The Home Team Wins

Nothing special...which makes it special

2011-10-17T21:42:00.000-05:00

I took these photos a couple of months ago. It wasn't a birthday. It wasn't a holiday. It wasn't an original location or first-day-of-anything or last-day-of-something or even a Saturday.

It was just an ordinary day. Evening I think, since Cooper (at six years old) is always lobbying to sleep in the top bunk. I didn't even crop or edit these pictures; I kind of didn't know what to do with them.

But now I know: I'm taking more pictures like them. They're a reminder that I need to take more photos of the ordinary times. The special occasions...of course I have a lot of shots of those. The day-to-day stuff? Not so much...not since they've gotten a little older and in school. Seems like school and all its activities have crowded out the routine but special time I used to have so much of with the boys. At least this time of year...

So here's to more of the ordinary. And Cooper getting to the top bunk someday.

If an apology falls on deaf ears, do you still have to apologize?

2011-10-11T07:58:00.000-05:00

So yesterday morning when I got the boys up I thought I'd try apologizing for acting the way I did the night before. I wanted to tell them it's hard to have a lot of patience all the time and that at the end of the day that patience gets thinner and thinner and when I have to do tasks I really dislike it puts me in a rotten mood and I took it out on them but also Cooper you shouldn't have hit your brother but I shouldn't have reacted like that and I'm soooo sorry.

Yes, I really wanted to say all that, but I knew they would just stare at me and probably at the end of my diatribe they would just say "okay."

So I decided to take an easier, less dramatic route. I waited until they were a few bites into their breakfast and then I said "sorry I was such a crab last night. You get double goodnight kisses tonight."

Chewing their waffles, they looked up at me and Cooper says "okay." I don't think Carson looked up.

Seriously, are apologies to my kids more for me than for them? Do they really care?

I did feel better having said it to them, and maybe in ten years they'll remember their mom wasn't too good to tell them I'm sorry.

But just in case they never remember that, I showed up at the school to have lunch with them. Maybe they'll never understand why I was there on that day, but for whatever reason they make a big deal about it when I surprise them at lunchtime. And that's just fine with me...

One of those nights...

2011-10-09T22:01:00.001-05:00

Who knows why I'm choosing such a crappy night to turn to you, neglected blog readers (if there's any of you still out there). But tonight, for whatever reason, I feel compelled...

It was a busy night here: we got home from soccer and eating dinner out at 7:15. Not insanely late but still late, considering the boys' bedtime is 8:00 on a school night and I am a major scrooge about varying from it even a little.

So when we walked in the door I realized...and nearly turned back around and walked out...that I'd forgotten to get clean sheets on all our beds. The boys' BUNKBEDS were already stripped of their bedding or I'd have put off this horrible task yet another day. So I started my barking at them to begin their bath while I tackled the beds.

And our bed was jacked up, too. For some reason there was gigantic hole in the bottom sheet where my feet go. Maybe I desperately need a pedicure or something, but with each passing night the hole ripped further and further until it got about two feet (no pun intended) wide.

So every bed in our house needed changing, on a school night with baths still ahead of us at 7:30 p.m.

That's a lot of not-needed detail just to say that wrestling with it all just put me in a foul mood. Bunkbeds have their place in life, I suppose, but OH MY. Changing the sheets on those things ranks right up there with dental work.

And since the clock was ticking toward bedtime I got to parent (i.e., yell) from afar to the boys to hurry up with their baths and teeth-brushing. That's fun.

Dwayne was in the house, in case you're wondering. And he did show up in their bedroom to help. But he's just not as, shall we say, enthusiastic about keeping bedtime on time as I am. I tell him all the time if he was the one who had to drag them awake every morning, he'd make sure they got to bed on time.

So finally the task of clean sheets was done and the boys were momentarily alone in their room, and I hear a "whap!"

The sound of Cooper's hand hitting some part of Carson.

So given the mood I was in and the late hour and whatever else had been piling up in my mind...I totally went off on him and yelled until the chandelier rattled (okay, if we had a chandelier it would have rattled). I made him apologize to Carson and then put them both in bed without saying goodnight or prayers or reading a story or even giving a kiss.

I went in the living room, got the remote, and for one hour I polluted my mind with Kim Kardashian's wedding special.

See, you'd feel like crap, too.

I think Dwayne went in to the boys and tried to smooth things over for me, but I didn't get a chance to ask him because he, too, went straight to bed. Asleep.

So looks like, at this moment, I've hurt the feelings of everyone in this house.

Right now I really just want to go wake everyone up and tell them I'm sorry. But I know all these men, and I believe they all like their sleep more than hearing me grovel.

I suppose I've done the crime; tomorrow I'll have to do the time. I don't really know what I can do to make it up to everyone. Frankly, I think the boys will forget about it pretty quickly and move on. Probably the more I say about it, the more they'll just be like "okay, Mom. Can we have fruit snacks in our lunch?"

Tonight, though, I think some prayers for patience are in order...

Wow.

2011-07-27T21:29:00.000-05:00

I used to love it out here. Just writing whatever...whenever. Now Whatever and Whenever have completely stopped.

I have my reasons. Maybe I started meeting too many of my readers face to face. That's weird. See, I like to think no one's reading and I can just write whatever...whenever. But now and then I get an audible comment and I want to escape somewhere and shut the door. Still trying to figure that one out...

But it turns out some people missed reading my little (and I do mean little) blog. Not many, but some.

Maybe I'll just start up this ol' rickety thing again.

Hmmm...

How I'm living without Facebook

2011-04-18T11:44:00.001-05:00

It's been since Ash Wednesday that I gave up Facebook for Lent. If you aren't sure why we Catholics bother to find something to "give up" during these days preceding Easter, check here for a thorough explanation. Me? I find it strengthening to challenge myself to abstain from something in my life that I feel is bringing me down...that seems to suck the time from my day (or brain cells from my head) with really nothing to offer me in return.

(The Lenten season is made up of the 40 days before Easter. I've read and heard a few places that Sundays during this time are not considered part of Lent, and therefore you're not required to abstain from whatever you're giving up on these days. I finally looked it up and found this explanation, which is very convincing.)

Why was Facebook my target this year? I found I was spending a couple of hours a day reading things like "nice day today...I think I'll take a walk" and "is it Monday already?" I don't think these types of inane comments would normally bother me, but seeing them every day was mind-numbing. Once I realized my friends' and family were having an okay day or their kids were super cute the day before, I would wander off to someone's photo albums and waste some more time viewing, ultimately, photos I'd already seen.

Then there was Bejeweled Blitz. It's an Facebook video game where...oh, suffice it to say it was not time well spent. In addition to a couple of hours on Facebook reading statuses and viewing photos and whatnot, I'd skip over to BB where I could play one-minute games for 40 minutes or more. And this would happen three or four times a day.

So in an effort to use my time more wisely I gave it all up. For several days I went cold turkey: didn't even log on to Facebook one time.

Then I started sneaking out there every once in a while. I do have some family members I like to keep up with...and my sister got married for heaven's sake. I had to view photos!

I can tell you, however, it's nothing like it was before. I scroll down once, maybe twice, to see if there's anything I've missed. Then I'm done! There's no aimless wandering! Once or twice I've cringed at a status here or there, and then I know it's time to shut it down. And I do it with ease instead of trying to find something worthwhile. And recently when tornado weather passed through the area, I watched TV with glee and thought about the five or six or twenty media-types I follow, and how they'd be saying the same ol' thing over and over and over. (Could be a clue I need to de-friend some folks...)

I like Facebook, I really do. But tempering my use of it these last few weeks has been good for my soul. I've learned I can say no to myself once in a while. I'll probably start updating my status a little after Easter, but it feels like the end of getting up from my computer wondering why I wasted so much time there.

Since I gave up Facebook for Lent...

2011-03-21T13:55:00.000-05:00

I'm sharing this with my true friends...at least the ones who appreciate (or severely do not) pop music.

Why do all those pop songs sound the same?

NCAA tournament comes to Tulsa...

2011-03-21T11:45:00.000-05:00

...and so do dancin' fans. Or at least those who think they can.

Wow

2011-02-04T13:25:00.001-06:00

We already got 14 inches of snow...is this really necessary?

Testing mobile blogger app

2011-02-04T10:16:00.001-06:00

Just downloaded Blogger for android. Apparently I can now blog from my phone. Woo-hoo! For me at least.

The boys are busy scanning 40-year-old slides into computer files for their grandpa. I have no idea how to do it so I guess I can go take a nap.

Blizzard: Day Three

2011-02-03T12:42:00.000-06:00

That's right: I haven't updated my blog in a month and now I'm jumping into the fray in the middle, not even at the beginning, of Tulsa's big 'ol blizzard of 2011. It's Day Three of the mayhem, and even though the snow has stopped falling it's really worse than the first day, you know, the one when we got all the snow and wind...it wasn't as bad for the road and temps situation as the last two have been.

Man, I'm boring.

But trudging onward...

Dwayne managed to get his truck out of the confines of the driveway yesterday and go to work, but I think he was one of about three people who made it. And he was not happy about it. For you motherly types out there, I did try to discourage him from going in but he was on a mission so I loaded him up with a big quilt and some rations in a paper bag, some coffee, and a Gatorade in case he sweat (huh?). He worked almost the whole day and crept home while talking to me on his headset thing and informing me of two drivers who passed him and how he "waved" to them. Thankfully he's made it driving about town without incident. Or accident.

The boys and I...we're surviving. The first day it was all fun and games and snow ice cream, now I'm just trying to keep them from hurting each other. I made them little tickets to redeem for playing video games, each of them worth 30 minutes. Give or take an hour. So far it's keeping everyone happy.

Oh, and in preparation for the storm, we stopped at their school's library on Monday and loaded up on books, about a dozen or so. Unfortunately, Carson only had about ten books left to go on his 100-books reading log and he managed to knock those out before the snow even stopped falling. That little piece of paper on the refrigerator was such a motivator for him to read every day that I'm thinking of printing off another one for him to do before the end of the year.

