My life is on hold. A couple of weeks ago I left my laundry room door open and Bob flipped out. Then, THEN he told me that he saw something scatter in there when he went in the other day. Okay, I could have happened upon this thing without any warning and I cannot begin to explain the series of events that would follow something like that. I believe there are some references in the Book of Revelations.
So from that point on, I knocked on the door before entering. I can't get anyone in my house to check and see if the bathroom is occupied, or if I'm dressed before entering a room, but for the mouse? We knock. Far be it for us to be rude and interrupt a nice meal. Bob put out glue traps. For about 3 days the traps were empty and we thought maybe it had been a spider. I'm not going to lie, it looked like something prehistoric to me, but I once thought a rat the size of my fist was the size of a jackrabbit so there you go.
Saturday morning, at 6am, Bob woke me up saying "I got it!". I knew immediately of course because my entire life had been focused on the demise of this rodent. He took the thing, put it in the trash and stuck it in the polycart. We figured with the heat and lack of air in there, it would suffocate for sure.
Bob came home that afternoon, and went to check and the sonofabitch was loose from the trap. I guess the heat melted the glue. I don't know. But I do know that a blade of grass hit my ankle and I screamed like a banshee causing every dog in the neighborhod to go on high alert. I also may have wet myself but I'm not sure. We stood in the yard looking at each other, wondering what to do about this. I wanted it gone, out of the damn neighborhood. My mom said to throw it over the fence. Again, I don't think so. I don't want that thing running back to the mouse bar telling all it's friends that it knows of a good place to get a bite to eat, and if you get caught, the old lady lets you go. I'll have every mouse in town up in here.
So yesterday morning I asked Bob to please get me something out of the laundry room. He laughed at me, said "the mouse is gone" and I told him that you never know, I was still a little jumpy. He opened the door, shut the door, and said "oops". Yeah, there was another one stuck on a damn trap. Well you know what this means. There's a nest! There is a nest of mice in MY laundry room. I swear if I could afford it I would leave this rodent hotel and check into the new LaQuinta. My mother in law offered to let me stay with her but hell, she's got a mouse too. And her mouse comes out to watch The View and drink coffee with her every damn morning!
So, I'm not proud to say that Bob took the mouse and put it in a bag and ran over it with the car. We're sending out a message to the mouse community that they are not welcome here. I can just see somebody coming to look at the house, fall in love with the kitchen cabinets and open the damn laundry room door to see some sort of mouse kegger going down in the dog food bin.
I realize that to some people, a mouse problem is minor. But for me, this is catastrophic. This is like being thrown into the polar bear cage at the zoo with a steak tied around my waist. This is baaaaad. This is so very baaaaad. I am terrified of mice, and I don't care if they are afraid of me because they can run and hide. I can't hide. Where the hell am I going to hide? I can't crush my bones and run under a baseboard. I'm lucky if I can hide in a closet. Which I would not do around here because it's dark and MICE LOVE THE DARK. I am afraid to reach into the cabinets. I sent my 4 yr old to get toilet paper out from under the bathroom sink because I was afraid to. I flip out and lose my mind if the back door is open. I can't handle a mouse.
So what do we do? We have a rat terrier, but she's afraid of the dark and she's so spoiled that unless it had a nice Pesto sauce on it she's not touching it. I would get a cat, but I hate cats. The cat would have to live in that room because I don't want it running around my house or God forbid dropping a dead mouse on my lap. Oh my Lord I just now thought of that one. Screw the cat idea. What kind of traps do we get? Humane ones? No I want them gone. The glue? That's just nasty (I mistook a piece of paper for a mouse foot this morning. I made my friend Andy get my vaccum out for me). I like the idea of that stuff that they eat and die and then turn to dust with no smell. I don't want to happen upon any skeletons or a family in there if we ever sell this damn house (don't get me started) and move everything out of there. I'm not a mean person, I have compassion, I don't want them to be scared. If I was sending them back a little fear would be ok because if it went back with a limp and told the other mice that I'm a psycho then they would all stay away.
And I realize that the chances of there being a little burger joint for mice is not likely. But I've seen enough Disney movies to feel like it's not wise to rule it out 100%.
So for now, we will continue to knock on the door before we go in. Or Bob will because I'm never stepping foot in there again. When I think of all the rummaging I did before I knew about this, and all the times that one could have scuttered over my hand I just have little heart attacks. Hopefully the varmint man will come and rid us of this curse. Because nothing says "buy my house" like the Rid o' Rat truck parked out front.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
6 Years Ago Today
I gave up trying to sleep at about 3:30am and took a shower. I had a little talk with Jack and with God, just making sure we were all three on the same page, that we all three wanted things to go well. I woke Bob up at around 4am after I had some time alone. I didn't really talk much, I was very focused and there wasn't much to say. This is unusual for me because I am not a fan of silence. I told the dogs goodbye while Bob loaded my stuff up in the car. It was still dark outside and I sort of looked around. I can't really explain how I felt but it was something.
We got to the birthing center at 5:30am when it was still dark outside, again I didn't talk much on the way there. When we got to the room, they started getting me all ready. I was hooked up to the heart monitor and I could hear him in there swooshing. I got the IV's and I filled out all the paperwork. I tried to get a minute to talk to Bob, but things went so fast. For some reason I thought that I might need something to occupy my time while I was in the hospital. Yeah. Right. The anesthesiologist came in to give me my epidural before the surgery. I was on my side and I felt the needle go in, when it did I dug into Bob's hand, I believe there is a scar there to this day in fact. I felt something go "POP" in my lower back. After that he told me that he couldn't do an epi so he was going to have to put me to sleep. Finally I showed some emotion. I wasn't happy, I was crying, I was nearly hysterical. My mom wasn't there, I hadn't had a chance to talk to Bob and now I was going to be unconcious? Things really flew then, and I was being wheeled down the hall towards the OR, I kept saying "wait, wait, wait" and finally I said "WAIT!" They stopped and I grabbed Bob's hand and told him that I loved him and that if anything happened he needed to let Jack know that I loved him more than life itself. As I was rolled away, I told thanked the nurse for giving me a minute because how horrible would it be if my last words were "wait"? That would suck.
The next thing I remembered was waking up and seeing a clock on the wall. I had totally forgotten what I was there for apparently, but I would soon remember when the evil lady started pushing on my stomach. I smacked her hand away and she told me that she had to do it, I informed her that she should have done it 5 minutes earlier when I was still asleep. Geez. Then I remembered I had a baby! I asked about him and they told me that he was perfect, I then asked how big he was. I remembered that I had an 11lbs baby. Bob came walking through, bouncing actually and I said his name. He remembered that I was there, and I asked him how Jack was and I will never forget the look on his face, or the sound of his voice when he said "he's so perfect baby, he's awesome". When I think about that I cry to this day. Because my stoic husband was a smitten kitten.
At some point, after being left alone forever, they brought in a bundle of blankets. They showed me Jack and I said "that's not my baby, my baby is BIG". He was tiny, and he was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. I was drunk as all get out, and I hurt like nobodies business, but I knew perfection when I saw it. I held him, and he grunted. I never put him down after that. Only when they made me. He slept on the bed with me, all bundled up in his blankets with his binky from home that we had brought going 90mph in his mouth. The day is fuzzy, but I do remember the moment that changed it all.
At one point, they came and got him from me to do whatever tests. I dozed off, and when I opened my eyes he was laying in front of my bed, in his bassinet, on his side. He had on the hat, he was wrapped up and he was sucking on that binky like his life depended on it. He looked my right in the eye (or it seemed, Darvocet is goooood stuff) and he stopped for a minute sucking on that thing. He looked at me as if to say "what?" then he started up again. It hit me at that moment, that I was his mom. I cried, and I woke Bob up to hand him to me. I sat there in the semi dark, while Bob snored and I stared at him and cried. I just loved him so much I couldn't stand it. It literally hurt my heart to look at him. He was just so amazing.
Bob woke up once that night, he asked me if I was ok, and I then if Jack was ok. I probably nodded yeah and went back to staring at him. I still do that sometimes, I look at him and my heart nearly stops. I get choked up and I think about how blessed I am to be his mom. Because he's a hell of a kid. He is everything I ever wanted in a little boy. He's funny, he's smart, he's happy. He finds everything good in the world and he laughs big when he laughs. He treats others with kindness and he always backs up the underdog. He never picks on other kids (besides his sister) and he never makes anyone feel bad. He tells me daily that he loves me and that I'm the best mom in the world. When he hugs me, he holds on like he never wants to let go. He's a daddy's boy, but he loves his mom. And his mom loves him.
We got to the birthing center at 5:30am when it was still dark outside, again I didn't talk much on the way there. When we got to the room, they started getting me all ready. I was hooked up to the heart monitor and I could hear him in there swooshing. I got the IV's and I filled out all the paperwork. I tried to get a minute to talk to Bob, but things went so fast. For some reason I thought that I might need something to occupy my time while I was in the hospital. Yeah. Right. The anesthesiologist came in to give me my epidural before the surgery. I was on my side and I felt the needle go in, when it did I dug into Bob's hand, I believe there is a scar there to this day in fact. I felt something go "POP" in my lower back. After that he told me that he couldn't do an epi so he was going to have to put me to sleep. Finally I showed some emotion. I wasn't happy, I was crying, I was nearly hysterical. My mom wasn't there, I hadn't had a chance to talk to Bob and now I was going to be unconcious? Things really flew then, and I was being wheeled down the hall towards the OR, I kept saying "wait, wait, wait" and finally I said "WAIT!" They stopped and I grabbed Bob's hand and told him that I loved him and that if anything happened he needed to let Jack know that I loved him more than life itself. As I was rolled away, I told thanked the nurse for giving me a minute because how horrible would it be if my last words were "wait"? That would suck.
The next thing I remembered was waking up and seeing a clock on the wall. I had totally forgotten what I was there for apparently, but I would soon remember when the evil lady started pushing on my stomach. I smacked her hand away and she told me that she had to do it, I informed her that she should have done it 5 minutes earlier when I was still asleep. Geez. Then I remembered I had a baby! I asked about him and they told me that he was perfect, I then asked how big he was. I remembered that I had an 11lbs baby. Bob came walking through, bouncing actually and I said his name. He remembered that I was there, and I asked him how Jack was and I will never forget the look on his face, or the sound of his voice when he said "he's so perfect baby, he's awesome". When I think about that I cry to this day. Because my stoic husband was a smitten kitten.
