Things I've heard and seen this week...

*clomp*clomp*clomp*clomp*

I look up to see my 4 year old son clomping across the dining room in the pair of heels I'd left by the front door. That alone was funny, but this was classic...

"Mommy, I really like your shoes with the sticks. They're fun!"

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I spent about 45 minutes last night getting so excited about Georgia bringing me discarded faux wood blind slats. They were from the excess we'd trimmed off the new ones in our bedroom. I was laying on the couch after an exhausting day of painting and furniture moving. The slats were across the living room from me. She would toddle over, pick one up and bring it to me like it was made of gold. She was strutting like nobody's business! I would reward her with an energetic "Thank you!" each time and she in turn would reward me with a very proud giggle. When I had the whole pile in my lap and she turned around to get more, I'd toss them back across the room and she'd do it all over again.

Seriously, she was E-N-T-E-R-T-A-I-N-E-D. Another "why in the WORLD do we have all of these bleeping toys?!" moment for ol' Mom.

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About 5 minutes later, we had to ditch the blind slats.

My son thought they made an EXCELLENT sword/Captian Hook hook. Yeah. That wasn't gonna go anywhere good, but it would probably get there quickly.

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As I opened the garage door and started up the driveway on our return home from preschool yesterday, my son said "Mommy, I love living in my blue house. It's my favorite."

*gulp*

Think he's internalizing any of this get-the-house-on-the-market craziness? Ouch.

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I'll end on a great note -- the last thing my hubby said to me before he went to sleep while I laid there in my futile effort to join him:

"I love you so much. Thanks for being my wife."

She surprised everyone but us...

Today our baby girl had surgery. Very minor surgery (just got tubes put in both of her ears), but let's face it -- when you're putting your child under general anesthesia, any surgery is major to you.

Originally, I had scheduled the first available date, which was last Wednesday at 10:15. As I wrote it on the calendar, I called back about 5 minutes later and rescheduled for the first date we could get the first appointment of the day. When I thought about not letting Georgia eat or drink ANYTHING until 10:00 in the morning -- let's just say it wasn't a good idea.

We had to be there at 6:15 a.m. today, so we opted to just have Mitchell spend the night at his Nana and Papa's house. He is SUCH a trooper and thank goodness his new "thing" is that he is all about having sleepovers at the grandparents' houses. He had a great time, and it was nice for us to just be able to come home and focus on Miss G last night and this morning. We had to leave here at 5:45 a.m., so that meant we had to wake our little sweet pea up.

I gently rubbed her back and said "Good morning, Georgia. Time to wake up, honey!" She just lifted her head up off of the crib mattress and looked around the room with squinty eyes. After about 30 seconds of that, a big smile spread across her face and she struggled to sit up. At this point, my husband walked in the room and with a head full of crazy hair, she lit up our hearts with the sweetest "Da-DA!" you've ever heard. I scooped her up and was met with her sweet little head on my shoulder for a morning snuggle that was truly a blessing.

I'm sorry, but how many people do you know are that SWEET when being forced awake before 6 a.m.? I really need to take a page out of her book...our baby girl is seriously just happy to be alive and in the room. We changed her diaper, grabbed her beloved Duck Duck and loaded her into the car. I thought maybe she would figure out that she hadn't had her normal bottle or sippy cup as we drove to the surgical center, but instead she just happily babbled to herself and Duck Duck. Her little giggle over who knows what spread to the front seat because we couldn't help but join in as she just laughed at herself in the mirror and her scruffy purple duck with the pink plaid bow.

We got to the surgical center to get checked in. (Can I just say here that it was COMPLETELY unnecessary for us to be there over an hour early?? Really. It was just dumb.) The woman at the front desk immediately got caught up in Georgia's early morning goofiness. She couldn't stop telling her how cute she was, and she couldn't stop telling Chris and I how amazed she was by Georgia being so awake and lively so early in the morning.

Chris and I just looked at each other and smiled -- we weren't surprised. She's always been like this.

When the nurse came in to get us for all of the pre-op stuff, the woman at the front desk told her "This is Georgia and I guarantee you, she'll be your favorite patient of the day." What a nice thing to hear, even if she does say that about everyone. Georgia began to charm ol' Jude's socks off as well -- holding her foot up and saying her favorite word, "shoes" about a million times as she put the pulse ox thingie on her big toe. When we were done in the first little room, Jude took us back to the rows of beds that you wait for the doctors in.

That's where the baton was handed to the next nurse as far as being smitten with Miss G goes. Georgia began doing her "talking" thing for this nurse...if you haven't seen it in person, it's hard to describe. Basically she gets very animated and jabbers for about 30 seconds in a very conversational tone -- it's evident that she is telling you something very important. The problem is, you can't understand a single word.

It comes out something like this:
"Dabajanabadeedodi." (One hand up in the air.)
"Shambaloomabadadadama." (Pointing across the room.)
"Shumtanastabodido." (Annnnd, she's finished.)

Yep, one of those and that lady was reeled on in. She just went on and on about how much Georiga had to say for such a little person.

Chris and I just looked at each other and smiled -- we weren't surprised. She's always been like this.

We then went back out to the waiting room where we caught some Clifford on the flat screen, played with the bead maze, and played walk around the room like a 2 foot, 4 inch drunk with an empty paper cup. Good times.

After about 30 minutes, the nurse came to get us and said that the doctors were ready for us. As we got back to the row of beds, we found the ENT and anesthesiologist waiting for us, along with two other nurses. We filled out all of the last minute consent forms (you know, the ones where we say we understand that things for this run-of-the-mill procedure could go very, very wrong...the ones that put a lump in your throat while you sign as the doctors tell you it's a really simple, uncomplicated surgery) and I got the pleasure of getting into a white paper Elvis (the fat years) suit and a lovely blue paper hat.

As all of this was going on, Georgia took this opportunity to start working the doctors over. Well, doctor. Our ENT (as our pediatrician explained when we first were referred to him for our son about 3 years ago) is one of the best in town, but his bedside manner is not his strong suit. He is a nice enough person, but we have yet to see his sense of humor over the years and he is pretty much all business. Fine with us -- he's cutting holes in our kids' ears, we're happy to know he's got it under control. In any case, he was not prone to fall under Georgia's "I'm so cute" spell, he was there to work.

The anesthesiologist, on the other hand, was more of a softie. I had spoken with him when he called our home the night before. (By the way, how impressive is that? He called us at home to make sure we didn't have any questions, to let us know how everything would go in the morning and to just make sure we were comfortable with the whole procedure. I was blown away that such a caring customer service step would take place in this nasty medical environment.) During our conversation on the phone, he told me I was welcome to go back with Georgia as he put her under. He said "Well, she's 14 months old so she probably won't just go off with me." I told him that she just might, actually. While we were filling out the paperwork and getting me in my paper suit, he said "You were right -- I bet she would go with me if I wanted her to!"

Chris and I just looked at each other and smiled -- we weren't surprised. She's always been like this.

Finally it was time for the surgery so Daddy gave her some squeezes and kisses and then I carried Georgia and Duck Duck down the hall, following the doctors and nurses to the OR. I don't care if it is a simple little five minute surgery -- it all hits home when you walk into the big, sterile operating room, complete with a team of doctors, nurses, tubes, wires and machines. I sat on the little chair with her as the anesthesiologist got her mask ready.

This part sucked. Really bad. I'd been through it before with Mitchell when he got tubes and I knew exactly what to expect, but it still sucked.

I held Georgia while he put the mask over her face. Her cute side faded away and her feisty spirit emerged as she fought both of us. Holding her still for the mask to stay in place, was a bit like trying to change her diaper these days -- she definitely got her wiggle on and made it known that she did not approve of this next move of ours. *Patting myself on the back* I managed not to cry, instead just sang Georgia her name song and told her it was okay to go night night, that Daddy and I would be there when she woke up.

Like I said, I *know* how it goes, I know what it looks like, I know what it sounds like, but still. She stiffened up, her breathing became labored and squeaky and it really did look like she was slipping away. The broken record in my head was "She's just going to sleep, she's just going to sleep, she's just going to sleep" as I helped lay her on the table. They assured me she'd be fine and that they'd take good care of her as I turned to go find my husband.

I really didn't think I would, but I did cry on the walk back. The nurse was comforting me and I assured her that I knew it was fine. And I was. It's just -- ugh. I don't know how to put that feeling into words, walking away from that O.R.

We got our stuff, and headed to the waiting room. We weren't there very long - -just a few minutes, I think. The ENT came out and said that everything went great. She had a lot of thick fluid in her ears that they were able to remove and they put in the first set of antibiotic drops for us. He explained the post-op instructions, when to call for a follow up visit, yadda yadda. A few minutes later, the anesthesiologist came out to talk to us as well. He told us that he gave her some pain medicine in her nose during the surgery to help and that he thought she did great. He said she was still sleeping and that he was a fan of letting them wake up as slowly as possible so that it wasn't such a shock to them. Still, he warned us that most of the time, kids would be upset, usually some crying and even times screaming for up to 45 minutes because they were jsut so confused and disoriented. He wanted us to be prepared for that so that we knew it was normal, and assured us that by this afternoon, she'd be back to her normal self. We thanked him and waited for the nurses to come get us.

A few minutes later, in came the recovery nurse. She had a big grin on her face and said that Georgia was awake and that we could come see her, but that we might not be able to take her home because they might want to steal her because she was so cute. As we walked down the hall to the recovery area, she told us that she couldn't believe what a great mood Georgia was in, and that she actually woke up giggling and chattering away.