As for Cooper, he didn't have a reading log but that little dude is reading his share nonetheless. He can poke his way through Green Eggs and Ham and a couple of others. He informed me last night that he would read to me any time I wanted him to...

Oh, and yes, we've been outside. The first trip I stayed indoors in my flannel while Dwayne ventured out with the boys. The drifts...they swallowed them up! Carson came in and told me he had so much fun making lots of "trespasses" all over the yard.

I'll pause while you think about that one.

I did take snow photos but they are still on my camera with most of December's. I'm so behind on photos...

To add to our drama...wait...there's no drama here. I wish there was, actually. But to add to whatever we have going on here, there's a leak in our roof that is drip-drip-dripping water into a pan in our living room. This happened during the Christmas Eve Blizzard last year and the roofer guy assured us that was a freak storm and it would never happen again. Thanks, roofer guy...

That's all I got. Stay warm.

Thievery

2010-12-28T22:01:00.000-06:00

My niece and my sister from Texas spent a night with us last night and Brittany, being The Fun Cousin, brought an activity for the kids.

And since I'm the Queen of the Lazy Bloggers I'm so stealing this post from her about the evening.

(And the rest of her blog is pretty darn entertaining, too.)

Eggnog Cupcakes: the recipe

2010-12-16T08:08:00.001-06:00

As promised, here's the recipe for Eggnog Cupcakes. It came in the mail in a flyer for Braum's, a wonderful local-ish dairy store who needs a real graphic designer but puts out some to-die-for products and recipes.

CREAMY EGGNOG CUPCAKES

Cupcakes
1 (16 oz.) package pound cake mix
1 1/4 c. eggnog
2 large eggs
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Beat all ingredients together at low speed until blended. Increase speed to medium and beat two minutes more. Place baking cups into muffin tin and spoon batter into cups. Bake for 18-20 minutes or until toothpick inserted into center comes out clean. Transfer to wire rack; cool completely before frosting.

Frosting
1/2 c. butter, softened
3 oz. cream cheese, softened
16 oz. powdered sugar (would someone please tell me how many cups this is??)
1/4 c. eggnog
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

Beat butter and cream cheese until creamy. Gradually add powdered sugar alternating with eggnog, beginning and ending with sugar and beating at low speed. Add nutmeg and vanilla extract and beat until smooth. Spread over cupcakes.

Little clouds of Christmas.

2010-12-15T09:12:00.001-06:00

Eggnog Cupcakes.

Wouldn't these make cute Christmas tree ornaments?

But then I wouldn't get to taste one since they'd be all petrified or made of wood. And there's two cups of 'nog in there that makes them taste like a little bit of heaven.

You want the recipe? I suppose that would be the responsible blogger thing to do. But I've never put myself in that category. And the recipe is all the way in the, um, kitchen. And I'm not getting up just yet.

Besides, if I'm going to start bloggin' again I have to streeetttch out my material. The responsible bloggers, they give you complete and detailed posts, all at once. With a lot of detailed photos detailing processes. Details, details, details...

We flaky bloggers can't be bothered with details. Or completeness.

Unless you count my little cupcake friends...they're pretty complete, I'd say.

An exchange I won't hear but will happen. Guaranteed.

2010-12-14T14:35:00.000-06:00

Mom #1: Did you see Christine just now?

Mom #2: Just said hi to her in the hallway.

Mom #1: So you just saw the front of her, not the back?

Mom #2: Yeah, why?

Mom #1: Seriously?! Well, someone must have finally broken the news to her about scrunchies.

Mom #2: Nooooo! Really?!! Are you sure??

Mom #1: If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'! She's NOT wearing a scrunchie today.

Mom #2: Wow, and she even knows how outdated they are because I think she's seen that Seinfeld episode about the girl with the velvet scrunchie...from like 1994 or so?

(laughter from both)

Mom #1: I know, back when we were in junior high?!

(more laughter)

Mom #2: I really thought I'd never see the day she didn't wear one.
Mom #1: I know.

(pause)

Mom #2: Think we should save her from those black jeans?

Hello, friend.

2010-12-09T22:21:00.000-06:00

We moved into our current house in July. Of 2009. I sacrificed some kitchen space to get square footage in other parts of the house, and one of the casualties was my Kitchen Aid mixer. It's my favorite possession, next to my wedding ring. And my photos. And my Burt's Bees lip balm. I think there's a reason "possession" and "obsession" sound alike.

But when we moved and I started settling into the new kitchen, I didn't measure it but I'm sure my counter space was cut in half. So I boxed up The Mixer and stored it in our (freaking small and dark) pantry where it's been ever since. I've missed it, but I bought a Kitchen Aid hand-held mixer which helped me heal from the trauma.

Then last night at a church dinner, someone asked a group of us moms what we'd recommend for a Kitchen Aid model if we were going to buy one. And the conversation ensued. We all had our opinions about what she should get, but there was no doubt about it: those of us who are already KA mixer owners talked about ours like they were permanent family pets.

So today I began shoving and moving and crowding, and brought her out of hiding. Now she's ruling my kitchen from the (only) corner of my countertop, right where she should be. I'm thinking about finally installing under-cabinet lighting now.

Don't you think she deserves it?

One year.

2010-12-07T10:24:00.000-06:00

A year ago today I was driving down 51st St. here in Tulsa with Cooper in the back seat. It was about 9:30 a.m. My cell phone rang and I glanced down to see it was my sister Judy, who works full time and never has time to call me during the day even if she wanted to...you know, to share a recipe or something. So I knew something was up and didn't hesitate a second before I picked it up.

"It's Mamma," she said. "It's a heart attack." And she said it as gently as she could. I don't know how exactly that is, but I think she knew I was driving and she didn't want me to run off the road and I could hear the calmness in her voice.

So immediately I started to frantically try to stay calm and scanned the curb for a cut where I could turn around to go...actually at the time I didn't know where I was going. I just needed to turn around and stop doing what I was doing. Stop going where I was going. Get to somewhere where I could do something right then and there because driving down the road was out of the question.

But there really wasn't anything I could do. I quickly hung up with Judy after I'd gotten the details about Mom's condition. She was in the hospital in her town about an hour away and I should just wait for more info.

Retelling all the details from that day a year ago would simply take me too long. Since our immediate family is so big, a lot of the time was spent on the phone relaying information as we got it. We soon set up texting and call "trees," so no one person had to call ten people. As we got the news of Mom being helicoptered to Tulsa, I called my friend Amy who omigosh came to my rescue taking care of Carson and Cooper since Dwayne was out of town that day. As a family, we talked to so many doctors and other medical people and tried to figure out how and why it happened and what lies ahead for our mom since she's now become a member of the cardiac patient club.

Skip ahead. One year and a lot of doctor's visits and tests and other complications later.

You could say she's recovering nicely.

It's been a long year for her, to be sure. She's had to change a lot of things in her lifestyle and start putting herself first. I imagine that's hard after a lifetime of taking care of so many people...family as well as friends.

But she's getting there. And one year later she's trying to do too much for Christmas once again. And she's not going to like reading that since that means her kids are going to start nagging her about taking it easy.

Ahhhh, all things back to normal...

Cooper

2010-09-16T06:50:00.002-05:00

Today he's five.

Today he's leaving behind another year.

Today he's at an age where he could remember any day of his childhood from now on.

Today he wears a size 6.

Today I still love staring at his blue eyes.

Today his favorite things are the Wii, Wipeout, and Legos. And school. And not fruit or vegetables.

Today I can remember the moment he was born and the doctor told me he was a him. And I realized I had two hims and I laughed and cried at the same time.

Today I hope he never forgets how he kisses me on the arm for no reason. And when he's a smelly 10-year-old I hope I never forget how soft that feels.

Today he still crawls in bed with us at night. And burrows up next to me as if he hasn't seen me in a week.

(Today I wish we had a bigger bed.)

Today I'm surprised at something he did. I can say that this morning because I know it'll be true later on.

Today I realize that I thought I'd be teaching him, but he's the real teacher in our relationship.

Today, he's five.

First day on my own

2010-08-25T09:56:00.000-05:00

Well, they're in there now. Carson and Cooper are in school, two rooms down from each other. All day, five days a week.

And until 3:05 today, I'm here. Just me.

Really I'm in the car mechanic's waiting room...but I'm all by myself. No one to entertain or to help find a play area. There's a woman here with a three-year-old and a baby in a stroller. Good luck, ma'am...get ready for a lifetime of heartache.

I dropped the boys off at the school this morning, after a night of restless sleep and about two hours of rationalizing with Dwayne.

"What if I were to just keep him home tomorrow and homeschool him for Pre-K? How hard can that be?" Then I played out the scenario of breaking that news to Cooper, that his uniforms wouldn't be needed, that he's not going to be with that teacher who seems to have hung the moon, that he's not going to be a part of their first learning unit: all about Africa.

And I knew I'd have a fight on my hands. A big one.

So I reassured myself once again: that this is going to be a healthy and enriching environment for him. That he's old by pre-k standards (five in about three weeks) and he's ready for a classroom. That we're so incredibly lucky to be a part of this school.

And then this morning I nearly lost it at the sight of him in his uniform. And Carson, in all his 1st grade wisdom, briefing him on some basic rules of school and reminding him that we want to hear all about his day.

Once we made it to the hallway outside Cooper's classroom, I'd officially begun deep-breathing...searching somewhere for composure. The emotion, I think, comes from so many places: I'm sad to be facing seven hours daily without him, I'm happy he'll be in such a wonderful program, I'm thinking of him at nine weeks old when I drove myself crazy wondering what kind of four-year-old he'd be.

And as I fumbled outside his locker with his backpack and pillow and blanket, he deserted me. Right into the classroom. Carson was long gone to his own room with not even a glance back to me. Fine. Leave me standing in my own breathing exercises in the middle of the hallway.

Dwayne and I followed him into the room, where he'd assumed a position in the middle with his hands shoved into the pockets of his creased shorts. He seemed to be surveying the situation...the other kids, all the colorful decor, the crying little girl clinging to her mother. Yeah, that helped. I wanted to say "don't look!" but he stared at her shyly, maybe wondering "what's her problem?" Didn't seem to faze him too much. Me, on the other hand...

