Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta

This is a favorite picture of mine on so many levels. My dad and my girls. I've known for 35 years how important this guy is to me. How much I've needed him. I love to see this love of mine look up at my dad, in my own girls eyes. I love to see that my dad is one of their favorite people too.

To participate in Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta (and you must, you must), go to:

http://carriestuckmann.blogspot.com/

They Weeble And They Wobble But They Don't Fall Down

I've gone and done it. I've been to the gym. The I've-Been-Ignoring/Dreading/Talking-Smack-About you gym. You know, with the treadmills and kettle bells. Yoga and Diet Plans. All that. It's been a good and strong four years now since I've done the gym thing. But summer's coming with the quickness and I'm getting hives just thinking about getting the shorts out. And I pretty much look like a Weeble Wobble now. Can you say, Cankles? It's just time.

So I've only been two times. The first time I went, I took L with me. I told her to bring her Junie B. book, cuz I was preparing her to be bored. I saw the room where the kiddos go and it's looking pretty Preschool. The look on my 7-yr-old's face said it all the minute we walked in too. I handed her Junie B. and promised I'd be back in 20 minutes. If I could make it that long.

So I went and got somebody that looked like they worked there to help me turn on the treadmill. Yes, it's been that long. She gave me a little run through and I was surprised and delighted to see that the treadmill had it's own TV. Delighted I tell you. So, I'm on my own now. Walking at a heart-pounding 2.0 mph. I immediately realize I've worn the wrong shoes. They are my slip on sneakers. These just won't do. The pads of my feet force me to make a mental note right then and there. I'm gonna tough it out though. So, I've tuned into King of Queens--love this show--and I'm feeling like I can handle this now. I might even go 30 minutes. Finish out the show. I forgot my headphones, so I'm reading lips, but it's better than staring at all those doo dads on the treadmill. So much better. I'm even getting a little cocky now. I turn it up to 3.7 mph...woooo hoooo, baby! I can feel the burn now! Wooooo hooo....woh...oh...oh...this is where I grab the rail and just about fall on my you-know-what. So I hurry up and turn the mph down to 3.3. Whew...big difference. I'm sure no one saw that. I don't turn around to see. Every time I try to really get into a groove, and work my arms into it...you know power walk and all, I keep pulling out that emergency cord that immediately stops the treadmill. Dang it. I did that like three flipping times. Everyone else is running too. All around me, everyone is running. I can't hear anyone out of breath (or pulling their emergency cords out) or anything. I'm very tempted to try running. I am so not a runner, but I kind of want to try. I know I need to scratch this idea though until I get me a new bra. The sports bra I'm wearing right now is doing it's best, but gravity (and my love of carbs) have set in and I'm gonna need a little more support. But I know I'm burning something besides the pads of my feet, cuz I'm sweating down my back and in my bra. Somehow in all of this, I am working out.

So, I made it through King of Queens. I'd say that's a good first day. I go to pick up L and she is actually upset I'm already there. She's having "the bestest time EVER!" and doesn't want to leave. It's like I'm dragging her from Disneyland or something. Okaaaaay.

So the next day is even better. I'm shocked. I remembered my headphones, my good shoes, I did the treadmill (with Friends) AND the elliptical (with Everybody Loves Raymond). I had an hour of time to myself. I didn't even look at it like exercise. I looked at it as Momma Time. I even went out and got a whole bunch of workout clothes today. Cute workout clothes. I'm totally committed now. I'm eyeballing those kettle balls thinking I want to try them. Me! Kettle balls! I was even bummed I couldn't go today (bummed, I tell you), cuz dance schedules and such. I can't believe I missed working out. Not just missed, but missed-missed.

I thought all I wanted was to not feel my inner thighs touching anymore. To shed my muffin-top. I had no idea this was going to actually be a STRESS RELIEVER! Do I ever need one of those. I'm gonna say it. I'm gonna say it. I think I like working out! I think I'll celebrate. I'm thinking cake.

This Is My "Cheers"

I don't need Target, Macy's, Kohl's (okay, I love me some Kohl's) or Starbucks (scratch that...coffee muy importante). I just need this little piece of Heaven called, Simple Folk. That is all. I need handmade candles. Embroidered quotes in a a frame. Patchwork place mats. Weathered birdhouses. Crackled lamps. Wooden bowls and signs ("Always Kiss Me Goodnight"--cuz hanging a sign above your bed is all it takes). Plates with salt houses painted on them. Little colonial lights you stick in your window. I need this comfort. I need my house (and car) to smell like Cinnamon Buns. I count down the days until I can go here. When Pay Day comes you know where Momma's gonna be. As if I totally wait for Pay Day. MasterCard flipping loves me. The place is about as big as my garage and I can literally spend at least an hour in it (3 hours). I usually have a pile going at the counter (on the floor, behind the counter). The owner knows me by name. I'm a flipping "regular". I love that I'm a regular. This is my "Cheers". I'll take one of everything. Please. I want to tuck myself under one of her little antique-y tables and spend the night. You can go now. Send me here, take me here, buy me something from here (they have GIFT CARDS)! It is a sure fix for PMS. For Frustrated Momma. For Freak Wife. You need me to go here (honey). I'll come back a new woman...with potpourri and a distressed magazine rack to hang in the bathroom! I'll be happy now. Wheeeere's my MasterCard. Did you hide my it...Honey? Babe? Helloooooo?

Blink...Blink...Blink

I just have to say right off the bat, that my hubby is a little miffed at me with the way he was portrayed in the last post. So I just wanted to make sure you knew that he is a very manly, man. He's tough. He's smart, works hard, been all over the world. Iraq. New Mexico. He kills spiders. He just chooses not to multi-task.

Okay, so now that's said and done (i love you, baby!), back to the story. So last night we had great family time (we were still at the beach, by the way). We walked the little coastal town, perusing the shops. We spent $22.43 on seashells (yes, we had to *buy* them) and a kite. We picked up the pizza, salad, wine, beer, Wheat Thins, Cheese-In-A-Can. We did the Go Fish, the S'mores. Hubby took the kiddos to the pool while I took a long walk on the beach with Miley-girl (but not too far, cuz I started freaking myself out about the tide coming in). We watched the sunset. Then, exhausted by a full day, we went to bed, ready to be lulled to sleep by the calming white noise of the ocean, just out the door.

