Check out my fancy pants blog! Don't I look cute? I hope you feel like coming in, taking your shoes off and finding a cozy spot. Stay a while.
So now I've got to give the big shout out to my new best friend forever, Lex, over at The Life and Crimes of a Mom . I've seen her smiling face from time to time (she has a great smile) while I was blog surfing and she's even stopped by here to leave those blessED comments we all love so very much. A couple weeks ago, she shows up here and offers to give my blog a makeover. Just cuz. For nothing. Just reaching out to a complete stranger and offering to make her (blog) pretty (and warm and cozy and I'm sure if we could smell it, it would smell like cinnamon buns). WHO does that? Well, this girlie does and she does it well! She just wanted some practice, cuz she wants to eventually have a little bidness...but she wants the practice first, so you might wanna head on over to her (quite lovely) blog and give her some sugar.
Lex really knows how to make a girl happy. She wanted to make sure it was all "me" and that I was loving it. Lemme tell you, I'm in deep, deep love. And it didn't hurt one bit. Not a pinch. And no drama for the momma, cuz I have zip computer skills. HTML is like a foreign language to me. She made the whole experience sweet and simple. Just the way I like it. So thank you, Lex! Thanks for thinking of me. Not only is my simply splendid blog a gift, you are too!
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Good Thing I'm Already "In"
Hello theeere. Today my hubby will be guest blogging (hi hun). Enjoy...and get your bathroom break in and snacks in now. We like to tell stories.
Hi. I'm "guest-blogging" today and Sunshine probably wouldn't do this justice anyway....I'm certainly not as funny as she is, so I'll forgive you if you fall asleep or are distracted, by, well, just about anything...
We're on our anniversary vay-cay this weekend to the beach. The weather has been PERFECT, and we've both commented on how relaxed and simple the weekend has been. I think that's mainly because we are SANS-Kiddies. Don't get me wrong, I love the girleeo's to death, but time alone with the wifey is very, VERY good and seldom seen.
The day was spent mostly shopping between two towns. Okay, she shopped, I sat outside and worked on my hubby-shopper's tan. (it looks exactly like a farmer's tan, but you don't get ANY of the aerobic conditioning that goes along with farming.) After countless stores and a nice walk on the beach, it was time to get ready for "happy hour".
A glass of wine (that's one -- keep track now, people) and a few minutes on the deck of our room, and an hour getting ready (yes, I had to state the obvious), and we were off -- up the street to the town's famed chowder house, with a stop at a small little "wine cafe" along the way. HAPPY HOUR. Once at the cafe, we spent the next ten minutes going over the wine list. If Yellow Tail isn't on the list, we're lost. I should say here that I don't drink wine. I drink beer. I have an old war injury that keeps my pinkies from sticking out, which is a must for connoisseurs at the wine bottle. Sort of like holding a cigar with two fingers. It works, but do you really want to project that image? I'm just saying...
So what was I saying? Oh yeah, HAPPY HOUR. So we're at this great little place, sitting outside because the weather was PERFECT (did I mention that?). After a few minutes, the barista (I'll be technical) lady comes out to order, and wifey's phone rings. Mind you, her phone has not rung ALL DAY. So we're doing just about the RUDEST thing you can do when ordering; talking on the phone. But, it's important. no really. Anyway, so after about 10 minutes (no, really), the barista comes back with our wine selection...and yes, just as soon as she walks up, wifey's phone rings. AGAIN. Seriously? I have two friends, none of whom call me. But that's just me. So we enjoy our glass of red (Glass #2 ... you're keeping tabs, right?) -- again, I can't get technical with wine; it's either red or white -- and we decide we need an appetizer. So when the barista comes out again (10 minutes later) we order an antipasta (olives, almonds, cheese, crackers and salami) -- okay I order, because YES, wifey's phone rings AGAIN. Seriously?! I made a joke to the barista that she must have a vibe that sets my wife's phone off -- I don't think she thought that was funny. Anyway, so after a good long wait (they had to import the cheese from Italy) we get our app. But our glasses are empty, so we order a white (Glass #3) wine. I'm to the point here where I need to quote the shampoo bottle and just say "repeat". You get the idea. 10 minutes wait, barista out, phone rings. Anyway, so after wifey finishes (downs?) her glass, we set off to the famed Chowder house. It's a short walk up the street, or in our case, zig-zag.
--------------------
Okay, intermission. This is where it gets good. no, really. So take a deep breath, grab a "non-fat light whip Medium extra hot Mexican Mocha with a dash of Cinnamon" (that's a WHOLE other story), or a glass of white, and we'll start up.
--------------------
So we giggle our way to the restaurant. It is PACKED, and there's a total of 10 tables there. I HATE being in a new place with lots of people trying to get something done. But anyway, we order. Fish and chips, a bowl of (famed!) clam chowder, a glass of wine (#4) and...thank God, a beer. We try to sit outside, but it's just a bit too chilly, and as we walk in a "corner" table opens up, so we snag it. So we're enjoying our CORNER table together, alone, waiting for our DEEE-licious food. So we start talking. Talking about things that we probably shouldn't be talking about in a family restaurant; but at least we're in the corner. To compensate for the corner, Wifey starts getting loud with our conversation. Too loud. Embarrassing loud. But that embarrassment is short lived, because Wifey's phone rings. AGAIN. But this time she's started a texting-battle with a friend, so every few minutes she's digging out her phone to read, laugh, and text. At least she's not ON the phone, right?
Sorry, I need to digress here a minute. A couple of months ago, when she picked up her new phone, I made a few "modifications". Namely, I plastered my smiley face within her phone, and I gave her a great ring tone for when she gets text messages. I put "Brass Monkey" on from the Beastie Boys. It's great for a little beat-box jam session. She hates it, but I've yet to change it.
So after 10 minutes and 5 texts, our food finally starts to arrive. But not all at once. Our fish'n'chips comes first, and we have to ask for the rest. So it comes staggered. But we start eating 'cuz we're just that hungry. And very giggly. The drinks come, and we start in. THEN, the chowder comes. It looks GREAT. And Tasty. A nice FULL steaming bowl. It's right there, in between us. But Wifey is concentrating on other things. Her phone rings -- or should I say, the beat box goes off. But she's just a bit too tipsy / uncoordinated / you get the idea to pull it neatly from her purse. So she plays hot potato with it for a couple of seconds before it falls onto the table and then onto the floor. Kerplat. A few people look up. Here's where time stops. She drops to pick up the phone ( because it's important ) and drops her other hand -- RIGHT IN THE CHOWDER. She slowly pulls up (like she's realized something is amiss) and looks at her hand. She's concerned about the phone, but also that her hand stings and is COMPLETELY soaked in Chowder. Of course, she pulls her hand BACK instead of up, pulling the Chowder bowl off the table and on to -- yes, her lap. And the floor, and the phone that is still on the floor. And her phone goes off. So Brass Monkey is vibrating in a puddle of Chowder on the floor. Wifey is crying because her hand is completely covered in steaming chowder. And because everything seems to be sitting on a stack of dimes, her flailing knocks over the tartar sauce for the fish.
At least we were in a corner table. At least this wasn't a first date. Or a blind date. Thankfully, wifey is just that ... WIFEY. She's in. This was the kind of quiet, romantic evening that would scare anybody away from dating. Or being out SANS kiddos. At least spilled Cheerios don't leave a mark.
200 napkins later, a brief tasting of what was left of the (really good) clam chowder, and a few crying screams for hubby to "go get the car"... we're zig-zagging home, with purse halfway covering (or perhaps highlighting) the clam-chowder glob on her shorts, to the intermittent tunes of Brass Monkey vibrating on the beat box.
I hate that song.
Hi. I'm "guest-blogging" today and Sunshine probably wouldn't do this justice anyway....I'm certainly not as funny as she is, so I'll forgive you if you fall asleep or are distracted, by, well, just about anything...
We're on our anniversary vay-cay this weekend to the beach. The weather has been PERFECT, and we've both commented on how relaxed and simple the weekend has been. I think that's mainly because we are SANS-Kiddies. Don't get me wrong, I love the girleeo's to death, but time alone with the wifey is very, VERY good and seldom seen.
The day was spent mostly shopping between two towns. Okay, she shopped, I sat outside and worked on my hubby-shopper's tan. (it looks exactly like a farmer's tan, but you don't get ANY of the aerobic conditioning that goes along with farming.) After countless stores and a nice walk on the beach, it was time to get ready for "happy hour".
A glass of wine (that's one -- keep track now, people) and a few minutes on the deck of our room, and an hour getting ready (yes, I had to state the obvious), and we were off -- up the street to the town's famed chowder house, with a stop at a small little "wine cafe" along the way. HAPPY HOUR. Once at the cafe, we spent the next ten minutes going over the wine list. If Yellow Tail isn't on the list, we're lost. I should say here that I don't drink wine. I drink beer. I have an old war injury that keeps my pinkies from sticking out, which is a must for connoisseurs at the wine bottle. Sort of like holding a cigar with two fingers. It works, but do you really want to project that image? I'm just saying...
So what was I saying? Oh yeah, HAPPY HOUR. So we're at this great little place, sitting outside because the weather was PERFECT (did I mention that?). After a few minutes, the barista (I'll be technical) lady comes out to order, and wifey's phone rings. Mind you, her phone has not rung ALL DAY. So we're doing just about the RUDEST thing you can do when ordering; talking on the phone. But, it's important. no really. Anyway, so after about 10 minutes (no, really), the barista comes back with our wine selection...and yes, just as soon as she walks up, wifey's phone rings. AGAIN. Seriously? I have two friends, none of whom call me. But that's just me. So we enjoy our glass of red (Glass #2 ... you're keeping tabs, right?) -- again, I can't get technical with wine; it's either red or white -- and we decide we need an appetizer. So when the barista comes out again (10 minutes later) we order an antipasta (olives, almonds, cheese, crackers and salami) -- okay I order, because YES, wifey's phone rings AGAIN. Seriously?! I made a joke to the barista that she must have a vibe that sets my wife's phone off -- I don't think she thought that was funny. Anyway, so after a good long wait (they had to import the cheese from Italy) we get our app. But our glasses are empty, so we order a white (Glass #3) wine. I'm to the point here where I need to quote the shampoo bottle and just say "repeat". You get the idea. 10 minutes wait, barista out, phone rings. Anyway, so after wifey finishes (downs?) her glass, we set off to the famed Chowder house. It's a short walk up the street, or in our case, zig-zag.