When it was time to go I leaned over Cooper and hugged him and told him to have a great day. Only my words were choppy, probably because of the deep breathing exercises. "K," he said. "Bye Mom."

And just like that, he's a student.

I turned to walk out and continued to deep-breathe, but by now I realized that wasn't working worth a crap. And Dwayne put his arm around me and shuffled me out the door and honestly, I have no idea what his reaction to the whole process was because I was so involved in my own drama. Maybe I should call him...

I met several sympathetic faces on the way out of the building, but I really just wanted to get to my car so I could ugly-cry in peace. After a hug from Dwayne and a minute to myself, I managed to get a grip.

Dwayne reminded me last night that they'll also be starting sixth grade in a few years, then high school, then college (God willing), and I'm not sure of his point but I think it was something like "you better learn how to deal with stuff like this 'cause it's never going to end..."

And he's right: my kids will be growing up and moving on and having new beginnings their whole lives. I wouldn't want anything less for them.

But I seriously need to get better at that whole deep-breathing thing.

Breathe in, breathe out....oh, wait.

2010-08-02T23:07:00.000-05:00

Ya'll know what's grosser and smellier than trash?

The trash that's in two trash bins outside my garage door.

Ya'll know what's grosser and smellier than trash in two trash bins outside my garage door?

Trash in two trash bins outside my garage door that has been there for ten days because I missed the pickups since Dwayne was out of town and he usually does it.

Ya'll know what's grosser and smellier than trash in two trash bins outside my garage door that's been there for ten days because I missed the pickups since Dwayne was out of town and he usually does it?

Trash in two trash bins outside my garage door that's been there for ten days because I missed the pickups since Dwayne was out of town (and he usually does it) that also has a dead crow in it that somehow bought the farm in our wading pool.

Ah, and it's also been 100 degrees for the last several days, give or take.

Sunlight, high temps, and humidity...those things add a whole new level of Gross and Smelly to trash. A level that is starting to permeate our garage, which means it's one step away...from...my kitchen. Wow.

So if you're planning to drop in on us, please wait until Wednesday. Afternoon. Late. And let's hope there's a breeze that day.

Awww, is this post making your tummy do flip-flops?

You can thank me for not posting pics...

Brilliant at being casual

2010-07-27T13:51:00.000-05:00

I wish I had something brilliant to say. I wish you could visit here every day and see something that makes your day, something you never thought of before, something that helps you see things in a new light or put a great meal on the table or decorate a room for $100. I wish I could do that for my readers.

I read a lot of blogs, and the ones I seem to visit over and over again are the ones that do something for me: they entertain, enlighten, or provide information. Think about the blogs or sites you read and you'll probably come up with the same answer.

As for me and my blog? We seem to just exist for each other and no other reason. The blog...it's just been sitting on a shelf for a long time unattended...waiting for me to bring it down and fluff it up a bit. I don't have a list of subjects waiting to be researched, or a stack of innovative (and yet inexpensive and kid-friendly!) recipes waiting to be posted every Thursday, or a list of valuable websites you've never heard of but can't live without. I don't even have any decent pics to put up here, since a lot of them are already on Facebook and I feel like I'd be cheating to post them here, too.

I can go on and on about what I don't have (forgot to mention side bar links that work). I could do a post every day about what this blog isn't.

But I'll spare you all that. Fact is, this blog is my casual friend who is there for me when the mood strikes, which isn't often. Maybe we'll step it up when school starts and the boys are gone...sniff...every day for six hours. Maybe I'll get more intense about my writing. Maybe I'll actually look up a source for a post. Or take more than 20 minutes from "new post" to "publish."

Until then, it's casual and hit or miss and sometimes posting.

And me and my blog...we're happy that way.

Last day on the beach

2010-07-07T07:41:00.000-05:00

It's our last morning here in Panama City Beach, and yes, I made time to write. How is that possible, you might wonder, when we have a plane to catch and our belongings are strewn all over the condo like they own the place?

I'll tell you how: because the sun in the Florida panhandle RISES at 5:45 in the freaking morning, that's how. And our bedroom window faces directly into it.

So here we go, things I know I'll be remembering about our trip:

1. "DAD, get in the FUN!" Uttered by Carson as we crept along in traffic on Front Beach Road. Seems people feel the need to toot their car horns or moped horns or whatever they're driving, just for the heck of it. So Dwayne obliged by honking the horn of our very hip Impala.

2. "Swooooshhhh!" The sound of Dwayne's Oakley sunglasses being sucked off his face by a gigantic rogue wave and pummeled to the bottom of the sea never to be seen again. The only thing not really true about that statement is the "gigantic rogue" part.

3. "Mom, can we live in Florida?" From Cooper, who would be happy to live anywhere they have an arcade on site.

4. "Where are my sticky hands?!" "Stop slinging the sticky hands!!" "The sticky hands made a mark on the ceiling." Some idiot decided that a hand-shaped piece of rubber with a long tail on it would be a fun toy. And let's make it STICKY so it leaves little residue on surfaces. And really flexible so kids can twirl it around in big circles for long periods of time. And then let's roll it up and put it in vending machine bubbles in arcades at big resorts. I would like to punch this idiot.

5. "Mom, let's go down to the beach..." I think I've dreamed of hearing those words for many, many years. Watching the boys fall in love the sand and surf and "get in the fun" was by far the greatest part of our vacation. I hope they nag their dad every day until next summer to bring them here again.

Many other things come to mind, but for now I have to go wake up two exhausted boys.

Make that three.

Beachin' dude!

2010-07-05T09:00:00.000-05:00

If we left Panama City Beach today and went home, it would still be a perfect vacation. It's as if rains planned their daily schedule to fit ours, the boys have been agreeable with anything we're doing*, and the Fourth of July fireworks were the icing on the cake yesterday.

Oh, and a milestone for Coop: he sat through an entire theater movie today during one of our rainstorms. We all went to see Toy Story 3...what an amazing and fun and sweet movie. Pixar...just when I think I've seen a great film from them ("Up") they outdo themselves again.

One thing's for sure: when school starts and my boys have to get up at 7:00 IN THE MORNING, they're going to think it's the middle of the night. Every night they stay up as late as we do and every morning they sleep in until 9:30.

We're staying at a resort for families, without a doubt. There's a giantic shaded water playground and lots of 3 ft. deep pool areas. And for the last four years I've moaned and groaned about how I've missed the beach and wanted to bring the boys even when they were small, since I knew they would love the beach and everything about it. But now...they're four and six and I am SO glad they're not two and three while we're here. Yes, they'd have enjoyed it, yes, they'd love the sand and pools...but Dwayne and I? We'd be exhausted chasing them all over the place. And still in the throes of their unpredictable potty behavior. And for all our hard work our boys wouldn't have any real memories of the trip. I have a feeling I'd have spent a lot of time here in the condo doing the same things we do at home. Now, they've got enough stamina for about three hours on the beach, which about matches mine and Dwayne's. I think waiting until they were a little older was the best way for all of us to bring back happy and relaxed memories of this trip.

Oh, and the Fourth of July fireworks were awesome. We had a pretty good view of the official show at Pier Park down the beach a ways, and plenty of folks, including Dwayne and Carson, were down on the beach shooting off their own.

I spent the evening in the condo with Cooper, who is still terrified of anything that pops or threatens to pop. I bought him earplugs thinking that would help, but he spent most of the time with his hands clapped over his ears. And when I'd go out on the balcony to see the fireworks, he'd say "CLOSE THE DOOR!!" as if roman candles were being shot directly at us. By the end of the evening I had him convinced that sparklers were not evil, and he said he might be willing to try one of those tonight. We'll see...

* However, if I hear "I wanna go to the arrrcaaade..." one more time I believe I'll scream.

Mornin' ya'll

2010-07-02T08:13:00.000-05:00

Could it be? Could I be awaking from my blogging slumber? Seems the mood has struck me this morning for a little writing. Aw, I don't know, could be the vacation we're on in Panama City Beach, FL. The sound of the waves on hitting the shore outside my condo door has that effect on me.

We got here yesterday after flying most of the day. I called it the boys' first flight; Carson likes to point out it's his THIRD flight, but that he gets to remember this one. Frankly, I'm the one who needs to forget flying with him when he was 15 months old...

Anyway, our flights were uneventful and the boys were good little traveling buddies. Of course, they'd loaded their backpacks with all kinds of stuff, but they were happy to watch out the window a lot of the time. And Cooper's enthralled these days with "tootsie putty," so we spent most of our layover in Memphis watching it bounce all over the airtport.

And for the parenting dilemma of the day, by the way, can I just say Dwayne and I are beyond frustrated with Coop's inability to keep his freaking hands off things? Every store we go to, every vehicle we're in, every restaurant...he must be touching everything, punching buttons willy-nilly, flipping switches or levers, or stacking and sorting stuff. So while we waited on our flight I decided to frustrate myself even more and walk them through an Elvis-inspired gift shop in the airport, and he's touching everything in sight (must get that boy a guitar) and he becomes intrigued with a box of mints shaped like a guitar. Pretty soon the mints come open and fly all over the floor, kind of like one of those surprise snakes out of a can. So I got on to him maybe a little too harshly and I must have hurt his feelings because then he burst into tears, in the middle of the puddle of mints. I tried to pay for it but the clerk mumbled something like "damage it out" and I thanked her and swooped my traumatized son outta there.

Thing is, even with my telling him "keep your hands to yourself," a million times a day, he doesn't seem to remember that advice when I need him to the most...

Never a vacation for being a parent I suppose.

So this morning I got up at a crazy hour for being on vacation but I got to step out onto the balcony and witness sunlight here...it's supposed to be rainy for the next day or so. And the sound of the waves...I could just listen to that forever. And all three of my boys are still asleep so it is extra peaceful around here.

But come to think of it, it's gonna be peaceful when they all wake up, too.

Baseball

2010-06-29T17:59:00.000-05:00

Carson and Cooper are playing baseball. Coach pitch and T-ball, respectively. But don't think they don't take it just as seriously as big leaguers.

Coop. Really a pretty effective spectator at his brother's games.