At some point, after being left alone forever, they brought in a bundle of blankets. They showed me Jack and I said "that's not my baby, my baby is BIG". He was tiny, and he was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. I was drunk as all get out, and I hurt like nobodies business, but I knew perfection when I saw it. I held him, and he grunted. I never put him down after that. Only when they made me. He slept on the bed with me, all bundled up in his blankets with his binky from home that we had brought going 90mph in his mouth. The day is fuzzy, but I do remember the moment that changed it all.
At one point, they came and got him from me to do whatever tests. I dozed off, and when I opened my eyes he was laying in front of my bed, in his bassinet, on his side. He had on the hat, he was wrapped up and he was sucking on that binky like his life depended on it. He looked my right in the eye (or it seemed, Darvocet is goooood stuff) and he stopped for a minute sucking on that thing. He looked at me as if to say "what?" then he started up again. It hit me at that moment, that I was his mom. I cried, and I woke Bob up to hand him to me. I sat there in the semi dark, while Bob snored and I stared at him and cried. I just loved him so much I couldn't stand it. It literally hurt my heart to look at him. He was just so amazing.
Bob woke up once that night, he asked me if I was ok, and I then if Jack was ok. I probably nodded yeah and went back to staring at him. I still do that sometimes, I look at him and my heart nearly stops. I get choked up and I think about how blessed I am to be his mom. Because he's a hell of a kid. He is everything I ever wanted in a little boy. He's funny, he's smart, he's happy. He finds everything good in the world and he laughs big when he laughs. He treats others with kindness and he always backs up the underdog. He never picks on other kids (besides his sister) and he never makes anyone feel bad. He tells me daily that he loves me and that I'm the best mom in the world. When he hugs me, he holds on like he never wants to let go. He's a daddy's boy, but he loves his mom. And his mom loves him.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
6 Years Ago (pt.4)
It was the day before Jack's expected arrival, which happened to also be Memorial Day. I had been in bed for nearly a week, and I was going nutso. I had things to do, I wanted the house to be perfectly clean and I wanted all the laundry done. I also needed a baby book. Bob was working, so I was home alone with my thoughts. I called my mother and asked her to come and take me to the mall to get a baby book. I had thought of everything you can imagine up to this point, but not that book.
She took me, and I walked. I just wanted to be out and about, I was feeling good and I didn't want to go back home. When I did get back, I walked around the house and looked at every inch of it. I was not only looking for dirt, I was thinking that this was the last day that our home would be child free. I was thinking about how some day he would be running around here, and locking himself in his bedroom. I was thinking about how one day I would call to him to turn whatever was loud down. Then I cried, because from the day I found out I was pregnant with him, I was terrified that he would be taken away from me, and here I was less than 24 hours away from seeing him.
That evening, my cousin and his wife came by with some gifts and Bob came home with a load of stuff from his co-workers. More stuff to put away! After they left, Bob and I decided to go to dinner, one last time as a childless couple. We sat in the restaurant, and it was later than usual. It was very quiet and very relaxing. I cannot remember exactly what we talked about, but I remember I had butterflies in my tummy and I was very nervous. We went home, and decided that since we had to be up at 4am to be at the hospital by 5:30am, we should just go to bed.
I layed in bed with my mind racing. I moved my head to the foot of the bed and tried that, but I couldn't sleep. I would wake up every few minutes and smile, or cry. Meanwhile, over on the other side of the bed, Mr. Cool was sawing logs. Throughout our entire pregnancy, Bob never showed so much as a slight indication that he was anything but cool and laid back, not a care in the world. However, the next day I would see a completely different person.
to be continued...
She took me, and I walked. I just wanted to be out and about, I was feeling good and I didn't want to go back home. When I did get back, I walked around the house and looked at every inch of it. I was not only looking for dirt, I was thinking that this was the last day that our home would be child free. I was thinking about how some day he would be running around here, and locking himself in his bedroom. I was thinking about how one day I would call to him to turn whatever was loud down. Then I cried, because from the day I found out I was pregnant with him, I was terrified that he would be taken away from me, and here I was less than 24 hours away from seeing him.
That evening, my cousin and his wife came by with some gifts and Bob came home with a load of stuff from his co-workers. More stuff to put away! After they left, Bob and I decided to go to dinner, one last time as a childless couple. We sat in the restaurant, and it was later than usual. It was very quiet and very relaxing. I cannot remember exactly what we talked about, but I remember I had butterflies in my tummy and I was very nervous. We went home, and decided that since we had to be up at 4am to be at the hospital by 5:30am, we should just go to bed.
I layed in bed with my mind racing. I moved my head to the foot of the bed and tried that, but I couldn't sleep. I would wake up every few minutes and smile, or cry. Meanwhile, over on the other side of the bed, Mr. Cool was sawing logs. Throughout our entire pregnancy, Bob never showed so much as a slight indication that he was anything but cool and laid back, not a care in the world. However, the next day I would see a completely different person.
to be continued...
Saturday, May 23, 2009
6 Years Ago (pt.3)
I realize I put one year ago on my last post. It's been a rough week.
On the Saturday before I am scheduled for a c/section to have Jack the following Tuesday, it was hot outside and it was Memorial Day weekend. Which is family reunion weekend. Obviously I didn't go, instead I layed in bed and read, and drank water. I was trying to keep that big headed baby in for 3 more days! Bob was working and I was home alone. My Nana came by on her way home from the reunion, and I opened the door wearing my green nightgown (that I wore at the hospital with both of my babies), and apparently I looked hideous because when she saw me she said "oh my gosh, you look so swollen, are you ok?" I wanted to cry because, no, I wasn't ok. I was about to have a baby with an abnormally large head. He was going to be huge. I may or may not have anything to bring him home in because the only clothes I had were up to 3 mths and he was obviously going to be wearing a 2T home. My imagination was slightly out of control, but I had nothing else to think about but this child.
She came in and we sat in the nice cool new a/c and she told me about the reunion. It was nice, she rarely comes by because she doesn't get into town often and I rarely get to spend time alone with her. And I was enjoying having something to distract me from my thoughts.
On the Saturday before I am scheduled for a c/section to have Jack the following Tuesday, it was hot outside and it was Memorial Day weekend. Which is family reunion weekend. Obviously I didn't go, instead I layed in bed and read, and drank water. I was trying to keep that big headed baby in for 3 more days! Bob was working and I was home alone. My Nana came by on her way home from the reunion, and I opened the door wearing my green nightgown (that I wore at the hospital with both of my babies), and apparently I looked hideous because when she saw me she said "oh my gosh, you look so swollen, are you ok?" I wanted to cry because, no, I wasn't ok. I was about to have a baby with an abnormally large head. He was going to be huge. I may or may not have anything to bring him home in because the only clothes I had were up to 3 mths and he was obviously going to be wearing a 2T home. My imagination was slightly out of control, but I had nothing else to think about but this child.
She came in and we sat in the nice cool new a/c and she told me about the reunion. It was nice, she rarely comes by because she doesn't get into town often and I rarely get to spend time alone with her. And I was enjoying having something to distract me from my thoughts.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
6 Years Ago (pt.2)
So I'm one week away from Jack's arrival. But I don't know that yet. My doctor came back into town, and I went for my appt. He looked at the reports, and he checks me to see if I'm anywhere near ready to have this humongous kid.
11lbs+. I started to cry. My nose at this point had doubled in size, my back hurt, my joints all felt disconnected as if preparing to stretch to unimaginable distances. I could no longer see my feet, and flip flops were my only choice in shoes. It was already hot, and it was mid May. I could feel him in there, kicking and rolling, that big head bumping into everything in it's way. 11 pounds plus. It was unimaginable.
The doctor says that he is concerned with my delivering such a large baby with my blood pressure being high and my blood sugar problems. I didn't have gestational diabetes, but I did have some problems that were similar, and my baby was seemingly as big as if I were. So he scheduled a cesarean for May 27th. One week! I had one week, and I was put on bedrest and told to stay off my feet and be very careful, drink lots of water, do not do anything to induce labor. He was taking him about a week early because of the size but he didn't want me to go into labor because again, my baby measured 11 pounds plus. Did I mention that?
My mom, my husband, my sister, they all told me not to worry and that a c/section was a piece of cake. It was about this time that they were installing our new air conditioning unit. Once I found out that he was coming sooner than expected, we rushed that along. So I spent my final week without a child laying in bed, sleeping, reading, doing word puzzles, talking on the phone. I had all the clothes washed, the nursery was ready for his arrival. The house had been remodeled (we were going to do that anyway, Jack was just our motivator to get it done). The baby shower gifts were all in their place, my bag was packed, Jack's bag was packed.
Bob and I had gone shopping the day we found out we were having a boy, and we bought a little blue two piece outfit with a hat. It was tiny, there was no way it was going to fit what I had imagined in my own head this kid was going to be. So I tried to find something bigger. I packed up the little blue outfit, and I packed the bigger outfit. I had diapers for days, itty bitty ones, that I just knew would be worthless, thank God I hadn't opened them. I would just take them back and get the bigger ones. I had bottles, receiving blankets, tons of socks! I was ready for this to happen.
to be continued...
11lbs+. I started to cry. My nose at this point had doubled in size, my back hurt, my joints all felt disconnected as if preparing to stretch to unimaginable distances. I could no longer see my feet, and flip flops were my only choice in shoes. It was already hot, and it was mid May. I could feel him in there, kicking and rolling, that big head bumping into everything in it's way. 11 pounds plus. It was unimaginable.
The doctor says that he is concerned with my delivering such a large baby with my blood pressure being high and my blood sugar problems. I didn't have gestational diabetes, but I did have some problems that were similar, and my baby was seemingly as big as if I were. So he scheduled a cesarean for May 27th. One week! I had one week, and I was put on bedrest and told to stay off my feet and be very careful, drink lots of water, do not do anything to induce labor. He was taking him about a week early because of the size but he didn't want me to go into labor because again, my baby measured 11 pounds plus. Did I mention that?