--------------------
Okay, intermission. This is where it gets good. no, really. So take a deep breath, grab a "non-fat light whip Medium extra hot Mexican Mocha with a dash of Cinnamon" (that's a WHOLE other story), or a glass of white, and we'll start up.
--------------------
So we giggle our way to the restaurant. It is PACKED, and there's a total of 10 tables there. I HATE being in a new place with lots of people trying to get something done. But anyway, we order. Fish and chips, a bowl of (famed!) clam chowder, a glass of wine (#4) and...thank God, a beer. We try to sit outside, but it's just a bit too chilly, and as we walk in a "corner" table opens up, so we snag it. So we're enjoying our CORNER table together, alone, waiting for our DEEE-licious food. So we start talking. Talking about things that we probably shouldn't be talking about in a family restaurant; but at least we're in the corner. To compensate for the corner, Wifey starts getting loud with our conversation. Too loud. Embarrassing loud. But that embarrassment is short lived, because Wifey's phone rings. AGAIN. But this time she's started a texting-battle with a friend, so every few minutes she's digging out her phone to read, laugh, and text. At least she's not ON the phone, right?
Sorry, I need to digress here a minute. A couple of months ago, when she picked up her new phone, I made a few "modifications". Namely, I plastered my smiley face within her phone, and I gave her a great ring tone for when she gets text messages. I put "Brass Monkey" on from the Beastie Boys. It's great for a little beat-box jam session. She hates it, but I've yet to change it.
So after 10 minutes and 5 texts, our food finally starts to arrive. But not all at once. Our fish'n'chips comes first, and we have to ask for the rest. So it comes staggered. But we start eating 'cuz we're just that hungry. And very giggly. The drinks come, and we start in. THEN, the chowder comes. It looks GREAT. And Tasty. A nice FULL steaming bowl. It's right there, in between us. But Wifey is concentrating on other things. Her phone rings -- or should I say, the beat box goes off. But she's just a bit too tipsy / uncoordinated / you get the idea to pull it neatly from her purse. So she plays hot potato with it for a couple of seconds before it falls onto the table and then onto the floor. Kerplat. A few people look up. Here's where time stops. She drops to pick up the phone ( because it's important ) and drops her other hand -- RIGHT IN THE CHOWDER. She slowly pulls up (like she's realized something is amiss) and looks at her hand. She's concerned about the phone, but also that her hand stings and is COMPLETELY soaked in Chowder. Of course, she pulls her hand BACK instead of up, pulling the Chowder bowl off the table and on to -- yes, her lap. And the floor, and the phone that is still on the floor. And her phone goes off. So Brass Monkey is vibrating in a puddle of Chowder on the floor. Wifey is crying because her hand is completely covered in steaming chowder. And because everything seems to be sitting on a stack of dimes, her flailing knocks over the tartar sauce for the fish.
At least we were in a corner table. At least this wasn't a first date. Or a blind date. Thankfully, wifey is just that ... WIFEY. She's in. This was the kind of quiet, romantic evening that would scare anybody away from dating. Or being out SANS kiddos. At least spilled Cheerios don't leave a mark.
200 napkins later, a brief tasting of what was left of the (really good) clam chowder, and a few crying screams for hubby to "go get the car"... we're zig-zagging home, with purse halfway covering (or perhaps highlighting) the clam-chowder glob on her shorts, to the intermittent tunes of Brass Monkey vibrating on the beat box.
I hate that song.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
So This Is Going In My Blog
So I had to go to the doctor this week (re: my achey breaky heart), which is another hypochondriac post all together, and found this beauty posted in the restroom:
Toilets and urinals
flushed with reclaimed water
Do not drink water
Okay...seriously? Like this was enough of an issue that someone actually had to make a sign for it warning people not to do this? I mean, someone must have done this already for the sign making people to do it in the first place. They must've had a meeting about it. We've got another one, folks...let's get those creative juices flowing. I want ideas on my desk by 3:00.
I imagine parched people holding their empty water bottles down in the toilet...just-a filling up. Really, are we that desperate? How about a water fountain people? There's a few of those placed here and there in the hospital. Or that thing called, the sink? The toilet would be the last option on my list. No wait, nope. Not even the toilet, cuz it's a toilet!
Seriously people.
Toilets and urinals
flushed with reclaimed water
Do not drink water
Okay...seriously? Like this was enough of an issue that someone actually had to make a sign for it warning people not to do this? I mean, someone must have done this already for the sign making people to do it in the first place. They must've had a meeting about it. We've got another one, folks...let's get those creative juices flowing. I want ideas on my desk by 3:00.
I imagine parched people holding their empty water bottles down in the toilet...just-a filling up. Really, are we that desperate? How about a water fountain people? There's a few of those placed here and there in the hospital. Or that thing called, the sink? The toilet would be the last option on my list. No wait, nope. Not even the toilet, cuz it's a toilet!
Seriously people.
I'm About To Get Cute
Just so you know...I'm about to go through a big change. Okay, my bloggie is. She (yes, it's a "she") is about to get all cute. I'll tell you more about it after it's done, but let's just say that
there are some reeeeeeally nice people out there, that will surprise you. Just out of nowhere. And give you things. Just cuz.
So don't be surprised if things look different in a few days. It's still me.
there are some reeeeeeally nice people out there, that will surprise you. Just out of nowhere. And give you things. Just cuz.
So don't be surprised if things look different in a few days. It's still me.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
My OB/GYN, My Hero
This post is dedicated to all you crushers.
According to all my delightful comments from my day in the SITS spotlight, I am not alone in the crush department (This Ain't Teen Beat). A lot of us tend to let our minds wander, daydreaming about walking the sandy beaches of Australia with a certain retired Yellow Wiggle...*ahem*
Where am I? Oh yes, yes...crushes...I've had them since I was oh, um...9. Yeah, that far back. I feel I need to be accurate. But as a happily married with children girl, I totally blame the crushes I have now...on my kids. That's right. See, I don't get out much (though I'm working on it). And when you have the babes, some of us tend to watch a lot of kid shows. So a lot of my crushes swirl around the boob tube. Steve from Blue's Clues, Jeff Corwin, and my fave Yellow Wiggle. I tend to keep my temptation confined strictly to cable. Completely separated by reality and a TV screen. But ONCE it happened in real life. But again, I blame my kids. Specifically A-girl.
See, I was pregnant with her. Specifically like 6-8 weeks pregnant with her to be exact. Still, just a twinkle in my eye. Or would that be a jelly bean? Anyhoo, it was early on in the pregnancy. And I started bleeding. Of course the worst came to mind as hubby rushed me to the ER. And in comes My Hero--Dr. V. My ultrasound, probe carrying heeeero! Thankfully after much probing around, he found my little jelly bean, still intact, safe in the womb. He assured me it was only implantation bleeding. Normal. Everything was fine. But he wanted me to come in every few days to check my hormone levels and make sure everything was continuing to go well. He asked if I he could take me on as his patient and continue to see me throughout my pregnancy. Just him. Uuuuuuh...yes. See, in the military, that can be hit or miss. You weren't guaranteed to see the same doctor every time you go in for your check ups. So, naturally I had to jump on that offer. Plus he was gorgeous. That didn't hurt at all. He was this dark and handsome Latin/Hispanic dreamboat. He had an accent. He looked like he could be Joey from Friends brother. A tad bit cuter than Joey AND a doctor. And there was that heavenly accent. Despite the fact that he was beautiful, my age, spending most of his time looking inside my belly and ya know...down there, I just didn't caaaaaare. It was all about the baby, right? Right?
**Here I'd like to insert an intermission for those of you that need to feed your children, go to the the bathroom, get more coffee/wine, a snack. I'll wait.
Are you still with me? Okay, so Dr. V stayed true to his word and saw me frequently. At least twice a week in the beginning. Then once a week the rest of the time. And he would fit me in. He would set up times for us to meet after hours at the hospital. Like 7:00 p.m. appointments. Yeah. Hubby and I would go (yes, hubby is still in the picture, don't you worry) and meet him and he would literally unlock the door to the OB/GYN wing and we'd go in and the lights would be off and everything. It would be just us. Most the times we had to bring our older daughter--L--with us too, so hubby would be off entertaining her in the hospital cafeteria or halls, I don't know keeping her occupied. And it would just be Dr. V and me. Yeah. This *did not* help out my daydreams. Not a bit.
He even gave me his cell phone number for emergencies or any questions or concerns. WHO DOES THIS? This does not happen (to me), especially not in the military. Oh, and he's single. Or has a girlfriend. Whatever. Yes, more fuel to the daydream fire.
But I was good. Very bad in my head, mind you, but in person I was very good. He was very professional. But niiiice. So nice. And chatty. He had a lot to say. And he gave me like 1000 ultrasounds it felt like. It was just when the 3-D ones were coming out, so he liked to play around with them. You just take your time, Doc. And I mentioned he gave me his cell phone number, right? That was burning a hole in my wallet for months. I only gave in once and called him. He told me he'd be out of town for training and not to hesitate to call. So of course, I had to call. Well, it was legit. I was around someone that had chicken pox. Exposed to chicken pox! Serious business. So I called him. He was literally out in the field training, somewhere in Delaware. But he answered and he wasn't mad I called. See, legit. But again, so niiiiice. He really probably should of put me in my place. But he was nice. Reassured me that everything would be fine. A very nice and reassuring, long-distance fine. Call anytime. Yeah.