Yeah, not so much. First of all, I couldn't really hear the ocean with the door to the balcony shut. And it was stinking hot in there, since we had the fire going earlier in the evening (you haaaave to do that at the beach...it's all cozy and stuuuuff). I always read before I go to bed. It settles me. Well, I just kept reading, and reading, and reading. I'm totally wide awake. I kick the covers down and say out loud to myself, it's hot in here, I can't sleep, and hubby agrees. I'm shocked. He's awake too. Usually he is down for the count as soon as his head hits the pillow. So I open the sliding door. I could care less at this point if someone breaks in. Miley will eat them and I needs me some air and some white noise. So that's better. I go back to read, fully expecting heavy eyes any moment. Blink, blink, blink. No sleepy. Dang S'more. Hubby's restless too. So we try to think of things we could do to get sleepier. Skip-Bo? I Spy? Cheese-In-A-Can? Hmmmm...For a second I imagine him reading to me (of all the things!). I have a girlfriend who's hubby reads to her. They literally turn off the TV and sit down together and he reads like novels to her. They are like 35. Our age. It's flipping weird, but I'm jealous all the same. That would never...never happen over here. And if it did, I would be laughing my you-know-what off. That is way too serious for us. First of all, my hubby does not read for pleasure (except this blog of course). And he would be all about reading in a chipmunk voice, or Austin Powers or something totally inappropriate for Jane Austen. So anyway...reading is out. So hmmmm...what to do, what...to...do? We're just gonna fast forward here. I'm keeping this PG-13, thank you. So it's seriously like 2 a.m. now. I think we went to bed at like 11. I know...we are so married with children. We are still awake. I've already been to the bathroom like 4 times and shut the sliding door. I've decided someone breaking in is a bad thing. I've written the Miley throwing up in the car story, in my head, and started this one. I'm planning my grocery list for the week. Finally, finally, I think I'm drifting off to sleep. I am, I am...I'm on the verge... Then Miley starts barking her head off. At absolutely nothing. We hear nothing. Noooooooooo...I was...almost...there. Hubby is squatted on the floor holding onto Miley's collar, yell whispering for her to shut-the-frig-up. She won't. He puts her on the bed. She's still barking. We put her under the covers. She's still barking. Are we in the flipping twilight zone, or flipping what? We should be SLEEPING! My hubby can sleep eating! He can sleep mid-sentence! What is going ON? We're at the BEACH! We just stare at each other in the dark. Shut it, MiLEY.

Somehow, the sleep came--about 15 minutes before the girls woke up. So the day began. And despite major beach sleep deprivation, we had a fine, fine day. We flew the kite. For all of 5 minutes. There's another story there. Same thing with the Chicago hot dog stand we had lunch at today (garnished w/pickles, tomatoes and cucumbers...). And the organic hemp coffee. But I think sleep is going to overrule the blogging tonight. And if that doesn't work, there's always Jane Austen being read in a chipmunk voice.

This Is The Beach, Miley...

Hubby surprised us with a trip to the beach this weekend. Can you say, Adventure?

Hubby and I tend to joke that our life is like a Saturday Night Live skit. Like, there's potential for funny, but after the first 43 seconds, you feel sorry for them and are begging for a commercial. You just want the skit to end already. So feel free to change the channel.

So, back to the beach. Well, the car. We brought the dog, Miley. Lemme just back track a bit and tell you that we recently bought a new car. We downsized from a full-on SUV to a crossover. It's smaller, but we can still load it up. We packed "light". Shared suitcases and vetoed toys left and right. So we load up the car with kids, dog and beach supplies. And plastic bags and Clorox wipes (I'll explain later). So we're excited to take the car on it's first "big trip"--1 1/2 hours to the beach! We decide to take Miley, cuz she's new too...well, new to us. We adopted her 3 months ago, and she's a great dog, but we're still in that Getting To Know You phase. We want to be able to take her with us places...mainly camping and to the beach. So this is our first trip with the dog too. All is going well, despite the fact that apparently our Miley is not familiar with this thing called, The Car. She has no idea what is going on. She's fascinated with everything. And squished. She has no idea what to do with her body. But it's only an hour and a half. She can live. She can squish.

So we are rolling through the winding roads, through the pines on the way to the beach. It's pouring the whole way, but this is Oregon, this is how we roll. Despite the rain, it is a beautiful drive. So green, so lush. We're about 5 miles from the beach, from the hotel, when I all of a sudden smell Burger King. Why do I smell Burger King? Pretty odd, considering we're out in the middle of the forest. Two seconds later...No, oatmeal. I smell oatmeal. 1 second later a collective and terrifying, "Eeeeeeeeeew!!!" vibrates from the backseat. "Miley threw up!" She totally did. A lot. New Car Smell immediately history. So we roll down the windows and pull over. It takes a good 15 minutes to get all that frothy, chunk o-goodness out of the floor mats (thank goodness we upgraded and got those babies), off the cup holder, out of between Miley's toes and tail. Clorox wipes are a good thing. We used about 250. Thankfully Momma was thinking and had put down a ton of blankets and towels over the back seats for just this reason. So it could have been worse. But let me tell you it was bad. And very disappointing to break the car in so soon. But we managed to work it out (and hold our own frothy, chunk-o-goodness down) and made it the last 5 minutes to the hotel (yes...we were literally almost there!). Incredibly (incredibly) we are laughing about this before we even pull in to the parking lot. We have to laugh, cuz we're At The Beach and a little (a lotta) throw up isn't gonna get us down.

So we unload and within minutes we're at the beach. All of us. Amazingly (amazingly) it is not raining and not freezing. It's always freezing at the Oregon coast. You dress in layers, cuz you just never know what it's gonna do. But it's nice! It's not terribly crowded and the girls can just go! And be loud. And get dirty. And wet. It's bliss. Truly. Miley is happy. We realize she has never been to the beach either. She can't believe her luck. But she's scared of the water. No doubt due to the fact that she's never seen the ocean and my girls keep screaming their heads off (as you do) when the waves roll in and dare to get their feet wet. So Miley is not sure about the water. She runs away from the water. Aren't Retrievers water dogs? Oh, and there are dogs everywhere, running in the surf, up and down the beach. You know, being dogs. We have Miley on a leash, cuz we don't know what she's gonna do. We don't know how she'll react to other dogs, people. She can be unpredictable (bipolar). Within minutes she does her business though--which is very predictable--and we pull out the plastic bag to clean up. So now, we're carrying a poop bag. Not a trash can in sight, cuz were On The Beach. Well, we're still making the best of it (poop bag and all) and hubby gets it in his head that he wants to get Miley to like the water. So he puts the poop bag down momentarily and tries to drag her in the surf. He's jumping over the little waves, trying to show her that this is fun...yaaaay! She is not liking it. Like trying to keep all four paws out of the water. She's such a girl! Hubby's kind of forcing her to stay there and brave it out. But somehow she squirms out of her collar and leash, out of his hands and takes off out of the water, but keeps going, chasing after another dog that is running by. It takes a few minutes for hubby to realize what is happening (can you say slooooow motion?). But if you can picture--we're all yelling after her, "MILEY!!!" and chasing her, cuz we don't know what she's gonna do. I'm picturing a horrible dog fight. "Miley! Miley! MILEY!" She's forgotten her name. She's forgotten us. She's just running. I turn to tell hubby to hurry up (he's still in the flipping water) and notice that a wave has come in and now the poop bag is floating out to sea. "Get the poop bag!" I don't think hubby knows what to do first. No, I know he doesn't know what to do first. So the girls and I chase after the dog--"MiiiiiiiiLEY!" I can only imagine what this whole scene has looked like to the observer. We totally do not belong on the beach. We are so not cool enough for the beach. Look at us! Thankfully (thankfully), she likes the dog, he likes her. Their fast friends and she turns around and runs back to me.