My mom, my husband, my sister, they all told me not to worry and that a c/section was a piece of cake. It was about this time that they were installing our new air conditioning unit. Once I found out that he was coming sooner than expected, we rushed that along. So I spent my final week without a child laying in bed, sleeping, reading, doing word puzzles, talking on the phone. I had all the clothes washed, the nursery was ready for his arrival. The house had been remodeled (we were going to do that anyway, Jack was just our motivator to get it done). The baby shower gifts were all in their place, my bag was packed, Jack's bag was packed.
Bob and I had gone shopping the day we found out we were having a boy, and we bought a little blue two piece outfit with a hat. It was tiny, there was no way it was going to fit what I had imagined in my own head this kid was going to be. So I tried to find something bigger. I packed up the little blue outfit, and I packed the bigger outfit. I had diapers for days, itty bitty ones, that I just knew would be worthless, thank God I hadn't opened them. I would just take them back and get the bigger ones. I had bottles, receiving blankets, tons of socks! I was ready for this to happen.
to be continued...
Friday, May 15, 2009
Personality Theories
I just finished this semester, and personality theories kicked my tushie. I struggled week in and week out, reading the material and then not seeing anything I recognized on any quizzes. I have not struggled much since I went back to school, except for Algebra, I will always struggle with a math, but this class has been incredibly difficult.
Midterm I considered withdrawing from it, or maybe auditing the class so that when I took it next fall it might make more sense. I really thought that it would be an easy class, but I was waaaaay wrong. I pretty much had a low "D" in there at midterm time. I took my midterm late and I would have passed it if I hadn't had to take a 20 point penalty for taking it so late.
I took my final on Thu, and while all semester the material boggled my feeble little mind, the exam was all about putting the theories to use. I realized when I took that exam that I learned something this semester! I might not be able to tell you which psychoanalyst subscribed to which specific theory, but I can tell you everything when stated in practice. I can even analyze my friends! I'm a blast at parties!
I pulled my grade up to a "B". I would have been thrilled with a "C". So there goes my 4.0, but I'm still all up in the honor society and that's cool with me. I am now planning a ceremony to burn this book. S'mores for everyone!
Midterm I considered withdrawing from it, or maybe auditing the class so that when I took it next fall it might make more sense. I really thought that it would be an easy class, but I was waaaaay wrong. I pretty much had a low "D" in there at midterm time. I took my midterm late and I would have passed it if I hadn't had to take a 20 point penalty for taking it so late.
I took my final on Thu, and while all semester the material boggled my feeble little mind, the exam was all about putting the theories to use. I realized when I took that exam that I learned something this semester! I might not be able to tell you which psychoanalyst subscribed to which specific theory, but I can tell you everything when stated in practice. I can even analyze my friends! I'm a blast at parties!
I pulled my grade up to a "B". I would have been thrilled with a "C". So there goes my 4.0, but I'm still all up in the honor society and that's cool with me. I am now planning a ceremony to burn this book. S'mores for everyone!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tornado Warning!
Late last night we had our first tornado warning of the year. They usually pop up all around us, but we somehow manage to avoid it. My Nana says it has something to do with the river but I don't know. We got home last night and I was all prepared to watch "The New Adventures of Old Christine" and some other shows. But they had all been interrupted by tornado warnings about 200 miles or more away from the metro area. Finally at around 11pm, I tune in and just scrolling across the bottom is a short blip about a tornado warning in our county. But there was no coverage! Hello? Obviously I couldn't sleep, and I called my mother because that's what I do. Bob wasn't waking up, and I have some tornado anxiety, I won't lie.
I waited for the sirens to go off, there is one very near our house. And a couple of times I heard what sounded like it could be an actual tornado. The sound of an approaching train. It was very unsettling. I had a plan to load everyone into my closet and pull a mattress over our heads, or try and make it to the neighbors shelter and locking the dogs into a closet. I tried to decide if I should put on some shorts or something as I was in my nightgown. Not that my nightgown is too revealing, it's just sort of worn out.
Finally I saw that it had moved past us, and we just had some far off thunder and rain. But it reminded us that we can be smack in the middle of one at any time here in tornado alley. The last time we were affected by one was in 1999. You have to figure that our number is due to come up any day now.
So this afternoon I had to go up to OKC and get some baseball pants for my teams. While I was begging for help, I happened upon a local weather anchor who had the entire team at Academy hanging on her every, dripping with honey, word. She was telling them all about what it was like in the newscenter last night during the tornados. And defending her weatherman, insisting that he told the entire community to take shelter! Blah, blah, blah. She was just so sweeeeet. And her makeup was way overdone and her hair looked like crap. I'm just going to be honest. She did not look as good in person as she does on TV. And her outfit was hideous. Even I, in my capris that only stay up because I will them to and my t-shirt that looks like I stole it from Magic Johnson, looked better than her. Hey, none of my clothes fit anymore, and I'm good with that. I'm just sayin'. She did have nice shoes, and I can't say much about those because I was wearing my blue flip flops that have some dog teeth marks.
Anyway, I hope that we get lucky and we can avoid any more tornado warnings. Those sirens, and sounds of gusting wind give me the heebie jeebies somethin' fierce.
I waited for the sirens to go off, there is one very near our house. And a couple of times I heard what sounded like it could be an actual tornado. The sound of an approaching train. It was very unsettling. I had a plan to load everyone into my closet and pull a mattress over our heads, or try and make it to the neighbors shelter and locking the dogs into a closet. I tried to decide if I should put on some shorts or something as I was in my nightgown. Not that my nightgown is too revealing, it's just sort of worn out.
Finally I saw that it had moved past us, and we just had some far off thunder and rain. But it reminded us that we can be smack in the middle of one at any time here in tornado alley. The last time we were affected by one was in 1999. You have to figure that our number is due to come up any day now.
So this afternoon I had to go up to OKC and get some baseball pants for my teams. While I was begging for help, I happened upon a local weather anchor who had the entire team at Academy hanging on her every, dripping with honey, word. She was telling them all about what it was like in the newscenter last night during the tornados. And defending her weatherman, insisting that he told the entire community to take shelter! Blah, blah, blah. She was just so sweeeeet. And her makeup was way overdone and her hair looked like crap. I'm just going to be honest. She did not look as good in person as she does on TV. And her outfit was hideous. Even I, in my capris that only stay up because I will them to and my t-shirt that looks like I stole it from Magic Johnson, looked better than her. Hey, none of my clothes fit anymore, and I'm good with that. I'm just sayin'. She did have nice shoes, and I can't say much about those because I was wearing my blue flip flops that have some dog teeth marks.
Anyway, I hope that we get lucky and we can avoid any more tornado warnings. Those sirens, and sounds of gusting wind give me the heebie jeebies somethin' fierce.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
6 Years Ago
I was driving around up near where I had Jack today, and I realized that it was about 6 years ago now that I was going up there weekly for my final month check ups.(Jacks birthday is two weeks from today) I had an ultrasound about this time, and he was measuring to be about an 11 pound baby. This was based on the size of his head. I was terrified! I did not want to try and deliver an 11 pound baby. I had this idea in my head of this humongous baby Huey looking baby with cheeks so chubby that you could not see his eyes. I saw a 6mth old in the waiting room and I just knew that was what Jack would look like when he came out.
I went home that day, stunned by what I had been told. I had no idea what my doctor was going to say about this. I had been having some blood pressure issues, and I was on semi bed rest. All the crazy things that run through your head when you have been told you are having an 11lb baby raced through my bloated pregnant mind. It was right about this time that our A/C had gone out. I was holed up in my bedroom with a window unit a/c and a fan, with nothing to do but think about what was about to happen. Looking back now, I cannot even imagine not having anything to do.
to be continued...
I went home that day, stunned by what I had been told. I had no idea what my doctor was going to say about this. I had been having some blood pressure issues, and I was on semi bed rest. All the crazy things that run through your head when you have been told you are having an 11lb baby raced through my bloated pregnant mind. It was right about this time that our A/C had gone out. I was holed up in my bedroom with a window unit a/c and a fan, with nothing to do but think about what was about to happen. Looking back now, I cannot even imagine not having anything to do.
to be continued...
Monday, May 11, 2009
Reality TV
I'm a reality TV junkie. If it's real, I'm watching it. If there was a show that showed cows chewing cud, I'd watch it. I use to watch Meerkat Manor until a baby Meerkat was taken off by a big mean owl. I heard it crying and knew where it was headed and as I sat there with my heart in my throat, fighting back tears, I swore to never watch the Meerkats again. It was the same feeling I got when I saw the last scene in that movie "Jeepers Creepers". **shakes with the heebie jeebies**
We don't watch quality reality tv. There is no "Dancing With the Stars" or "The Apprentice" being recorded up in here. Although that juicy fight between Joan Rivers and the trashy poker player peaked our interest briefly. Aside from Bob's unnatural obsession with American Idol, we like our reality tv trashy.
Last night after "Keeping Up With the Kardashians", a show called "The Jersey Shore, Unleashed" came on. Being a southern girl, New Jersey people fascinate me. All the men are oily bohunks named "Antny" and all the girls have long french nails, dark tans and chew gum. They also seem to really like to party, and are not at all discriminate about who they party with. Everyone hooks up in Jersey apparently. Who knew?
Bob and I also really enjoy watching "Pretty Wicked". This show is about a bunch of girls who think they are something special but really don't seem to have that much to offer in the looks department. I'm not sure what the criteria was for casting on "Pretty Wicked", but it's reality tv. So I'm watchin' it.
"Pretty Wicked" took the time slot that was previously taken by a show that we LOVED called "The Bad Girls Club". If you've never seen this show, it's about a gaggle of mean girls who live together in a mansion, fight like tigers and then go out and get their "freak on" with random men. They also cannot get a slurpee at Stop and Go without getting into a hair pulling, shoe throwing fight. The "Pretty Wicked" girls fight, but not like "The Bad Girls Club". Those beyotches are ruthless, they don't walk away without a handful of hair extensions. All the girls in both shows are whores though. Make noooo mistake. Those chicks are slut-tay.
