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.

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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.