Chris and I just looked at each other and smiled -- we weren't surprised. She's always been like this.

As we walked in, we saw Miss Georgia cuddled up in a blanket in the arms of a Grandma-ish looking nurse, clutching Duck Duck in one hand, the other hand animatedly pointing around the room as she busily educated the nurses on the finer features of the recovery room. A huge smile lit up her face when she saw us and she immediately reached out and lunged toward me with both arms in that "Mommy, hold me!" posture that I'm so familiar with these days. I gladly took her from the nurse and planted lots of kisses on her sweet forehead as she snuggled into the recliner with me. Chris got the bottle we'd brought out of the diaper bag, which got her very excited. We spent the next 20 minutes or so, cuddled up in the recliner laughing with the nurses about what a sweet baby girl we have. It then launched into talking about each of their older children and what they were like as kids. Funny how that happens -- parents are just physically unable to help themselves from sharing about their own kids, aren't they? After a few goldfish and lots of flirting, we were ready to go. We waved bye-bye, blew kisses and thanked everyone for taking such good care of our precious baby girl.

As Chris and I walked with her to the car, we laughed at how she'd spent the morning entertaining and charming the staff. We also talked about how as usual, she had surprised everyone but us with her sunny disposition during an experience that is usually expected to be anything but happy.

That's our Georgia.

Roots...

I spent the weekend pulling weeds in the yard. (I also got scolded repeatedly by my husband for doing so, as in his opinion, I should have had my spring cold in bed, resting.) It was just so nice outside and after the huge case of cabin fever I developed over this crazy winter, I just needed to be out there.

We always laugh when I start my whole pulling weeds routine because I am so anal that it is the beginning of an obsession for me. It's kind of like me and puzzles...I'm the same way with those. Chris had a 1,000 piece puzzle when he lived about an hour away from me. It was over the summer and I was on break from my job at school and I was a huge freak about that stupid space shuttle puzzle. I would spend the entire day on it because if I didn't, it was like it had eyes and was staring at me, taunting me. When I decide to start pulling weeds in the yard, it's the same sort of thing.

So, Saturday was the day that I decided it was game on with me and the weeds. I strapped on my oh, so attractive gardening gloves, got my ripped/stained towel for my knees, and finally located my official weed digging tool in the shed. I chose a spot and began my little war with the weeds.

It's funny -- when I was growing up, my absolute LEAST favorite chore of all time was easily pulling weeds. I would rather have dusted the entire house than spent 20 minutes pulling weeds, and that's saying something. (I can't stand dusting. Still.) My mom would probably have paid some good money to have had teenager Tara have even an 1/8th of my adult enthusiasm for pulling weeds.

I think was out there for at least 2 or 3 hours both Saturday and Sunday, as evidenced by my red back. Comments on my sunburn beat out a simple "hello" at preschool dropoff this morning, by the way. Always fun.

As I pulled weeds, I was struck by how incredibly LONG and complicated the roots were on some of those puppies! (I'm talking up to two feet long!) I think they come back stronger each subsequent year because I don't remember them being like this last year. I really should have taken a picture or video of pulling some of them because it was quite fascinating, really. (Please note, I'm not a gardener, weed pulling is the extent of my skills, so I have no idea what type of weed it is that I'm talking about.)

The more I thought about the weeds I was pulling, the more I thought about how the whole process of getting them out of the ground reminded me of life. My life, at least.

The weeds with the longest, craziest roots were usually those that looked the smallest. I'd gently pull the top of the little weed and if I could get to the longer root underneath, I found that it was usually attached to several other little weeds, but they were spread out and there is no way in the world I'd guess that the two were linked to the same roots.

Isn't that how it seems with life? The tiniest problems (to everyone else's eyes) are usually those with the most complications attached to them?

I was also struck by just how gentle I had to be with these little weeds in order to keep the huge root underneath intact. The easy thing would have been to just yank it out, severing the visible part of the weed from the root. The problem there is that then the root would be left in the ground, free to sprout many more weeds to pop back up again once the root was ignored. In order to get the entire weed -- roots and all -- I had to work delicately and make sure that I paid attention to both of the directions that the root was headed in.

As I did that -- I couldn't help but think of how closely this whole process mirrored the way that I have to go about solving problems in my life. The easy thing is usually to treat problems like you are just ripping off a band aid -- just go for it. But when I do that, things usually end up coming back time and time again. It's only when I take the time to really examine things, figure out not only where the problem is going, but where it came from and what else is now attached to it that I'm able to successfully remove issues from my life.

I know, I know -- going deep. But you know, I spent a good 5 hours (at least) thinking about all of this stuff while I was baking in the sun. I might as well blog about it, right?

Not exactly...

My son loves all things Christmas, so I indulge him a bit and let him keep a few things out all through the year. He has a cd of Christmas music that he listens to during quiet time in his room on some days, one of his favorite bedtime books to read is The Stable Where Jesus Was Born (an adorable book with gorgeous illustrations, by the way), and there is a little nativity magnet set on the fridge that he plays with.

Well, today as his sister was finishing her lunch, he asked me if I wanted him to tell us the story of The Stable Where Jesus Was Born using the magnet set on the fridge. As my heart swelled with pride at the thought that such a precious story is tucked away inside of his heart, I replied that of course Georgia and I would be happy to listen.

It started off good -- Baby Jesus was laying in the sweet smelling hay with Joseph So Tall and Mary By Name looking after him. The sheep came and the shepherds came. It was so adorable to listen to his sweet voice telling such a big story in such a simple way.

"Guess what happened next, Mommy!"

Just the tone in his voice rang the "Uh-oh" alarm in my head, and I knew that we were about to seriously deviate from the original path of the story.

"I don't know, honey. What happened next?"

From behind his back, Mitchell pulls out the playdough garlic press. (My own term there.)

"The CROCODILE came! And he ate Baby Jesus up in one big bite!"

Um, yeah. That just ain't right.

Photo Friday...

Before and After is this week's Crazy Hip Blog Mama's theme. I immediately thought of how much my son loved his baby sister, before he could really even get his hands on her for big hugs and kisses. The biggest joy in every day for me is watching the two of them together. They are so funny together and the love they have for each other is something that many, many people comment on. So, here ya go -- the best "Before and After" I can think of.

Before...(February 2006)


And After...(February 2007)

I've decided that I'm nuts.

So, we've decided that we are finally going to put our house on the market. I say "finally" because we've been talking about it for at least two years now. When we originally bought it, we said we'd be here for 5 years, max. Well, that was 5 years and 4 months ago. The thing is, I don't think that we planned on having children quite so quickly. (I got pregnant 3 weeks after we got married...we call him our planned surprise.)

As I take a break from doing what I like to call "house stuff" (yes, that's a scientific term, feel free to adopt it yourself), I am struck by just how emotional of a process this move will be. That will be different from the other dozen times I've moved in my life -- this is the first time I'll be leaving the only place my children have ever called home.

We have a great house. Is it huge? No. Is it extravagant? No. You know what it is? It is THE perfect first house and THE perfect place to bring babies home to. It's not huge, but it's big enough. The neighbors' houses aren't so close that I can open the window, reach out and borrow an egg, like some of the newer neighborhoods are. We have an honest to goodness YARD, people. With a deck. And a shed. And a sandbox.

Here's the bottom line...I'm beginning to love my house again, as much as I'm ready to move, I'm realizing how attached to it I really am. We've definitely outgrown our space here, and we are ready to move to a more centrally located neighborhood, but I will without a doubt miss our house.

What really makes me mad is the fact that someone else is going to walk through it and look for "what's wrong". What they like, what they don't like, what they want to change, what they want to keep. It almost feels like I'm putting my child out in front of someone to be criticized without regard for what really matters. I hope that someone else walks in and just instantly can see themselves living here...that's what happened for me. I walked in and just knew that this was the house for us.

When we were looking for houses, our realtor encouraged us to give each house we looked at a nickname so we could easily remember and distinguish them when talking about what we'd seen later on. It really did work -- five years later I can still remember the dirty house (uh, yeah...'nuff said on that one), the hunting house, the hot tub house, and the squeaky floors house. Makes me wonder what our house would be called. (My money is on "the rubber duckie house" because of the kids' bathroom. By the way, we refuse to change it -- love our house, love the ducks. If it gets changed, I don't want to know about it.)

I need to get back upstairs and finish packing some stuff up...I just had to take a break, come down here and say that I love my tiny, perfect little house. Flaws and all -- it's still perfect to me. I can't imagine starting our family's life together anywhere else and if I'm crying while I type this, I imagine that as ready as I am to move us into the next "perfect house" for us, I'll be bawling as we drive away for the last time.

Kinda scary when your 4 year old is smarter than you...

Last weekend, we were getting ready to go celebrate Easter at my brother-in-law's house and Mitchell wanted to go play with his toys from his Easter basket. My husband told him he needed to finish his breakfast first, and then he could go play. He said "okay" and sat down to finish his waffle. A few minutes later, he asked me "Mommy, would you like some waffle?" I politely declined, so he moved onto my husband. (He's into giving us bites of his food, so this is nothing new.) My husband actually accepted his waffle offer, and Mitchell stood by with a big smile on his face watching his Daddy eat. When my hubby had finished chewing, he said "Are you done, Daddy?" My husband nodded that he was and said "Thanks, buddy."