*Bridezillas? YES
*The Anna Nicole show? Oh hell yes
*True Housewives of Orange County? Never miss an episode. I don't like those New York chicks or Atlanta. But they're headed to Jersey, so that's a keeper.
*Engaged and Underage? Are you kidding me? Teenagers who think they are ready for marriage? What's not to like?
*Jon and Kate plus 8? Where else can I learn how NOT to treat my husband, and how NOT to get my hair done?
*My Big Redneck Wedding? I actually got confused once watching this because I thought that the kids had put a tape of one of our family weddings in there. It wasn't until the commercial came on that I realized it was a TV show.
*My Super Sweet Sixteen? Brats with money? Nothing gives you that warm fuzzy feeling like seeing a 16 yr old cuss her mother out for not buying her a BMW instead of a Range Rover.
*Sunset tan? Oh come on, who doesn't watch Sunset Tan? Is Nick gay? Does he really think that Anya is pretty? What about Dr. 90210? Does Dr. Rey really not see how ridiculous he looks? Really?
But my all time favorite reality tv show, the reason I don't hibernate in the summer to avoid the heat? Big Brother baby. It comes on three times a week, it's on for 4 hours every night, and it's AWESOME. The fighting, the yelling, it cannot be matched. I have to wait until after the 4th of July to see it. So until then I have plenty to do. There's always somebody throwing shoes, pulling hair, cussing their mom, or pretending they didn't do what it looked like they were doing under the covers on night vision.
We don't watch quality reality tv. There is no "Dancing With the Stars" or "The Apprentice" being recorded up in here. Although that juicy fight between Joan Rivers and the trashy poker player peaked our interest briefly. Aside from Bob's unnatural obsession with American Idol, we like our reality tv trashy.
Last night after "Keeping Up With the Kardashians", a show called "The Jersey Shore, Unleashed" came on. Being a southern girl, New Jersey people fascinate me. All the men are oily bohunks named "Antny" and all the girls have long french nails, dark tans and chew gum. They also seem to really like to party, and are not at all discriminate about who they party with. Everyone hooks up in Jersey apparently. Who knew?
Bob and I also really enjoy watching "Pretty Wicked". This show is about a bunch of girls who think they are something special but really don't seem to have that much to offer in the looks department. I'm not sure what the criteria was for casting on "Pretty Wicked", but it's reality tv. So I'm watchin' it.
"Pretty Wicked" took the time slot that was previously taken by a show that we LOVED called "The Bad Girls Club". If you've never seen this show, it's about a gaggle of mean girls who live together in a mansion, fight like tigers and then go out and get their "freak on" with random men. They also cannot get a slurpee at Stop and Go without getting into a hair pulling, shoe throwing fight. The "Pretty Wicked" girls fight, but not like "The Bad Girls Club". Those beyotches are ruthless, they don't walk away without a handful of hair extensions. All the girls in both shows are whores though. Make noooo mistake. Those chicks are slut-tay.
*Bridezillas? YES
*The Anna Nicole show? Oh hell yes
*True Housewives of Orange County? Never miss an episode. I don't like those New York chicks or Atlanta. But they're headed to Jersey, so that's a keeper.
*Engaged and Underage? Are you kidding me? Teenagers who think they are ready for marriage? What's not to like?
*Jon and Kate plus 8? Where else can I learn how NOT to treat my husband, and how NOT to get my hair done?
*My Big Redneck Wedding? I actually got confused once watching this because I thought that the kids had put a tape of one of our family weddings in there. It wasn't until the commercial came on that I realized it was a TV show.
*My Super Sweet Sixteen? Brats with money? Nothing gives you that warm fuzzy feeling like seeing a 16 yr old cuss her mother out for not buying her a BMW instead of a Range Rover.
*Sunset tan? Oh come on, who doesn't watch Sunset Tan? Is Nick gay? Does he really think that Anya is pretty? What about Dr. 90210? Does Dr. Rey really not see how ridiculous he looks? Really?
But my all time favorite reality tv show, the reason I don't hibernate in the summer to avoid the heat? Big Brother baby. It comes on three times a week, it's on for 4 hours every night, and it's AWESOME. The fighting, the yelling, it cannot be matched. I have to wait until after the 4th of July to see it. So until then I have plenty to do. There's always somebody throwing shoes, pulling hair, cussing their mom, or pretending they didn't do what it looked like they were doing under the covers on night vision.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Happy Mothers Day
I woke up this morning to handmade cards and a new stainless steel mixing bowl and rubber spatulas, I also got a new whisk. This is exactly what I wanted. I've been a mother for 5 years now, and I think that for the most part I'm doing a pretty good job. But there is a reason for this, I had a really good teacher.
I was fortunate enough to have grown up with an amazing mother. I adore her, she is sweet, kind, loving and beautiful. When she was in high school, she was the sweet girl that everyone loved and admired. The goody goody (nerd). She met my dad when they were just kids, and she married him at 17. No doubt she did it so he would just stop nagging he about it. She survived dad's tour in Guam. Her first time off the dirt roads of Oklahoma, on the plane she drank her finger bowl. Hillbilly fo sho. She endured a ridiculously long pregnancy with me. I was due Jan 1 and came along on Feb 23rd, allegedly with long hair and fingernails. What can I say? It was warm in there. And she knew she was pregnant in April so there is no mistake on the dates. She was a cops wife, and all the fear that comes with that. She got us moved from place to place while dad climbed the corporate ladder. We survived the bust in the
80's! We were always together, and often the 4 of us were all we had. And we were ok with that because she was there, so wherever we lived, she made it home.
When she turned 40 she found out she was pregnant. I was 19, and ok with it even if I did find it a little bit gross. My sister was 15 and not okay with it at all. Mom looked at this as her second chance. As if she never felt she did good enough the first time. How she can think that is beyond me, she's a nerd. She worked while we were growing up, but all I remember is being with her. All of my memories are of her spending all her free time with us, being there when we needed her. If I didn't know better, I would say that she was a full time stay at home mom. Her time with us was quality time. And she made those times that we weren't with her few and far between.
My dad got sick in the mid 90's. For years we didn't know what was wrong, and at times it was frustrating and heartbreaking, but she manned up and did what she swore she would do the day she married him. He's better now, but there are still days that are tough. Most of it is crazy old man stuff, but sometimes it's a bit overwhelming. She once told me that I was like one of those blow up clowns that you punch down and they just keep popping back up. I could say the same thing about her.
She is now a grandma. And she's 100% grandma, the kids adore her. She is warm and soft and cuddly and will do whatever mom and dad won't do. She still smells like she just stepped out of a shower all the time. She is still beautiful, and she still makes us feel like we are the most important things in her life. She keeps going, when some would just lay down and cover their heads and give up. She's funny, ditzy, and cute as a button. Recently she has taken on a sort of "badass" persona. This is a bit bothersome to my sisters and father, I like it. Until she turned it on me, then I had to reel her in. But that's ok, she's reeled me in lots of times. I hope that in 25 years I'm as good a mom and wife as she is. I'm proud of her, and I love her. And I love her lemon pie and pumpkin bread.
Happy Muddah's Day Ma!
I was fortunate enough to have grown up with an amazing mother. I adore her, she is sweet, kind, loving and beautiful. When she was in high school, she was the sweet girl that everyone loved and admired. The goody goody (nerd). She met my dad when they were just kids, and she married him at 17. No doubt she did it so he would just stop nagging he about it. She survived dad's tour in Guam. Her first time off the dirt roads of Oklahoma, on the plane she drank her finger bowl. Hillbilly fo sho. She endured a ridiculously long pregnancy with me. I was due Jan 1 and came along on Feb 23rd, allegedly with long hair and fingernails. What can I say? It was warm in there. And she knew she was pregnant in April so there is no mistake on the dates. She was a cops wife, and all the fear that comes with that. She got us moved from place to place while dad climbed the corporate ladder. We survived the bust in the
80's! We were always together, and often the 4 of us were all we had. And we were ok with that because she was there, so wherever we lived, she made it home.
When she turned 40 she found out she was pregnant. I was 19, and ok with it even if I did find it a little bit gross. My sister was 15 and not okay with it at all. Mom looked at this as her second chance. As if she never felt she did good enough the first time. How she can think that is beyond me, she's a nerd. She worked while we were growing up, but all I remember is being with her. All of my memories are of her spending all her free time with us, being there when we needed her. If I didn't know better, I would say that she was a full time stay at home mom. Her time with us was quality time. And she made those times that we weren't with her few and far between.
My dad got sick in the mid 90's. For years we didn't know what was wrong, and at times it was frustrating and heartbreaking, but she manned up and did what she swore she would do the day she married him. He's better now, but there are still days that are tough. Most of it is crazy old man stuff, but sometimes it's a bit overwhelming. She once told me that I was like one of those blow up clowns that you punch down and they just keep popping back up. I could say the same thing about her.
She is now a grandma. And she's 100% grandma, the kids adore her. She is warm and soft and cuddly and will do whatever mom and dad won't do. She still smells like she just stepped out of a shower all the time. She is still beautiful, and she still makes us feel like we are the most important things in her life. She keeps going, when some would just lay down and cover their heads and give up. She's funny, ditzy, and cute as a button. Recently she has taken on a sort of "badass" persona. This is a bit bothersome to my sisters and father, I like it. Until she turned it on me, then I had to reel her in. But that's ok, she's reeled me in lots of times. I hope that in 25 years I'm as good a mom and wife as she is. I'm proud of her, and I love her. And I love her lemon pie and pumpkin bread.
Happy Muddah's Day Ma!
Saturday, May 9, 2009
The Cutest Thing Ever
Is there anything cuter than a puppy? No. And nothing is cuter than a baby chihuahua. This is my sisters baby, his name is Zucko.
He is twice as big in that pictures as he was a week earlier when she got him. To put things into perspective, here he is with Taco, who weighs all of 6lbs. He was trying to run with the big dogs, but he just couldn't.
He is so tiny, he fits into a tee ball mitt!