Carson at third base. Those socks are two inches thick and more suitable for mountain climbing in the Himalayas than baseball in Tulsa. I don't make him wear them anymore.

Last minute batting instructions. Coaches at this level must have saved up Patience all their lives to do this (voluntary!) job.

Carson doesn't know how to walk anywhere on a baseball field.

Made it to second. I can't wait for him to steal a base!

Cooper's in T-ball. He chases the ball no matter what position he's in. Come to think of it, they're not really particular about positions in T-ball.

When do kids learn they're all on the same team?

My great-nephew Stetson. No, he's not a baseball player, but he deserves to have his photo here. Just because.

Today

2010-06-14T20:31:00.000-05:00

Today I messed around with the settings on my camera.

There's one or two I like.

And some good photos, too.

And one that I'm sure could be mistaken for my youngest brother...about 40 years ago.

Hey ya'll

2010-06-09T09:51:00.000-05:00

I know, I know. Been a good long while since I actually formed a sentence out here. I could probably bore you a long time with all the reasons I haven't posted, but that would be, um boring.

Maybe I'll get the notion to start posting more. I think the first step to that notion might be establishing some kind of writing schedule. I've heard from big-dog bloggers that scheduling works. Hmmm...

For now, here are are couple of recent pics so you'll know we are indeed alive and kickin'...mostly just kickin'.

Photo session at Woodward Park. Cooperative as usual.

Took my boy to the Drillers' game...just him and me. And sweat.

Snug as a bug in a tub

2010-05-20T16:06:00.000-05:00

Last night our "wild thing" was rotation in the skies over Tulsa County.

Stormy debate

2010-05-14T14:02:00.000-05:00

We moved into a new house last year. Our former house was where we got to enjoy our first ever micro-burst and an ice storm I like to refer to as 11 Days Without Power So I Went to My Mother's and I Sure Do Love My Mamma and the Boys Love Their Grandma But Wow Was I Glad to Be Home.

So now in our new house we have been officially initiated into it, having endured yesterday morning's storm that some are calling a tornado and others can't get enough of the term "straightline winds." Whatever it was, it plucked 30 or so shingles from our rooftop and scattered them about our yard, and left little holes in our roof so the rain of all day today would have someplace interesting to trickle. We were without power for about six hours...merely an inconvenience after 2007. And the limb cleanup in our yard continues, for sure.

But the biggest casualty may be my PC. The poor thing won't even power up. I've already been told to "get a Mac" twice now. I've not totally given up on my current box, but we've had it for four years so it could be time for something new anyway.

So today Coop and I found ourselves in the Apple store at the mall and I got to peck around on some of the beautiful machines on display. OH. MY. I didn't have much of a chance to play since I got a call from our roofer, which besides my husband is the only man who can make me drop everything and run to meet him.

Anyway, I may not want to show my face in that store again...since I asked the Apple person where the CPU was for the desktop. He smiled (or smirked, or guffawed) and said "ma'am, it's all right in here..." And then, not kidding, he CARRESSED the screen.

Maybe it's a little like when I was a kid and I got to ride in my friends' cars who had AUTOMATIC windows while my family car still had the roll-up kind. Once you've seen that, you never want to go back.

I've worked on PCs my whole adult life. Once I was forced to use a Mac when I worked with a graphic artist, and I said, "oh, this is like Windows..." and she said "um, no, Windows is like THIS." And she said "like" as if she'd just drank acid. And she's not the first person I've known to choke on the word "PC."

Who knows what I'll do here in the near future. For now, I'm using my teeny-tiny netbook that might get me through for a while.

In the meantime, I'm interested to hear of any long-time PC users who have made the switch to a Mac. Why did you make the switch? Is there anything about using a PC that you miss? What is your favorite feature of your Mac? And would you advise this waffling PC user to take the plunge as well?

Thanks for any input you might have. I'm off to go watch for drips from my ceiling and Google "patron saint of electronics."

Sick son = good parenting?

2010-04-28T22:41:00.007-05:00

My six-year-old Carson got stomach sick at school today. On a field trip at Woodward Park. While I was helping a friend by babysitting her little boy, 25 minutes away in Broken Arrow. And hubs was out of town.

But that’s not the story here.

When I finally got Carson home, after much help from family and friends (who moved their feet just in time), I settled him on the sofa where he appeared to pass out. But his breathing was normal and deep so I knew he was sleeping. I put a blanket over him and spread a towel on the floor in front of him. I positioned a trash can next to the sofa and I stroked his forehead, trying to detect any sign of a fever. Then I stroked it some more just because I felt so dang sorry for him.

Then I realized that when my boys get sick, I actually feel like a pretty good parent.

It always takes me back to when I was a little girl, and when I was sick I felt like I suddenly ruled the world in my house of many siblings. Only I didn’t enjoy ruling because I was…well…sick.

But my mom, she’d sit with me and bring me a cool cloth for my forehead and make me a tray of yummy bland food. And I never really felt that bad when she was there with me.

So when my boys get sick, I find myself doing and saying the same kinds of things to them. I want them to feel safe and not anxious and comfortable and loved. And yes, I’m sad they feel bad, but as a little girl I remember thinking, hey, this being sick isn’t the worst thing in the world if I’m gonna get all this lovin’!

And their sickness, it seems to bring out the softer mom in me. And the protective mom. And the smart mom because I can usually figure out what to do for them.

I NEVER wish my kids to be sick. And when they are, I wish it like heck to be gone.

But for me, as a mom, it also reinforces to me that I’m getting through some parts of parenthood in okay fashion.

And it’s those areas I hope my kids remember the most vividly.

Credit/debit card fraud: happened to me

2010-04-22T12:51:00.000-05:00

About a month ago our credit card number was stolen and the thieves attempted to make a purchase using it in Florida. They were thwarted and we got a new card and all is fine.

Today I got a call from a nice lady at a fraud protection company who told me our BANK CARD number had been stolen, and there were two attempts to use it in Houston. Both times the card was declined, red flags on our account went up, and the card was completely canceled. We'll be getting a new card in the next few days. She did not assume, by the way, that it was stolen...she just said there was suspicious activity and called me to verify it.

In both these instances, the red flags on our accounts were one-time charges to our cards for a dollar or two. It is a strategy thieves use in order to make sure the card they've stolen actually works. Once they're able to use it for that small amount, they go for larger purchases. In the case of Florida, a large grocery store order. In Houston, gasoline.

The whole thing feels very creepy, but Dwayne and I know we haven't done anything irresponsible with our card numbers. Today I asked the lady with fraud protection services if she had any advice for us. She told me the obvious points: don't give your card number over the phone to someone who's called you, don't respond to any email asking for your card number, etc.

The other advice we got in both instances was that restaurant servers could be recording the information from our card when we use it to pay our bill. After all, who knows where they take it when it disappears from our sight while we're finishing our meal? Maybe we should lower our restaurant standards and only go to places where we pay on our way out... Or just pay cash. Now there's a idea.

Anyway, I'm just writing about this so ya'll will be on your guard, too. I hope you also have a credit union or bank who keeps a close eye on these...um...bandits. And you watching your account activity all the time isn't enough.

For your reference, here's some official advice on protecting identity and account theft:

Clark Howard, one of my favorite financial geeks.

Federal Trade Commission.

Fleeting.

2010-04-21T21:42:00.000-05:00

My moms and I just got back from our annual (annual!) trip to not-where-our-kids-are. It's two nights about four hours in any direction, and it usually takes us to some shopping mecca. This year: The Plaza in Kansas City.

And I bought this:

...plus two of its cousins. The three bowls were beautiful and I got them at Anthropologie...a wonderful and heavenly store where everything has "Christine" written on it. Except their $165 jeans...those had "Amy" on them. But I digress...

It wasn't easy for me to buy these bowls. They were not cheap and I wasn't really keen on babying them all the way back to Tulsa. So I carried them around the store for 20 minutes before I finally pulled the trigger. And then I carried them around for the next six hours as I shopped The Plaza. And then I nestled them amongst the luggage in the back of the car to keep them safe.

Then when I got home I presented them to Dwayne to his delight (or maybe the delight was just that his three-day shift was over). And we marveled together (or just me) about how perfectly they'll go on the shelf I'd hung a few days before.

And then I arranged them on the shelf and stood back and thought how perfect they looked up there...all kitchen-y and ready to hold sour cream dips or fresh strawberries or Cheetos. They were all set to get shuffled about in the sink where I'd wash them by hand and return them to rule our kitchen from the shelf.

In fact I almost grabbed my camera to take a photo of my shelf/bowl display.

Turns out that would have been a good idea.

Since my shelf-hanging abilities SUCK.

And two days after I brought the bowls home, the nails holding the shelf slipped out of the wall. And the whole thing crashed to the floor in a million Anthropologetic pieces.

I suppose I could have photographed the mess...but I didn't want to remember my material obsession like that. All...dead.

So I cleaned up the carnage and Dwayne rehung the shelf and suggested that anything else we put up there should not be breakable. Thanks, honey.

Maybe after I stop cringing from the whole experience we'll have a nice place to store napkins.

When your friend leaves

2010-04-19T22:31:00.000-05:00

I got a call a few weeks ago from my friend Carol. She told me she's moving to St. Louis since her husband's been transferred there. It's taken me this long to feel like writing about it, but I knew I would. Even with my willy-nilly attitude toward this blog, I knew I'd have to write this down.

Carol and I have been friends for our lives. Our mothers were friends before we were born. At four months old she was toted to the hospital to see me when I was born. We went to the same church, the same schools until college, and have always, always, always, lived in the same state. Other than my family, Carol has been the person who has known every stage and aspect of my life and has been there for me without fail.

And now she's leaving the state. I don't even know what to do with that right now. My whole life she's been in my backyard and now everything will change. I don't even know what to expect. I know we'll talk on the phone all the time and email and Facebook and all that.

But that's not like seeing her whenever I want. It's not like having her stand by me when I got married, or at my bed when I was in labor with my first baby. I could name a hundred other events in my life and hers that phones and email and Facebook can't touch. And not all major things, either. Just...things.

