs. When that didn't work we wrapped it as a mitt where he could move the thumb separately from the fingers. That worked for a few hours. Finally we gave up and, with the blessing of the burn center, let him remove it. I figured if it hurt him too much he just wouldn't use the hand, right? We wash it extra often and let him go. It's healing nicely.

Keeping his upper arm, back, chest, and side area bandaged is a different thing. It has to stay bandaged and moist to heal properly. The edges are already looking much better but the area that was third degree burned is still requiring a cover. The burn center came up with a great, albeit not very visually pleasing, idea. I'll post pictures of it shortly, but it really is a nice setup!

Here is a peek at the worst part. The bandage change is quite painful, but he's quickly over it and ready to play again.

Our sincere thanks are sent out for all who have prayed for his recovery, and all who continue to do so. God works wonders and we see it every day with this injury. Thank you and watch for the next update!

Nature Journaling, the kid way

2007-08-30T07:08:00.000-05:00

For his science class, J is to make a nature journal. I decided it's a good project for all of us, so we began looking at nature in our yard. There are a lot of interesting things to be found close to home. We've seen some awesome things in our yard. Okay, okay, I really didn't want to go anywhere so I took the easy way out. I was being lazy. I admit it. We will explore other natural habitats soon, but our yard works for now. So off we go, out the door, three kids and one camera. We're ready.

After a few minutes we're left wondering what happened to nature. The kids are quickly bored of photographing leaves and, quite frankly, so am I. Where are the bugs? Where are the birds? the snakes, even? Is a quick glimpse of one tiny green lizard asking too much? How many times, when I'm in a rush to get somewhere, do they become fascinated by some random creature in the yard? Creatures, oh creatures? I can't say I blame the creatures actually. I've been known to hide from the kids myself from time to time.

Hmmm...okay, speaking of...where are the kids? Whose journal is this anyway?

At least one of us is enjoying nature. Nothing more natural than a horse back ride in the late afternoon.

We'll just take a few flower pictures,

some leaves,

and a fern. As N informs me, they are prehistoric plants after all. We'll call it a day.

Hey, I think I hear an airplane.

When you live on a flight path for the airport this is part of nature, I guess.

Serenity, Now

2007-08-29T08:10:00.000-05:00

Vacation. A little weekend trip. The very sound of it seems inviting. Unless you happen to take your new travel trailer on her maiden voyage on the hottest weekend of the entire year. It was hot, I tell ya. The Bigs did ride their bikes a lot, we transported the Babiest around in the stroller a lot, and we sat inside the camper. A lot. I guess I don't need to tell you how small a seemingly pleasant-sized 8x31 foot trailer feels when it's 106 degrees outside. Inside the Bigs are sent to "their room" with their Nintendos, which worked out really well since that is second to eating as their most treasured life event. D sends himself to "his room" for a well-deserved nap.

Now, the Babiest doesn't like videogames (yet) and he especially doesn't like naps. So what does he do? He runs. A lot. Back and forth inside the camper, along the aisle, he runs. But he's not alone in this enjoyable adventure. He has his not-so-bright dog joining him on his jog. So picture a toddler and a 40 pound dog racing back and forth, giggling, shrieking, and falling down laughing. Add to that the beep, beep from the games, zzzzzz from the nap, and the drone of the air conditioner, which growled at us constantly for traveling on the hottest weekend of the year. Yep, really small.

Now I feeled compelled to say it was one of the best trips I've ever had. The kids were a joy, D was relaxed, and it was so nice to be able to camp again. I really missed it throughout the years. Getting back to it was the best thing we've done in quite a while. It's even better with kids, too.

This was such a pretty little scene. I couldn't resist taking a picture. That's someone else's boat, and the bathhouse. Pretty, and functional.

We took a few walks too. It was nice and calming. I had to take the picture from behind. Otherwise you'd think I put my kids through the paper shredder. We had a ferocious biking accident, a nasty fall, and some general incidents. I darn near went through my entire first aid kit. I'm now putting together a more substantial first aid kit for the next trip. I'm thinking I'll use one of those shiny metal pickup truck tool boxes that stretch the entire width of the truck bed. That should do us through a couple of days. For long trips I can stop for replenishments along the way.