Zucko is the cutest, sweetest thing I have held since my babies were tiny. AND, he doesn't spit up, which quite frankly my children were apt to do at any given time. I held him and he chewed on my ear, and sniffed around my face. He has skunky puppy breath, which is disgusting when it's a skunk, but so precious when it's a puppy.
Zucko was named by my nephew Bradley. He's running neck and neck with Zucko in the cutest thing ever department, don't you think? Have you ever seen eyes so blue in your life?
Look at that sweet face! Bradley was nearly 10lbs when he was born, and yet he has always seemed so vulnerable to me. It has to be the baby face. And when he gives you little baby kisses, they smell like sugar cookies. Even if he is sweaty and dirty, which he often is, he still smells like a sugar cookie. If you ask Bradley for a hug, he will tease you and turn his back to you, glance at you sideways and then give in right when you are about to give up. And when he hugs you, yeah you guessed it, you smell sugar cookies. I love sugar cookies.
He is twice as big in that pictures as he was a week earlier when she got him. To put things into perspective, here he is with Taco, who weighs all of 6lbs. He was trying to run with the big dogs, but he just couldn't.
He is so tiny, he fits into a tee ball mitt!
Zucko is the cutest, sweetest thing I have held since my babies were tiny. AND, he doesn't spit up, which quite frankly my children were apt to do at any given time. I held him and he chewed on my ear, and sniffed around my face. He has skunky puppy breath, which is disgusting when it's a skunk, but so precious when it's a puppy.
Zucko was named by my nephew Bradley. He's running neck and neck with Zucko in the cutest thing ever department, don't you think? Have you ever seen eyes so blue in your life?
Look at that sweet face! Bradley was nearly 10lbs when he was born, and yet he has always seemed so vulnerable to me. It has to be the baby face. And when he gives you little baby kisses, they smell like sugar cookies. Even if he is sweaty and dirty, which he often is, he still smells like a sugar cookie. If you ask Bradley for a hug, he will tease you and turn his back to you, glance at you sideways and then give in right when you are about to give up. And when he hugs you, yeah you guessed it, you smell sugar cookies. I love sugar cookies.
Busy Busy Busy
This is always a crazy time of year for me. First of all, I have finals. Those alone are butt kickers. Then the end of the school year brings class trips, PTO events, awards assembly and kindergarten graduation (don't get me started or I'll cry a river). I am also managing both Jack and Sydney's tee-ball teams, and coaching Syds. Sydney also has her tumbling recital at the end of the month. So that means that I am doing something every night of the week. And I love every stinking minute of it. I wouldn't give up a thing.
Yesterday was PTO fun day. I spent the day outside manning giant inflatables and sweating like a large farm animal. Jack loves giant inflatables. Sydney took this picture of him.
Then later that day Sydney had ball practice, so I was out there all sweaty and unathletic. Actually, to my credit, I can catch a tee ball pretty well. Then again a 4 yr old threw it so take that as you will. I went to bed last night sun-kissed and exhausted. BUT, my makeup totally held up all day. Bravo Bare Minerals! When I got home late last night, Bob told me that I looked pretty. He says that when he knows he is suppose to, but this was pretty random so I knew he meant it.
My kids are so athletic. I am so not, so they must get it from their dad. He has amazing athletic ability, and he makes everything look so effortless. I am not shocked by Jack's natural ability, because I've watched him for years. What I did not expect is for my precious little girl to knock the freaking ball out of the park! She's a powerhouse! Here's Aunt Desi showing her how to hit the ball.
And that's all she needed!
And she doesn't mess around either, she doesn't ever seem to get tired, and she loves being active. Thank God. Because I'm a lazy pud. I'm going to brag, she's the kid in gymnastics that the coach has the other kids watch to see how to do things the right way. She's very disciplined. At sports, not in life. Look at her, telling Lily to catch the ball!
So if we can survive until school is out, I think I'll be able to slow down. Until then I'm all in.
Yesterday was PTO fun day. I spent the day outside manning giant inflatables and sweating like a large farm animal. Jack loves giant inflatables. Sydney took this picture of him.
Then later that day Sydney had ball practice, so I was out there all sweaty and unathletic. Actually, to my credit, I can catch a tee ball pretty well. Then again a 4 yr old threw it so take that as you will. I went to bed last night sun-kissed and exhausted. BUT, my makeup totally held up all day. Bravo Bare Minerals! When I got home late last night, Bob told me that I looked pretty. He says that when he knows he is suppose to, but this was pretty random so I knew he meant it.
My kids are so athletic. I am so not, so they must get it from their dad. He has amazing athletic ability, and he makes everything look so effortless. I am not shocked by Jack's natural ability, because I've watched him for years. What I did not expect is for my precious little girl to knock the freaking ball out of the park! She's a powerhouse! Here's Aunt Desi showing her how to hit the ball.
And that's all she needed!
And she doesn't mess around either, she doesn't ever seem to get tired, and she loves being active. Thank God. Because I'm a lazy pud. I'm going to brag, she's the kid in gymnastics that the coach has the other kids watch to see how to do things the right way. She's very disciplined. At sports, not in life. Look at her, telling Lily to catch the ball!
So if we can survive until school is out, I think I'll be able to slow down. Until then I'm all in.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
My Poor Children
Apparently my kids are very underprivileged. I believe that Jack is getting sick, because he's acting like a crazy boy and that's his tendency right before he gets a cold or a virus.
Last night he spouted off outside to his dad. He came in and told me that he accidentally said something mean to dad. I told him that he needed to stop being so mean and bratty. Then I told him that since the last couple of days he's been acting like that, he wasn't playing any games last night. On school nights, he's allowed to play this computer game for one hour. And if you want to really get to him, threaten him with that because he lives for that hour.
So after I told him that he was essentially grounded, he threw himself on the floor and kicked his arms and legs. Literally threw himself on the floor and had a fit that a two year old would envy. I just stood there staring at him, and he looked at me. I asked him if he was really doing that? He then told me that he never gets anything he wants. No vacations, no games, no t-ball, no bike riding, and some other things that I had no idea he was interested in. I mean, the kid lives in a mini Disneyworld and he's complaining because he never gets to do anything.
Today if I look at him crooked he bursts into tears and yells "MOM". He has told his sister he hates her, he has kicked the dog, and he has commented that he is indeed leaving this place and going far away. Those are his words "I'm getting out of here and I'm going far away, I've had it". I think that this is because I told him to stop pushing his sister. Who, by the way, THRIVES on this behavior. She totally knows what buttons to push to make him mad.
Right now they are on the couch, and have drawn an imaginary line that must not be crossed.
Last night he spouted off outside to his dad. He came in and told me that he accidentally said something mean to dad. I told him that he needed to stop being so mean and bratty. Then I told him that since the last couple of days he's been acting like that, he wasn't playing any games last night. On school nights, he's allowed to play this computer game for one hour. And if you want to really get to him, threaten him with that because he lives for that hour.
So after I told him that he was essentially grounded, he threw himself on the floor and kicked his arms and legs. Literally threw himself on the floor and had a fit that a two year old would envy. I just stood there staring at him, and he looked at me. I asked him if he was really doing that? He then told me that he never gets anything he wants. No vacations, no games, no t-ball, no bike riding, and some other things that I had no idea he was interested in. I mean, the kid lives in a mini Disneyworld and he's complaining because he never gets to do anything.
Today if I look at him crooked he bursts into tears and yells "MOM". He has told his sister he hates her, he has kicked the dog, and he has commented that he is indeed leaving this place and going far away. Those are his words "I'm getting out of here and I'm going far away, I've had it". I think that this is because I told him to stop pushing his sister. Who, by the way, THRIVES on this behavior. She totally knows what buttons to push to make him mad.
Right now they are on the couch, and have drawn an imaginary line that must not be crossed.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Just Call Me Coach
Tonight we had the coaches meeting for T-ball. We got the call that the meeting was tonight at 7pm at 1pm this afternoon. Niiice. Fortunately people came out in droves and volunteered to coach, so my team has 3 coaches and 13 kids. Bob's team has 3 coaches and 13 kids. For some reason I thought that I could handle the administrative side of two T-ball teams and let the other coaches do all that sweaty physical stuff. I'm an idiot. I'm already overwhelmed, with the calling of the parents, and the making of the rosters, and the setting up of the call lists and snack lists and figuring out the uniform situation. At least two of each teams phone numbers are wrong, and two of the kids on my team have names that I cannot even begin to pronounce. I named my kids Jack and Sydney for a reason. You can't screw that up. I would simply feel horrible if I mispronounced a childs name, I hate it.
But...I can do this. I'm a wiz at this stuff. I have the knowledge. But I totally lack the motivation. That's always been my biggest obstacle. Motivation.
I'm coaching the Cubs. My husband despises the Cubs. We're a White Sox house over here. He's coaching the Braves, I have no feeling either way on that.
When we lived in Chicago, one of Bob's dudes sent us to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. It was fun, they sent a limo, and we went to dinner downtown, all that jazz. Really the limo was more of an embarrassment than anything. We pulled up to the front of the stadium, and everyone watched. Then we waddle our nobodies out, only to disappoint the crowd of people waiting to see who was inside. I have never felt so completely insignificant in my life. You don't know low until you have a hundred people look at you like that. We had fun though, I can say I've been there. I was going to get my niece a Cubs onesie, but I wasn't sure if she was a boy or a girl at the time, and Bob wasn't about to let me purchase Cubs gear. I did manage to get a cool bucket hat, which I might just wear this season.
So away we go...
But...I can do this. I'm a wiz at this stuff. I have the knowledge. But I totally lack the motivation. That's always been my biggest obstacle. Motivation.
I'm coaching the Cubs. My husband despises the Cubs. We're a White Sox house over here. He's coaching the Braves, I have no feeling either way on that.
When we lived in Chicago, one of Bob's dudes sent us to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. It was fun, they sent a limo, and we went to dinner downtown, all that jazz. Really the limo was more of an embarrassment than anything. We pulled up to the front of the stadium, and everyone watched. Then we waddle our nobodies out, only to disappoint the crowd of people waiting to see who was inside. I have never felt so completely insignificant in my life. You don't know low until you have a hundred people look at you like that. We had fun though, I can say I've been there. I was going to get my niece a Cubs onesie, but I wasn't sure if she was a boy or a girl at the time, and Bob wasn't about to let me purchase Cubs gear. I did manage to get a cool bucket hat, which I might just wear this season.