So this goes on for months. Nine months to be exact. And finally the day comes for A-girl to make her debut. Now from my first labor experience with L, I knew it was gonna be long. I have looooong labors. Days. The hospital was a good 45 minute drive and I remembered that we drove 45 minutes both ways about 4 times when I was going into labor with L. Because I was sure "this is it!" Even though I have long labors, they are intense from the second they start. Strong, strong, STRONG contractions right from the beginning. There is no getting stronger. We're there. Four minutes apart from the beginning. For 24+ hours. I take FOREVER to dilate. So when I went into labor with A-girl, I wanted to be good and wait it out as long as I could before making the drive in, and calling Dr. V. It would be a while. But we did call him and let him know things were getting going. And eventually we did go in only to find out after like 10 hours I had only dilated to almost a "1". Yeah. So we stayed there and walked and walked and walked all over the base. I had amazing thigh and calve muscles the next day. Then we went in and I begged for drugs. I was exhausted, as you are when you're in labor and have walked 10 miles.
**This is flipping long. Go get more snacks.
In the military they won't admit you until your 3cm dilated. I was still at a "1", but they had mercy on me and agreed to give me an epidural. Just as they were getting ready to do that, my water broke. And I was ready to push. And within seconds, A-girl entered the world! There had been no time to call Dr. V. It just happened too fast. So after all our months of care (courting), he didn't get to deliver A-girl. We thought we'd call him after we were officially admitted. A-girl had other ideas. Dr. V was disappointed, but came right in to see her and check on me.
So our time together had come to an end. Until I went in for my 6-week check up. While I was waiting in the waiting room, Dr. V came walking down the hall. He saw me (our eyes met) and actually came in the waiting room and gave me a hug and sat down next to me in the waiting room to catch up (in front of everyone). He looked at the baby pics in my wallet (and the one of my dog) and told me A-girl was beautiful. He told me he just found out he was transferring up north. He was disappointed. Me too. I gave him the whole...Thanks for taking such good care of me and baby/after dark appointments/long-distance chicken pox emergencies (or lack thereof)/we'll miss you (don't leave me) speech. And that was it. Good-bye Dr. V. Farewell my sweet.
I have his cell number tucked away in A-girl's baby book. Yeah. Memories.
**Before anyone feels inclined to yell at me for not setting a good example, know that I was a good girl all the way through...in real life...and hubby knows it all. He was there. And he reads my blog.
According to all my delightful comments from my day in the SITS spotlight, I am not alone in the crush department (This Ain't Teen Beat). A lot of us tend to let our minds wander, daydreaming about walking the sandy beaches of Australia with a certain retired Yellow Wiggle...*ahem*
Where am I? Oh yes, yes...crushes...I've had them since I was oh, um...9. Yeah, that far back. I feel I need to be accurate. But as a happily married with children girl, I totally blame the crushes I have now...on my kids. That's right. See, I don't get out much (though I'm working on it). And when you have the babes, some of us tend to watch a lot of kid shows. So a lot of my crushes swirl around the boob tube. Steve from Blue's Clues, Jeff Corwin, and my fave Yellow Wiggle. I tend to keep my temptation confined strictly to cable. Completely separated by reality and a TV screen. But ONCE it happened in real life. But again, I blame my kids. Specifically A-girl.
See, I was pregnant with her. Specifically like 6-8 weeks pregnant with her to be exact. Still, just a twinkle in my eye. Or would that be a jelly bean? Anyhoo, it was early on in the pregnancy. And I started bleeding. Of course the worst came to mind as hubby rushed me to the ER. And in comes My Hero--Dr. V. My ultrasound, probe carrying heeeero! Thankfully after much probing around, he found my little jelly bean, still intact, safe in the womb. He assured me it was only implantation bleeding. Normal. Everything was fine. But he wanted me to come in every few days to check my hormone levels and make sure everything was continuing to go well. He asked if I he could take me on as his patient and continue to see me throughout my pregnancy. Just him. Uuuuuuh...yes. See, in the military, that can be hit or miss. You weren't guaranteed to see the same doctor every time you go in for your check ups. So, naturally I had to jump on that offer. Plus he was gorgeous. That didn't hurt at all. He was this dark and handsome Latin/Hispanic dreamboat. He had an accent. He looked like he could be Joey from Friends brother. A tad bit cuter than Joey AND a doctor. And there was that heavenly accent. Despite the fact that he was beautiful, my age, spending most of his time looking inside my belly and ya know...down there, I just didn't caaaaaare. It was all about the baby, right? Right?
**Here I'd like to insert an intermission for those of you that need to feed your children, go to the the bathroom, get more coffee/wine, a snack. I'll wait.
Are you still with me? Okay, so Dr. V stayed true to his word and saw me frequently. At least twice a week in the beginning. Then once a week the rest of the time. And he would fit me in. He would set up times for us to meet after hours at the hospital. Like 7:00 p.m. appointments. Yeah. Hubby and I would go (yes, hubby is still in the picture, don't you worry) and meet him and he would literally unlock the door to the OB/GYN wing and we'd go in and the lights would be off and everything. It would be just us. Most the times we had to bring our older daughter--L--with us too, so hubby would be off entertaining her in the hospital cafeteria or halls, I don't know keeping her occupied. And it would just be Dr. V and me. Yeah. This *did not* help out my daydreams. Not a bit.
He even gave me his cell phone number for emergencies or any questions or concerns. WHO DOES THIS? This does not happen (to me), especially not in the military. Oh, and he's single. Or has a girlfriend. Whatever. Yes, more fuel to the daydream fire.
But I was good. Very bad in my head, mind you, but in person I was very good. He was very professional. But niiiice. So nice. And chatty. He had a lot to say. And he gave me like 1000 ultrasounds it felt like. It was just when the 3-D ones were coming out, so he liked to play around with them. You just take your time, Doc. And I mentioned he gave me his cell phone number, right? That was burning a hole in my wallet for months. I only gave in once and called him. He told me he'd be out of town for training and not to hesitate to call. So of course, I had to call. Well, it was legit. I was around someone that had chicken pox. Exposed to chicken pox! Serious business. So I called him. He was literally out in the field training, somewhere in Delaware. But he answered and he wasn't mad I called. See, legit. But again, so niiiiice. He really probably should of put me in my place. But he was nice. Reassured me that everything would be fine. A very nice and reassuring, long-distance fine. Call anytime. Yeah.
So this goes on for months. Nine months to be exact. And finally the day comes for A-girl to make her debut. Now from my first labor experience with L, I knew it was gonna be long. I have looooong labors. Days. The hospital was a good 45 minute drive and I remembered that we drove 45 minutes both ways about 4 times when I was going into labor with L. Because I was sure "this is it!" Even though I have long labors, they are intense from the second they start. Strong, strong, STRONG contractions right from the beginning. There is no getting stronger. We're there. Four minutes apart from the beginning. For 24+ hours. I take FOREVER to dilate. So when I went into labor with A-girl, I wanted to be good and wait it out as long as I could before making the drive in, and calling Dr. V. It would be a while. But we did call him and let him know things were getting going. And eventually we did go in only to find out after like 10 hours I had only dilated to almost a "1". Yeah. So we stayed there and walked and walked and walked all over the base. I had amazing thigh and calve muscles the next day. Then we went in and I begged for drugs. I was exhausted, as you are when you're in labor and have walked 10 miles.
**This is flipping long. Go get more snacks.
In the military they won't admit you until your 3cm dilated. I was still at a "1", but they had mercy on me and agreed to give me an epidural. Just as they were getting ready to do that, my water broke. And I was ready to push. And within seconds, A-girl entered the world! There had been no time to call Dr. V. It just happened too fast. So after all our months of care (courting), he didn't get to deliver A-girl. We thought we'd call him after we were officially admitted. A-girl had other ideas. Dr. V was disappointed, but came right in to see her and check on me.
So our time together had come to an end. Until I went in for my 6-week check up. While I was waiting in the waiting room, Dr. V came walking down the hall. He saw me (our eyes met) and actually came in the waiting room and gave me a hug and sat down next to me in the waiting room to catch up (in front of everyone). He looked at the baby pics in my wallet (and the one of my dog) and told me A-girl was beautiful. He told me he just found out he was transferring up north. He was disappointed. Me too. I gave him the whole...Thanks for taking such good care of me and baby/after dark appointments/long-distance chicken pox emergencies (or lack thereof)/we'll miss you (don't leave me) speech. And that was it. Good-bye Dr. V. Farewell my sweet.
I have his cell number tucked away in A-girl's baby book. Yeah. Memories.
**Before anyone feels inclined to yell at me for not setting a good example, know that I was a good girl all the way through...in real life...and hubby knows it all. He was there. And he reads my blog.
Monday, June 23, 2008
I Gotta Shout Out To My SITStas!!
I just want to scream like a little girl! Like one of those 13-yr-old girls that you hear on the radio that just won Jonas Brothers tickets! Yeah...that scream! I am so in comment heaven! It's a nice place, I want to live here. I totally freaked myself out last night, thinking that no one would show after my blog's debut on SITS today. But I am a lucky, lucky girlie! Thank you, thank you, thank you for coming over! Please, please, please don't leave (I'm not ready)! You're nice. I like you. And I've seriously burned the calories running up and down the stairs 5,000 times today to see if there were any comments! My thighs thank you too.
And Happy Anniversary to all of y'all who were married in June too. There's a lot of us! And I promise to tell you about my OB/GYN crush. It's a good 'un! And I had to laugh at all you Wiggle crushers. Lemme tell you...I feel you. You have *no* idea. I haven't even begun to let the Wiggle love out of the bag on my blog yet, but it's coming. And thanks for sharing your Animal Planet/Noggin/Disney crushes with me too. I think it must be a right of passage as a Momma (they are soooooo good with kids... and puppets). Crushes *are* healthy. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!