I turn to see hubby (finally) catching up, dripping wet poop bag, dog collar and leash in hand.

Somehow (somehow) after that we manage to have a very enjoyable afternoon at the beach. Miley realizes the water is not going to eat her and takes the plunge. We're all doing what we're supposed to do at the beach (what the other people are doing at the beach). Our kids are covered in sand, clothes sopping wet. We're looking for sea shells and playing in the waves. Writing secret messages in the sand. It's all good. We're cool again.

But that was just yesterday. There's more. We're still here and I still have the night to talk about. But you need a break. Stay tuned...Next time on Saturday Night Live...

No, They Weren't Hippies

Right off the bat, I'm giving this funny (good girl), Candid Carrie , the credit for this story. I needed something to write about today and I thank her from the bottom of my (good girl) heart for reminding me of this little tidbit of my past.

When I was a kid, I had a very firm understanding of right and wrong. I'm pretty sure my first word after "Momma" and "Daddy" was "Jesus". I knew all about Heaven and Hell. My dad knew the Bible like the back of his hand. People used to ask me if my parents were hippies (our family car was a Pacer--just like on Wayne's World--and my mom played the guitar and she did look a lot like Karen Carpenter), but the truth of the matter is, we were Bible Thumpers. We lived and breathed church and scripture and Jesus. I think I might've spoken in tongue at the age of 6 (is this too much info for 7:52 a.m.?). Anyhoo, I think you get the point. Sinning was a big no-no. Huge. So when I stole a pack of gum at the age of 7, you can bet there was a lesson to be learned there.

Okay, so I didn't mean to steal it. Really. I'm not just saying that. I really remember freaking out on the sidewalk in front of Alphabeta the minute I realized I had the pack of Hubba Bubba in my hand. I remember my body going hot. Starting at the top of my head and traveling down to my toes. Pins and needles hot. I knew right then and there I was going to Hell.

So here's the story. My sister (Star--no lie, that is her name--and NO, they were not hippies) and I went to the grocery store with my dad. As we were waiting in line to check out, I remember the gum/lifesaver/tic-tac/candy bar display and as all kids do, picking up various wrappers and smelling them. Didn't you just loooove the smell of gum? All those flavors--grape, watermelon, bubble gum, rainbow stripe! As a kid (a Bible-thumpin' kid) you imagine that this is what Heaven is going to smell like. So we're walking out of the store, and it is then that I realize I'm holding a pack of Hubba Bubba. I realize it is not paid for. I knew I should have told my dad, that we could've taken the five steps back into the store and given it back. But nooooooo--I was suuuuure that regardless there'd be a spanking involved, so I shoved it down the pocket of my terry cloth shorts and we headed for home--the pack of Hubba Bubba burning the top of my leg. I was full of guilt and shame all the way. Sick. As soon as we got home I ran to the backyard and into our little play house (an old refrigerator box with a window and a door cut out of it--we used our imagination a lot). We had a little play stove and fridge inside and I immediately shoved the pack of gum into the back of that little play fridge. I didn't even want to look at it. I vowed to never chew gum again as long as I live.

As I was walking back into the house, my dad walked past me, into the backyard, into the little playhouse and came out with the pack of Hubba Bubba. Caught. I don't remember what was said, but the next thing I knew we were back in the Pacer and heading back to Alphabeta. The feeling in the car was thick with shame, guilt and disappointment. Inside Alphabeta, he pulled me to Customer Service and explained the whole thing. He knew all along that I had that gum in my hand! He was actually waiting to see if I would do the right thing. Well, you know which route I chose. My consequence was that I had to go to every single employee in Alphabeta and apologize for stealing. Everyone. The deli-person, the meat-guy, I think we went in the back of the cooler and apologized to the guy putting milk out. The flower lady, all the checkers, the bag boys. Humiliating. Awful, awful, awful. And it did the job. Some may think that's over the top. It probably was. But looking back at it now, I think it was genius of my dad. He probably doesn't even remember it. But I can tell you, I never forgot. I never did that again. And that's the whole point.

One More, Cuz Momma's In the Mood For Diaper Butt

If only we were all so determined.

Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta

This pic is from 2004. We just updated our computer and now it has this fantastic little feature on the main screen where it shows a running slide show of all our pictures on our computer. I'm enjoying this little update so very much. I'm looking at pics I haven't seen in a while and it's really hitting me how time is flying and I swear it was just the other day my babies were babies. Little fat, pudgy, Haggen-daz (my word for breast milk)babies. Now we're doing spelling words and subtraction, riding two-wheeled bikes and buying cherry lip gloss at the mall. They're talking. A lot. Getting a little sassy if you ask me, but it's all part of the package. I'm enjoying every bit of this Journey of Parenthood. Even the days where I'm a mess (I'm a mess, I'm a mess, I'm a big ol' messy mess...) and my girls give me that look like, Who are you and what have you done with my mother? There's way more good days. But looking back at my babes, I gotta say I do miss those baby days. I can remember being there and thinking, I can't wait until they can walk (talk, wipe themselves, sleep through the night...). Cuz that baby stage is hard. But it's also absolutely wonderful. Now, I don't really want them to grow up fast. I seriously want to slow things down. Frankly, I'm a little afraid of the future. Teenagers. My girls as teenagers. Even tweenagers. Middle School scares the you-know-what outta me. That big bad world out there and the responsibility of preparing them for it is a bit overwhelming. All the while growing them into caring, successful, happy people, God-loving women. But I'll do what I've been doing for seven years now--take it one day, sometimes one moment, at a time. And pray. A lot. And continue to be the picture taking fool I am. Cuz, I'm going to want to remember this.