Mitchell then said "Great, then I'm done with my breakfast!" As we stood there laughing at ourselves, he happily ran into the living room to play with his new toys.

Seriously -- how did we not see that one coming?

All Moms Go To Heaven...

...and here's my Top 10 list of reasons why, based on my own little corner of the world!

10. We need some rest!

When else are we going to get it? The whole sleepless nights thing starts with us in pregnancy with the heartburn, aches/pains, kicking/rolling babies, frequent potty trips, and insomnia. It then moves on to the middle of the night feedings, diaper changings, walking the hallways, rocking/shushing. After that comes all of the potty training fun, sick in the middle of the night, nightmares, and scared of storms stuff. I'm guessing it doesn't end -- well, ever. I mean, the whole waiting up for teenagers to make curfew thing is in there. And now that I think about it, my own mom (as well as my mother-in-law) has volunteered herself for sleepovers with my kids and that means middle of the night wakeups, early mornings, etc.

9. We know how to count to 10!

As much as we'd like to, we *usually* don't join our kids in throwing ourselves on the floor to have a tantrum when things don't go our way. (Although if you're like me, this is often very tempting.) I'm not saying I don't lose my temper from time to time, but typically it's my job to remain calm, be the voice of reason, offer reasonable choices -- including natural consequences, and make deals when appropriate. Honestly, I think that police forces across the country should seriously think of hiring moms for the negotiator position...we have some serious experience in dealing with hysterical people who are out of control!

8. The laudry -- oh, the laundry!

On the off chance that my mom ever reads this, I'd like to apologize right now for the state of my bedroom for oh -- my entire 18 years at home. I had no idea how aggravating it could be to see clothes that had JUST been washed, dried and folded in heaps on the floor -- right in there with the yucky ones yet to make it to the laundry. I cringe just THINKING about that! If I don't do at *least* one (usually two) loads of laundry a day, it piles up like crazy, and I mean piles very literally. I have had a super busy week and laundry was not a part of that week. Today I am seriously digging out and know it will take me 3-4 days to catch back up. The laundry alone has some pretty powerful golden ticket power, if you ask me.

7. Cook, wash dishes, put away dishes, clean kitchen -- repeat.

This is the cycle in my house, at least. Breakfast, lunch, dinner and everything in between. If someone wanted to know what I spend the MOST time doing each week (besides laundry - DUH!), it would definitely be the kitchen thing. I need to add that since I am the very proud mommy of a 13 month old, you can guess that the 3+ daily high chair cleanups are also in there. That drop the food over the edge of the tray trick is in full force right now, which I think, just bolsters my "let me into heaven" case even further.

6. Played out!

I know I'm not alone on days where I would rather be at the dentist than pull out my stellar Sir Topp Em Hatt voice AGAIN. Or keep stacking up blocks so that little hands can keep knocking them down. Or play peek a boo...over and over and over and over. Or dig in the sandbox for hours. Or make ANOTHER playdough snake. Most days I really do enjoy it, but some days play is definitely work for me.

5. Poop. Lots of Poop.

This one is self-explanatory, isn't it? Well, maybe not. I mean, it's not just that it's poop. It's more like wrangling the poop. From mastering the ol' pin the legs and entertain the face diaper changing trick, to sitting and waiting and waiting and waiting for a potty training toddler to finish up, to the oh-so-fun stomach bug runs...poop is a big part of any mom's day. Might I add, dealing with any of the above while pregnant should be worth double points. (Are there points??)

4. The sickies.

I don't know many things that I would put ahead of sick kids on my list of things I really, really don't like. It's so hard to see them sick and miserable, and all of the energy, love, patience, and compassion that any mom expends on a daily basis is tripled when kids are sick. Feeling helpless to make them feel better (physically, feel better) stinks -- so it's like you do everything else you can to compensate. Backrubs, snuggles on the couch with favorite videos, special treats so that they'll eat and drink SOMETHING, extra hugs and kisses...all that stuff. You don't do it because you have to, you do it because you want to -- but at the end of the day, it leaves you even more tired. Worrying about your babies, battling over giving medicine, dealing with the extra crying/whining/clinging all takes a toll at the end of the day on us Mommies.

3. We are some fun people!!

Whether it's making a pillow/blanket fort in the living room, spending 4 hours decorating a train birthday cake, making up funny songs that are special for your kids, shopping online when you'd rather be on the couch just so you can keep an eye on your ebay bids for the PERFECT Christmas bargain, making chocolate chip cookies together, or making the perfect Bob the Builder costume out of the stuff you already have lying around the house...we try our best to find creative ways to make each day fun, even when there's no extra money around to spend.

2. We remember the important things!

I couldn't even begin to tell you how many times I've forgotten things for myself when we leave the house, but I can truly count on one hand how many times I've forgotten the big stuff for my kids. I might leave my cell phone on the counter, but the snacks make it into the bag. My own coat might still be hanging on the hook, but both kids have hats, coats and gloves to bundle up with when the cold air hits. When I went to Las Vegas with my husband in February, I was upset to find that I'd forgotten a dress, two shirts and a pair of pants while I was packing my own suitcase. Did the kids have all of the clothes and gear they needed for a few days with my parents? Absolutely. Taking one for the team is just part of the job when you're a mom.

1. Love.

Honestly, it feels kind of bizarre to write this list because it feels like complaining. Don't get me wrong, I could probably do a top 20 with no problem, but the thing is -- all of the things that I do as a mom I do with love. I think that even though I'm far from perfect and have many, many do-overs in my mind from various days on the job as a mom, I am proud of the fact that my kids won't hestitate to say that they are without a doubt LOVED by their Mommy, no matter what.


Read more about why all moms should go to heaven here:

http://crazyhipblogmamas.com/?p=206

And visit a really cute store devoted to the whole concept here:
http://www.allmomsgotoheaven.com/

The New Cookbooks Are Here! The New Cookbooks Are Here!

Remember that part in "The Jerk"? Well, except that it was phone books, not cookbooks. Well, regardless, that's how I feel. Picture me doing that same goofy jumping around and flailing my arms, minus the hideous 70's leisure suit look.

Some friends and I have put together a cook book with some great recipes in it. It started out to be just for fun, but in the end, it's a lot more than that. It honors a precious little life and every single cent we make off of it is going to the March of Dimes in her name.

I have to say that personally, this has been something that has done my heart some good. You know when you feel like you just need to do something -- anything -- to try and help someone? Well, how in the world do you take away pain when one of the best people you know has lost her precious baby girl? There's no way. So we did what we could and turned a project we were already excited about into a way to say we love you.

So, Jamie -- just know. I love you. Keiran is truly ALWAYS in my heart. Thanks for sharing so much of yourself, and your precious angel, with me.

Okay...wiping away the tears...

Click below to read the story and um, HELLLOOOOO...

Buy the cookbook!!!!!!

Photo Friday: Messes!!

The theme for this week is "Messes". I love this picture because it's my son's favorite way to make a mess during the summer. He loves to climb in the sandbox to scoop and shovel dirt for hours. He always ends up like this -- sweaty, sticky, and covered with sand from head to toe. This stinky kind of mess will always stay tucked away in my heart as a personal favorite.




Check out the other photos here.

What is she saying??

Thanks to Nutmeg for the brilliant idea! I love it when I don't have to come up with my own ideas, so I am all over this one.

Okay, so look at the picture of my baby girl below and tell me what you think she is trying to say. I'm looking forward to this one!

I think she's saying "Get 'im, Rock! You're a tank!"

Photo Friday...

Photo Friday is a new little thing I'm going to play along with. Well, I'm going to try and not forget, anyway. So far, I'm one for one. Awesome.

This week's theme is "Your silly little baby face" and I immediately thought of this picture.

Georgia was about 3 weeks old here and her expression just cracked me up. My best friend's brother actually emailed back that she looked like Snoop Dogg. Personally, I think it's just a pink version of Mickey from the Rocky movies.

If you would like to play along on your own blog, feel free. Or leave a favorite picture in the comments. Or just mosey on down the road enjoying my strawberry-hatted little punkin. Your choice!

Happy Friday!

Tired...

Okay, I must have already called a post tired, because when I put in the "ti", the whole word popped up. Well, I guess that's not surprising.

I'm friggin' tired, people.

My kids were sick last week and now my husband is sick. This all means that I try desperately not to *get* sick while caring for them while they are sick. I'm sick of all of this flippin' (different than friggin') sickness!!!!

I do have to say, I'm sort of an idiot though. I mean, here I am, devoting an entire post to being tired and it's 11:21 pm. Am I in bed? Ummmm, not so much.

See, the problem is that when I get tired, really tired, I get wound up.

Off to unwind...

P.S.

I wanted to add (since I thought about this in the shower) that I know that I am *often* the actual saran wrap holder. I also wanted to add that the saran wrap is not usually a good roll, it's usually full of petty, historically irrelevant, selfish things. The last thing I wanted to say that in case there's a question, the entire "what's important" post was made in reference to real-life events.

What's really important?

It's a question that has come up in my life many, many times in the past few weeks. I know that it comes up daily on a regular basis, but I'm not talking about letting my four year old watch another half hour show.

I mean those times where you have to really stop and pause. Think about what you want to say to someone. Then you have to think about what you probably should say. Then you have to decide what you actually will say.