And I still think it's wrong, though incredibly funny to drink beer out of a straw (hun)! And you know I'm totally going to Bath and Body Works tomorrow for that Eucalyptus shampoo, right? Ciera and her magic, Australian-fantasy inspiring, shampooing fingers (um...that didn't come out right) are gonna have to wait (2 more months).
So thank you Heather and Tiffany for making this happen! I never felt so saucy in my life!
And Happy Anniversary to all of y'all who were married in June too. There's a lot of us! And I promise to tell you about my OB/GYN crush. It's a good 'un! And I had to laugh at all you Wiggle crushers. Lemme tell you...I feel you. You have *no* idea. I haven't even begun to let the Wiggle love out of the bag on my blog yet, but it's coming. And thanks for sharing your Animal Planet/Noggin/Disney crushes with me too. I think it must be a right of passage as a Momma (they are soooooo good with kids... and puppets). Crushes *are* healthy. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!
And I still think it's wrong, though incredibly funny to drink beer out of a straw (hun)! And you know I'm totally going to Bath and Body Works tomorrow for that Eucalyptus shampoo, right? Ciera and her magic, Australian-fantasy inspiring, shampooing fingers (um...that didn't come out right) are gonna have to wait (2 more months).
So thank you Heather and Tiffany for making this happen! I never felt so saucy in my life!
Sunday, June 22, 2008
We've Been Together FOREVER
(While you read this, click on "Devoted to You" on my playlist...it'll add a little something. Plus, it was "our song" at our wedding--the Everly Brothers version.)
Every time I give my hubby a card I always try to think of something loving and thoughtful to say. Something real, a little playful and not too, too serious, but enough that he knows I mean business. But I've noticed from time to time that when I give him a card, the first thing he says when he opens it up is..."Oooooohhhh...words." He's being funny, but he's said it enough now, that I'm like,"hmmmm...," cuz I tend to write novels in my cards. I tend to go on. I'm wordy, what can I say? There's a wanna-be writer trying to break out. And the boy gives me a lot to talk about.
Well, today is our 12th anniversary! We've actually been together 15 years now. So what I want to say to him is...
Happy Anniversary!
You make me happy. The end.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
I Heard The Word "Toga"
So going out Friday night was good (Friday Night Special (Aaaaand The Jonas Brothers) ). It was good to get out without my kids, after dark. It was a perfect summer night, so we chose to all sit outside. I totally almost bailed too when I found out BUNCO was cancelled (but I made fruuuit diiiip...). That and the fact that I didn't want to feel weird hanging out with a bunch of ladies that were the best of friends and have been forever and a day, and then there's just me. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Sometimes that can be pretty uncomfortable. I barely know my friend that invited me. Our daughter's were in the same class together and we recently found out they live just around the corner from us. So we've chatted here and there. I thought it was so nice of her to invite me to BUNCO. Seriously felt like I had been invited to sit at the cool table. But when I found out it was cancelled and they were going out for drinks instead, I didn't want her to feel like she had to invite me to that just because BUNCO was cancelled. But she seemed genuinely disappointed when I told her I was gonna pass on going out. And as soon as I told her, I felt like a complete idiot, cuz why the heck should I not go out? I need to go out. I need to be with people that are 21 and over. Okay...31 and over. Okay, 41 and over. I'm holding down the fort here on the homestead quite a bit lately, so what is wrong with me that I don't jump, no make that do a somersault, a round off AND the splits, at the chance to get out and possibly make new friends? Relax. Get out of my house. Alone. Geezlaweez, sometimes I really question myself. So I called and begged for her to take me back and then take me out.
So it was fun. The ladies were awesome. Nice and Fun-nay. Their kiddos range from my girlies ages all the way up to high school. So there was a good bit of wisdom to soak in over my margarita. I realized that I'm not as social as I thought I was (ya think?), because my friend that invited me out just moved here last January and she has like 153 girlfriends. She briefed me on 53 of them on the drive up. She is a social animal. I guess I'm more monogamous when it comes to my friends. I've been here since last June and I've made some friends, but I seriously only have one close girlfriend here. I call her my soul friend. And I like it that way. That is how I roll. In fact, I kept thinking about her, and how she should be there too. I should have invited her too. Dang it. But I seriously have a handful of friends that I will share my deepest thoughts and secrets (well, them and YOU GUYS)...you know, and take a bullet for.
But these ladies were good buds. I'm pretty sure they'd take a bullet for one another. And there was one lady there who was totally "the cool mom". She brought her teenage son, his friend and a girl friend of theirs with her. The teenagers went to the movies while we ate, or walked the mall or did what teenagers do, but met up with us later (though sat at a separate table). But they kept coming over and talking to us...to her. They liked her. Her son was hugging all over her. While we were talking, her cell rang and it was the younger sister of the girl that was with her son and friend (are you confused yet?). Anyhoo...she called to talk to Cool Mom, not her sister. This girl was telling Cool Mom how she was sad she was going to miss her gymnastics competition the next day, but she'd take pics and all for her. How flipping sweet. They were like totally having a conversation. This mom has now given me the goal to be the cool mom on my street. I want our house to be where all the kids want to hang out. I want to get cell phone calls from my daughter's friends to talk to me. Okay, so that might have been the margarita talking. But she was cool. AND she was going to Vegas (without hubby and kids) on Monday for a bachelorette party. In Vegas. I heard the word "toga".
So, it was pretty painless. They were good to me. They made me laugh and that is always good. They clued me in on the best neighborhood pool (and would we like to go next week?), the best time to go to Jazzercize, the joys of Boot Camp in the park (like that's gonna happen), where to buy the best picnic assortment (Rose's) for a day trip to local vineyards, and what a Cadillac is (the drink, not the car). I still don't know what it is. I'm just glad I'm still invited to BUNCO. I'll bring fruit dip.
So it was fun. The ladies were awesome. Nice and Fun-nay. Their kiddos range from my girlies ages all the way up to high school. So there was a good bit of wisdom to soak in over my margarita. I realized that I'm not as social as I thought I was (ya think?), because my friend that invited me out just moved here last January and she has like 153 girlfriends. She briefed me on 53 of them on the drive up. She is a social animal. I guess I'm more monogamous when it comes to my friends. I've been here since last June and I've made some friends, but I seriously only have one close girlfriend here. I call her my soul friend. And I like it that way. That is how I roll. In fact, I kept thinking about her, and how she should be there too. I should have invited her too. Dang it. But I seriously have a handful of friends that I will share my deepest thoughts and secrets (well, them and YOU GUYS)...you know, and take a bullet for.
But these ladies were good buds. I'm pretty sure they'd take a bullet for one another. And there was one lady there who was totally "the cool mom". She brought her teenage son, his friend and a girl friend of theirs with her. The teenagers went to the movies while we ate, or walked the mall or did what teenagers do, but met up with us later (though sat at a separate table). But they kept coming over and talking to us...to her. They liked her. Her son was hugging all over her. While we were talking, her cell rang and it was the younger sister of the girl that was with her son and friend (are you confused yet?). Anyhoo...she called to talk to Cool Mom, not her sister. This girl was telling Cool Mom how she was sad she was going to miss her gymnastics competition the next day, but she'd take pics and all for her. How flipping sweet. They were like totally having a conversation. This mom has now given me the goal to be the cool mom on my street. I want our house to be where all the kids want to hang out. I want to get cell phone calls from my daughter's friends to talk to me. Okay, so that might have been the margarita talking. But she was cool. AND she was going to Vegas (without hubby and kids) on Monday for a bachelorette party. In Vegas. I heard the word "toga".
So, it was pretty painless. They were good to me. They made me laugh and that is always good. They clued me in on the best neighborhood pool (and would we like to go next week?), the best time to go to Jazzercize, the joys of Boot Camp in the park (like that's gonna happen), where to buy the best picnic assortment (Rose's) for a day trip to local vineyards, and what a Cadillac is (the drink, not the car). I still don't know what it is. I'm just glad I'm still invited to BUNCO. I'll bring fruit dip.
Everybody Loves A Good Contest
Okay, head on over here-- Six Weeks of Summer! -- right this minute! Now, I hate the fact that I must tell you this, cuz it lowers my chance of winning and I need this. My back yard needs this. My girlies need this. I would be the "cool mom" and I so want to be the cool mom in the neighborhood.
But to enter this contest I gotsta tell you about this too. See that awesome little pink, square button over there on the left side of the screen? It's kinda saucy looking? Very inviting, isn't it? You can click on that too. That'll take you there as well, cuz you're gonna want to know about that little secret. And then you can get your own little pink, square, saucy button for you own blog. Your blog will thank you.
Now go. :)
But to enter this contest I gotsta tell you about this too. See that awesome little pink, square button over there on the left side of the screen? It's kinda saucy looking? Very inviting, isn't it? You can click on that too. That'll take you there as well, cuz you're gonna want to know about that little secret. And then you can get your own little pink, square, saucy button for you own blog. Your blog will thank you.
Now go. :)
Friday, June 20, 2008
We Rock, We Rock, We Rock (My Hubby Rocks)
My hubby is probably going to be so very, very miffed at me for doing this, but the boy just gives me suuuuch good material!
So he's been out of town this week and basically when we talk at night and catch up on our day, his day's description basically sounds like vacation to me. I mean, I know the guy's working hard out there, but you know, I'm home with our two "enthusiastic" girlies, basically more referee than mom these days and well...that's just all I need to say, cuz I know you feel me. All I hear when he's talking to me is...went out to eat...hotel bed is amazing...golf...worked out...sleep...blah, blah, blah, blah...(vacation).
Then I get home last night and check the e-mail. There's an e-mail from hubby. This is a big chunk of why I love this guy...why I married him and had two wild and crazy girlies with him. This is why. (Now you'll have to read my previous post, Friday Night Special (Aaaaand The Jonas Brothers), to understand completely...)...This is what his e-mail said:
I watched Camp Rock.
I could have watched Jean Claude Van Damme. I could have watched....ANYTHING.
I watched Camp Rock.