To participate in Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta (and you must, you must), go to:

http://carriestuckmann.blogspot.com/

C'mon--ya know ya wanna! :)

I'm A Giveaway Enterin' Fool

I found another giveaway (look out! I'm on a roll)...another handcrafted beauty. You must pop on over here --http://hiddenrichessecretplaces.blogspot.com/2008/05/great-giveaways-dont-miss-them.html

and enter the contest. Too fun, I tell you...

Another Giveaway I Found...

Go here...handcrafted goodies...enter contest for giveaway...completely cute...go now...

http://scaredykaterpillarsnomore.blogspot.com/

Results May Vary

Need I say more?

Okay...I'll say more. This is for you up there, in the review mirror. You can't even hide anymore, can you? I see you there every flipping day. You know who you are, you two vertical lines that sit right between my eyebrows. Perched up there like you own the place. Yeah. You. Don't get confused--I'm on to you, not the other way around. Okay, well you are at the moment, but that's about to change within 2-3 weeks. Results may vary. I'll be watching.

(okay, was that a little much? let's just say i'm not handling some things well at the moment.)

Awww, my girls, my girls! I love them so! I just have to show them off. I'm not so good with adding more than one pic, but I'll try to share a couple from over the weekend. They had a dance performance at a local amusement park. They were in their zone. Drama, drama. They love the stage. Unfortunately, I don't have great pics of them actually dancing, cuz Momma was backstage and forgot to give ol' hubby the camera. We have it on video though. I hope their love for dance continues. I totally want to be one of "those" Mommas.

Lookie This Bunny

I am a sucker for primitive things. What a treat it was to stumble across Farmhouse Blessings this morning! Go there and check out Lea's wonderful creations and uplifting blog. She's having a contest to name her scarecrow and a chance to win this lil' bunny!

Just A Little Update On My Thumper

I had another echo today and my follow-up with the Good Doc. All is well...I'm gonna liiiiiiive! Turns out the pains that I had for three weeks straight weren't palpitations after all. Good Doc felt like it was maybe muscle spasms and that nothing showed up that was connected to the heart. I'm not as stressed out as I thought I was. Whew! So good news, good news. And he's referring me to a heart specialist that's main focus is in adult congenital heart related stuff. Like since I had open-heart surgery as a child (I did, I did), a long, long time ago and we don't really know what exactly the good doc did back in 1978 to my ticker since my parents' lost my records (long story), these doctors specialize in people just like me (hypochondriacs w/muscle spasms? I meeeean...). They keep track of me and make sure a-nothings changing in there. Patches aren't falling off, one side doesn't get too big, lungs getting enough oxygen and such. I have to admit I was a little worried after having those pains that my heart could be wearing out or something. In my head I went straight to the..."What if I only have 6 months to live?" scenario. I tend to prepare for the worst. So that's good. They seem to have a much better idea now (thank yooooou technology) what they actually did to my thumper way back then. And everything looks good in regards to all that. Nothing is awry. So I'm happy. Just adding these muscle spasms to my long list of quirks. I'm so quirky. What in the world am I gonna be like when I'm 80? Still, I can't help but wonder...whhhhy was I having muscle spasms for three weeks straight? Lord help me and my hypochondriac mind.

Hard To Hold

We always joke that we are Noah's ark. Animals just seem to gravitate toward us, they seem to feel at ease enough regardless of two very loud little girls and a 94 lb. Lab and 52 lb. Retriever. Even in suburbia. We've had encounters with a whole entire family of snakes (we used to catch all of them sunning themselves on our back patio). Another time, our dog, Calvin, found a bunny burrow intact with three baby bunnies in our backyard. Calvin again pointed out baby birds learning how to fly off our wood pile (those chickadees hopped away as fast as they could). We came across a giant lizard cooling himself in our wheel wells. One May we were surprised to find a hummingbird nest built low enough to peer in at three little eggs that we were able to watch hatch, and then learn to fly--what a treat! We rescued a baby bird that crash landed into our garage door and baked in the Texas sun on our driveway for more than a few hours. More recently we've acquired a new kitty, well she's the neighborhood kitty, but she sleeps on our porch. All of these we're great opportunities and experiences to share with our girls. And they all had happy endings. Or happy beginnings and middles. Unfortunately as life goes, that's not always the case.

Late afternoon yesterday, a little bird flew into our sliding glass door. At least I think that's what happened. I had just let our dog, Miley, out in the backyard and noticed she was pawing at something underneath the Little Tykes see saw, on the patio. I could see something moving. I was sure it was a snake, but it was a bird. It was kind of jammed up under the see saw and it looked like Miley was trying to get it to come out from under it. I lifted up the see saw to see little bird was in bad shape. Break my heart right then and there. I grabbed a dish towel and gently picked her up. Her little eyes were barely open and she was still breathing, but you could see she was struggling. I'm guessing she flew into the window, cuz a little earlier in the afternoon I had heard a thump on the window. I thought it was Miley jumping after a fly on the door or something. She is crazy about the flies and bees lately. And she was kind of looking around all over for it after that thump. Now I think, she had thought the bird flew into the house and was looking for the bird. I think the bird crash landed right under the see saw and when Miley went out, she kind of pawed it under the see saw more trying to get it out from under there. Poor little thing. So I held it in the dish towel and hollered at the girls to bring me some water, hoping she was just hot and stunned. After giving her a little drop of water, she stuck her little wing out. I thought she might come around. I wanted my girls to see her fly away. But no. After a little while, a few tortured minutes, little bird died in my hands as I stoked her. I felt like all the rest of the birds in the yard knew it too. They had been watching, crazily chattering. I remembered when we saved that baby bird in Texas, that it's momma and daddy birds were frantic over where their baby was. They were flying and darting all around the nest, and me. When I was able to put the bird back in the nest (even though it was the next day--it had stayed in our laundry room that night), the momma and daddy birds flew right to it. Thank goodness...within minutes it flew away.

We said a little prayer for little bird yesterday. At least she didn't die under the see saw. I swaddled her in the dish towel and put her in a little strawberry container. That was hard to hold. I know this is a "small" thing to write about, but when these things happen, I think it's important to pause.