I am talking about those times where you are trying to sort out the various "problems" or "issues" that life has recently brought to your doorstep.

The past few weeks have been no different than any other chunk of time to the outsider looking inward on my life, but for me, they've been pretty heavy. Lots of deep thinking. Lots of decisions to make that are chain reaction type of decisions...as in what I decide to do about this very small detail could very well end up in a landslide of spinoff details. The whole anthill type of situation.

One thing I've come to realize these past few weeks is how important perspective is. Someone who is in a relatively calm period of their own life would agree...these are pretty decently important issues. These are legitimate problems I'm trying to sort out. Someone else would laugh in my face and say "You are SUCH an idiot. This crap is not a PROBLEM...it's an annoyance."

I'm trying hard to give myself permission to address them as issues, but decide if the things that I am currently wrestling with are truly problems for me, or if I'm making a choice to let them be problems. I think I'm starting to see that some things that I'm working through are truly other people's problems and it's like I'm walking through a roll of their saran wrap slathered in super glue. (Okay, I realize that sounds bizarre. But hey, this is my blog, so it's my warped little analogy and it's staying. Deal with it, people.) It's their "thing", but they've held it out in my path so it's sticking to me. I can either do my best to peel it off, give it back and say "Oh, here ya go. I believe this is yours." Or I can start freaking out and yell "Ahhhh -- I've got saran wrap on me and it won't come off!!!" I can hold a grudge toward the saran wrap holders or I can make a choice to own only my role in walking through the saran wrap, realizing that it is in fact theirs and it's the glue -- the link between us -- that has complicated the issue.

The other thing that has jumped out at me recently is the fact that I do a very poor job of truly appreciating the good in my life. The gifts. The successes. The love. The happiness. I realize these things are positive. I realize these people are treasures. I realize that I have so much more than I probably deserve and so much more than many people will ever have. But do I truly, truly appreciate it? No. I think that I stumble through life taking the people, things, feelings, gifts, and my surroundings for granted each and every day.

That's part of what I'm hoping will change. I know it won't happen overnight, but I'm bound and determined that it will happen. I'm trying to look at everything in my day as a choice and trying hard to make better choices, particularly when it comes to my own feelings and what I decide to carry around with me every day.

Wish me luck. It's a pretty daunting task.

Stumbling away...

My husband and I went to Las Vegas last week...on Valentine's Day, actually. Neither of us are big on that holiday, but our 5th anniversary was on the 9th and we waited until this weekend so that we could enjoy a LOOOONNNGGGGG weekend together, with President's Day being today.

As I was preparing to leave, Murphy's Law kicked into overdrive around here. (The whole if it can go wrong, it will go wrong deal.) My parents said that they would be over here by 5pm at the very latest so that I would have an hour and a half to do last minute things without the added bonus of trying to wrangle and feed my two little munchkins. Well, as luck would have it, there was just enough snow that day to make a mess of the roads, so my dad was late getting home from work, they were late leaving the house, and traffic pretty much sucked the big one. In addition, Chris was late leaving work and got to do his own traffic fighting stunt, completely crushing all hope in me that I would be able to actually focus on packing.

It might just be our little slice of crazy over here, but from 4-6pm is pretty much known as "the witching hours" in our house. Those two hours between Georgia's afternoon nap and dinner usually present the biggest challenge for me during any given day. The kids are restless, tired, somewhat bored, and so am I most days. There's also the whole dinner thing in there, too. I hadn't even thought about dinner Wednesday night because part of my mom's generous plan involved her bringing and feeding the kids for me. Clearly, that got blown out of the water.

I was trying to pack myself for 4 nights in Vegas -- attempting to account for unknown weather conditions, fancy dinners, casual dinners, and lounging by the pool attire. At the same time, I was trying to pack up two kids for 4 nights at their grandparents' house -- and trying to cover my bases with regards to having enough clothes, church clothes, pajamas, underwear, food, medicine, loveys, etc.

That's stressful enough in itself, right? Well, add to that the fact that my *ahem* well intentioned mother-in-law did my laundry on Tuesday. Most people would probably be exceptionally grateful and appreciative of another person doing laundry without being asked to, but for me -- it actually added to my stress level. The thing is, I am ultra anal about my laundry. Chris has tried three times to do laundry in our five years of marriage and I think he pretty much just gave up after that. (I wasn't very nice about it.) I don't mind doing laundry -- I really don't. I have a very specific organizational system for the whole process and usually plan it out. My MIL came over to watch the kids here on Tuesday afternoon while I saw a couple of clients. I hid the ironing from her because I knew if I didn't, that's all she'd do while she was there. I *thought* about asking her to PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE don't touch the laundry, but I bit my tongue as I left because I didn't want to be tacky. Well, that will teach me. I had three loads of laundry -- one in the dryer, one in the washer finishing up and one in the basket. When I walked in the door, the first thing she said to me was "I hope you don't mind, but I did the laundry." And there it was -- all three loads, piled up on the recliner and loveseat. As I tried not to roll my eyes in agitation and managed an "Oh, okay", she added that my bra was hanging on the rack in the laundry room.

Perfect. Doesn't everyone want to be greeted by their MIL telling them that she has hung their underwear up for them? Seriously.

Anyway -- I'll just say that things were "folded" much differently than when I do it and our clothes were all together -- I sort them by family member as I fold, so I was just out of synch on that end, and those three loads were *of course* the stuff I really needed to pack for all of us.

Okay, so back to the chaotic pre-departure evening. As luck would have it, both kids were pretty wound up -- Mitchell was really excited to go to stay with my parents, and I think Georgia was just feeding off of both of us. I worked up a sweat running around and trying to do a million things at once, toting the kids from room to room to room with me. Finally, my parents arrived and I was able to bark orders at them and try to not leave absolutely everything at home. The plan was to leave the house at 6:30. My parents arrived around 6:20 and Chris got home at about 6:45.

We said goodbye to the kids, leaving me in tears. The funny thing is, neither my dad nor my husband really said anything about my crying. My dad asked if I was okay and Chris gave me that "You're going to be fine" look. I think they were afraid if they asked for details, I'd actually give them and no man wants that. We were all fine with them talking sports and me sniffling alone in the dark.

Our plane ended up being delayed for almost two hours, which just added to my sense of frustration. Hurry up and wait. Why I expected anything else is beyond me.

The good news is that my husband I enjoyed a wonderful, long weekend away. I knew we would, and really, it didn't matter *what* was in my suitcase. I don't know why I get so stressed out in situations like that -- I was doing the best I could with what I had to work with and I still got snippy and freakish.

Oh my goodness -- here comes that dreaded line -- I'm becoming my mother.

A Glimpse Of The "Old" Me...

I went to a professional conference this weekend and it was a very strange experience for me. Truth be told, I was going for two reasons: a cheap, easy way to get credits/continuing education, and to see my friends.

It was two full days of wearing a name badge, sitting in mostly uncomfortable chairs, eating hotel food, taking notes, listening to speakers talk and talk and talk, and more sitting. Wanna know something strange? I really, REALLY enjoyed myself all weekend. Yes, even the sitting.

I realized something pretty major at the end of those two days...I miss that part of myself and my life a whole lot more than I thought I did.

I used to work in an elementary school full-time and was part of a district-wide group of colleagues that was at least 50 in number. I used to complain daily about the number of meetings and staffings I had to attend...they are usually how I would both begin and end my day. Now, I seriously wouldn't mind just hanging out in the conference room during a staffing -- and if you are reading this and have been a special educator at any point in your life, you will know just how sad that is. Pitiful.

The thing is, now that I'm contracting on my own, my professional contact with other providers is EXTREMELY limited, and it's all done via phone, fax or email. I had no idea how much I missed the face to face conferring, and all of the fun chit chat that goes with it. I guess saying that I'm professionally lonely is the best way to describe it, as ridiculous as that sounds. I miss my team...a lot. I mean, I know I missed them before, but man...I REALLY miss them now. I think that they made me better at my job, and they certainly added to my enjoyment of it.

I called a friend of mine (a teammate) last week...I dialed her cell phone. Someone else picked it up and I recognized the voice as another teammate but thought I must be losing my mind because I know I dialed the first person's cell phone. Turns out that she was just goofing with me and that they were at a class together. As much of a pain in the butt as those were, I remember how much fun we would have, eating salads from Wendy's as we all watched the clock. We did some learning but we also did a LOT of laughing. I know that they would all have rather traded places with me, sitting at home in my sweats, cleaning my kitchen...but for a brief moment, I wished I was at class with them.

*sigh*

Anyway, I'll get back there eventually and I know that when I do, I'll be aching for the gift of freedom that I have now. The freedom to work three hours a week and not have to attend one single, solitary meeting or staffing. The freedom to compose my notes and reports in my pajamas. The freedom to not have to submit grades or do progress reports for 60 kids 3-4 times a year. I know I'll miss it.

Right now, as crazy as it is, I can't help but think that the grass is just a little bit greener on the other side of the professional fence. Good thing I have two sweet little sleeping peanuts upstairs to remind me why my feet are firmly planted where they should be. These moments are theirs...they are ours. I'll jump the fence again someday, and I know that the pangs of regret and "I would love to's" are much easier to digest from this side.

I feel like Ziggy...

Remember Ziggy with the ginormous pile of stuff in the "in" box and the teeny tiny pile of papers in the "out" box?

Yeah, it's like that.