(I SOOOO ROCK!)
- Love ya... me.
My hubby is awesome. And he misses his girls.
So he's been out of town this week and basically when we talk at night and catch up on our day, his day's description basically sounds like vacation to me. I mean, I know the guy's working hard out there, but you know, I'm home with our two "enthusiastic" girlies, basically more referee than mom these days and well...that's just all I need to say, cuz I know you feel me. All I hear when he's talking to me is...went out to eat...hotel bed is amazing...golf...worked out...sleep...blah, blah, blah, blah...(vacation).
Then I get home last night and check the e-mail. There's an e-mail from hubby. This is a big chunk of why I love this guy...why I married him and had two wild and crazy girlies with him. This is why. (Now you'll have to read my previous post, Friday Night Special (Aaaaand The Jonas Brothers), to understand completely...)...This is what his e-mail said:
I watched Camp Rock.
I could have watched Jean Claude Van Damme. I could have watched....ANYTHING.
I watched Camp Rock.
(I SOOOO ROCK!)
- Love ya... me.
My hubby is awesome. And he misses his girls.
Friday Night Special (Aaaaand The Jonas Brothers)
Okay, so Hubby's out of town and Momma's going out tonight! I was supposed to meet up w/some girlies and play BUNCO (I love BUNCO), but the plans have changed due to just about everyone being on bless-ED vacation. So I'm going out for "drinks and hor'dourves." Sounds good.So it's movie night for my girls. Grandma is coming over to watch the premiere of Camp Rock (I am actually a little--a lot--bummed I'm missing this, but I'm recording it for later). So I prepared this wonderful KID'S MEAL, courtesy of "KIRBYGOLDS" on http://www.allrecipes.com/. It's all about the kiddos tonight, but it was actually VERY YUMMY. It's supposed to serve six, but um...it was just me and my two girlies a-eating, so you might want to make more. It was really good though. Here's the recipe:
Beans-n-Franks
INGREDIENTS
2 teaspoons margarine
3 tablespoons chopped onion
1 (16 ounce) can baked beans with pork (I used Bush's vegetarian baked beans)
1 (16 ounce) package frankfurters, sliced (I used Jennie-O Turkey Hot dogs)
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon prepared mustard
1 teaspoon celery salt
DIRECTIONS
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
Melt butter in a skillet over medium heat. Saute onions in butter until tender. Stir in the baked beans and sliced frankfurters. Season with brown sugar, mustard and celery salt. Transfer to a 2 quart casserole dish.
Bake for 40 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Anyhoo...so tonight, while the kiddos and grandma are munching on Red Vines and popcorn w/a few Junior Mints thrown in the mix, watching those cutie Jonas Brothers, Momma will be out trying to be an adult and make adult conversation. It's been a while, so there is very good potential blog material to be made tonight. This could be good.
Oh, and here's the recipe for the fruit dip (thank you Tina at Allrecipes) that I was supposed to take to BUNCO tonight. The girls and grandma can munch on this tonight too. Sheesh...maybe I should just stay hoooooooome...
Tina's Fruit Dip
INGREDIENTS
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup butter
1 cup sour cream
3 teaspoons vanilla extract
DIRECTIONS
In a saucepan over medium heat, stir together the butter and brown sugar. Remove from heat when the butter has melted.
In a medium mixing bowl, whip together the butter mixture, sour cream and vanilla. Serve warm, or allow the dip to chill and thicken in the refrigerator for 2 hours.
Happy Friday night, y'all!
Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta
Had a little family birthday party for A-girl this past weekend and as our parties go, you can usually bet that there's going to be lots of cake, food, drinks of many sorts (and colors), music (Hawaiian this time around), three little girls shrieking their heads off, laughing aaand a dog pile.To participate in Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta (and you must, you must), go to:
http://carriestuckmann.blogspot.com/
Thursday, June 19, 2008
This Is Daddy Stuff
Now this is what you want to see when you give someone a gift! It was A's birthday this past weekend and her big gift was a bike. A big girl bike. She recently learned how to ride on two wheels (sans training wheels) and has been using her big sister's bike. That has caused a few arguments as they both want to ride bikes and there was no way A was going back to her "baby" bike. So we got her the bike. It was sooooo exciting.Yeah, this story t'aint over yet. So to back track a bit, we picked out her bike at the big Toys R Us, and had them assemble it, so it would be all ready to go, cuz you know she was going to want to hop on it within seconds and as soon as this pic was over she was climbing on. But OF COURSE...of course, of course, of course...something was wrong. Cuz nothing EVER goes perfectly. We are good at being very not perfect. The bike was too big. It was a 20" instead of what we thought was an 18". I completely blame hubby, cuz this is his territory. This is daddy stuff. AND I even told him to make sure we got the right size. Details, baby. Details. Whatevs. So, on the bike, A could just touch her tip toes to the ground, and you know, that's just not gonna work. So I tell her we can take it back and get the right one. And she was all..."Nooooo...it's okay, L can have this one and I'll have L's." (and the crowd goes wiiiiild!) I have to pause for a second and be proud of my girl, cuz this is kind of a huge moment that is quite rare. (Pause)
So long story short. L got a new bike for A's birthday. And (for now) the world (otherwise known as our street) is a happy place. And we don't have to go buy another bike.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Survey Says!
I know this is an odd request, but I'm gonna do it anyway. I want to take a survey to see which pair of glasses look better on me. I question this daily, so I thought I'd ask the world to help me out.
Check:
A) Foto #1
B) Foto #2
C) Neither...get contacts, girl, and while you're at it, pluck your eyebrows!
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Lil' Updates For Ya
Okay, couple of updates for those of you who felt like I left ya hanging on the whole heart palpitations bit and oh yes...the gym. I just need closure, y'all.
So about them palpitations. Come to find out, I'm gonna live after all. AND it's been confirmed--I am a hyprochondriac. It was only muscle spasms in the heart region. Totally not related to the heart. For three weeks straight. Whatever. It makes perfect sense for me though. It's good news, and I can add it to my quirks. I'm so quirky.
Now on to the gym. Surprisingly, I'm still going. I even want to go. This is so not like me. I can think of good reasons not to go lickety split. I'm tired. I hate the gym. I have to lay on the couch. My book is so good though. I'm wriiiiiting. I have to eat this whole bag of chips first. But I'm still going. No doubt all the credit goes to the fact that each treadmill has it's very own and very convenient T.V. So, I'd like to thank Jerry, Elaine, George, Kramer, even Newman, Raymond, Debra, Marie, Frank, Robert, Doug, Carrie, Ross, Rachael, Monica, Chandler, Phoebe, Joey and the Gilmore Girls. Working out has never been so fun...ny.
So about them palpitations. Come to find out, I'm gonna live after all. AND it's been confirmed--I am a hyprochondriac. It was only muscle spasms in the heart region. Totally not related to the heart. For three weeks straight. Whatever. It makes perfect sense for me though. It's good news, and I can add it to my quirks. I'm so quirky.
Now on to the gym. Surprisingly, I'm still going. I even want to go. This is so not like me. I can think of good reasons not to go lickety split. I'm tired. I hate the gym. I have to lay on the couch. My book is so good though. I'm wriiiiiting. I have to eat this whole bag of chips first. But I'm still going. No doubt all the credit goes to the fact that each treadmill has it's very own and very convenient T.V. So, I'd like to thank Jerry, Elaine, George, Kramer, even Newman, Raymond, Debra, Marie, Frank, Robert, Doug, Carrie, Ross, Rachael, Monica, Chandler, Phoebe, Joey and the Gilmore Girls. Working out has never been so fun...ny.
Monday, June 16, 2008
A Story Of Mom Brain
Okay, I tend to do this. I go and read a bunch of your blogs (and comment, cuz it's sooooo very important to comment) and get inspired. And then I come back here and write about something very random. You have no idea where that came from, sort of thing. Don't be alarmed--I do this all the time. This random stuff. I'm good at it. I have an affinity for people giving me that blank stare back (I can imagine your blank stares as you read this right now). Apparently I get a kick out of it. So here's the latest.
So one time (I've only done this once so far--I try to learn from my episodes), when I was fat, happy and pregnant with child, hubby and I went grocery shopping. Nothing new. We happened to do this often, as you do to survive. Food is very important. So we get home, and unload the groceries. We're putting everything away and I realize that we are missing a whole entire bag. The frozen food bag. The bag with the various frozen veggies, Stouffer's lasagna, burritos, couple of frozen pizzas, and the bless-ED Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby. Ben & Jerry's--the #1 reason for going to the store in the first place. This explains why I was fat and happy. The glorious Fudge-Covered Peanut Butter-Filled Pretzels in Vanilla Malt Ice Cream Rippled with Fudge & Peanut Butter (Yes, I googled that description). Isn't "rippled" a wonderful word? Anyhoo...I was very upset that Ben & Jerry didn't make it home. Like pregnant woman upset. There were tears and pulling of hair.
We checked the receipt...yep, everything was on the receipt. Good and paid for. So we called the store and explained. Even though they couldn't find the bag either, they surprisingly told us to come back and they would replace everything in the bag. Everything. There had to be at least $40 worth in that frozen food bag. There might have been another Ben & Jerry pint of goodness thrown in there as back up. We try to be prepared. So we go back to the store, receipt in hand, get everything and go home. And all is all good in my small, small world again. My thighs thank me over and over.
So about three days go by. I'm nesting. I'm ginormously preggo and nesting. I've gone baby shopping. I take my newly purchased baby goodies into the baby room, which is all John Lennon-ed out, with the soft, soothing lime green walls, the yellow and pink borders. I loved his stick elephants, giraffes and birds. It was my favorite room in the house. But as soon as I open the baby's room door I am hit with an awful stench. I can't explain what I thought it could be in this sanctuary of mine. I scream for hubby to come help. I'm sure I'm going to need help. Something has died in there. I'm sure of it. He comes in all He-man soon-to-be daddy and all (I'm sure even He-man wretched from time to time) and gets to work immediately. He's looking in the vents, under the crib...finally he opens the closet and there sits, pooled at the bottom of my baby girl's closet, in it's own rotting badness is the lost bag of frozen food. Ben & Jerry...not so good at this point. Not so much. For some unexplained reason, my soon-to-be-mommy brain directed my swollen body to stow this bag in her closet. I will never understand the workings of Mom brain or the loss of perfectly good Ben & Jerry's.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
For My Dad
Your resilience
runs through the red
rivers and fjords of my body,
strong and all over.