It's Precious, But Not Pretty

Had a bit of a rough night, but who needs sleep anyway? I woke up at midnight (after just passing out at 11:00 p.m.) to my daughter crying. I go in and she's all disoriented, jittery and feverish. She's got a roaring fever and her stomach is cramping. I rush her to the bathroom, cuz I'm sure the throw up is coming. Not yet. So I grab a cold washcloth, a large towel, the "throw up bowl" and the Motrin and bring her in to bed with me. You are such a mom when you don't care that your feverish, gonna-throw-up-any-second, daughter is resting, mouth agape, two inches from you. Breathing on you. She's so hot, she's making you hot. The sheets hot. I caress her forehead, trace the length of her arm. There's something about when your child gets sick that is precious. Now this is not the sicky stuff I'm talking about. Throw up is not precious. Just that it forces you to stop. To stop and really focus on them. That running list of things to do in your head takes a 24-48 hour vacation. I don't have to tell you that life is busy. Raising kiddos and keeping the ship afloat is busy. But there's something about when your child is ill that makes time stand still. All you want to do is hold your child. Kiss them. Tell them, "it's gonna be okay." You have the patience you didn't have five minutes ago. You have all the right words.

Today, we will stay in our pj's all day. We'll watch High School Musical 1 and 2. We'll play Hannah Montana Uno and Connect Four. Take naps. I'll ignore the bathrooms I planned to clean today. That the cat fell off the washing machine (long story)--twice--last night and spilled his food all over the floor. I'm ignoring that too. We'll have a tea party with bananas, rice, applesauce and toast. And even though I'll have Clorox wipes and a Lysol bottle glued to my hip and keep her sister at a 10 feet distance, I'll thank God for this precious time. And pray that A and I don't get the throw ups.

Six- Twelve Things You We're Dying To Know

I just tried to write about my day, but I think I waited too long, cuz I'm just too tired. Brain no workie. So I take the easy way out, save the sentence I wrote and go to read your blogs real quick like, cuz the pillow is a-calling! I get to Carrie's (Candid Carrie) blog (Carrie-cows are so cute though!) and realize she has tagged me. What is this "tagged" you speak of, Carrie? I think I have to do something now (but I'm tiiiiiRED), so even though I really want to comment about the cow I decide to head on over to my blog to get to it. Cuz I can tell this has to be done right now. If I don't do it, people will be mad. So on my way, I take a quick side trip over to Mrs. Romero's (The Romero Diaries). I'm easily distracted. She's doing this tagging stuff too...I must find out more about this Secret is in the Sauce bit. I need to know. At the bottom of her post, I see Mrs. Romero has tagged me too! Get OUT! So now I really have to get down to business. People are depending on me! Two people are depending on me. So here you go, girls (and thanks for thinking of me. I'm honored. I'd like to thank my mother, the sound guys, my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Shumate...):

1. I had open-heart surgery when I was 5 and I totally remember it.

2. I've met the Wiggles (a few times).

3. I'm a prior Air Force wife (11 yrs!), now I'm an Air Force Reservist wife.

4. I know how to clog.

5. I made Kathy's (Mama's Losing It) Broiled Salmon Pesto last night (A-girl wants me to make it every day!). Yum-o!

6. I've never had the chicken pox.

So there you have it. Wait, was I supposed to do like 6 facts o' me for both of you??? Dang it. I totally don't know how to play. So here goes again. Prepare to have your socks knocked off:

1. I saw Alan Jackson in concert last week (I think he looked at me).

2. When I was in the 7th grade, my girlfriend and I made up the language of "Ong". Yep, it was our secret code. I totally was in love with a boy named Donny at the time (insert big ol' jr high siiiigh). So, this is what it sounds like in "Ong"-- I longongvonge Dongongnongnongyong. Now go back and say it really fast. Impressive, isn't it?

3. I know how to break dance (okay, so really only the wave and the moonwalk).

4. My girls complete me.

5. I've been staring (sleeping) at the screen for five minutes.

6. I got dirty today. Like dirt under you finger nails and bark dust in your bra dirty. And I liked it.


Okay, so that was actually pretty hard. I hope it's cuz I'm tired and I'm just not boring myself to tears for nothing. But I got 'er done.

So let's see...who should I tag???

Mama's Losing It (Kathy!!! This should be good)

A Women's Prerogative (Carey--Getting to knooooow yoooou....getting to knooooow aaaaall abouuuut yoooou...)

The Petersons Go Public (Jennifer gets this, cuz she was good enough to post last night just as I was typing all this out! Thanks Jennifer! Please come back so you'll read this!)

Here We Go Again (I'm not sure if Rachel will head over here, but if she does...YAY!)

Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta

I'm getting the itch for summer! For warm days, for sun for two days in a row (if possible?) and for blue skies! It makes for much happier kiddos who need to be outside, preferably on a beach (honey, are you listening?) to run, run, run, run, run! And scream (they loooove to scream). Happier kiddos make a happier momma!

I don't care if the water is so cold you feel like your ankles are gonna fall off right then and there (you can see the kiddos don't care a bit...it was all I could do to stand in there long enough to take the pic--ooch, oooch, ooooch!)! I love the beach. It makes me happy. I swear I'm gonna have a little cottage some day (I'm thinking when I'm 92) on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. I'm gonna finish my days in a rocking chair looking out over that never ending blue. But right now, I just want to get away from vacuuming, litter boxes, and cleaning tubs. Phone calls, dance class, and packing lunches. From the need to go, go, go. I just want to bury my feet in the sand, feel the sun on my face, hear my girls happy voices carried through the wind, and just stay put.

To participate in Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta (and you must, you must), go to:

http://carriestuckmann.blogspot.com/

This girl is hiLARious!

Forgive my lack of skills

Just wanted to tell you right now that I apologize for the looks of my previous post. I don't have computer skills. Zip. I spent the entire night last night trying to figure out how to get pics AND words to work TOGETHER...t-o-g-e-t-h-e-r...help me out now! I missed all my shows!!! Thank goodness for TIVO, but MUY frustrating!

So it is what it is. I know that it could look prettier and that you need breaks as a reader (otherwise known as paragraphs), but for some reason it just isn't gonna work out for me this time. But I think you will get the gist of it. Ha ha...

Okay, as you were. :)

Not Just A Dirty Window

I have the patience of an ant. Wait, no even ants have more patience then I do. Let me just throw this out here right now: My hubby is a fantastic dude! He's my best friend and I could not ask for a better daddy to my girls. I really like being around him. I like him here. He's handy. He's the fun parent. That being said, I'm completely frustrated, irritable, worn out and basically lonely for my man (and someone to mow the lawn). And that's not even because it's a week before my period! Okay, it totally is, but I'm talking about something else here.