I have this huge "to-do" list and even though I scratch off a thing or two each day, I also add a thing or two each day, so that hamster running in a wheel thing seems to be status quo around here. I guess the good thing is that no one is hurt and no walls have fallen down yet because of the unchecked items on my list.

A definite negative is my own little mental game around this pesky list. I think that I have overwhelmed myself by putting too much on one list and then I never feel like anything gets accomplished.

I think what I need to do is make a list that's full of longer-term items and more like a daily/weekly list for shorter-term things. I think that will work much better...I can cross off a couple from each one every day and then I won't feel like the whole thing just grows. Yep, that's my new plan.

I think I'll put making my new lists on my list of things to do.

Snow

Anyone want some? Anyone? Anyone?

I'm over it. It's pretty to look at. The first time. Maybe even the second time. Now that it's (I think) the 5th snowstorm since Christmas week, the novelty has worn off. The road suck. The sidewalks suck. It's freezing.

The thing is, I was prepared to just enjoy this one. 1-3 inches, not so bad, right? Ha! I get up this morning (after my angel hubby let me sleep in, by the way) and looked outside to see that it was going to be MUCH more than that. He said "Yeah, they revised it to up to 6 inches." Now, I understand that this is a don't shoot the messenger thing, and that it's not the weather people's fault that it's snowing, but COME ON.

I'm just cranky and cabin fevered and ready for some warmer days and clear streets and sidewalks.

Okay, done complaining. For now. (It's still snowing really hard so I reserve the right to pick up where I left off if it gets on my nerves again.)

I've gotta be smarter, right?

I mean, he's only 4. I've got a few years on him.

Then why do I get the feeling that if he's not already smarter than me, he's closing in quickly?

I think it's just his quick wit that gets me. That and the fact that those little wheels never stop turning. (Well, perhaps BRIEFLY while he's sleeping, but I'm not kidding you -- half the time the first words out of his mouth pick up exactly where we left off before bed. Like he was on pause or something.)

Tonight we put him to bed a bit early, but it just worked out that way. He had a bit of a nap in the car because we were driving around a lot today, but we let him run wild at the mall play place for quite awhile and gave him free play time when we got home before dinner. A nice, soothing bath, a book with Daddy, and all set, right? That was at about 7 pm.

8:30 pm ... Chris and I are snuggled in on the couch watching Super Nanny (ironically). My husband would probably appreciate it if I let you know that he was only watching the show because he usually works late on Mondays and so I watch it by myself, so tonight he was just being nice by watching with me. Anyway -- I tell him to pause the tv because I hear little footsteps on the stairs. Sure enough, there's M peeking his head around the corner.

M: "Uhhh, Mommy? My leg...ugggghhh...it really hurts!"
(See me looking at Chris and both of us stifling giggles here.)

Me: "Well, come here and let us look at it."
(Under my breath to Chris: "Pause the tv since that's what he wants to see.")

M: (with a completely lame fake limp on the way over) "Uhhhgggg. It hurts." (In a weak voice.)

Pause. Looks at paused (love that tivo!) TV.

M: "Hey!! What's this show?? Who's that boy?" (In a completely rejuvinated voice. It's a MIRACLE!)

Me: "M. Which leg hurts?"

M: "I don't really know but it hurts bad." (His weakened state has returned.)

(See us both giggling out loud a little bit at this point.)

Chris: "Come here and let me look at it."

(Looks, prods, squeezes M's leg.)

Chris: "Looks fine, buddy. 'Night!"

M: "Uhhhhggggg..." (all the way up the stairs)


What I'd like to know is who taught him this trick??? I am a horrible sleeper myself. (As a matter of fact, it's 12:30 am right now.) I can remember being 4 years old and sitting on the top of the stairs wayyyyyy over next to the wall watching my mom and dad's tv while they watched from the couch in the living room with their backs to me. I never figured out how they knew I was there, but they usually let me sit there for a few minutes and then utilizing those infamous eyes in the backs of their heads, they'd tell me to go to bed. In all of my years of childhood insomnia did it EVER cross my mind to fake a leg injury? No. A stomach ache? (Last week's claim.) No. Any sort of ailment? No.

I can't wait to see what he comes up with next week. I'm guessing foot. He really likes that fake limp he's developed.

Random thoughts...

**I hate waking up at 4 am for no good reason, especially when it's FREEZING outside and that's awesome sleeping weather.

**My hubby brought home a new electric blanket last night. I turned it on about 10 minutes before I got into bed, turned it off before I fell asleep and I was so happily toasty warm. Heaven.

**I love this new cookbook my dad got me for Christmas. Total nerdy thing to be LOVING, but it's really perked up my week. We're doing phase 1 of South Beach and the new recipes to try has made it a little more interesting, food-wise.

**Now that we're gonna move, I'm really noticing how much crap we have that we need to just part with. Unbelievable how much you accumulate!

**I'm gonna be a crying wreck on her birthday.

**Having sick kids is one of the quickest ways to make me feel helpless.

**I still like to bowl! (And I don't totally suck.) I just started bowling with my mom again once a week with all of these little old ladies. It's super fun and SO not about anyone but me! Imagine that!

**Renee, honey -- I'm thinking LABOR, LABOR, LABOR and praying hard for ya, sister!!!

**The only thing standing between me and Starbucks this morning was the FREEZING cold weather. Sigh.

**I have a pretty incredible husband and he is such a good Daddy.

That seems like a good place to stop.

Change...

It's so hard. It doesn't matter what you're (okay, I'm) trying to change, it usually stinks.

Right now I have a few personal goals I'm working on and they all pretty much suck. I guess the part that sucks is trying to find the motivation, stamina and willpower to make them happen. I don't feel like I've set too lofty of goals, I just feel like I'm all BLAH to try and get to them.

Are there really people out there that set goals and say "Gung ho!! No stopping me now!!" Come to think of it, when did that stop being me? I used to be like that, but now I just feel like a lump.

I have no idea what I'm trying to say other than I frustrate myself. Sweet.

(By the way, Mitchell started saying "Sweet!" this weekend...whoops.)

My sweet girl...

Sweet, Sweet Georgia,

It is crazy to think that your first birthday is only two months away. You have grown and changed so much, and before even one more day goes by, I want to document what makes you "you". I know that you are our last child and I'm so afraid that I'll forget some of these things. So, Georgia, if you are now a teenager and reading this in your scrapbook, here's what you are like at 10 months old...


*Goofy! If you figure out that what you are doing is making someone laugh, you will keep on doing it over and over and over. Prime targets are grandparents, as your new "tricks" are usually pretty novel to them and they will encourage you to keep on doing whatever it is you think is so hilarious. Favorites at the moment include blowing raspberries (which you are NOT encouraged to do at home), hiding behind something and popping your head out, shaking your head back and forth when someone says "nooooooo", your version of "dancing" and saying one of your new words, like "uh oh". One of the things I absolutely adore about you is that you are smiling the majority of the time you're awake, and the majority of the time you're smiling, you're also giggling. There is no shortage of things to smile or laugh at in your world, lovie.


*Curious! A friend of mine brought the term "Curious Georgia" to my attention. Here's what prompted that label...

You had just finished breakfast and I was simply rinsing off your highchair tray before I came to play with you and Mitchell in the living room. It's gated off on both ends to keep you contained, and I don't think I was away from you for longer than a minute. I came back and you were standing up in the train table drawer! First I helped you sit down so you wouldn't flip backwards and hit your head on the heating vent, and then I ran for the camera. The funny thing is, Kiki and I had just been talking the day before about how you were turning into a climber and we'd have to watch you with dresser drawers...guess we should have added train tables to the list. This picture captures you so perfectly at this age; you are at your happiest when you are right in the middle of everything, surrounded by chaos. You get awfully proud of yourself in situations like this...you have just learned to say "Ta-Daaaa" and it is just SO you.

*Sweet! You are such a sweet baby girl, Georgia! You love to give kisses, and your idea of a hug is to smother something completely. You have several toys that you love to "give lovies" and to you that means laying on top of them and smushing your face into them. (Why I haven't yet taken a picture of this is a good question -- today I definitely will!) I guess that action describes you pretty well...you do everything to the extreme. You can't just "kiss", you have to bathe someone or something in a big, wet, openmouth extravaganza. You can't just "hug", you have to use every available square inch of your body to show your love. You love to give people kisses and your favorite part is when they say "Oh, thank you!" Makes you clap and smile.

*Busy!! Yes, two exclamation marks for this one. You are on the go all the time, and the only time you're not is when you're sleeping. You have been like that even before you were born. When I was in my last few weeks of pregnancy, I had a horrible time sleeping. You would move like CRAZY for up to 4 hours (and that is not an exaggeration). It didn't matter what position I was in, you were just going nuts. My dad called you "The Tsunami" when you did that because it was just huge waves, one after the other. I can't remember who, but someone also said it was like two cats in a bag fighting...not too far off with that description. We should have seen it coming after that, I suppose. Anyone who spends more than 5 minutes with you usually offers up a "She's a busy girl, isn't she?" We just nod and think to ourselves that they have no idea. Your brother falls asleep in the car after 10 minutes, no matter what time of day it is. It is a rare occasion when that happens with you...you are just so afraid you're going to miss something. (Scary moment for us both: that is exactly how I was described as a child. Uh oh!!)