Your eyes look at me
in my reflection,
beneath a forehead
wide and expressive.
Your smile crosses my face,
a desert sunset,
low and vermillion,
something to wait for.
Your temper thunders
from my mouth
when patience leaves me weary
and lacking.
Your laugh
scratches, chirps,
and twitters,
when I let seriousness go.
Your hands turn
the pages of my books,
worked and deliberate,
restless for what is next.
Your feet take me
through evergreen
forests--thick
and beautiful.
Your you is me.
runs through the red
rivers and fjords of my body,
strong and all over.
Your eyes look at me
in my reflection,
beneath a forehead
wide and expressive.
Your smile crosses my face,
a desert sunset,
low and vermillion,
something to wait for.
Your temper thunders
from my mouth
when patience leaves me weary
and lacking.
Your laugh
scratches, chirps,
and twitters,
when I let seriousness go.
Your hands turn
the pages of my books,
worked and deliberate,
restless for what is next.
Your feet take me
through evergreen
forests--thick
and beautiful.
Your you is me.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
What The Frig?
Okay, so I love me some survey dealies. I especially love the"Getting To Know You" ones that have like 52 questions. I *must* tell you my favorite salad dressing. I'm gonna have to post one of the survey thingies one of these days. But today, I'm stealing this from Mrs. R over at, One Woman's Rants and Raves . Just cuz I wanna...
So here's my 5 things I can't live without (today anyway...this changes daily)--and yes--this isn't the obvious things like the hubby and my adorable, "enthusiastic" girlies!
1. My Bath and Body Works C.O. Bigelow Mentha Lip Shine lip stuff. CANNOT live without it. I've actually been 2 miles from home, realized I didn't have it and *made* hubby turn the car around and go home so I could get it. Once I think I had him take me directly to Bath and Body Works so I could just buy some. I seriously go into dry lip panic mode. And if I was ever on a deserted island...this would be the one thing I'd have to have. Not matches. Lip stuff. Seriously. So yeah...hubby really likes me.
2. My Angels and Airwaves CD's. They will not come out of my cd player. They've literally been in there months. I looooove them. They make me happy.
3. Yellow Tail wine. Thank you, Australia. Thank you for wine that is always on sale AND good.
4. My mouth guard. I can't sleep without out you and your teeth clinching/grinding superpowers. Plus you make me look sexxxxay.
5. My Ghost Hunters show. That is my show. I love me some Jason and Grant. Plus, I've now added to my vocabulary, "What the frig?" It's fun.
So feel free to share your 5 favorites and leave me a comment so I know you blogged them and I can go read yours and leave a comment. See how this works. ;D (you see my big smile there?)
So here's my 5 things I can't live without (today anyway...this changes daily)--and yes--this isn't the obvious things like the hubby and my adorable, "enthusiastic" girlies!
1. My Bath and Body Works C.O. Bigelow Mentha Lip Shine lip stuff. CANNOT live without it. I've actually been 2 miles from home, realized I didn't have it and *made* hubby turn the car around and go home so I could get it. Once I think I had him take me directly to Bath and Body Works so I could just buy some. I seriously go into dry lip panic mode. And if I was ever on a deserted island...this would be the one thing I'd have to have. Not matches. Lip stuff. Seriously. So yeah...hubby really likes me.
2. My Angels and Airwaves CD's. They will not come out of my cd player. They've literally been in there months. I looooove them. They make me happy.
3. Yellow Tail wine. Thank you, Australia. Thank you for wine that is always on sale AND good.
4. My mouth guard. I can't sleep without out you and your teeth clinching/grinding superpowers. Plus you make me look sexxxxay.
5. My Ghost Hunters show. That is my show. I love me some Jason and Grant. Plus, I've now added to my vocabulary, "What the frig?" It's fun.
So feel free to share your 5 favorites and leave me a comment so I know you blogged them and I can go read yours and leave a comment. See how this works. ;D (you see my big smile there?)
Friday, June 13, 2008
Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta
L had a Spirit Week thingy at school last week and they were supposed to bring something of their heritage in to share. She was pretty excited to take the sombrero in. It belonged to my hubby's grandfather--"TaTa"--and there *is* a little girl hiding under there! :) Tata would be muy proud.
To participate in Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta (and you must, you must), go to:
http://carriestuckmann.blogspot.com/
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Tappity Tap Tap
That's my little penguin! 4th penguin from the left! :D
**IF YOU PAUSE MY PLAYLIST (down on the left side bar), YOU CAN HEAR THE MUSIC FROM THE RECITAL.
**IF YOU PAUSE MY PLAYLIST (down on the left side bar), YOU CAN HEAR THE MUSIC FROM THE RECITAL.
Dance Baby!
A hectic week pays off! This is my girl...front row, third from the left! My girls have been dancing for just about a year now and this was our first recital!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
She's Number One
When I went to pick up L today from her LAST DAY of school, I could see from across the parking lot that she wasn't a happy camper. Like me, our emotions are broadcast all over our face. As soon as I reached her, the tears started flowing. She was so upset she couldn't even talk. I thought for sure she had some sort of tiff with her on again/off again "bestest friend ever". I was expecting some sordid tale of betrayal on the playground. Once she caught her breath, I found out she was upset that it was her last day with her teacher. She forgot to give her a hug. So I took her, precious tears and all, to find her teacher and give her one last wonderful hug to last all summer long. Her teacher reminded her that she'd see her next year...that she'd be looking for her. That seemed to satisfy L (at least until I put her to bed tonight and the tears started all over again--would it be weird if I requested a sleepover at her teacher's house? Yeah. That'd be weird.).
I just thought that was incredibly sweet. Here I am babbling about how I'm counting the seconds down until summer vacation and my girl is probably counting the seconds down until school starts again...already. I don't think I did that in first grade. I think I was well aware of what was waiting for me once that last bell rang on the last day of school. But L's always loved school. Her teachers have been very important to her, as I hoped they would be. I've told her teachers that I'm sure L respects them more than she respects me. As much as I complain about that (and use it in my Momma Lectures--"Would you do that at school?"), I think that's kind of okay too. I mean, one of my main goals is to prepare my girls for the outside world. For authority. To respect and care for others. Somehow in the mix, my girl's grown the big ol' sensitive heart. Momma loves that too.
Two months ago, L was already planning what she was going to give her teacher on the last day. She wanted me to take her to Ceramic Cafe to paint a mug for her. She found an old gift bag I had stashed somewhere and decorated it. She sat down and wrote three heartfelt notes to her teacher and sealed them in envelopes with kitty stickers and kisses. We finally, finally and very much to the relief of L went and painted her mug. "#1 Teacher" it said. She concentrated very hard on the perfect colors, the perfect paint brush and took her time painting it just right. She was very serious about it. I think that when she handed it over, her teacher knew how much went into that little mug. I look at my daughter, see that love for her teacher and know how much her teacher gave my girl too.
I just thought that was incredibly sweet. Here I am babbling about how I'm counting the seconds down until summer vacation and my girl is probably counting the seconds down until school starts again...already. I don't think I did that in first grade. I think I was well aware of what was waiting for me once that last bell rang on the last day of school. But L's always loved school. Her teachers have been very important to her, as I hoped they would be. I've told her teachers that I'm sure L respects them more than she respects me. As much as I complain about that (and use it in my Momma Lectures--"Would you do that at school?"), I think that's kind of okay too. I mean, one of my main goals is to prepare my girls for the outside world. For authority. To respect and care for others. Somehow in the mix, my girl's grown the big ol' sensitive heart. Momma loves that too.
Two months ago, L was already planning what she was going to give her teacher on the last day. She wanted me to take her to Ceramic Cafe to paint a mug for her. She found an old gift bag I had stashed somewhere and decorated it. She sat down and wrote three heartfelt notes to her teacher and sealed them in envelopes with kitty stickers and kisses. We finally, finally and very much to the relief of L went and painted her mug. "#1 Teacher" it said. She concentrated very hard on the perfect colors, the perfect paint brush and took her time painting it just right. She was very serious about it. I think that when she handed it over, her teacher knew how much went into that little mug. I look at my daughter, see that love for her teacher and know how much her teacher gave my girl too.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
The Last Of It
Finally, the end is near. Tonight I packed L's last lunch for the school year. 1st grade is over tomorrow. We had A's preschool graduation on Monday. And Friday is my last day taking care of Baby Girl. Tonight, as I was making dinner, I realized that we didn't have to be anywhere tonight! Such a very odd, but very welcoming feeling. We almost didn't know what to do with ourselves!
I am so ready for summer. I think I'm more excited for it than my girls are. With it just days away, I'll be able to clean my house soon. You know, that really good deep clean. It's sad when your life has been so hectic, you're actually looking forward to cleaning your house. I'm even excited to cook. To actually plan meals. Fresh, light meals with lots of fresh veggies! Lazy days are sounding pretty good too though. Cooling off in the back yard sprinkler and at grandma's pool, gardening, sitting on my front porch reading, while all the neighborhood kids play. Making sun tea with sprigs of mint picked out of the garden. Walking the dog. Popcicles. Being sun-kissed.
I can't wait to go to the beach again. I want to walk on the beach at night. Sleeping in sounds delightful. Actually enjoying my coffee (maybe two glorious cups), could almost bring me to tears. Making blueberry pancakes on a Wednesday and not the standard bowl of Fruit Loops! The library. Camping. Sitting around a campfire and star-gazing with my hubby and girls, then piling into the tent to snuggle up next to each other and fall into a deep sleep. Garage sales. BBQ's. Corn on the cob.