So away we go...
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Why I Changed My Blog Name
I never really liked Living With Mel. It was lame and generic and it was all I could come up with on the fly. I was having an off day. Besides, I don't want to just focus on my life, I want to share my favorite things. For example, if you look in the header up there, you will see that I have quoted Dwight Schrute. I used this quote because 1)I think that Dwight is hilarious and 2)I just like any quotes that reference bears. Bears, Beets, etc. Fact. Bears eat beets. If something strikes me as funny, I'm going to share it. I love funny.
I decided on confessions of a quasi pseudo soccer mom because that's what I am. I'm almost a fake soccer mom. I'm really not as together as a soccer mom, but I still do all the things that soccer moms do. People think I've got all my stuff together. In reality, I'm a big old mess. I'm admittedly lazy, and I love to sleep. But when I go to the school or the tee ball field, or to gymnastics, or to PTA events, I turn it on. I take extra kids all the time. I always have a snack available. And I volunteer to make cupcakes or homemade granola bars for snack days. But when I'm home alone, I'm wearing paint stained clothes that hang off of me and I lay on the couch cruising the internet. If I don't have to take a kid to school, or keep another one, I could sleep until 1pm daily. And still be in bed by 10pm. I call my dogs filthy names when they won't stop barking at cars passing by the house. And I am a moody little cuss.
So to summarize, I could be considered a fake soccer mom because the time that I'm not doing soccer mom stuff, I'm laying around the house ordering my kids to bring me the phone. But I'm walking the walk, so I'm not quite fake. Pseudo. Just almost. Quasi.
I decided on confessions of a quasi pseudo soccer mom because that's what I am. I'm almost a fake soccer mom. I'm really not as together as a soccer mom, but I still do all the things that soccer moms do. People think I've got all my stuff together. In reality, I'm a big old mess. I'm admittedly lazy, and I love to sleep. But when I go to the school or the tee ball field, or to gymnastics, or to PTA events, I turn it on. I take extra kids all the time. I always have a snack available. And I volunteer to make cupcakes or homemade granola bars for snack days. But when I'm home alone, I'm wearing paint stained clothes that hang off of me and I lay on the couch cruising the internet. If I don't have to take a kid to school, or keep another one, I could sleep until 1pm daily. And still be in bed by 10pm. I call my dogs filthy names when they won't stop barking at cars passing by the house. And I am a moody little cuss.
So to summarize, I could be considered a fake soccer mom because the time that I'm not doing soccer mom stuff, I'm laying around the house ordering my kids to bring me the phone. But I'm walking the walk, so I'm not quite fake. Pseudo. Just almost. Quasi.
When Kids Grab Cameras
My kids love to take picture with my camera. I have no problem with it, they know to be careful and sometimes they get some good shots. However, I downloaded my latest batch yesterday and I found some disturbing shots. I'm not sure when these pictures were taken, or where I was when they were taken. What I do know is that I had some movie moments while looking at them.
"Ghost" Is she running from a ghost? Is this one of those orbs or something? And what
are her intentions when she gets to her target? Is she the good guy, or the bad guy?
While I love his little hillbilly gap, this is a little "Deliverance", don't you think?
Did you ever see "Dog Day Afternoon". Just call Jack, Pacino, for the purposes of this blog entry. He's holding Taco hostage and forcing him to watch "Beverly Hills Chihuahua for the 100th time.
Taco looks away when Chloe gets thrown into the cage with that big dog.
And here's what happens when you look away. (Taco is fine, btw. He's not being held down...this time)
We cannot leave out the Oscar winners. I give you, "My Left Foot". (I know that's her right foot, but My Right Foot wasn't a movie, and this was close enough. I needed to add some class to the mix.)
And it what is quite possibly the scariest freaking scene from a movie being reinacted. I give you..."The Ring".
Remember when that little girl came crawling out of that well?
Remember when she came towards the TV?
Remember when she came OUT of the TV?
Remember when the guy tried to get away from her?
But in the end, she got him?
Well, all those crushed up potato chips that you see on my floor scare me more than that movie. And they both know that. They know that crushed potato chips on my floor eat at my soul. And I have been looking all over the house for those two flip flops. I guess they made their way under the couch.
AND SCENE...
"Ghost" Is she running from a ghost? Is this one of those orbs or something? And what
are her intentions when she gets to her target? Is she the good guy, or the bad guy?
While I love his little hillbilly gap, this is a little "Deliverance", don't you think?
Did you ever see "Dog Day Afternoon". Just call Jack, Pacino, for the purposes of this blog entry. He's holding Taco hostage and forcing him to watch "Beverly Hills Chihuahua for the 100th time.
Taco looks away when Chloe gets thrown into the cage with that big dog.
And here's what happens when you look away. (Taco is fine, btw. He's not being held down...this time)
We cannot leave out the Oscar winners. I give you, "My Left Foot". (I know that's her right foot, but My Right Foot wasn't a movie, and this was close enough. I needed to add some class to the mix.)
And it what is quite possibly the scariest freaking scene from a movie being reinacted. I give you..."The Ring".
Remember when that little girl came crawling out of that well?
Remember when she came towards the TV?
Remember when she came OUT of the TV?
Remember when the guy tried to get away from her?
But in the end, she got him?
Well, all those crushed up potato chips that you see on my floor scare me more than that movie. And they both know that. They know that crushed potato chips on my floor eat at my soul. And I have been looking all over the house for those two flip flops. I guess they made their way under the couch.
AND SCENE...
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
I Did It Again
Today I ran into Penney's to take back a shirt. While there, I went to check out the final clearance racks and I found about 3 outfits for $24. I was so excited! I noticed people looking at me, and when I went to check out the cashier asked if I was ok. I told her I was and then I said, I'm sure too loudly, "I loooooove the final clearance rack". Then she said "oh me too" but sort of like you would tell a kid that you like ice cream too. I was so wrapped up in my bargains that I just kept smiling and being chirpy.
I got out to my car, and looked in the mirror, and I realized why I was getting strange reactions. When I left the house, I had my hair up in a big clip. I took it down as I was driving and then just stuck it on the side of my head in my hair. Very out of place. I forgot I did that and walked around the store for 30 minutes looking like a drunken pillhead.
This is not the first time, or the worst time this has happened to me. Once, when Bob and I lived up in Michigan, I went for a massage. I had been wearing black hose and when I got dressed after the massage I threw them in the pocket of my coat. While I was getting my massage, I threw my hair in a pony tail. I left the spa very relaxed and laid back. I ran into a store to grab a CD, once again, giddy from an hour long massage, and people looked at me. I imagined I had a glow about me. When we lived in Michigan people always looked at me, or so I thought. I had just moved from Texas, I had a touch of an accent, and I guess I thought they saw that special somethin' about me that was different from them. So the stares didn't really make me think anything was up.
I got home, and when I walked in, Bob double glanced me, and with a very strange look, asked me if I was ok. I wasn't sure what he meant, and I asked him why. He told me to go look in the mirror. When I saw myself, I was mortified. There I was, with my ponytail kicked to the side of my head and falling down, raccoon eyes from mascara being smeared, black panty hose hanging out of the pocket of my long black overcoat that was buttoned up just off by one button. I looked like I had either been mugged, or again, drunk.
Aside from forgetting that I look like a deranged drunkard, I also have a habit of saying hello to people who look like people I know. I once waved to a guy and his pregnant wife across a store, telling them I would see them at the baby shower. It was after I walked away that I realized that while he looked like a guy I knew, that was not his wife, therefore I had just told total strangers that I had intentions to crash their baby shower. I had an entire conversation with a man at a doctors office, only to end the conversation with "you're not William are you?" He politely answered "no ma'am". I excused myself and tried to walk away with an ounce of dignity. I probably tripped over a rug on the way out, I've blocked most of that incident out. I once yelled out "Nana" to an elderly lady with short gray hair. When she didn't answer, I said to myself "she can't hear a thing". Once I got up closer I realized it was a man. I'm kidding on that last part, just another dig at Nana's lesbian haircut.
I do this all the time. It's getting bad. If my mother in law did this, I would have her committed. Yet people that I know? I can look them right in the eye and not even realize that I know them. My GG has called me and told me that I flat out ignored a great aunt at Walmart once. I had no idea I ever saw her. But to be honest, I've dived into the frozen food section more than once to avoid talking to aforementioned great aunt, so my whole "I didn't see her" line didn't go over so well.
I either need to start paying better attention, or just start wearing matching pantsuits and white canvas keds, and a sweater in the middle of July. You know, just in case the car gets too cold. And if I do that, I'll have to carry tissues in my purse, and let mints get all fuzzy in the side pockets. I went from not leaving my car without checking my lipstick to wearing two different colored flip flops, just that fast.
I got out to my car, and looked in the mirror, and I realized why I was getting strange reactions. When I left the house, I had my hair up in a big clip. I took it down as I was driving and then just stuck it on the side of my head in my hair. Very out of place. I forgot I did that and walked around the store for 30 minutes looking like a drunken pillhead.
This is not the first time, or the worst time this has happened to me. Once, when Bob and I lived up in Michigan, I went for a massage. I had been wearing black hose and when I got dressed after the massage I threw them in the pocket of my coat. While I was getting my massage, I threw my hair in a pony tail. I left the spa very relaxed and laid back. I ran into a store to grab a CD, once again, giddy from an hour long massage, and people looked at me. I imagined I had a glow about me. When we lived in Michigan people always looked at me, or so I thought. I had just moved from Texas, I had a touch of an accent, and I guess I thought they saw that special somethin' about me that was different from them. So the stares didn't really make me think anything was up.
I got home, and when I walked in, Bob double glanced me, and with a very strange look, asked me if I was ok. I wasn't sure what he meant, and I asked him why. He told me to go look in the mirror. When I saw myself, I was mortified. There I was, with my ponytail kicked to the side of my head and falling down, raccoon eyes from mascara being smeared, black panty hose hanging out of the pocket of my long black overcoat that was buttoned up just off by one button. I looked like I had either been mugged, or again, drunk.