I know she has some anxiety about leaving, but wouldn't anyone moving to a new state? Yet she and her husband of 24 years are happy about the idea and ready to take on the challenge of starting everything new. People do it all the time, she says.

But for me? Self-centered me? I feel like a big chunk of my childhood is just...leaving. I already feel a little lost. Is that terrible to say when I have a husband and a lot of family in the area who will do anything to support me at any time? Maybe. Certainly, it's not that I will be alone without Carol...it's just that I won't be with her.

She's leaving in just a few weeks. I don't know what to say to her when I tell her goodbye. She's not too mushy-gushy and she's going to be wrought with all her other goodbyes so I will try to keep the emotions to a minimum for her sake. But right now I'm bawling as I write this so I'm not sure saying goodbye to her in person is even a good idea. And luckily she's not a blog reader so she may not even read this. I don't really know...

I do know it's not about me...I know I have to grow up and realize people don't always stay where I want them to just because that's how I want it. And I know it'll happen one day that I can think about her living so far away and not be sad.

But it's not today. I assure you...it's not today.

Denver. At last.

2010-04-13T13:39:00.001-05:00

I've made so many verbal promises lately you'd think I was President.

I've promised at least five people I'd have pics of such-and-such up soon. My talk is getting cheaper by the minute. But here's a start with the Denver photos. Hey, I don't recall any of you giving me a deadline. That'll teach ya.

The first batch is from my recent trip to Denver to surprise my sister and her daughter at the daughter's baby shower. Oh, the scheming was so much fun! But when it got to the big reveal I was found out by my ever-so-efficient sister who was putting her things away in a bedroom...my hiding place! I'd hidden behind the door and she turned around and saw me. She just started laughing...and I stood stock still thinking maybe she just does that all the time and she really hadn't seen me. But that wasn't the case. Oh, well...

My sweet niece Tracy. That's her first baby she's carrying...due May 5.

I took this photo from behind the bedroom door of my sister Theresa. Her first words...or thereabouts: "Did you bring anyone with you??"

Tracy's sister Holly. Yes, she really is that cute. She was in on the scheme but at the last minute she left her mother unattended in her apartment. But our botched plan wasn't her fault! I forgot to sling myself out the window at the last minute...

The new mom, the new dad and the new grandma outside Holly's condo.

I think my little disposable camera got me some very not disposable photos...

My chewy blog

2010-04-04T20:55:00.000-05:00

Is there such a thing as a little overwhelmed?

Because to me, either you're calm about stuff or you're Calgon-take-me-away.

But there are times I feel overwhelmed and yet I'm not too worried about it.

Like now.

Because the things I've committed to and can't seem to accomplish lately are not life and death situations, or omigosh I have to do these things or I'm going to lose my job situations.

But this blog, and you readers, I like you. And I don't like to tell you something and then not follow through with it. I'd surely lose both of you and then where would I be? Lost, I tell ya.

So I'm sorry for the mistreatment. I know it's slightly disappointing when you come here expecting something new and see a stale post. I know because I read a blog or two myself, and then ones that keep me comin' back are the ones that are made fresh daily. Or at least every couple days. Not the ones with stale material that starts getting a little tough to take.

I've got several posts in my head, though, and I'm trying to make the time to get them out here where they belong. Just scrape together some patience and I'll be with you soon with fresh material.

And this stale junk will get shoved to the side. I hope.

Just plumb dumb.

2010-03-31T10:09:00.000-05:00

(For those of you waiting for pics of my Denver trip, please be patient! I'm going to pick them up today...I had to take my disposable camera to Walgreen's since I'm still camera-less except for The Sony Behemoth which I didn't take with me since it would require its own plane.)

When I got home from Denver I had to scurry around a little to get ready for The Plumber. (I give him caps because he and his company sure acted like they were sumpin' special and they deserve it.)

On The Plumber's to-do list for the Home Team were the following: install new sink and faucet in kitchen, fix lack of water pressure in kitchen, and adjust water temp in the upstairs bathroom. Translation: fix all the things that have been driving us crazy for months.

So when I called The Plumber last week to set up an appointment, I was told he would show up "Tuesday between the hours of 8:00 a.m. and 12 noon, with a phone call 30 minutes prior to arrival." I'm thinking don't put yourself out, now. But this seems to be SOP with The Plumber and any other person who shows up at my house with tools, so I said fine.

Tuesday morning I went about my business of getting people out the door and where they need to go, making sure my phone was on super annoyingly loud so I wouldn't miss The Plumber's call. I had no idea how long this job was going to take and I didn't want to be late for him.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Pretty soon it was 11:45 and no phone call. They did say "between 8 and 12." But I was getting a little antsy so I called The Receptionist for The Plumber and told her that if I didn't get a call within 15 minutes she could cancel the order. I know...she was scared. But really I was praying she didn't call my bluff because then guess who gets to hunt down another Plumber and wait three days before he calls and I get to wait for him "between the hours of..." all over again. While the water coming out of my faucet is barely a drip by then.

So, 11:59 a.m. my phone rings and it's The Receptionist saying The Plumber's on his way and he'll be there in 30 minutes.

And 29 minutes later I answered the knock at the door. What service!

By this time my schedule for picking up the boys at their respective schools is tightening. Around my neck, it feels like. Dwayne's got meetings and other commitments in the afternoon (dang jobs) and we don't want to leave The Plumber in the house by himself to steal all my diamonds.

Cooper needed to be picked up by 2:30, so Dwayne rearranged his schedule to go get him and take him back to the office with him for a bit. Carson's school lets out at 3:05.

Knowing Cooper was covered, I set about to get an answer from The Plumber about how much longer he would be (this was at 1:30). "Oh, 45 minutes should do it," he says with all the confidence of...a plumber.

Great! I thought, I'll still have time to get to Carson's school, then go to Dwayne's office and pick up Cooper who will be on his third pad of separating Post-It's by then.

So 40 minutes comes and goes and I emerge from the office to ask The Plumber "how's it going? Done in five minutes?"

His response: a nervous laugh.

Thankfully that husband of mine was intuitive enough to...um...not believe The Plumber and his 45 minute estimate. He ran to pick up Carson and brought them both to me at home, then I'm quite sure two-wheeled all the turns back to his office.

And The Plumber was still working an hour and a half after his 45 minute estimate.

When he finally finished (not without assuring me that the new fancy faucet I bought was "decent" but not as good as the one he took off) and asked for payment, I told him he would get it sometime today between the hours of 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. And I gave him my phone number so he would have someone to call at 4:55 when his check wasn't there.

Not really. Tempting, though.

Plumbers and contractors of any kind: I feel like the minute I call them up I am saying "I really need this work done but you come at your convenience and not mine. Amen."

But the work is done now...except for the old sink and faucet he removed. They're still adding character to our house by sitting on the front porch. Maybe I should move them to Craig's list sometime today.

...between the hours of...

Surprise for my surprise

2010-03-29T12:22:00.000-05:00

I'm headed home from a trip to see my sweet pregnant niece and her sister and my sister. I'm getting ready to board a plane to Tulsa and I am only an hour or so away from laying eyes on my three favorite people in the world. I did not need three days away to confirm my love for these guys, but lordy it sure does amplify the situation!

I'll be posting more later, but in a nutshell: I went to Denver to surprise Tracy at her baby shower. And my sister who was also in the dark about my visit. Oh, the fun of plotting...er...planning a surprise.

But in spite of Holly and I replaying the "reveal" over and over, experts at covert missions we are not.

So our surprise was busted.

Details to follow...right now I have to wiggle down the tiny aisle of a Southwest plane and try not to think about the smell of my little one's neck.

The weirdness that is me

2010-03-24T12:50:00.000-05:00

Who doesn't love a little Ree-cipe every now and then? Even if you don't cook a lot, or at all, the recipes at Pioneer Woman are usually fun to read and of course the photography of the process is wonderful
Today's recipe is Springy Flower Pot Desserts. Click over and read it, then come back here. I'll wait...

See? It's ten kinds of cute. Big wow factor. And looks easy. Not too expensive, either.

But I'll never make it in a million years.

Why?

It's the clay. The pot. And dipping my spoon into the dessert in the clay pot. And risking my spoon...ssscraaaping...the side of the clay pot. I can barely write the sentence.

Hearing this sound, feeling this feeling in my hands, would cause my face to contort at the table. Like when I was a kid and the eraser on my pencil was down to the nub, and the metal of the pencil met with the paper. That kind of contortion.

And that would be embarrassing. And painful.

And somehow, making the dessert using a different container, one without so much risk involved, would take away at least five of the ten kinds of cute. And I wouldn't want to do that.

So this'll have to be one I don't try.

Oh, and if you're my friend or sister, and you happen to make these when I come over, don't get your feelings hurt if I step out of the room while everyone scrapes to their hearts' content.

I'll be in a corner somewhere rocking back and forth.

And eating the uncrushed Oreos.

Go ahead, send it in...

2010-03-22T10:46:00.000-05:00

I just completed my 2010 Census. It took me four minutes...one for each member of my household.

It was very specific about making sure that these people lived here. At this house. All the time.

"Does this person stay anywhere else at any other time?" I almost wrote by Dwayne's "Not if he knows what's good for him..."

Census takers are bound to need a light-hearted moment from time to time.

There's lots of spaces on the form for lots of kids. But if the form was the same for the 1970 Census, my mom and dad would have run out.

Now there's a light-hearted moment for ya...

(Probably not for my mom and dad.)

Progression. Or deterioration.

2010-03-21T22:19:00.003-05:00

My boys. They love each other. They hug and cuddle and it's the cutest thing...

...and then the hugging, ever so gradually, turns to squeezing. Notice the crowded nose. Notice the very faint tinge of pink on Cooper's face. Both still smiling, but just a lil' bit tighter.

And then it's on. Full-blown squeeze-me-like-a-boa-constrictor ON. Must. Get. Away. Now!

Such is the progression.. Without fail.

It's okay.

As long as they always start again.

Overheard: inspired Cooper

2010-03-21T21:55:00.004-05:00

I read to the boys tonight from a sweet book called Goodnight God. The book has little two-page stories that are like little inspirational stories for kids and they follow with a related prayer.