It was a good year. A fast one for us. I have no complaints. I even look forward to what next year has for us. Second grade. Kindergarten. It'll be a new life. Another page in our story. But right now, I'm so tired (you see these dark circles?). Even though I know within days, our summer will be just as busy too (we'll fill it up) and the kids will be bored and missing friends, I just love the idea of summer. At this weary moment, it looks like a blank slate. A designated time to catch our breath. I'm going to do that as long as I can. Or until September. Whichever comes first.
I am so ready for summer. I think I'm more excited for it than my girls are. With it just days away, I'll be able to clean my house soon. You know, that really good deep clean. It's sad when your life has been so hectic, you're actually looking forward to cleaning your house. I'm even excited to cook. To actually plan meals. Fresh, light meals with lots of fresh veggies! Lazy days are sounding pretty good too though. Cooling off in the back yard sprinkler and at grandma's pool, gardening, sitting on my front porch reading, while all the neighborhood kids play. Making sun tea with sprigs of mint picked out of the garden. Walking the dog. Popcicles. Being sun-kissed.
I can't wait to go to the beach again. I want to walk on the beach at night. Sleeping in sounds delightful. Actually enjoying my coffee (maybe two glorious cups), could almost bring me to tears. Making blueberry pancakes on a Wednesday and not the standard bowl of Fruit Loops! The library. Camping. Sitting around a campfire and star-gazing with my hubby and girls, then piling into the tent to snuggle up next to each other and fall into a deep sleep. Garage sales. BBQ's. Corn on the cob.
It was a good year. A fast one for us. I have no complaints. I even look forward to what next year has for us. Second grade. Kindergarten. It'll be a new life. Another page in our story. But right now, I'm so tired (you see these dark circles?). Even though I know within days, our summer will be just as busy too (we'll fill it up) and the kids will be bored and missing friends, I just love the idea of summer. At this weary moment, it looks like a blank slate. A designated time to catch our breath. I'm going to do that as long as I can. Or until September. Whichever comes first.
Love The Bear, Hate Shadow
My L (age 7) is deathly afraid of Oobi. If you have a little one, you probably know who this Oobi is--the hand w/the Mr. Potato Head eyeballs. I think he's on Noggin (for your viewing pleasure). He's not meant to be scary, as he was made for little 'uns. There are probably little kid Oobi groupies everywhere who loooove Ooobi. L, not so much. She hasn't watched Oobi in years, and she actually liked Oobi on the show, way back when. Oobi was fine when she was three. But somehow he's made it into her dreams and he is her #1 nightmare. She has the most vivid, terrifying ones. Oobi has sharp silver teeth (fangs)and black hair. Oobi is crawling under her covers from the bottom of her bed to the top. She can see him moving in the blankets. He's peering over at her from the top of her headboard. Geez, I'm even getting freaked out typing that out. Poor thing. Our latest was last night. She doesn't even need to be asleep to get upset. I think she saw a commercial yesterday that she thought Oobi was on. Same idea with the hands bit. We put her to bed at 7:30 and she was still up at 9:30, two night lights on, the radio, and the hall light on. She was watching the hall like a little PJ clad hawk. Lots of snuggling and "Lord, please help us to not have Oobi dreams. Just rainbows and Wiggle dreams, mmmm k?" prayers were in order.
She also loved Bear In The Big Blue House. Personally, I would have to leave the room when that story telling Shadow would come on ("Where oh where oh where is Shadow?"). She gave me the heebies with her creepy man voice...I had my own nightmares with that one. Love the bear, hate Shadow.
I wonder if I've given my own girls nightmares. One Christmas a couple years back, my hubby set me up with all these spa goodies and in the mix was this facial mask. So one night I pamper myself with a long, luxurious, much needed, smelly good, bath. Long, long overdue kind of thing. There were bubbles. Afterwards, I decide to try the facial mask. It's one of those you actually have to mix yourself. So I follow the directions and stir it up with the little Popsicle stick included. It's making a lot. How big do they think my face is? Am I supposed to put this on my whole body, or what? Nonetheless, I'm doing exactly what the directions say. It's totally green too. So I slather this baby on my face and sure enough...it's a mask. A thick, rubbery, goopy, droopy (highlighting the droopiness here), WAY TOO MUCH STUFF ON MY FACE, very GREEN--Wicked Witch on Wizard of Oz Green--mask. A cross between the Elephant Man and the Wicked Witch. I'm looking good. Good and SCARY! So I have to leave it on for you know...15 minutes or something. I poke little holes where I imagine my nose to be and open the bathroom door to go read while I get beautiful under that crazy mask. And there are my two little (ages 4 and 2) girlies sitting on my bed reading books before bed. They see me and I swear that time stands still. I freeze and try to smile, but you know, all they see is the Elephant Man wearing their mom's robe. I swear their little face cheeks were trembling. Mouths agape. Eyes wider than wide. They were speechless. And terrified. They are so going to need therapy some day. Then hubby comes in sees me and same reaction. Dang it...help me out here a little bit hun (I'm getting beautiful under this mess)! To this day, they still refer to it. I'm still trying to explain to them that that was me. As far as I know, no bad dreams. Though I don't know how they couldn't have them.
Then there was the time my daughter called me a, "Monster". Yeah, that was a good day. Good Momma moment. L again. She was around 2. Back when I had no idea what I was doing. I still don't, but back then I REALLY didn't know what I was doing. We were just getting to that place where we really had to think about discipline. I think tantrums were starting. Lots of whining or something. Something very appropriate for a two-year-old. Back when I was all about reading piles of parenting books, magazine articles, Dr. Phil, Google and wishing for Supernanny. Oh and I was very pregnant with my second. I was totally fat with child, hormonal, and had the very bad hair. So I think I lost it. I yelled at her. Like it was one of the first times I ever yelled at her. She totally didn't know what to do with that. Really didn't know me anymore. She was shocked. Me too. Her word for "scary" was "loud" at the time. Appropriate either way. So she started crying and pointing at me and saying over and over..."Loooud...looooud..." And then, the very dreaded..."Mooooonster..." shaking in her diaper, still pointing her sweet eensy weensy finger at me. That was the absolute worst. So bad, I can't believe I'm telling you. I'll need therapy for this one. We'll have to drive together. So yeah...very big and costly trip to Toys R Us after that one.
Somehow, 5 years later, we are still friends. She still desperately calls me, when she sees Oobi poking his Mr. Potato Head angry eyes around the corner, to come save her. And though I've gotten better at the discipline, I'm not gonna lie...sometimes that Monster face (a.k.a. The Look) of mine comes in handy. Really lights a fire, if you know what I mean. As long as I'm still the one chasing nightmares away, I think we're good. Oobi doesn't have a chance.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
We're Wearing Our Holey Underwear
This week has been full of major family crisis (major), end-of-school-year-panic, late night dance recital rehearsal meltdowns, sickness fighting (love that Airborne and Zicam), birthday planning (is everyone's bday in June?), hubby out of town for the bazillionth time (why must you do this to me?), eating too many chicken nugget/tator tot dinners, we're wearing our holey underwear, cuz the laundry t'aint getting done, is it EVER going to stop raining? --***CHAOS***-- that I really needed to just sit down for 3 minutes and laugh. Thank you MTV and Mike Myers. Thank you.
P.S. I think you can pause my "My Playlist" thingy on the left sidebar so that you can hear this. You gotta hear it.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta
This is from a couple years back on a beautiful Easter day!It's of hubby and A-girl kicking up their heels! Momma loves it!
To participate in Friday's Foto Finish Fiesta (and you must, you must), go to:
http://carriestuckmann.blogspot.com/
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Random Thought That's Going Straight To The Thighs
Did I just really eat the whole box of Fire Roasted Tomato and Olive Oil Triscuit's? Yes. Yes, I did.
Mr. T and John D.
Alrighty, so I was totally inspired to write something by today's SITS featured blogger, John Deere Mom . You've got to get over there (after you read my stuff), cuz this lady makes you want cows and 25 cats and surprisingly want to listen to Who Let The Dogs Out. Mostly, she makes you laugh out loud (and very early in the morning when everyone else is still asleep) and it's fun to laugh that hard...AND good for the stomach muscles. Gotta get the exercise in.
So yeah...quick John Deere related story for you.
A few years ago we lived in the suburbs of San Antonio. A nice little quiet community. Except for our ever so entertaining neighbor, Mr. T and his family. They were not so quiet. Or tidy. Or right in the head. Mr. T was a big, heavy-on-the-southern-drawl, man. Who liked to walk around without wearing a shirt. He was a boisterous guy...absolutely no volume control. Just loud. He didn't talk, he yelled. I don't know what his kids names were, cuz he just called them, "BOY!!!" and "GIRL!!!" --very King of the Hill. He had a pool that he would frequently find rats bathing in. Yep, rats. His yard was a jungle of palm trees and overgrown weeds and grass. Tick city. Yet, he had a John Deere. Even though his front yard was the size of a postage stamp (as is usually the case in SUBURBIA). We'd frequently find his 3-yr-old, BOY!!!, barefoot and pull-up clad, driving that John Deere in circles around our one and only tree in our postage stamp of a front yard. Completely unsupervised. I fully expected a John Deere to come crashing into my kitchen on a regular basis. His back yard had even less grass. Mostly garbage piled up waiting for him to burn. Yes, burn. The fire department had been out there...OFTEN. We had a Green Belt behind our homes. It had the potential to be very peaceful back there, no traffic, or neighbors yard backed up to ours. But no. That's where Mr. T would go to burn his garbage. Huge...gasoline lit fires back there. There'd be ash flying all over (and landing on our roof). It looked just like snow. Yeah.
So needless to say, we moved. We didn't mention Mr. T at all to the realtor, the potential buyers, when asked about the neighborhood. After all, no one warned us. Besides, they get their front yard mowed. Bonus.