Aside from forgetting that I look like a deranged drunkard, I also have a habit of saying hello to people who look like people I know. I once waved to a guy and his pregnant wife across a store, telling them I would see them at the baby shower. It was after I walked away that I realized that while he looked like a guy I knew, that was not his wife, therefore I had just told total strangers that I had intentions to crash their baby shower. I had an entire conversation with a man at a doctors office, only to end the conversation with "you're not William are you?" He politely answered "no ma'am". I excused myself and tried to walk away with an ounce of dignity. I probably tripped over a rug on the way out, I've blocked most of that incident out. I once yelled out "Nana" to an elderly lady with short gray hair. When she didn't answer, I said to myself "she can't hear a thing". Once I got up closer I realized it was a man. I'm kidding on that last part, just another dig at Nana's lesbian haircut.
I do this all the time. It's getting bad. If my mother in law did this, I would have her committed. Yet people that I know? I can look them right in the eye and not even realize that I know them. My GG has called me and told me that I flat out ignored a great aunt at Walmart once. I had no idea I ever saw her. But to be honest, I've dived into the frozen food section more than once to avoid talking to aforementioned great aunt, so my whole "I didn't see her" line didn't go over so well.
I either need to start paying better attention, or just start wearing matching pantsuits and white canvas keds, and a sweater in the middle of July. You know, just in case the car gets too cold. And if I do that, I'll have to carry tissues in my purse, and let mints get all fuzzy in the side pockets. I went from not leaving my car without checking my lipstick to wearing two different colored flip flops, just that fast.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Spotlight on...Andy
A certain someone has asked that I do a blog entry, specifically devoted to her. So, in order to get her to shut up about it, I give you...Andy
Who is Andy? Andy is my doppelganger. The ying to my yang. She is the only person who can do to me, what I do to everyone else. She and I are a dangerous pair, and our minds work in mysterious ways. We go there. To places that others dare not go. Here we are after we just went there...I look hideous in this picture, but if you saw the one that was taken before this one, you would think that right there is a picture of a movie star. I'm not showing that picture btw.
She's an eater. She isn't fat at all, which really annoys me because she eats like a 17 year old boy. Andy will bring you a box of chocolates if you are in the hospital. It will be empty when it gets to you but I guess it's the thought that counts. She can't help it. The other day we stopped at Krispy Kreme to get a donut. I thought for sure we would get a dozen, give all the kids one and then take our boys one home. But noooooo. She actually said to me "get your own dozen because I'm not sharin'". In the 30 minutes it took us to get home, I saw her devour 3 donuts without taking a breath. Here she is showing us how much she loves making cake balls. She is also showing us her IQ.
Andy works for UPS. She gets to boss men around. She also works like a farmhand which might explain why she is able to eat like one and not gain weight. She is very good at her job, very organized. She is really on top of things at work. At home, not so much. I'm sorry but it's true. It's almost weird how she can go from one extreme to the other.
Andy is Sam-Sam's mom. She is also Keegans mom and Trevors pain in the a...I mean wife. She and I both agree that we took two really good men in Bob and Trevor and ruined their lives. As well as their credit. But they both have good credit now. Their lives are still destroyed, but baby steps. Baby steps.
Andy doesn't cry. She doesn't hug. By all outwards appearances she is a soul-less blob of non-emotional seaweed. If you tell her that your dog died, she'll tell you that dogs die and you need to get over it. But I know things. I'm not outing her as having emotions, but I've seen things. She has an obession with bathrooms and the goings on of bathrooms. And while describing Andy requires a mention of bathrooms, that's as far as I'm going with that. Because I do not share the same obession. I wish that she would understand that and stop trying to pull me into that world. I don't wanna go there.
She sleeps the minute she gets into the passengers seat of a vehicle. I have seen her and Trevor driving down the street, Trevor in the drivers seat, and Andy over in the passengers seat with her head thrown back, mouth wide open, drool all over her face. I suspect that people who didn't know her would think he was rushing her to the hospital because she's had some sort of stroke or something. But she's just sleepin'. She, like my Bob, looks like bigbird when she sleeps. She also has the ability to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation like Bob does. I'm used to it at this point. My sister does it too.
Andy and I do things that make people wonder what we're up to. For example, we will
run for absolutely no reason. We'll be sitting on the couch, and one of us will say "you wanna go run" and the other one says "hell yeah" and we go outside at Nana's and just run. No one knows why we do this, and neither do we. But we run and we laugh until we cry. We also have the ability to look at each other and laugh, thus sending chills down the backs of the rest of our family. They all ask why? what? who? But there is no why, what or who. We're just laughing. The more we laugh, the more freaked out people get, which makes us laugh more.
We have fun, more fun that we should have. We laugh at things that other people would cry about. And when one of us is mad, the other one gets mad too. Or makes fun of the other for getting so mad about something stupid. Alright, usually she makes fun of me for getting mad at something stupid. We make fun of each other about things that other people would pity us for. It's how we get through the tough times. We're cousins, but we're also friends. Mostly because being friends with each other is easier than being friends with other people. We're both backer outers. For example, I might be all about going to lunch next Wed with Betty Sue. But when Wed rolls around, the chances of me still wanting to go to lunch are not good. If I make plans with Andy and I back out, there is a very good chance that she won't want to go either. And if she does, I don't care. Because that's how we roll.
We love our family. They are tons of fun to make fun of. We have a great time with our Nana. We like to go places with her, and make fun of her. Especially when she and my mom got matching lesbian haircuts. We told her that her hair looked great for an 80 year old lesbian. She just laughed at us. We also like to make fun of our cousin Wally. How can you have a cousin named "Wally" and not make fun of him? We call him a magnificent bastahd. We call him at random times asking him "what are you doing you magnificent bastahd?" For some reason everytime we call him, he asks us if we're drunk. We aren't. We're usually hopped up on sugar, but never drunk.
Andy's mom died about 4 years ago. It sucked. But every now and then, when we pull one of our pranks, we sort of feel like she's there with us, pulling the rope on the bucket of water over the door. We think that she would enjoy our antics. She was sort of like us in that she thoroughly enjoyed those little moments when someone slips on the ice.
So now I've done a spotlight on Andy. And now maybe she'll just shut up about it and let me have my normal life back.
Who is Andy? Andy is my doppelganger. The ying to my yang. She is the only person who can do to me, what I do to everyone else. She and I are a dangerous pair, and our minds work in mysterious ways. We go there. To places that others dare not go. Here we are after we just went there...I look hideous in this picture, but if you saw the one that was taken before this one, you would think that right there is a picture of a movie star. I'm not showing that picture btw.
She's an eater. She isn't fat at all, which really annoys me because she eats like a 17 year old boy. Andy will bring you a box of chocolates if you are in the hospital. It will be empty when it gets to you but I guess it's the thought that counts. She can't help it. The other day we stopped at Krispy Kreme to get a donut. I thought for sure we would get a dozen, give all the kids one and then take our boys one home. But noooooo. She actually said to me "get your own dozen because I'm not sharin'". In the 30 minutes it took us to get home, I saw her devour 3 donuts without taking a breath. Here she is showing us how much she loves making cake balls. She is also showing us her IQ.
Andy works for UPS. She gets to boss men around. She also works like a farmhand which might explain why she is able to eat like one and not gain weight. She is very good at her job, very organized. She is really on top of things at work. At home, not so much. I'm sorry but it's true. It's almost weird how she can go from one extreme to the other.
Andy is Sam-Sam's mom. She is also Keegans mom and Trevors pain in the a...I mean wife. She and I both agree that we took two really good men in Bob and Trevor and ruined their lives. As well as their credit. But they both have good credit now. Their lives are still destroyed, but baby steps. Baby steps.
Andy doesn't cry. She doesn't hug. By all outwards appearances she is a soul-less blob of non-emotional seaweed. If you tell her that your dog died, she'll tell you that dogs die and you need to get over it. But I know things. I'm not outing her as having emotions, but I've seen things. She has an obession with bathrooms and the goings on of bathrooms. And while describing Andy requires a mention of bathrooms, that's as far as I'm going with that. Because I do not share the same obession. I wish that she would understand that and stop trying to pull me into that world. I don't wanna go there.
She sleeps the minute she gets into the passengers seat of a vehicle. I have seen her and Trevor driving down the street, Trevor in the drivers seat, and Andy over in the passengers seat with her head thrown back, mouth wide open, drool all over her face. I suspect that people who didn't know her would think he was rushing her to the hospital because she's had some sort of stroke or something. But she's just sleepin'. She, like my Bob, looks like bigbird when she sleeps. She also has the ability to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation like Bob does. I'm used to it at this point. My sister does it too.
Andy and I do things that make people wonder what we're up to. For example, we will
run for absolutely no reason. We'll be sitting on the couch, and one of us will say "you wanna go run" and the other one says "hell yeah" and we go outside at Nana's and just run. No one knows why we do this, and neither do we. But we run and we laugh until we cry. We also have the ability to look at each other and laugh, thus sending chills down the backs of the rest of our family. They all ask why? what? who? But there is no why, what or who. We're just laughing. The more we laugh, the more freaked out people get, which makes us laugh more.
We have fun, more fun that we should have. We laugh at things that other people would cry about. And when one of us is mad, the other one gets mad too. Or makes fun of the other for getting so mad about something stupid. Alright, usually she makes fun of me for getting mad at something stupid. We make fun of each other about things that other people would pity us for. It's how we get through the tough times. We're cousins, but we're also friends. Mostly because being friends with each other is easier than being friends with other people. We're both backer outers. For example, I might be all about going to lunch next Wed with Betty Sue. But when Wed rolls around, the chances of me still wanting to go to lunch are not good. If I make plans with Andy and I back out, there is a very good chance that she won't want to go either. And if she does, I don't care. Because that's how we roll.