Tonight's story was about a boy imagining he was wearing magic pajamas...pajamas that made his brain swell with knowledge, his legs strong and muscular, and his hands large and encompassing. At the end of the story they boy imagines "what would I be if I took off these pajamas..."

Yep.

After my dramatic pause.

Cooper: "You'd be naked."

Beth and 2 Bird Designs!

2010-03-20T13:00:00.000-05:00

So? Ya'll like it? I think my new design is awesome...and I think it fits me: just the right amount of floral and some sporty stuff, too. I didn't ask my designer if she'd ever mixed baseballs with flowers for a client.

In fact, if you are considering, even a teensy-weensy bit, starting a blog or doing a redesign of your existing one, consider Beth at 2 Bird Designs. She was absolutely heaven to work with, for three big reasons:

She showed up on time. Beth's turnaround time on getting a comp ready and implementing whatever changes we talked about was...in a word: fast. In another word, prompt. I never had to wonder when I was going to see her response emails or ping her for an update. Nice!

She listened to me. She really tried to interpret what I was saying I wanted...even though I didn't really know myself. We did the entire process from start to finish via email...I thought it might be kind of hard to do but it was really easy!

Her work is worth more than she charges. 'nuff said.

In addition to 2 Bird Designs, Beth authors an amazing personal blog called I Should Be Folding Laundry. Now's a good time to tune in to it, too, since she's 38+ weeks pregnant!

So...in the next few days and/or weeks I hope to have all those fancy buttons she put on the right-hand side of my page actually doing something.

However, I believe my readers know well enough, though, that when I put a timeline on something it's really just filler.

(Time for some new digs...)

2010-03-17T22:00:00.000-05:00

I'm trying on a new blog look and spinning around in front of the mirror, so pardon me as I do some cinchin' up and accessorizing over the next few days. I can tell you right now, though...this feels goooooodddd!

Two kinds of pain

2010-03-15T15:29:00.000-05:00

One mile.
5280 feet.
Doesn't sound like much.

Well, it is. It is if you haven't actually tried to cover a mile, let alone run one, in about five years.

I know this because my legs still hurt from attempting it three days ago. Carson (the six-year-old) wanted to run the St. Patrick's Day Fun Run last Saturday. Let me just state the obvious: it was fun for him...I wanted to sneak off onto a side street and lay down.

Oh, I thought it would be fun to do the run with him...he's a jackrabbit of sorts but I figured I could stay up with him for at least 100 feet or so before I bid him "go on without me!!!!" But the starting gun cracked and I glanced to my left in time to see a blur of the list of sponsors on the back of his T-shirt, and he was gone. I watched him in the crowd of runners as long as I could and then he disappeared.

I lumbered on without him, running, then walking, then jogging a little, mainly just keeping my head down so as not to see other six-year-olds blowing my doors off. When several minutes had passed and I looked up to see the first of the pack already on their way back, I was thankful to see Carson holding his own among the first fifty or so runners. I called to him as we passed "Keep going! Don't stop!" But he didn't even look at me! Maybe he didn't realize he'd see me on his way back...I don't know, but he must have had the eye of the tiger goin' on because I got no acknowledgment whatsoever.

I'd trudged on. I'd given him strict instructions to wait for me at the end of the race. I told him sit on the curb and don't go anywhere else and don't go with anyone. I hoped he'd be fine for the one or two minutes I'd be away from him.

But as I ached my way through the mile I realized it would be more like seven or eight minutes.

Or more...I really couldn't be sure.

Finally, the finish line in sight, I engaged what little adrenaline I had left and sprinted (read: didn't walk) to the end. Like all good wannabe runners who feel they bitten off more than they could possibly chew, I'd done my walking early so as to keep from looking too disheveled in front of all the cheering people. I'm sure I had them fooled.

At end of the finishing area was a sea of people. I slowly turned in circles trying to see Carson through the crowd and after two or three minutes finally found him sitting calmly on the curb like I'd told him. He was holding an empty water cup and not breathing hard.

"Where were you, Mamma?" he says.

"Trying to catch up with you!" I said between breaths.

Then..."Did you stop to walk?"

"No," he said. "I really wanted to but I decided not to."

Oh.

We held hands on the way back to the car and I told him I was proud of him for running the whole way.

"Thanks. Next time I want Daddy to run 'cause he can keep up with me."

Birthday boy

2010-03-10T16:10:00.000-06:00

My brother-in-law.

Today is his birthday.

Wow, he really used to give me a hard time when he first married into our family, when I was a kid (a very young little kid).

Time I paid the man back, don't you think?

Maybe I should make this lil' pic of him a little more, um, shall we say, public.

Do you know what Twitter is, Roy? Facebook?

Good.

Cookie fever

2010-03-09T11:23:00.000-06:00

It's March now...a whole three months since I made any sugar cookies so I'm starting to get the urge to break out the cutters again. Unlike my fondant creations, I can do some mean sugar cookies without crying at the end.

But are ya'll ready for this? How would you like to roll out your dough with NO flour, with no sticking, and keep your counter top and your rolling pin completely clean?

I know, too good to be true.

But maybe not...check out this technique from Bake It Pretty, a site I'm lovin' lately. I haven't tried it yet but oh, man, I'm planning to.

Nothin', just planning my future thoughts

2010-03-03T20:26:00.000-06:00

We recently found out the fate of Cooper's preschool situation next year. He'll be going to Carson's school.

The pre-k program there is wonderfully led by Ms. L, who I've been working with on a project for several weeks. I've gotten to know Ms. L. I've visited her classroom during the day many times. Cooper comes with me sometimes and Ms. L. lovingly welcomes him to join her class in whatever they're doing while I'm there. And then Cooper temporarily forgets he has a mother in the room and happily dives in. He was born in September of 2005 so he's too young to be in a pre-k class, but that's hardly noticeable to him or the other kids in the class.

And people talk about Ms. L. Oh, do they talk. "You'll be so happy in her class!" "She does the most incredible art projects with the kids..." Sometimes moms just get a winsome look on their faces at the mere mention of her name, as if they wish their child could remain in Ms. L's class forever.

I got it people. I'm thrilled for Cooper to be in her class.

But does it have to be all day? Every day? From 8:15 to 3:05?

'Cause that's a long time to be without my baby. And I know he's not a baby, and he loves being in a classroom, and he's thrilled at the prospect of going to Carson's school with him.

But it's still all day. Part-time maybe? I've already asked...it's an all or nothing deal. I suppose they don't keep track of absences in pre-k so I wanted to keep him home some days I could.

And then I'd probably hear all day about how much he wants to be with Ms. L.

As sure as I'm writing this I know I'm going to look up one day from his fifth grade classroom and see pre-k kids walking by, and my eyes are going to tear up at the memory of Cooper ever being that small. I know it's going to happen. And there's nothing I can do to stop it.

But I can make sure that when I do see those kids and remember him being small, it's a feeling that warms my heart and not a feeling of regret at not cherishing the moments now.

So now, I can savor him while he's little. And savor him when he's driving me crazy with his questions. And when I know I'm going to be late but he wants to sit in my lap in the chair. And when we grocery shop together and he zig-zags the cart down the aisles. And when he asks perfect strangers if they have any games on their I-Phones (surely I'm going to look back on that and laugh. Someday.)

And when he goes to school next fall, I'll be ready for it. I'll be ready for him to venture into school life. I'll have savored him all I can and I'll be ready for him to be in school for seven hours every day.

Maybe.

If I start preparing for the moment now.

If ugly crying were an Olympic sport, I'd lose, then win

2010-02-24T10:22:00.000-06:00

Joannie Rochette.

This morning just seeing her name can bring tears to my eyes. But nothing like last night. (Joannie is the young Canadian figure skater whose 55 year-old mother had a heart attack and died three days ago at the Olympics.)

So last night Joannie skated her short program. And I watched it and just had to keep taking deep breaths to avoid a flood of tears. How this girl mustered the composure to skate was beyond me. And I'm one of those people who can cry on command while viewing any emotionally charged sporting event, especially when there's heartbreak involved. So I knew watching Joannie's performance would be a challenge.

Dwayne was watching, too, only he also picked up my Weight Watchers magazine. I think he was desperate for anything to avert his attention from Joannie's skating…I’m just guessing since he’s never read WW mag before in his life.

So I made it all the way through her intro and the shots of her father in the stands and all the way through every stuck landing and I was still taking deep breaths because I knew that I was going to cry if she fell or if she didn’t fall: either way I was a timebomb.

And then I start noticing the crowd…I knew there was not a dry eye in that whole place and I could just imagine being there watching her and how I’d be out of control. More deep breaths...

So then she takes her final bow and I’m like screw it and I bawled nearly to the point of the ugly cry and by the way Dwayne’s asking me FROM BEHIND THE PAGES OF WW MAG “how’s she doing?” because I know him and if he takes one look at her he is toast. And I’m like “she’s…doing…fine…” and I'm still trying not to ugly cry. So then I think I’m okay and she’s leaving the ice and I think I'm ugly-crying-home-free, and then...then I hear Scotty Hamilton’s voice crack. And I just give up and let the ugly cry take over our living room. Then she got her wonderful score and I finished up the cry and got it together.

And then Dwayne still holding WW magazine: "How exactly do you say chamomile?"

It was a touching moment...

Favorites

2010-02-22T08:49:00.000-06:00

His favorite puppy.

His favorite pajamas.

His favorite person taking photo (Daddy).

My favorite way to start Monday.

Word verification for comments

2010-02-22T08:40:00.000-06:00

Now don't freak out, but I had to turn on "word verification" for my comments. Seems some spammers have discovered me and think I need some unsolicited junk mail on my blog. I had to turn it on in order to keep the trash from from piling up.

So now you'll have to type in some gobbledygook word in order to post a comment here.

But I know that won't keep you from commenting, right? Right?

And they say Catholic services aren't entertaining

2010-02-17T21:09:00.000-06:00

Things you really don't expect to hear at Ash Wednesday Mass:

-- Whispered while walking up with me to Communion: "Mom, I really want to tell the priest I can jump rope."