Work is hec-TIC right now for him, so we haven't seen a lot of him. We are earning a ton of frequent flyer miles though (Helloooooo Australia!). He is good with taking care of us, putting the roof over our heads and you know, feeding us. Food is very important. And you'd think I'd be used to this. We just got out of the military a year ago, so him being away is nothing new. Our last assignment was Washington D.C.! The traffic alone should have done us in! But life on the outside is a whole other animal.

So in my lack of patience (and even sometimes understanding) of my hubby being everywhere, but here lately, I was reminded of my Uncle Bob. I'm not particularly close with Bob, but he's family and I love him just the same. You see Bob is a patient man. Very patient. He wanted to build a house. So he spent his entire adult life planning for it. He bought some land and every chance he got (between being a Reverend, a husband and a father of a handful of children), he would go out walking along creek and river beds and collect river stones. He'd lug them back to his little pick up truck, fill it up and pile these stones up on this piece of land he owned. He did this for years. Years. Finally the day came to build this house. You must know he's not a carpenter (his words). He'd never done anything like this. But he did every part of it by hand, his hands. It took him ten years to build it. Ten years. Every material, every part has a history, a story. He got the doors from a neighbor whose barn burned down. He got the windows at a dump. They're beautiful. He actually built the house around the doors and windows. He even found most of his materials at the dump. For a few years (years) he didn't even have plumbing. That's right, no toilets! And they lived in it without plumbing. Very Little House on the Prairie. It's perfectly imperfect. It's a truly special place, built out of guts and determination.

I don't have that in me. I would die right now if I didn't have a toilet. I can't even hardly "go" when we're on vacation! And I could never sift through garbage in search of building supplies. I'd find a dirty window and it would just be a dirty window. When we added a deck a few years back, we had to hire people to show us what we wanted. I just don't have the vision. (As I'm typing this, I'm realizing my personality is missing quite a few things)

So the next time I feel like complaining, when on the verge of another Momma Meltdown, I'm gonna remember Bob. Remember that patience. I'm going to hang the pic of his house on my fridge. I'm gonna remember...no toilet...ten years! And look at the beauty that came out of it all.

Please Enable Me

I think I need help. Correction: My hubby thinks I need help. I think I'm all good.

Okay, so I *might* have a slight addiction to Craig's List. Maybe a smidge. I think my family might be working on an intervention.

I hadn't even heard of Craig's List until we moved to Oregon almost a year ago. My mom mentioned she had been cruising it looking at homes for sale and such. She told me I should check it out (I blame her). So I did and FELL IN LOVE (has this been here all this time?!). Specifically with the "furniture" section, but I'm not opposed to checking out toys and kids clothes (you should SEE the Old School Barbie house I got for my kiddos...bringing back memories, y'all) and we got an AWESOME deal on a vacation home rental up in the woollies in December! Mostly, I stick to the furniture section though. And it doesn't help that I found a new friend out here that loves the furniture shopping just as much as me. We get into sooooo much trouble! Any minute, I'm sure her hubby is going to ground her from me.

But really, I'm totally saving us a TON of moolah. We just moved into this beautiful home a year ago and I have to furnish this baby. Over the year, I've found quite the collection of goodies. Plus, I don't feel too bad if it gets baby throw up (helloooo Stanley Steemer) on it, or wine (I am forever spilling my wine), or if the dog stretches out on it. Cuz though it's perty, it's used and it was cheap-er and good for the kids. If I'm gonna get some furniture for the house at this stage in our life, this is the way to go! Let's just say, I am not the freak I would be if it were new ("Honey, aren't you glad I'm not a freak?"). AND when I get tired of something I can put it BACK on Craig's List, sell it, and get something ELSE! See how this works? I'm always thinking ahead! It's garage sales all year long. Momma looooves garage

sales! I save gas money (that's my story and I'm sticking to it), and I don't have to take the kiddos with me and have them nickel and dime me over 25 cent Happy Meal toys. Plus, I don't have to take the kiddos with me.

So, I just wanted to share my goodies. My latest is the chandelier that hubby let me get for Mother's Day--it was a very, good dealie!

Here's hoping you'll go to Craig's List (btw, I don't work for CL or anything) and buy a bunch of stuff and then share it on your blogs, so I won't feel so

guilty--ya know, help a sister out. I'm just gonna thank you right now in advance. Thanks.

Random L Comment

On Mother's Day hubby and the girls took me to lunch. L had to go to the restroom (of course she did, see previous posts on this...ha ha), and when we got back to the table she told her dad:

Sorry I took so long...traffic.

Where do they get this stuff?

And A Bowl of Maraschino Cherries

So I was blog surfing this weekend and got inspired and reminded of something! You guys do this to me, you know this, right? It's good. I needed this.

So, on my hubby's bday a couple of years ago (we were living in Gaithersburg, MD), I decided I wanted to get him something from his fave brewery. He brews his own beer, only drinks the micro-brew, yada, yada, yada...so I take the girlies to his fave brewery, Dogfish Head. It's about 11:00 a.m on a Tuesday. I just wanted to get him a t-shirt, maybe a baseball hat. So I pull up to read the hours it's open and realize it's not even open yet. Just then, this guy comes out and asks if he can help me and all. I tell him that I'll come back when they are open, that I just wanted to get my hubby a t-shirt. He tells me to come on in. I protest, pointing to the kiddos in the back seat, etc...he tells me, No prob! So I reluctantly park and bring the girls in. I mentioned they weren't even open, right? Yeah, they are vacuuming and Windexing stuff. So I go over to the t-shirt display and point out the one I'd like. As I'm doing this, I tell the guy (he's actually the manager) that it's my hubby's bday and how he is such a big fan and that whenever we move somewhere the FIRST thing he does is find out where the nearest brew pub is (I feel the need to tell my life story to complete strangers). I go on to tell him that Dogfish Head is my hubby's fave brewery/restaurant, we come here all the time, love the April Hop, the burgers are great, good crowd, you know, I can go on (life story and all). The manager tells me to come have a seat at the bar while he goes in the back to get the t-shirt, and he'll give me a sample of the latest and after much (not that much) protest, I agree and my girlies and I take a seat at the bar with the hum of the vacuum going behind us. He motions to the lady behind the bar to bring me over a sample and she does and also brings over a bowl of maraschino cherries for each girl. Seriously? This kind of stuff does not happen to me (okay, it totally does)! How can I say "no"?