*Chatty! Your brother waited until right up to his second birthday to talk (and hasn't stopped since, I might add), so it took us by surprise when you decided that 9 months of waiting was long enough for you. "Dada" was your first word of all time at about 6 months, and I'm convinced this was nothing more than a strategic move on your part. Your first word other than one of us was "Santa" at 9 months, just in time for Christmas. You also like to say "uh oh", "thank you", "mama" and "ta-daaa". I played peek-a-boo with you and Mitchell at Kiki's house just to see if she heard what I did (I didn't tell her to listen for anything either) and she said "Did Georgia just say 'There he is'?" Guess I'm not crazy after all. You find something new to say just about every week now. You shake your head no and I'm sure a big fat "N-O" is on its way soon.

*Spunky! Let's just say that you are unafraid to assert yourself. If you are playing with something that's not safe for you, the poor person who gets to remove it from your hands is immediately met with a loud screech of displeasure, sometimes combined with the "no" head shake and maybe even a bounce up and down with hands waving all around. You get MAD at people for getting in your way and (gasp!) telling you where to go and what to do. You definitely are not afraid to take on this world...my Mommy radar tells me that this is most likely a double edged sword type of thing for the future. Your brother is finding out how much "spunk" you have, and I have a feeling that when you figure out how to walk, he better practice running even faster!

*Adorable! Yes, I'm aware that this is an extremely biased thing as I'm your mother, but it's true. You're cute. You're beyond cute. I think besides that crazy hair, those big brown eyes, and that grin that is a mile wide, all of the things I've talked about above shine through you. You are without question, an adorable baby girl.

You love to play with your brother, hate to be strapped into a highchair or carseat, will not allow yourself to be rocked to sleep, think that batting beachballs around the room is hilarious, love to "help" with the laundry, crawl as fast as you possibly can (even though it sometimes invites a faceplant) when the gates are open so that you can explore the rest of the world, are a maniac in the bathtub, wave hi and bye bye when we put coats on or take them off, can't wait to be held by Mommy and Daddy when we come back after being away (even following naps), act like a mermaid kicking her tail when you are picked up from your crib, and most importantly, are one in a million.

Georgia, I could never "nutshell" you, but this is my best attempt. You, my precious baby, are a gift and you are cherished and treasured.

I love you,

Mommy

All the kid wanted was a snowman...

Apparently, his name is "Mel" and he's a cab driver and he now lives in my backyard.

Chris wanted to build a snow fort with Mitchell, so they worked on that for awhile. Well, after an hour out there, my little man (who already has a cold) face plants in the snow while being silly and gets snow in his gloves, all over his face, down his neck, etc. I decide that is the signal for him to come in. He is devastated that he won't get to build a snowman. Chris assures him that he'll take care of it.

Mel comes to life.

I try to stop laughing and tell him that he's gonna be in trouble with "The Boss" because he wanted a snowman, not a snow MAN. He laughs and says "Don't you like him?" I just shake my head, roll my eyes and go inside to show Mitchell his dad's handiwork. "That's a cheese cutter hat, by the way!" I hear yelled at me on my way in.

I take Mitchell upstairs to the bathroom, as you can see the entire backyard from up there and tell him that Daddy's done. He says "Oh boy, did Daddy make me a Frosty?" I said "Uhhh, well, sort of." I lift him up so he can see Chris proudly standing next to his, errr, cab driver. Here's the conversation from that point...

Mitchell: Daddy, WHAT did you build me?
Chris: His name is Mel!
Mitchell: But where's my Frosty?
Chris: This is a snowman, buddy.
Mitchell: But where's my Frosty?
Chris: I didn't make a Frosty, I made Mel.
Mitchell: Well, make me a Frosty.

There's still no Frosty. Lucky for Chris, Mitchell didn't say another word about it. Oh, and he claims that the snow wouldn't stick enough to make a Frosty. Seemed to stick enough to make a Mel, now didn't it?

**Funny P.S. Mitchell just asked me, "Mommy, Did my man melt yet?" Not snowman. Man. Nice.

Let's start the New Year with...

Some Mitchell-isms. Here are some I've written down from this weekend:

Me: Georgia, NO.
Mitchell: Georgia, NO.
Me: I'm the Mommy, you don't need to chime in.
Mitchell: But I'M the MITCHELL.

**************************************************************************************
Me: Georgia is a nut!
Mitchell: No she's not, she's a pickle.

**************************************************************************************
Mitchell: You're the best Mommy I ever had in my whole LIFE.
Me: You're the best son I ever had in MY whole life.

*************************************************************************************
Mitchell: Mommy, who is your favorite? (Cars character)
Me: Sally.
Mitchell (to Dad): Daddy, when I'm a Daddy, I'm gonna buy Mommy TWO Sallies.

*************************************************************************************
Mitchell: Mommy, when Daddy wouldn't let me go where all the Cars stuff was (at the store) it made me angry.
Me: Well, what did you do? Did you throw a fit or use your words?
Mitchell: I cried and screamed.
Me: Hmmm...well, what do you think would work better next time?
Mitchell: Daddy could let me go play with the Cars stuff.

*************************************************************************************
Me: That's not a nice word, we don't say that. (Someone in the Cars movie --sensing a theme? -- called someone else an idiot.)
Mitchell: That's right, Mommy. We need to call them nice idiots.

Whew!

Christmas is my favorite holiday, but I wish that someone would invent another holiday just for tired people who are wiped out from the Big Day. Actually, I wish there could be some wacky new law that MAKES tired moms lay down on the sofa while someone else swoops in to clean up the mess, organize the toys, put away the Christmas dishes and take down the tree and decorations. Around here, the next day was just "Tuesday". Not nearly as restful.

Don't get me wrong -- it was a wonderful holiday, but sheesh -- I'm beat.

Mitchell was like a rubber ball bouncing around the house the ENTIRE day on Christmas Eve. He was so excited, he just couldn't stand it. Bless his heart, he wasn't trying to be naughty or not listen, he just could not control himself. To get him dressed was like trying to nail jello to a tree. He was on full throttle, jumping, squirming, giggling, you name it -- he was doing it.

We always have a big Christmas Eve dinner at my parents' house and this year was no exception. 20 adults and 6 kids. Chaos.

Santa always makes a visit at the end of the night and it's so fun to watch the kids and their reactions. I was hopeful that maybe this year Mitchell might be brave enough to give him a hug, but I guess the plus side to that not happening is that he didn't end up getting close enough to figure out that it was my father in law. (Bought another year on that front.) Georgia sat on Santa's lap and just stared with wide-eyed wonder. She didn't cry at all -- just stared. The second Santa walked in, Mitchell hit the floor like you're supposed to do if there's a gunman in the room. He hid behind my legs and said "I just want to LOOK at him." (This is code for PLEASE don't make me go near him, but I really do like him.)

Santa always knows JUST who will be at dinner and has a gift for each one of them and calls them up by name. My cousin's kids had the routine down pat -- listen for your name, turn around and pose for the paparrazi. My nephew did the same thing. Mitchell snuck up there, reached out on his tippy toes to get the present and ran off as soon as he could. As I already said, Georgia just stared and stared.

Our tradition is that the kids get to open one gift on Christmas Eve and it's always Christmas pj's. (This is one I carried over from my own childhood.) We put the kiddos in their jammies and headed off for 11 pm church service. This has *never* been a problem, as Mitchell always just sleeps through it or cuddles up on us and lays down quietly. Well....it seems that Miss G has new plans for our family on Christmas Eve...and they won't include the 11pm service.

They were both sacked out when we arrived to the church at 10:30. We got them out, went inside and found a seat in the back on the aisle. Mitchell curled up on Chris and went right back to sleep. Georgia? No, no, no. Georgia might miss something if she did that. If you are holding her, no matter HOW tired she is, she refuses to close her eyes or put her head down. She has to stand up, look around, and check it all out. She just fussed and squirmed, and squirmed and fussed some more. Finally at 10:55 we decided not to ruin the service for everyone else and packed it in for the night. Bummer -- that was Chris' and my favorite thing to do. Oh well -- we'll get there again eventually, but it might have to be a mid-day Christmas service or an early afternoon one for the next few years from now on.

When we got home, Mitchell was too sleepy to help put out cookies, milk and celery with me so I did it for him. He snuggled into his bed and went right to sleep. I was exhausted and told Chris I'd rather just get up early instead of staying up late. He said that was fine and only asked if I'd get him some water when I went downstairs to get something. As I was downstairs, I started looking around at all of the stuff I needed to do before breakfast and that was all I needed to get a second wind. I went upstairs with the water and to tell Chris that I changed my mind but he was already asleep, so I headed back down.

It ended up being kind of nice -- a little quiet time for myself to reflect on the blessings of the season. I got a lot done but I enjoyed the time alone with my thoughts more than anything. I have so very, very much to be thankful for and I took some time to say some prayers for people in my life (and even some I don't know) whose holidays I know were not quite as merry.

In the morning, I got up at 7 (I was going to get up at 6 but couldn't drag myself out of bed) and got Mitchell all set up with his Cars movie in our room. I shut the gate and told him he needed to stay up there till we told him he could come down. Chris came down with me and soon Georgia did, too. We got the food going, the table set, etc. Both of our parents came along with my grandma and we had a wonderful morning together.