-- While receiving a blessing from the priest at Communion: "Ouch!" And from the priest after accidentally knocking him in the head with the...um...thing that holds all the hosts: "ooohh, sorry little guy!"

-- "Can you see my ash? Can you see my ash?" Only "ash" didn't quite sound like that.

-- Shot out of the end of the pew as the closing procession goes by "Did you know I can jump rope?"

-- And last but not least "what's up, priest?!" Across the sidewalk in the general vicinity of the priest. And it was NOT whispered.

I should also say: this was a church we don't normally attend, so Cooper (THAT'S HIS NAME, NOT ALEX!) didn't know the priest's name.

And thankfully I think the priest doesn't know ours either.

Six. For real.

2010-02-17T02:15:00.000-06:00

Today's Mickey's birthday. I think it's a perfect time to let you know that Mickey's not his real name.

It's Carson. And I want the world to know it.

I'm tired of using Mickey and dang it I like the name we've given him so I'm using it now.

CARSON, CARSON, CARSON!

See? We're all okay. And Carson is six years old today.

In honor, here are six things you may not know about him:

1. He came into this world by emergency c-section. My entire pregnancy was uneventful until then. I would say something snarky like "we should have recognized this sign that this kid would never cooperate..." but that wouldn't make any sense. Really. The kid cooperates. Except...

2. When I was transitioning him to his big boy bed, I once locked him in his room to keep him from coming out. I know. I hope he never reads this.

3. He's told me he never wants to move out of our house.

4. He says "Star Hors" for Star Wars. I can't bring myself to correct him (I don't say it that way, FYI). He did grow out of saying " 'swich " for sandwich. I was sad that day.

5. In the past week or so his library selections have included two books entirely about the color pink. And I've read them both to him.

6. I have never been so sad to see another year with him disappear, or so happy to embark on another one.

I know it's cliche, but I truly do cherish every day I get to be his mom. I just hope he always knows that. Feels it. And never forgets it as long as he lives.

Fon-don't. Ever.

2010-02-15T13:29:00.000-06:00

I admit it: I'm a Cake Boss and Ace of Cakes addict. I watch both Buddy and Duff create cakes with finesse and ease and the end product is always breathtaking. (Although I'm starting to prefer Duff's show over Buddy's, simply because I think his cakes are more creative and also he and his fellow bakers don't yell curse words at each other.)

These two guys are always using fondant. (Fondant is basically sugar and water and maybe one other simple ingredient, and it looks and feels like Play-Doh.) They roll it, shape it, cut it and it comes out looking perfect every time. I've watched them and a host of YouTube videos that show people rolling and shaping it with ease.

Why couldn't I achieve a simple fondant cake in my own kitchen?

So I set about to find the right brand, first of all. I'd heard the kind you get at craft stores doesn't taste good, so I sought out Satin Ice fondant at a bakery supply store. I was set.

I thought I'd start small, with cupcakes. I had a wonderful fondant/cupcake experience with my nieces last year...I figured I was home free this time.

So for Friday night's Olympic Kickoff Party at our house, I opened the tub of white fondant and prepared to create. My little plan was to do just five cupcakes in fondant and the rest in buttercream icing, just so I could practice rolling and handling the fondant for Mickey's 10-inch square birthday cake the next day. Two layers.

I rolled out five white circles, cut them and fastened them with buttercream to my cupcakes. Beautiful.

Then I had to color pieces of fondant for the Olympic rings I wanted to cut out and attach to the top of each one. Olympic rings, in case you live under a rock, are blue, black, red, yellow, and green.

And at the end of coloring little balls of fondant each color, so were my hands.

And my fingernails. And all the dead skin around my cuticles.

For three days now my hands have looked somewhat diseased.

But I had my colored fondant, by golly. And I cut the little rings out and displayed my Olympic cupcakes next to the buttercreams and it was cool. And our party guests thought they were cool, too.

But apparently not cool enough to actually eat.

They ate the buttercream ones, though.

So I could have saved myself the trouble and bought the cheap, easily-accessible fondant.

Pictures, you ask?

Didn't even take any. I guess I was mad at the cupcakes because no one ate one. They sat on my counter for 48 hours before I slid all five of them, sorta rock solid at that point, into the trashcan.

I think I totally satisfied my fondant urge with five cupcakes.

So then I'm staring at a tub of chocolate-flavored fondant (five pounds of it) that is supposed to be lovingly nestled around Mickey's birthday cake the very next day. The birthday cake that he and his friends would be served.

And I thought about how much work I'd likely put into that cake. And how I'd slave to decorate it just so. And stress about the cracks and crookedness of the large piece of fondant.

And I thought about how Mickey and his friends would prefer little clouds of buttercream icing.

So that's what I served.

And I decorated those babies in under three minutes.

And that chocolate buttercream was the kind that melts in your mouth and then you taste it and you don't even really care about the cupcake underneath it. It's that good.

So the five-pound tub of fondant is now making a nice doorstop. Or I guess I could sleep with it on my nightstand when Pete's out of town; if slung properly I believe it would put a burglar out cold.

The good thing about the stuff is that it keeps for many months. So if I get the urge to serve a cake that no one will eat, I'll be prepared.

In the meantime, I believe I'll stick with the tried and true, and leave the fancy stuff up to Duff and Buddy.

P.S. That yellow rose, the one that looks woefully out of place? That came in a package of six and apparently spoke to Mickey in the grocery store. How could I say no?

Snow wonder

2010-01-29T21:40:00.000-06:00

Just so you know, the snow didn't stop for quite some time.

...and there were at least two very big icicles hanging around, until the boys spotted them.

Snow's split personality

2010-01-29T15:14:00.000-06:00

We here in Okie-homa are smack in the middle of a big 'ol snowstorm. The weather people in town are all breathing a sigh of relief that the snow is coming down in large quantities, on top of a half-inch of ice...BECAUSE THEY'VE BEEN SCREAMING IT AT US FOR SEVEN DAYS!

After it had been coming down for a while I finally slid open the patio door. The boys were upstairs so all was quiet. Have you ever heard snow fall? It hits the surface with little crystal-ly sounds...really softly. If it wasn't 25 degrees I'd have stood there a good long time, just listening.

Then I hear a rumble from above and it's Mickey bounding down the stairs ready to "touch the snow!!!!!" As if he's never seen it before, out the front door he heads.

And suddenly snow is the coolest, rockinest thing on Earth.

And I couldn't hear anything soft at all, unless you count "...woooowwww!!!"

I'm a big dog (for a minute)

2010-01-21T11:28:00.000-06:00

I've always liked the photo below. I took it in October of last year at my sister's house...um...not in Tulsa. She lives in a small town but has big views of sunsets. And sunrises. And sky in general. I miss that about living in a small town. In the middle of Tulsa we see our broad views of the sky on TV...or when we visit relatives.

So I love this shot.

And whaddya know...so does The PW. I know, duh, you can see the pic right here on my lil' ol' blog.

But go ahead, take a look at it on the big stage. I'm not sure it's worthy next to shots of the Eiffel tower or beautifully silhouetted couples and children, but for a fleeting moment maybe it's not so mediocre.

Certainly the sunset view from my sister's house is not...

Happy 25

2010-01-18T08:00:00.000-06:00

This little girl's got a lot on her mind. She was probably only four at the time, but I think she was already thinking big. Even though she was gazing out the window of her grandmother's house, I think she was looking past that driveway in Oklahoma. I think she already had in her little mind that she was gonna see and experience a bigger chunk of the world.

That little girl, well, she's not so little now. Today's her 25th birthday. She's my niece, and I like to live vicariously through her (and the rest of my nieces, come to think of it. Who knew they'd be good for that?).

Happy Birthday, Brit...keep looking beyond your windows.

Something else I'm procrastinating

2010-01-14T21:31:00.000-06:00

My photos. They are sorely in need of attention.

Why, you may wonder.

Behold, the only photo I have in the December 2009 folder on my computer:

Ain't she a beauty!? It was taken by my talented husband. Yes, this photo is a result of talent I say! Since he was driving when he took it. With his cell phone. At night. And yes, he was severely scolded for it. But it was an amazing feat.

More amazing than the fact that Mickey chose to sleep this way for 45 minutes.

But, I've said it before and I'm sayin' it again: even bad pics of our kids are still pics of our kids.

And these bad pics shall be forever cherished.

Even if they sometimes give us a headache when we look at them.

An icy activity when it's 10 degrees.

2010-01-11T13:34:00.001-06:00

Northeastern Oklahoma has finally emerged from a cold snap...a cold snap that closed school for two days because apparently there are kids in 2010 who walk two miles to the bus stop. Temps last week were in the single digits three nights in a row and a couple of days we never made it out of the 'teens.

So the boys and I were home for two days, because really even getting in and out of the car just made just made us all angry. In my desperate search for out-of-the-ordinary stuff to do, I came across this activity on 918moms.com (you remember them, don't you?) and had to give it a try.

First of all, I didn't take pics but of the result. Methinks I can explain this one ingredient recipe without illustration:

1. Get a pan, something flat and shallow like a jellyroll pan.

2. Dig out your cookie cutters from the recesses of your cabinet, unless you have yet to put them away from Christmas like me. Lay them in your pan, making sure they don't touch.

3. Cut some string or yarn in lengths of ten inches or so, one for each cookie cutter.

4. Loop the string through the cookie cutter and hang it over the edge of the pan. Do not tie the string, just let the ends dangle.

5. Get a large pitcher and fill it with water. I thought it would be neat to add blue and yellow food coloring to it, so I let the boys drip-drop it in there and stir. That's a activity in itself, believe me.

6. Locate a nice flat area outdoors for your pan to rest. Our nice flat area was one step outside our patio door. Any further than that and the pan would still be out there: too far to go!

7. Put the waterless pan out on the flat area. Carefully carry your pitcher of food-coloring-ed water away from your white carpet and around furniture to the door. Poor the water into the pan, making sure it comes up about half-way to the top of the cookie cutters. Strings should still be dangling over the edge.