This was not even remotely the prettiest sunset I've ever seen, but the Babiest shrieked so much when he saw it on the water I simply had to take a picture for him. I wish I had the video camera with me, or a camera that recorded sound so you can hear his excitement. It makes me smile just remembering it.

Ham and Ah-boons

2007-08-28T07:26:00.000-05:00

First words are so special. Especially when they are used in the correct context (like calling Mommy "Mamma" and not "Dada" which sends a new mom over the edge). So M decide he likes "ham," which is anything that may enter the mouth--food or not. Thankfully most things he refers to as "ham" are food. Since he eats alot...and often, we hear the word alot...and often. HAM...HAM...HAM...HAM and when he's sleepy it's more like HAAAAAAAAAAAM. Give the poor baby some ham already!

Notice the closeup of the shirt.

Yes, the child does like ham.

He also likes balloons, or as he prefers, "Ah-boons." And they come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and variations. In fact, I made him a screensaver for the computer with about 50 different ah-boon pictures scrolling by. He loves it. It's now on all computers in the house. He can't figure out why we don't play it on the tv as well. We read books about ah-boons, we look for ah-boons when we shop, we see ah-boons on the computer, and we watch for ah-boons coming out of the party store when we sit at the red light. He will even sit and watch the entire High School Musical 2 because he knows there is a scene with ah-boons at the very end. Then he shrieks and dances and wants to watch the movie again.

When he has his very own ah-boon to drag around the house life is perfect...except when ceiling fan meets ah-boon. Then life becomes very sad. Until the ah-boon is rescued. Those must be made of steel, not mylar. It will stop a ceiling fan in it's track, or orbit, or whatever way a ceiling fan moves. It's been around for weeks with a lot of abuse, er, I mean, use. I'll be glad when ah-boon meets ah-trash can. I've missed using the ceiling fans in August. Whew it's hot!

What exactly am I doing?

2007-08-27T09:55:00.000-05:00

Since hearing about them, I've been a bit intrigued by blogs. Intrigued in a "why on earth would an ordinary someone do that?" sort of way. I was perplexed about the notion of "talking" to no one in particular. If I have something important enough to say to someone or a group of someones, I'll just email them (or go 20th century and *gasp* call them on the phone). So on I go with my merry little life...

Recently I came across a neat concept--Project 365, or something like that. What a great idea! And yes, I've been hiding under a rock because apparently this has been around for a while now. I'll take at least one picture a day to document my life for all eternity. Okay, only the best parts, of course. And it motivates me to take more pictures of my family, which I've been a terrible slacker about recently. And familiy and friends are always asking for more photos of the boys. And I'm all digital so it really doesn't cost me a thing. I'll start at the beginning of next year and do it consistently all year, every day. Next year.

Now back to the blogging thing. I've viewed lots of photo blogs and decided this is a great idea for me. I am not a writer, which I'm sure is becoming more apparent as you read this! But I can take pictures. And I'd love to save the family from the drudgery of downloading emailed pictures, especially if I send pictures every day. That could get annoying to the email list. Of course, there's the idea of saving tons of virtual storage space throughout the world where my pictures are saved on my hard drives, then saved on the hard drives of those receiving them through emails. So I guess it's my own way of saving the planet by eliminating digital clutter. Yeah, that's it, I'm doing it for the environment.

Again, I'll start at the beginning of next year and do it consistently all year, every day. It's my OCD personality coming out that I must begin something at a logical beginning point. Fortunately I'm trying to step out of my box and put such thoughts out of my mind.

So here I am, stepping out and beginning my photo blog on a day that's not the first day of the month, or the first day of the year, or even a special day like my birthday (which is very special, I might add). Though I am beginning it on a Monday, which is the best I could do about stepping out of that box!

Thanks for stopping by!