When it was finally time for the kids to come down and check out the goodies that Santa had left, I think that Mitchell was a little overwhelmed. He was very reserved, quiet, and shy. He didn't dive in like we all thought he would -- I don't know if he was extra tired or if he was sort of taken aback by a roomful of grandparents and cameras. Either way, he definitely warmed up and soon became immersed in all the glory that Christmas morning is when you are a 4 year old boy. Package after package brought all of his wishes and dreams come true. It was a fun thing to watch, but almost as fun for Chris and I were watching the faces of all of the grandparents -- I'm not sure who was happier. His favorite gifts included all of the "Cars" die cast characters (Ramon, Flo, Red, Stanley, Lightning, Mater) but most of all "The King" . We'd been hearing about "The King" for weeks, so it was so much fun to see him light up. He also got a big Fast Talking Lightning McQueen, and a remote control train. The list goes on and on, of course. Sigh.

As for Georgia, she was happy shuffling between the bows, ribbons, paper and all of Mitchell's stuff. She loved her Sesame Street Purse from Mommy and Daddy and tried to kiss Elmo through the packaging. I think her favorite gift of the day was the Night Glow Pooh from my parents. Mitchell loves playing it for her and she would just smile, laugh, and smother Pooh with hugs and kisses. It really is cute, so I can't blame her there.

Anyway -- after all of our guests left, we were left to start cleaning up the mess (HA!!), put the kids down for a nap/rest, and get ready for dinner at my in-laws. We headed over there and had a WONDERFUL evening with them. It was kind of funny -- last year, we went dressed casually and my BIL/SIL were dressed up so we decided we needed to dress up this year. We arrived and my SIL was in her pajamas, using our casual dress from last year as her reasoning. We agreed that next year, none of us would go above casual...HOORAY!! Dinner was delicious, the company was so enjoyable and the kids had a ball. At one point we caught Mitchell and his cousin Madison (a year younger almost to the day) double fisting Papa's peppermint bark behind the kitchen counter. Too funny! His most prized gift of this party was by far Cranky the Crane and Georgia enjoyed getting a Glow Worm.

When we got home, we got the car unloaded, the kids in their jammies, and into bed. Then Chris and I did our own gift exchange. We plugged in our little Charlie Brown tree -- it's a little 2 feet (that's being generous) tree that I got at a craft fair years and years ago. We sit by it every year for our gift exchange and I think it's one of our more romantic traditions, personally. We each have a drink and take turns opening presents. It worked out this year that we each had exactly the same number...usually I open more than he does. After we were done opening gifts, we sat and read the year in review book together. My husband started this tradition when we were dating and I adore it. In 2001, it was my last Christmas gift from him -- a 30 page review of the year together. In the end he said that he hoped we could take turns giving the book to each other and that it would become a lasting history for our children. It's just so neat and every year you end up laughing, crying and saying "Oh YEAH...I'd forgotten about that!" I only made it through February so far, but he'll get the rest by New Year's.

Anyway -- after that, we headed upstairs with aspirations for some continuing romance but before you know it, we were both asleep. Oh well -- we'll make up for that later!

Last night we concluded the Christmas chaos with dinner at my parents' house to exchange gifts with my brother's family. All four of our kids are around the same age, with Mitchell being the oldest so you can imagine that it was neither quiet nor dull around there. It was fun to watch the kids play together and open their gifts...the highlight of THIS opening party was a Thomas watch and some VERY cute clothes for Georgia.

I'm about ready to fall over from being so tired, but I should count my blessings. I realize how lucky I am to have so many places to go, gifts to give, gifts to open, meals to prepare and eat, and most importantly, people to love and love me back.

It was a wonderful Christmas...and I didn't even mention this, but it was even a White Christmas, too!

Let it snow...

And snow, and snow, and snow...

You know what is craziest about this big ol' blizzard that turned our entire city upside down this week? I didn't really even know it was supposed to snow until the night it started happening. Yes, I am just *that* in tune with the latest happenings.

G had about 2 (and I'm not exaggerating) diapers left and barely any baby food so we went to the grocery store the day before, but it had absolutely NOTHING to do with me being prepared. Just good timing for once. Then my hubby had to stop for some stuff on the way home the night before the big snow dump and I had him grab some more things because I realized that it might be a pain to get out the next day.

Here's the thing...I watch the news and they say 5-10 inches. That might sound like a lot to some of you warm weather people, but to this CO native it's like "Ehhhh...the next day sorta sucks but other than that, no biggie." Well, THEN I see a newscast where they are comparing the snow that's supposed to come with March 2003 and I thought "Oh, wow."

I totally remember that...M was 3 months old and I was so scared that my hubby wouldn't make it home from work. His employer didn't let them go until 4pm that day so by the time he got home, the snow was insane. He got stuck on the street about 3 houses down.

Know what's funny? He got to leave 3 hours earlier this time, but got stuck in the EXACT same spot in a different car. I went out to shovel the driveway and street (again) so he'd have a shot at getting the car in the garage and as I made my first line down his side of the driveway I looked up and saw a car sitting in the middle of the street. It was SO covered with snow that it took me a few minutes to figure out that it was hubby's! After about an hour, the neighbor, most importantly her snowblower, Chris, our shovel, and M's little shovel had him in the garage. (Might I add -- M's shovel kicks some butt!!)

We had a really fun family day yesterday and the snow was like a little boy's dream come true. Mitchell had SO much fun digging and rolling and climbing and running in the snow. I can't imagine how it must have looked from way down there -- looked like a lot of snow to me and I was taller than it!

I think tomorrow we'll help him build a snow tunnel in the backyard during G's afternoon nap. I remember in the blizzard of '82 (OMG -- how old do I sound there??) my dad helped us build a snow tunnel in the backyard and it was the COOLEST thing ever! Even cooler than my Strawberry Shortcake sleepsack. Or my OP shorts. Or my red Nike tennies with the plaid hologram swoosh. Or my moon boots. Or my gymnastics day outfit that I'd wear to school -- my leotard with cableknit tights, a polyester mini skirt, clogs and a terry cloth headband. Or my powder blue eye shadow.

(Sorry -- I love all that 80's crap.)

Hopefully M will think the tunnel is cool like that!! Okay -- off to wrap presents, which is what I should REALLY be doing right now.

Happy Holidays!!!

Yuck. And Beyond...

So, I spent 18 hours between Saturday night (midnight) and Sunday evening (6pm) being REALLY sick. Both ends sick.

Nasty. Disgusting. And STINKY.

I am SOOOO thankful that this joyous little adventure was all mine -- the only thing worse is when you have to take care of others who are doing the both ends thing while doing it yourself, so I'd like to stop and say another round of thanks to The Big Guy for not unleashing that upon the house. My angel of a hubby stayed home and took care of the kids, both of whom decided to be complete saints all day long.

I just drank a cup of chicken and rice soup -- it's noon and it was the first thing I could bring myself to eat. Half a piece of bread for breakfast -- does that count? Thankfully it seems to be fine, I'm just a little gunshy because of yesterday.

Oh well, I feel pretty much back to normal, I just don't want to push things. Nothing like a day of complete misery to make you realize just how thankful you should be for your daily health.

I'm thankful, believe me, I'm thankful.

Birthday update and other holiday happenings...

You'd think I'd have been blogging every day lately, I've had lots to write about, just lacking in the motivation department. I've even signed in a few days, stared at this blank box and then said "Nahhhh. Nope, not today."

So, my "little" boy is now 4. He turned 4 last weekend and we celebrated for three days straight. I don't know why but I *really* had a hard time with this one. Maybe it's because "4" is the last age that sounds little to me. Turning 5 means one thing -- school aged, and not preschool. How in the WORLD is he so close??? Now I'm thankful that he gets an extra year before kindergarten -- not only do I think *he* needs it, but I know that even more importantly, Mommy needs it!! Anyway - -it was like he was moving out or something, I was a little emotional about it all weekend...just feel like time is going too quickly. You know it will, if you are a parent you know that is the annoying mantra that every other parent of older children CONSTANTLY tells you...well, hey -- I might join the legion of annoying preachers myself because it's really true. His favorite story to hear is the story about when he was born...I almost couldn't do it on his birthday without tears.

Okay, so moving on-- birthdays and running -- when do they go from the best things in the world to things you dread? He was in HOG heaven for three days! He and his buddy (from our lamaze class) had a joint birthday party and a local museum that has lots of cars and trains. It was PERFECT!! We had this big room that had the exact amount of tables we needed already set up when we walked in, tables already set up for food, etc. There was plenty of room for the kids to run around and believe me, they did. For over an hour straight. The only real bummer of the day was that someone walked off with the big Lightning McQueen from the cake. Let me tell you how sad M was about that. I think his buddy A was, too. We were going to call Sam's and see if they'd give us an extra since it was a joint party, but now we'd need two more. I just can't believe someone would do that. Anyway -- hopefully it was an accident, but I'll tell ya, if I was a parent and found out that my kid made it home with that, I'd be calling the birthday kid's mom and 'fessin' up. That's a pretty big offense in the 4 year old world.

That night we went to the parade of lights. Beautiful and fun but REALLY cold. We got to sit in my hubby's office and watch though so it wasn't horrible.

The next day we had a pizza/cake party at my parents' house since we didn't invite any of my grandparents to the big party. (They're all near or actually are 85 and it snowed like crazy for his party -- does every year, actually -- so we didn't think they needed to be wandering around in it.)

The NEXT day -- yep, I was wiped out by then -- he got to do a cupcake thing at preschool for snack. I sent hats and napkins for the kids and had ordered some Cars toothpick things and cupcake liners so he was ALL excited about that.