So thank you Angie at, John Deere Mom. Thanks for reminding me of Mr. T and his John Deere. I've needed to get that one out for a long time.
So yeah...quick John Deere related story for you.
A few years ago we lived in the suburbs of San Antonio. A nice little quiet community. Except for our ever so entertaining neighbor, Mr. T and his family. They were not so quiet. Or tidy. Or right in the head. Mr. T was a big, heavy-on-the-southern-drawl, man. Who liked to walk around without wearing a shirt. He was a boisterous guy...absolutely no volume control. Just loud. He didn't talk, he yelled. I don't know what his kids names were, cuz he just called them, "BOY!!!" and "GIRL!!!" --very King of the Hill. He had a pool that he would frequently find rats bathing in. Yep, rats. His yard was a jungle of palm trees and overgrown weeds and grass. Tick city. Yet, he had a John Deere. Even though his front yard was the size of a postage stamp (as is usually the case in SUBURBIA). We'd frequently find his 3-yr-old, BOY!!!, barefoot and pull-up clad, driving that John Deere in circles around our one and only tree in our postage stamp of a front yard. Completely unsupervised. I fully expected a John Deere to come crashing into my kitchen on a regular basis. His back yard had even less grass. Mostly garbage piled up waiting for him to burn. Yes, burn. The fire department had been out there...OFTEN. We had a Green Belt behind our homes. It had the potential to be very peaceful back there, no traffic, or neighbors yard backed up to ours. But no. That's where Mr. T would go to burn his garbage. Huge...gasoline lit fires back there. There'd be ash flying all over (and landing on our roof). It looked just like snow. Yeah.
So needless to say, we moved. We didn't mention Mr. T at all to the realtor, the potential buyers, when asked about the neighborhood. After all, no one warned us. Besides, they get their front yard mowed. Bonus.
So thank you Angie at, John Deere Mom. Thanks for reminding me of Mr. T and his John Deere. I've needed to get that one out for a long time.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Strong Giggle Box
This is the baby girl I've been so lucky to take care of this past year! She was a giggle box today. A strong giggle box! :)
First one!
I'm a sentimental girl and the tiniest things have great meaning to me. Like strawberries. I spent my childhood growing up in Phoenix. Our front yard was sand, gravel and cactus. But somehow in that desert mix, we planted a strawberry patch. Of all things. I remember playing outside in that heat and smelling those strawberries. Picking only the reddest, sweetest ones. I wanted to continue that with my own girls, so we planted a garden this year. And this strawberry plant was the first thing we planted. We actually trucked it all the way from the East Coast to the West Coast last summer. It was a going away present for us when we moved out here, given to us by our favorite neighbor, Hawaiian Jim. I call him that because our other neighbor was Mean Jim (horrid man). Hawaiian Jim wore shorts and had the bare feet all winter long and skateboarded with his grand kids in the suburbs of D.C. He made good coffee. He was a fun guy. He gardened and he shared his strawberries. I could use a Hawaiian Jim living next door to me here.
So we tucked the little plant in the back of the car with the vacuum, pots and pans, and 94 lb. fat lab and somehow it made it all the way to Oregon. And now, we have our first strawberry from it. A sign of summer. A taste of childhood for me and my girls. And the sweet reminder of a good friend.
The Secret Is In The Sauce
See that fancy pants button over there on the left side of the screen? That cutie patootie one that says, The Secret is in the Sauce? Yep, that one. You're totally gonna wanna click on that baby and head on over there, cuz it's nothing but a good time. You get to get your blog out there and discover more blogtastic writers out there! You *won't* be sorry! Go get your blog on, baby!
P.S. There's an amazing contest going on over there too! Now get! ;D
P.S. There's an amazing contest going on over there too! Now get! ;D
Just So You Know
I just want to say that this is like a full-time job, writing in the blog and reading and commenting on your blogs. I want to do SO MUCH MORE, but I have to be a mom and wife and it's TOTALLY getting in the way! There are not enough hours in the day! I have a girlfriend who is totally committed to the scrap booking. She's even gone away and met up with fellow committed scrap bookers at some secret location and scrap booked for 17 HOURS STRAIGHT! She took a plane and everything. This is what I'm talking about. This is what I need! 17 hours committed to blogging and reading your blogs and making brilliant comments. I'm thinking Australia. Let's meet on a beach in Australia. I'm just gonna say that those rugged Australian men with the accents that make your toes curl will be distracting AND inspiring. Who needs Mexico (o.k., I could totally use Mexico)? What do you say?
So, just so you know...every chance I get, I'm here. Right now though, I have to go be the mom. Dang it.
P.S. This is for Kat, who commented already (thank you, thank you, thank you...), I had to add the whole scrap booking/Australia bit, cuz I was inspired in the shower. I do this often. Post and then come back and add a whole bunch. So yeah...just so you're not confused. :)
So, just so you know...every chance I get, I'm here. Right now though, I have to go be the mom. Dang it.
P.S. This is for Kat, who commented already (thank you, thank you, thank you...), I had to add the whole scrap booking/Australia bit, cuz I was inspired in the shower. I do this often. Post and then come back and add a whole bunch. So yeah...just so you're not confused. :)
Monday, June 2, 2008
Boogey Momma and All
The other day, A had the bad hiccups (heeeeeccups, as we say). This was like the third day in a row she has had them off and on.
heeeeeccup
"Momma, I'm falling apart!"
heeeeeccup
"I don't wanna be Mrs. Hiccup girl!"
So we tried all the tricks to get rid of them--holding her breath, drinking the water, standing on her head. Finally, I told her to go sit on the couch in the living room and wait for me. I told her not to peek and everything. She must've thought I was bringing her something good. A surprise. A treat.
heeeeeccup
Like the good and loving Momma that I am, I snuck up behind the couch on all fours and popped up behind her with a trememdous, "BOOOOO!"
She hopped up about three feet in the air, her body vibrating in terror (she probably wet her pants a little)...and then the tears. Lots of tears. Those genuine, scared-o-the-boogey-man tears. Of course, I'm right there, taking her in my arms, kissing, kissing (sorry, sorry, sorry, baby, Momma had to scare the hiccups away...).
I hold her little face in my hands and make her look at me. "Anymore hiccups?" (kiss, kiss, kiss)
I can see her little, precious mind working. Then she smiles and says, "Nope." Then she laughs. It's funny now. She wants me to do it again. So of course, I do.
heeeeeccup
"Momma, I'm falling apart!"
heeeeeccup
"I don't wanna be Mrs. Hiccup girl!"
So we tried all the tricks to get rid of them--holding her breath, drinking the water, standing on her head. Finally, I told her to go sit on the couch in the living room and wait for me. I told her not to peek and everything. She must've thought I was bringing her something good. A surprise. A treat.
heeeeeccup
Like the good and loving Momma that I am, I snuck up behind the couch on all fours and popped up behind her with a trememdous, "BOOOOO!"
She hopped up about three feet in the air, her body vibrating in terror (she probably wet her pants a little)...and then the tears. Lots of tears. Those genuine, scared-o-the-boogey-man tears. Of course, I'm right there, taking her in my arms, kissing, kissing (sorry, sorry, sorry, baby, Momma had to scare the hiccups away...).
I hold her little face in my hands and make her look at me. "Anymore hiccups?" (kiss, kiss, kiss)
I can see her little, precious mind working. Then she smiles and says, "Nope." Then she laughs. It's funny now. She wants me to do it again. So of course, I do.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Socks And All
What is up with my girls waking up at o'crack-of-dawn-thirty? Helloooo...it's SUNDAY. This morn both girls were up and rearing to go at 6:53 a.m.! On school days I usually wake them up at 7:05 a.m. and it's like pulling teeth to get them out of bed (I'm sure you know the drill)! I first go in and gently tell them to wakey-wakey. Go make my bed. Go back turn on the hall light and tell them...wake up, sweeeetie piiiiies. Little kisses on the cheekies. Go feed the cat, brush teeth. Go back and turn on their lights in their room. Get up. Now. Ooooooh...and the rest of the morning is full of slowness and grumpies and socks that don't fit. I know there's a God, cuz every school day morning it takes a miracle to get my girls out the door (You CANNOT wear flip flops to school!). There is always major drama happening in those 45 minutes before we are out the door. Spilt milk. I've made the wrong flavored pop tart. Someone is always crying (Fine! Wear the flip flops!). Always.
But on the weekends, the days where we can get that bless-ED sleep, they are rearing to go well before 7 a.m.. Socks and all. They are the best of friiiiiends. They understand the concept of sharing things. Kind words. They make their beds. They make their own breakfast and manage to not spill the whole gallon of milk. They brush each other's hair. It's bliss. For them. I can't quite wrap my tirED brain around it. On school nights I'm crazy about getting them to bed at 7:30 p.m. I have hit the wall well before then and I turn into a werewolf at precisely 7:31 p.m. Ask my hubby. But on non-school nights, we have movie nights, we play outside until it's dark. We have candy. I...don't...get...it. Ah well, regardless of my lack o' beauty sleep (there just are not enough hours in the night for that one anyway), my cheerful disposition, no one's crying. I'm not hating that.
But on the weekends, the days where we can get that bless-ED sleep, they are rearing to go well before 7 a.m.. Socks and all. They are the best of friiiiiends. They understand the concept of sharing things. Kind words. They make their beds. They make their own breakfast and manage to not spill the whole gallon of milk. They brush each other's hair. It's bliss. For them. I can't quite wrap my tirED brain around it. On school nights I'm crazy about getting them to bed at 7:30 p.m. I have hit the wall well before then and I turn into a werewolf at precisely 7:31 p.m. Ask my hubby. But on non-school nights, we have movie nights, we play outside until it's dark. We have candy. I...don't...get...it. Ah well, regardless of my lack o' beauty sleep (there just are not enough hours in the night for that one anyway), my cheerful disposition, no one's crying. I'm not hating that.
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