We love our family. They are tons of fun to make fun of. We have a great time with our Nana. We like to go places with her, and make fun of her. Especially when she and my mom got matching lesbian haircuts. We told her that her hair looked great for an 80 year old lesbian. She just laughed at us. We also like to make fun of our cousin Wally. How can you have a cousin named "Wally" and not make fun of him? We call him a magnificent bastahd. We call him at random times asking him "what are you doing you magnificent bastahd?" For some reason everytime we call him, he asks us if we're drunk. We aren't. We're usually hopped up on sugar, but never drunk.
Andy's mom died about 4 years ago. It sucked. But every now and then, when we pull one of our pranks, we sort of feel like she's there with us, pulling the rope on the bucket of water over the door. We think that she would enjoy our antics. She was sort of like us in that she thoroughly enjoyed those little moments when someone slips on the ice.
So now I've done a spotlight on Andy. And now maybe she'll just shut up about it and let me have my normal life back.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Girls Night Out
Bob and Jack went with Jack's friend and his dad to the Monster Truck Show tonight. Which is really funny if you know Bob, because he is so not a Monster Truck Show guy. Sydney and I went with Andy and her daughter Keegan to see the Hannah Montana movie. Yes, we did. And to be perfectly honest with you, it was an awesome movie. At one point, I was tempted to stand up and urge Miley to be Hannah again. I would keep her secret! Okay, mostly I was tempted to do this because it would have been incredibly funny. How freaking awesome would that be? Out of nowhere the chick in the 3rd row stands up clapping and chanting "Hannah, Hannah!" It would have made Andy wet herself.
It was a theater full of moms and daughters, and while my daughter does indeed love Hannah, I took the opportunity to see the movie without shame. But...there was a lady next to me with an 18 month old, and I wanted to tell her that first of all, she's not fooling anyone and second of all, it's ok. It's ok to like Hannah. Andy and I immediately went and bought the soundtrack to the movie. We aren't ashamed.
Afterwards we took the girls to dinner, and laughed with them. Sydney and I came home and listened to our new CD and danced. She has a Hannah Montana microphone and she's got the moves. It was a great girls night out. No Pina Colada, but good company anyway.
It was a theater full of moms and daughters, and while my daughter does indeed love Hannah, I took the opportunity to see the movie without shame. But...there was a lady next to me with an 18 month old, and I wanted to tell her that first of all, she's not fooling anyone and second of all, it's ok. It's ok to like Hannah. Andy and I immediately went and bought the soundtrack to the movie. We aren't ashamed.
Afterwards we took the girls to dinner, and laughed with them. Sydney and I came home and listened to our new CD and danced. She has a Hannah Montana microphone and she's got the moves. It was a great girls night out. No Pina Colada, but good company anyway.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Easter
We had a great Easter! It was cold and rainy, but we still had a great time.
The first thing we did was take our annual front porch picture...
When I was a kid, we all stood on that same front porch and had our picture taken, rain or shine. Our parents did as well. We make a sign showing the year, every year, but depending on one of those kids to actually hold it up is usually a big waste of time. I chose that picture out of the 10 I have, because I think that Trixie the dog looks quite fetching. What you do not see in that picture, is what the kids are seeing. No less than 6 insane adults telling them all to look at them and smile. A lot of "get the dog out of the way" and "put your basket down" and "watch the baby" By the time pictures are done, the kids are ready to go home and go to bed, while the adults all sit around and tend to our bruises.
Here are my angels in their Easter outfits...
After picture time, we had dinner. Here is a post dinner shot of my sister, the nurse. My Nana, my mother in law and my mother. That was one tough crowd. Seriously.
After dinner, it was egg hunt time. We sequestered the kids in the den with some Spongebob and we took to hiding eggs. But then it started to rain, and it was really cold. So I threw Bob my bag and took off into the house. I'm no fool. Bob and my uncle were though. And they weathered the rain and hid some eggs. Although to tell you the truth, dumping them all in the driveway isn't really providing the kids with much of a challenge, but whatever. It rained for a good 20 minutes before we decided to just go for it. So we lined them up.
And off they went!
Sam-Sam didn't make it to the egg hunt. He was all worn out.
Afterwards, it was time to inspect the loot.
Then more pictures with Nana. Again, trying to get all of them to sit still and let us take a picture is like herding chickens into a photo shoot. It just isn't possible. In this case, the dog was behind them growling and causing all of them to scream and run.
We took more pictures, but I think that this picture pretty much speaks of my people.
Would you believe that he's the grumpiest person in our family? At least someone got use of Sydney's Easter hat.
The first thing we did was take our annual front porch picture...
When I was a kid, we all stood on that same front porch and had our picture taken, rain or shine. Our parents did as well. We make a sign showing the year, every year, but depending on one of those kids to actually hold it up is usually a big waste of time. I chose that picture out of the 10 I have, because I think that Trixie the dog looks quite fetching. What you do not see in that picture, is what the kids are seeing. No less than 6 insane adults telling them all to look at them and smile. A lot of "get the dog out of the way" and "put your basket down" and "watch the baby" By the time pictures are done, the kids are ready to go home and go to bed, while the adults all sit around and tend to our bruises.
Here are my angels in their Easter outfits...
After picture time, we had dinner. Here is a post dinner shot of my sister, the nurse. My Nana, my mother in law and my mother. That was one tough crowd. Seriously.
After dinner, it was egg hunt time. We sequestered the kids in the den with some Spongebob and we took to hiding eggs. But then it started to rain, and it was really cold. So I threw Bob my bag and took off into the house. I'm no fool. Bob and my uncle were though. And they weathered the rain and hid some eggs. Although to tell you the truth, dumping them all in the driveway isn't really providing the kids with much of a challenge, but whatever. It rained for a good 20 minutes before we decided to just go for it. So we lined them up.
And off they went!
Sam-Sam didn't make it to the egg hunt. He was all worn out.
Afterwards, it was time to inspect the loot.
Then more pictures with Nana. Again, trying to get all of them to sit still and let us take a picture is like herding chickens into a photo shoot. It just isn't possible. In this case, the dog was behind them growling and causing all of them to scream and run.
We took more pictures, but I think that this picture pretty much speaks of my people.
Would you believe that he's the grumpiest person in our family? At least someone got use of Sydney's Easter hat.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Preparing for Easter
I'll get into Easter day later, we had a great day. But before I get into that, Easter hit the ground running on Friday when Jack and his class went to the park for a huge egg hunt. Here they are getting ready to go...
He didn't randomly pick eggs up, he scouted for them. He was so excited when he realized he had gotten 3 Diego eggs...
He took a split second to take a picture with me. Ignore my horrid appearance, I was in a rush that day to get to the park and my hair wasn't playing well with others...
On Saturday we did the whole egg coloring thing...
And they turned out great!
They put their eggs in the basket for the Easter bunny, and he came!
Jack woke us up at 5am. We made him let everyone sleep until about 7am when he saw a flicker of light through the curtains and decided that enough was enough.
Later on we went to Nana's for the traditional Easter dinner and egg hunt. We also got the annual front porch picture, all of which I will post on soon. But here's a teaser...
He didn't randomly pick eggs up, he scouted for them. He was so excited when he realized he had gotten 3 Diego eggs...
He took a split second to take a picture with me. Ignore my horrid appearance, I was in a rush that day to get to the park and my hair wasn't playing well with others...
On Saturday we did the whole egg coloring thing...
And they turned out great!
They put their eggs in the basket for the Easter bunny, and he came!
Jack woke us up at 5am. We made him let everyone sleep until about 7am when he saw a flicker of light through the curtains and decided that enough was enough.
Later on we went to Nana's for the traditional Easter dinner and egg hunt. We also got the annual front porch picture, all of which I will post on soon. But here's a teaser...
Sunday, April 12, 2009
My Girl's First Haircut
My girl has the most beautiful red hair you have ever seen.
She was born with it, came into this world with a fuzzy red head. Bob and I were both totally confused. As she got older, and her hair grew, it started to highlight and she has copper, blond, red, and strawberry blond color streaks in it. I actually have people ask me if I had her hair highlighted. She's 4 now, and this has been going on since her hair grew past her shoulders.
I was always hesitant to cut it because 1) I wanted it to get long and 2) cutting Sydney's hair would be like trying to cut a lions mane. It's not gonna happen and someone is gonna get hurt. But her hair got out of control. She is very tender headed (yet stubborn as a mule, go figure) and it got to a point for a bit where I would have to throw it up in a bun tangles and all. Here is an example of how her hair would often look. And a gratuitous picture of Sam-Sam.
It was shortly after this day that I took her to have her hair cut for the first time. She really didn't want to go because she was afraid, but her big brother had his cut too so she decided it might not be so bad. You can see Nana and Sam-Sam in the background!
Afterwards, I was a little concerned because it was so sharp! It didn't look soft like it always had. But as it dried, it started to look really cute. We went to the mall and Andy took some really good pictures of the kids.
Now that it's been about a month since she had a haircut, her hair has softened and looks beautiful. Her Aunt M misses the wild and crazy Sydney hair, but I think she looks great with the shorter hair.
She was born with it, came into this world with a fuzzy red head. Bob and I were both totally confused. As she got older, and her hair grew, it started to highlight and she has copper, blond, red, and strawberry blond color streaks in it. I actually have people ask me if I had her hair highlighted. She's 4 now, and this has been going on since her hair grew past her shoulders.
I was always hesitant to cut it because 1) I wanted it to get long and 2) cutting Sydney's hair would be like trying to cut a lions mane. It's not gonna happen and someone is gonna get hurt. But her hair got out of control. She is very tender headed (yet stubborn as a mule, go figure) and it got to a point for a bit where I would have to throw it up in a bun tangles and all. Here is an example of how her hair would often look. And a gratuitous picture of Sam-Sam.
It was shortly after this day that I took her to have her hair cut for the first time. She really didn't want to go because she was afraid, but her big brother had his cut too so she decided it might not be so bad. You can see Nana and Sam-Sam in the background!
Afterwards, I was a little concerned because it was so sharp! It didn't look soft like it always had. But as it dried, it started to look really cute. We went to the mall and Andy took some really good pictures of the kids.
Now that it's been about a month since she had a haircut, her hair has softened and looks beautiful. Her Aunt M misses the wild and crazy Sydney hair, but I think she looks great with the shorter hair.
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