So, that was the birthday extravaganza around here. Delayed our getting Christmas decorations out, but that's happening tomorrow. We were gonna do it today, but tomorrow is fine. We're just hanging out today.

M also had his program at school on Thursday night. Last year he FREAKED out and wouldn't sing at all, just stood there with his fingers in his mouth at the Christmas program. For the spring program, he freaked even more and when he saw me in the aisle, he refused to go up there.

I was cautiously optimistic about this one. He loves to sing and much like his momma, LOVES Christmas music. We have it on all the time right now and he sings along with me -- I love it! Anyway -- he knew all of his lines, all of the songs, and all of the little hand motions. He was so excited about his program, but I couldn't be sure if he really would do it or just get up there and freak out again. My gut said it would be okay, but I didn't want to be disappointed, because I have to say, that's a pretty intimidating thing to be so little and up there in front of a whole CROWD of people that are snapping photos and shooting videos like the paparrazi. Lots of pressure, especially if that sort of "performance" is not in your comfort zone to begin with.

Well, we got there and hurdle one was overcome...he went into his room with no problem. Happily shed his coat (no hat -- couldn't risk the hat hair) and started doing some puzzles with his buddies. He looked so handsome...he had on a cute button down shirt and a "tight" just like Daddy. He also had on some cute navy cargo cords and his "Handy Manny" shoes -- aka, penny loafers. (Don't ask me about the HM thing -- he wears boots, but M swears they are his HM shoes. He loves to wear them -- puts them on with sweats and everything. My brother had a pair of cowboy boots like that -- I guess we're doing the loafers version.)

I never post pics here, but I just have to share this one. This was right before I left to go get my seat. Doesn't he look adorable and excited???



I get settled into my seat in the 2nd row that the awesome grandparents had scored...too bad it was on the wrong side...his class was on the other side of the aisle, but that's okay. The music started playing and my hubby and I looked at each other like "here we go". They started walking in and here came my little buddy...holding onto each of his ears like they were going to fall off. Hee hee. But dang it -- he got up there and wasn't crying or anything -- he was actually smiling, just holding onto his ears for dear life. (He's had a thing with his ears since he was tiny - -they're his little comfort thing -- some kids suck their thumb, our little man just plays with his ears. Again, don't ask me where that came from.)

My hubby leaned over and said "Rrrrriiiibbbbbiiiittttt." I started cracking up. We call him "Michigan J. Frog" because if you remember that cartoon from when we were kids...it's the construction worker that finds the singing frog who only sings when no one else is around. He even rents out this whole theater to do this singing/dancing frog show, but when he opens the frog's box all he says is "Rrrriiiiibbbbbiiiiitttt". So, my hubby does that when M is being all nutty and we know no one would ever believe what a ham he is because he gets so shy around other people.

So, about halfway into the first song, M decides he feels comfy enough to let go of the ears. We all were so happy because we knew we were home free at that point. It just made me so happy to see my little guy up there looking so cute and doing such a great job. And the best part? You could just see him beaming and having so much fun! I am getting teary just typing this. My hubby thought I was a total nerd and sap when I looked at him with tears in my eyes and said "He's doing it!!" but I just couldn't help it. It was such a special feeling in my heart.

My very, very favorite part was the first time he spotted us, and more specifically, me. He was already smiling, but when he saw my hubby's dad, his eyes opened a little wider, his smile, got a little bigger and he instantly scanned down the row till he saw me. We locked eyes and I smiled so big and waved at him...he started giggling his famous little (heeeheeeheee -- I could just hear it) M giggle and waved at me with a look of pride and pure joy.

In addition to the image of him burning rubber down the greenbelt path ahead of us on his tricycle pretending to be Dale Jarrett, I will also have that image of him giggling and waving to me forever imprinted on my Mommy's heart. (Yes, I'm now full on crying in case you were wondering. I'm a blubbering fool.)

He also provided a little comic relief for us a few times. His buddy who is our neighbor is in a different class and on a different day, so they NEVER see each other at school anymore and this was neat for them to be up there together. She was right in front of us and when she finally saw M, she just HAD to get his attention. Unfortunately, this moment happened exactly when her class was saying their speaking part. Her whole class is reciting their memorized lines and she's totally leaning forward, bent over and wildly waving her arms whispering "Miiiitttccchhheeelll". He was in la-la land but finally saw her and starts waving just as wildly. OMG -- I was laughing so hard.

The other funny thing he did was during "We Wish You A Merry Christmas". They did this thing with their arms that looked like what you might do if you're a grouchy grandpa --- ball up your fist and swing it in front of you to say "Oh, rats." Anyway--this little arm swing was only supposed to happen on "wish". Well, our little spazmobile decided to adopt it throughout the song and exaggerate his movements on top of that. He almost gave the poor little girl next to him a bloody nose about 4 times. We just watched my mom's videos of the program last night and her camera is shaking like crazy because she was cracking up. I looked at Chris and said "Well, I guess we had nothing to worry about."

So -- I go from not blogging for 2 weeks to a post that will take you 2 hours to read. Nice.

Random...

I don't have enough in my head for a good, long post so this will just be Random Monday happenings.

*Nothing will make me laugh faster than my kids laughing. For whatever reason, the car is the prime time funny spot for those two. Mitchell (even though he's strapped into a 5 pt carseat) manages to put on some sort of goofball show for her every day and she just laughs and laughs. Today she was FULL ON belly laughing for a good 5 minutes, Mitchell was laughing (mostly at himself, I think) and I was just giggling the whole time because it's contagious!

*Every couple goes through those swings of ups and downs. I wouldn't even term it a "down" but EVERY weekend for the past month, we've spent most of the time arguing. Sometimes downright fighting. Half the time we don't talk after a blow up...last night it had been a good 3 hours since we'd said two words to each other that didn't involve quick questions about dinner or diapers, and I was still mad. Know the sad part? I couldn't remember why. I was washing dishes, stopped, looked at the ceiling, remembered and said "Oh yeah. No way I'm talking to him anytime soon." (I guarantee he was sharing the sentiment.) Nice and mature. That's us! I hope we get out of this phase -- maybe some makeup nookie would help. He DID bring me a Starbucks yesterday so it's not THAT bad. Hee hee.

*We have a decent house. I'll tell you this -- it looked about twice as big before we moved in. No kids, half as much CRAP, but still -- it's average sized. Let me tell you about how much STUFF you can cram in here if you want to. I spent most of the day yesterday consolidating, organizing, etc. our four (yes, FOUR) overflowing toy baskets. I still have to do the train table. Again. As I was doing it, I almost felt nauseated because I know that there are families out there who are in agony because they can't afford to buy their children even ONE thing. And here I am disgusted with the amount of stuff we have to the point of calling it crap. That would be GOLDEN crap somewhere else. Ugh. We are overly blessed. I'm thinking about next Christmas insisting that everyone who wants to get Mitchell or Georgia a gift donate to this community thing out here. They have gifts donated and families can come shop for 25 cents on the dollar so that they still "buy" the stuff. I mean, seriously -- my kids don't need another thing as long as they live and the sad part is, I know many people who put our little stockpile to shame. It's really pretty crazy when you stop to think about it. (That said, guess who has already reviewed her list of bday and Christmas purchases and realized that she's already done more than she said she would.) *rolls eyes at self*

*I have some very, very good friends. I appreciate them more than I can say. I was thinking about that the other day and really -- I just can't imagine my life without my girlfriends. I feel sad for those women (I'm sure you know some yourself) who don't get along with other women. I can't imagine. I'm sure they're quite happy, but man (ha, ha), I'd be miserable.

*I bought some soy egg nog and let me tell you how much I love it. Lots. It's yummy. Get some!

Random enough for you?

My first turkey...

Okay, so you'd think that I wouldn't be nervous about something like that, right? But I am. I think it might be because I've seen so many sitcoms and cartoons about women taking a smoking, charred black turkey out of the oven. Or someone going to slice it up and it flies around the room like a balloon. Or it pops.

Clearly, I'm not worried about that, but I think it might be that for 33 years now I've been eating other people's turkey. I mean, here I am, 33 years old with two kids and I've never made a turkey. I just want to know that people won't be going home saying "Well, *I* should have made the turkey. That sucked." Or something like that.

My mom has assured me that it's the easiest thing on the menu. I don't know about you but for some reason, that almost has disaster written all over it.

I guarantee I'm taking a picture of this bad boy. Part of me is tempted to do it with the half lemons underneath like boobs just to make sure it's got my own special touch. Well, and because how funny would that picture be?

Okay -- so I'm nervous about my first turkey but I'm sure it will be good. I just wouldn't be me if I didn't worry about ridiculous stuff like this. (For example, Saturday night we hosted a little dinner party and this is the first time I can ever remember not laying there worrying that someone was going to get food poisoning. Seriously. Usually I'm up for hours with a pit in my stomach.)

Oh, and if you'd like to get a mental picture of me cooking my turkey -- as soon as my kiddos and I are done watching the parade on tv, I will have on my apron and be singing as much of this song as I can remember while I'm in the kitchen...my hubby and I both serenade each other with it every single year.

Happy Turkey Day!!!

PSA...

If you're planning family pictures, you may want to invest in some helmets and body armor for the kids to wear the week before.

We're scheduled for Sunday and so far we have one split lip and one mini-goose egg on a forehead. It's only Tuesday.

Stay tuned. I have neither helmets nor body armor, so we may be screwed.