So he comes back and lets me know they don't have hubby's size in that style, so I pick another and add a baseball hat. I'm a little giddy. He goes back to the back as I sip my sample and steal a cherry. My girls are in cherry heaven. This is now their favorite place--a brew pub. Lovely. Can't wait to hear that conversation with grandma. So I just continue to enjoy my frosty lil' bev and wait for the manager (aka, my new best friend) to come back. Eventually he brings the shirt, hat and then about five more t-shirts that he found back there for me. They were discontinuing them. He just gives them to me. I gush over the t-shirts (that are small enough to fit my girls, but nonetheless), beer sample (it is really good) and tell him I can't wait to bring my hubby back, thank you, thank you, thank you, but we must be going. I pay and we load up and head out. It has been a good morning.

As I'm pulling away, I cannot believe what just happened. How that could have looked, looking in. This mom and her two little girls sitting at the bar at 11:00 on a Tuesday. Ah well. When you're this married with children, and those kinds of things happen, you don't complain. You drink your beer sample (don't forget it was a saaaaample, a taste) and let your children eat their cherries and wear t-shirts with beer names printed across the front, no, micro-beered names (let's be clear here) printed across the front.

Happy Mother's Day!

I just want to wish all the Momma's a very Happy Mother's Day!

I can't believe I've been a Momma for 7 years now! I can't believe I have two beautiful girls. I always thought I'd have four boys (and be married to River Phoenix)! I'm more than happy with the way things turned out though. I looooove having the girls. I love the drama. The chaos, even the meltdowns. The sparkly everything, the sing-song voices. The fact that Momma is always wrong. The lip gloss. The chicken nuggets. The Wiggle concerts (all 35 of them). The happy loud. The cannon balls. The fact that my 4-year-old learned how to ride a two-wheeled bike yesterday! The constant "ants in their pants". The crayons, markers, oil pastels, chalk, glue sticks, glitter, feathers, stickers, pipe cleaners, and pom poms. Olivia's sea shell collection. The enthusiasm. Packing lunches. Field trips. Dresses (cuz Momma never wears 'em). The 2041 pony holders, barrettes and headbands we've collected but will only wear for a total of 5 minutes. Sleep overs at Grandma's. Movie night. Go Fish. Flushable wipes. Playing hide and seek in the house. The pink. Night lights. The Disney Channel. "Oh my Pickles!" The snuggling on the couch with little feet all over me. The constant questions. The bedtime prayers. Saturday morning pancakes. Kisses. Jonas Brothers. How Addy thinks she's a mermaid. Barbies. Belly laughs. Preschool. First Grade. The importance of gum. Grape flavored Tylenol. The smell of my girls straight out of the bath tub.

I don't even know how to end this list as you know it just goes on and on (and I'm only 7 years into this!). But I just feel so blessed to be The Momma and I wouldn't change a thing.

Happy Day, ladies.

L (March 2001) and A (June 2003). Mother's Day (Today)

Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta

I'm starting Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta, cuz...I'm a picture taking fool and I like to show off me girlies!

So this is one of my faves, cuz well, look at 'em! Ha ha...It's great, cuz they *both* are cuties in this one. No one is a-crying, or giving me (or their sister) the stinky eye, cuz I've taken 283 pics already! And this was a great day. I can't think of much that beats icecream!

I'm a Eucalyptus Loving Sucker

I feel like it's been foooorever since I've been here! Ooooh, I've missed you little blog (smooch, smooch, smooch)! Okay...here's another sorta confession. I *might* feel better after I talk (rant, cry, stomp my feet, throw my fist in the air with a "Whhhhhy????!")! I really need to laugh about this.

Okay, so on Tuesday I took my girlies to Great Clips to get haircuts (obviously). We've got dance pictures and recitals coming up pronto, so I had to get to it. Plus, they keep running into walls and everything. I think they'd like to be able to see. So anyway...All is well over at Great Clips. The girls got *the cutest* haircuts...little bobs...with style for only $8.99. I had coupons. Anyway, they look good AND they got lollipops to boot.

Well, I've been growing my hair long and I'm really liking the length (more importantly, my hubby is). But my split ends have split ends. And then some. So basically, I realized that I needed a little trim. But what does Momma do? Do I use the Great Clips coupon in my purse and get my hair trimmed right then and there for like $4.00 or something blissful like that? Nooooooo! I pack my little Bobbie twins up, lollipops and all, and drive two blocks up the road to another salon. A saaaaaalon. You know, very fancy pants. Not my usual hang out. My girlfriend gets her haircut there, and I've been wanting to check it out, plus I *have* to do everything she does. No really, I did want to check it out. It's a new place. And Momma doesn't get out much. So I thought, what the heck...it's only a trim.

So I take my little beauty queens in with me (it's like 5:30 mind you), toting lollies, and the place is empty. Well, next to like four stylists standing around talking. Did I mention this was very fancy pants? It was all black and metal and glass. And there were like twenty stations. And the stylists had on cool black aprons. And they really looked like stylists (like what you see on TV). Well, they looked us over (I'm suuuure they were just loving the lollies) and continued with their convo. So after like five minutes, "Ciera" comes out of the back (I hadn't seen her before) and I tell her I'd like a "trim." There was a moment there, when she looked back at me that I was pretty sure in her head she was thinking, What a sucker, doesn't she know Great Clips is two blocks away? Then she sweeps (cuz we're in a saaaaaalon) me back with her to her station. My girls follow, sticky faces and all. I ask Ciera if it's okay my girls are with me. Oh suuuuuure! They each take a seat and immediately start to spin in the chairs on either side of Ciera's station. I just keep thinking, "It's just a trim, it's just a trim. It'll be quick." So Ciera and I agree that we're only taking about 1/2" off...just cleaning it up. So we go back and wash my hair. And for five minutes I forget that my girls are skipping through the salon, twirling, and shaking their little booties. That my hubby's out of town for the bazillionth time. That I don't know what I'm making for dinner. That I'm having palpitations. That I just heard something break. I'm ignoring. I'm ignoring. It's just me and the Eucalyptus shampoo. My head is warm and cool all at the same time, tingly. It smells wonderful. So nice. So very, very nice.

So we head to the station and I motion for my girls to come sit back down Right flipping now! Cuz of course they broke one of those plastic business card holders. "Just add it to my bill." It's only a trim. So two minutes later (a grand total of seven minutes since we walked through the front door), we're done and Ciera is saying something about it being $40 and I can just pay cash right there or she take my card up. I was busy swinging my curly, wet hair back and forth, to smell that Eucalyptus again (I think I was fantasizing about Australia--happens all the time). "What'd you saaaaay, honey?" I ask and she repeats the $40 part. $40!!!! How much do plastic business card holders cost anyway?? $40? 1/2" costs $40!!! I'm stunned! I knew it wasn't gonna be $8.99, but $40? I could cry right then and there. My hubby is going to kill me AND he's not even gonna notice I got a trim. I could have gotten a shampoo, haircut, colored, AND hair product w/tip to boot at Great Clips for this! So, I pull out my emergency credit card (cuz she might have to call 911 here in a sec, you know heart palpitations and all) and follow Ciera up to the front. I add an $8.00 tip, cuz clearly I am out of my mind at this point and TAKE HER BUSINESS CARD! Cuz you know, I'll be back. Sheeeeyeah!

I Zombie walk out of there, skipping, sticky girls in tow (oblivious to the fact that Momma is about to have a break down), and load them up in the car. Then I drive ten parking spaces over, park and we head into New Season's (fancy pants grocery store) and pay $17.48 for dinner, cuz I'm stiiiiill out of my mind (and just apparently made of money). We sit at New Season's and eat our grilled cheese and buttered noodles and I just breathe that Eucalyptus scent in (to calm myself down and count down the minutes until we're home and I have that very big glass of wine). Then I rationalize that the shampoo alone might've been worth $48 dollars. Thank yoooou, Ciera.

I need help.

Two Poems by L

L is my little writer. She is really into Shel Silverstein right now too. I'm just a little proud of her.

Should Be

Should be of no one.
Should be only x-ros.
Should be only out of
meeeeeeee! Oh so
much to remember.
Should beeee, should
be. Ohhhhhhh
hhhhhhh
hhh
hh
h
Sho
ul
d

be!


The Sumers days

This is some sumers days on
the rich money Girl. The
sumers days are the money
of sumers days the sumers
days. Of the sum of the
sum oh the sumers days
of your best swimers sumers
sunnys day. Oh the...Oh
sun of the oh of the
the the of the of of
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

...Sumers days.

Random A-girl Comment

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?...Fruitloops."

A-girl, age 4

Some Spunk

Today I'm 35. I was talking to my sis today who is ten years younger than me and although I joke with her that I want to live vicariously through her and her impulsive/never-say-never/adventurous/social/outrageous/out-going/young and beautiful life, I think I really like where I am. The whole married with children/always say maybe/anti-bacterial carrying/Skip-Bo playing/church going/Wiggle groupie/garage sale shopping/in bed by 10 p.m. bit ain't bad. It ain't bad at all.

When I was really little, I do remember looking at my parents and thinking that it would take forever to get that old. Now that I'm actually here, I'm realizing how young thirty-five is. It's a lot younger than I thought it would be. I actually still have some energy left. Some spunk. And I think I know myself better now than I ever have. I know what I like and what I don't. I'm finally comfortable in my own skin. Of course, I will continue to pluck those lone gray hairs, and notice those extra pounds within seconds. I'm pretty sure I will always think my ears are too big. But I know me now. I know that I prefer flip flops to high heels. That I will always drive no more than five miles over the speed limit. That I will always choose sitting by a roaring fire in the lodge over skiing down the slopes (sorry, honey). That I'm not a runner, but I am a swimmer. That I actually love being a stay-at-home-mom. That I love to read and write, but I will never teach English. That I will always avoid parallel parking. That marrying the love of my life and having babies was a good idea. That I want to go to Australia--now. That I don't have an ounce of patience (for years I really thought I did). That I have a short temper, but am good with saying, "I'm sorry," until you truly know I am. That I am quick to smile and hug your neck as soon as I see you too. I know these things now. When you're younger, you're still kind of finding your way through the dark while your eyes are adjusting. You're trying to fit your big foot in that little Cinderella shoe. Is this making any sense (I'm up waaay past my bedtime)?

I look around at the life I've collected, my hubby (when he's here), my beautiful, challenging girls, and think how blessed I am. Another year. Thank God for another year, right? I like being 35. I like being that old and though I may not want to live to be 117 (that seems to be the magic age my dad wants to live to be), I can't wait to see what's next.

Lettuce On The Side

So with all this drama Momma about the heart monitor stuff, I want to write about something funny. So cue A-girl. I can always count on my girls to crack me up. I must share the world!

So hubby and I were taking A to school last Wednesday and just out of the blue she says,"L's not a big girl, cuz she doesn't like lettuce."

I have to back track a bit here and share how this came to be. Our kiddos are always amazed at what hubby and I will eat. Our latest list of "EW's!" are: pickles, red onions, ketchup, tiny green or black specks (aka, oregano and pepper), mushrooms, chicken and rice (however they love chicken nuggets), black beans, shredded carrots (though they love carrots), "puffy" clementines (however non-puffy clementines are just fine) and lettuce.

We were surprised recently when we went out for cheeseburgers and A ordered "lettuce on the side." Seriously. Those were her exact words. Sure enough, she added it to her burger and ate it up. But it had to be "on the side." Makes a huge difference, I guess.

So back to driving A to school and her epiphany that her seven-year-old, big sis is "not a big girl, cuz she doesn't like lettuce." A is apparently (at the wee age of four), more mature/advanced/ sophisticated/well-rounded and bigger girl-ish than her big sis, cuz she likes "lettuce on the side." I love how their minds work.

CHECK MY HAIR!

Okay, so I thought I was a hypochondriac, but after wearing this heart monitor thingy for two days, I'm thinking "no." I've had to journal every single "feeling" or discomfort from the waist up the entire time. I'm on to four pages now and getting very annoyed with the whole dealie. Something must be really going on, cuz I'm pretty good with the sympathy pains on a daily basis, but I haven't heard one person talk about heart palpitations. When I watch the news or hear someone complain of a sore back, headache, lice (Honey, check my hair, CHECK MY HAIR!), broken bone, scratchy eye, carpal tunnel, shingles, bronchitis, eye stye, I totally feel like I have it too (Yeah, my throat feels a little scratchy too). Plus I'm always hurting myself. Last week, when I went to the doctor, I just got home and missed the stair in my garage and totally bit it. Totally busted up my ankle...all kinds of bruising and good feelings. Stairs and I do not agree. I'm very good at the minor injuries.

But now that I'm actually wearing a device that I can't get wet and having to write every single thing down, I'm convinced that this is really happening. Of course, I'm also imagining the technician/doctor trying to match my journal up to the heart monitor recordings and calling me "crazy" behind my back and then trying to break it to me gently that I seriously need HELP (as in mental). But what I really want to do right now is take a very long, hot and extremely soapy shower.