8. Check on the freezing process often. I had the boys checking every 15 minutes...they thought they were big stuff giving me the play-by-play. Alex got curious and wanted to touch it about halfway through the process (10 degrees outside, mind you). My first reaction was not to let him since it was so cold, then "sure, honey, you go right ahead!" So, yeah, about 15 seconds was all he needed before he scrambled back inside.

9. When the pan is frozen solid (took ours about two hours) bring it inside and get creative as to how to release the cookie cutters. We boiled water and drizzled it over the top, wiggled and jiggled and loosened...probably for 20 minutes. You'll have to pull on the strings a little to get them loose, too. When the ornament finally breaks free, tie the ends of the string together and put it on a plate in the freezer.

10. Here's some advice though: don't use the food coloring. Some of the ornaments froze clear instead of the beautiful blue green, even though they were all made from the same water. I'm sure there's a sciency lesson in there somewhere, one that I'll never know.

11. Hang the ornaments on your frozen shrubbery. They're really kind of cool!

10 degrees when we put these outside, but Alex had to have a look. 5...4...3...2...1...

"It's cooooollllddd!"

My mom. And responsible blogging.

2010-01-04T08:01:00.001-06:00

I didn't write the book on blogging. Lordy, I didn't even READ the book on blogging. So I plan to make a lot of mistakes doing it. One big one, which I'm sure is covered in some beginning blogging guide somewhere, is to not neglect a major topic after you've written about it, leaving your readers hanging on for more information.

That's exactly what I did with my mom's heart attack. "...hey, everybody, mom had a heart attack!"

(crickets)

Not too fair to you guys, sorry about that. Hmm, wonder if my readership would increase if I paid attention to little details like that.

Enough mea culpas...on to being responsible:

Since my last post on December 10, mom has indeed returned home. She was tired but ready to be home, and then she went back into the hospital about four days later. She had internal bleeding due to the beginnings of a ulcer, exacerbated by blood thinning medication she was taking at the time.

Over the course of the last three weeks, she's had several transfusions and ended up spending three nights in the hospital, including Christmas Eve. Add in the freak snowstorm we had in Oklahoma that night, and it was a Christmas to be remembered (or forgotten!) for sure.

Mom is adjusting quite well to her new, salt-free and carb-counting diet. The family is trying to be there as much as we can so she will always have someone with her. She's not ready for making all her meals yet, though she's probably ready for that after my shift last weekend. As my younger sister said before I arrived "...you better bring your A-game..." in the kitchen. Um, what A-game?

Mom has a doctor's appointment this morning (my brother is there in Muskogee to chauffeur her!). She will be getting another blood test to see if the internal bleeding is still under control. If it is where it needs to be, it would be the third successful test in a row...very encouraging!

I know I'm leaving out a lot of details; I'm not sure Mom wants her every health detail posted out here. But I know a lot of you have been asking about her and she doesn't mind me posting an update here and there.

Thank you for forgiving my blogging faux pas!

New year, new blog?

2010-01-01T11:11:00.000-06:00

Yeah, right. I can't even take care of the one I have, much less start up a new one. For now, I'd just like to figure out how to change the language on the gray bar that appears above my blog from Dutch to something I can read. But for now, trial-and-error clicking gets me where I need to go...

So New Year's Day is supposed to be all about making a resolution...but I've found that if I give it the name "resolution," and proclaim it to a lot of people, then I have a 75% chance of not meeting it (or some such big number).

For that reason, I'm not calling any of my new little endeavors RESOLUTIONS. Then maybe I'll be more likely to stick to them. And since "a lot of people" does not equal my blog readers, I'm in the clear on that point, too.

My list:

1. Lose the weight that's holding me back. This, friends, MUST be the year I get serious about getting back in shape. I will be 44 (gasp!!) in four months and I am not living another year tired, sluggish, and unable to catch my kids when I need to.

2. Blog more often. And maybe join up again with a regular posting group again. I just need to get out there in the blogging world again and the first step is, um, blogging.

3. Don't try to be so perfect. I think one of my greatest flaws is that I limit what I do because I'm afraid it won't be perfect. I think there's counseling available for that...although decorating my boys' birthday cakes works too: they are always far from perfect. Anyway, perfectionism, if you take it from a psychological point of view, DOES NOT mean the person is perfect...I know there's only One perfect person to ever walk this earth. What it does mean is that the person is afraid of trying or doing in fear of failure.

For instance, there are several rooms in my house that are as yet undone. We've lived here six months and there are still boxes that need unpacking...mostly wall hangings. Thing is, I'm loathe to unpack them because I'm afraid I won't find the best place in the house to hang them. Or I find a place and then we decide to move furniture and then the wall hanging looks out of place. The horror!

So the boxes still sit, waiting for me to get started on my new non-Resolution.

Alrighty! Maybe down the line I'll post updates on these things I want to work on...and I hope I'll have good news with them. Happy New Year, everyone!

Lessons

2009-12-21T08:57:00.000-06:00

I suppose I'll never be too old to learn. For instance, this week, and the past few months, I've learned that blogging has taken a back seat. More than a back seat...it's being dragged by rope through the mud.

See, I like to take 45 minutes to write a post. I know...pick yourself up off the floor: it takes me that long to come up with this genius. But over the last few months, since moving to the new house and a host of other excuses, 45 quiet, uninterrupted minutes only occur at 3:00 in the morning, or during desperation clothes laundering.

So the painful lesson, people, is that I must learn to post a here-and-there update without waiting for the coveted 45 minutes. It's that...or the blog shall be no more (let me grab a Kleenex). I have to learn that in my mind I want to post rich content for the masses to print and post on their refrigerators and forward to all their friends. In my heart...meh...the desire to take from so many other areas of my life in order to make that happen just isn't there.

Lesson learned, I suppose. I just hope you'll stay with me for those posts that might offer you something useful.

Or maybe just a diversion from your everyday.

One pesky test and Salt is Evil

2009-12-10T11:45:00.000-06:00

Mom is doing much better and she will probably be going home today. We are waiting for the doctor to assess the results of one last blood test and then discharge her.

Today we have had a barrage of professionals telling my mom what she can and can't do when she leaves here. Mostly what she can't: can't lift anything heavy, can't exert herself in any way for at least a couple of weeks, and can't be friends with Salt anymore. Apparently salt is bad at letting the body rid itself of fluids. And extra fluid is a dangerous thing. And mom's heart is pumping out fluid at a rate of 35% when it should be in the range of 65%. (That is the watered-down version, no pun intended, of what's going on...but I'm not a medical professional so that'll have to do ya.)

The good thing is that mom is already sensitive to the amount of salt she eats: no shaking it on her food and she really limits processed foods and eating out. A lot of us would have been more than a little disappointed to learn that salt in our lives was virtually banned, but I think mom will handle it just fine.

That'll give her something to write about

2009-12-08T13:22:00.000-06:00

Dear Mom,

I know I've been scarce around here. I know you are painfully unaware of the goings on in my life since I haven't posted in so long. I understand your disappointment each time you come here to see if I've awakened from my bloogging slumber to grace your screen with new (albeit mundane) material. I get it mom...and I'm sorry.,

Don't go having a heart attack or anything.

Seriously.

Wait, really, mom, surely there's a better way to coax me into posting.

But if you insist on using a heart attack to get me to surface out here, so be it.

And the post I write will seem like it's all about me, but trust me: it's not.

It's all about you...and you getting better so you can ask me when I'm going to post my nothingness again.

And it's about you getting better so you can boss your kids around during the Christmas festivities. We are ready to be bossed, believe me.

And it's about your health, and your well-being, and your determination to get out of the hospital so you can get back to the business of mothering, and grandmothering, and mother-in-lawing, etc. And doing all that in a way that causes your heart ZERO stress.

Yep, this post is all about you.

So get better, know that in the last 24 hours your family has been through shock, and fear, and anxiousness, and hope, and now relief. And we'd like to stay here please.

And I'd like to know that for a long, long time, you're going to look forward to my posts of nothingness...which are always something to you.

Love you mom...

(For those of you who didn't know, my mom had a heart attack yesterday morning, actually during the night. Her prognosis is good: no surgery but lots of rest and monitoring. She'll probably endure another three or so days in the hospital. After that she'll just have to deal with her family getting all in her stuff so she doesn't have to exert herself for a long time.)

The everything post

2009-11-18T13:44:00.000-06:00

Here we go: kind of like the Everything Bagel, which I never get because I'm not sure if it's supposed to be eaten for breakfast or for a snack.

But this post...it's good all day. And probably for the next week if I'm gonna be consistently scarce out here.

To update you on the Home Team's goings on:

1. My new nephew Stetson is still cute. Is it possible to desperately miss a baby when it isn't yours and you've only spent an hour with him? I'm sayin' it is...

2. I won a drawing! I hope this'll be the start of a contest winning streak for me...it's been way too long since I got sumpin' for nuttin'. My latest gift from the Internets is a gorgeous piece of Frankoma bakeware, made right here in Oklahoma. Somewhere close to Tulsa, too, but I have no idea where. Anyway, Frankoma's been around forever, and their pottery is great quality. In spite of the fact that it's "very easy to use," it came with two pages of instructions. Maybe I'll just look at it for a long time.

But the prize isn't the fun part of the prize here. The fun part is that I won it from Cook Time with Remmi. Little Remmi Smith is the daughter of a fabulous woman I used to work for in my previous life. She was my boss's boss but I was lucky enough to work directly with her on many writing assignments. Hmm, maybe I should rephrase: she gave me writing assignments and I did them. Happily.

But, like me, she moved on from the corporate world. She's helping her daughter help kids develop a love for cooking and for healthy dishes. Check out their site, and put your kids to work in the kitchen!

3. My friend Lori sent me this Xerox-sponsored link to thank our troops. It's legit. It's easy. It's free. No excuses. Thanks, Lori!

4. I ordered a personalized Christmas gift and received it yesterday. I was basking in the glow of having ordered it so far in advance and also the fact that I created it...until I realized it has a typo. This kept me awake last night. Then it gave me nightmares. I should just think of this item before I sit down to a meal and I will instantly lose my appetite. Should I reorder it at a cost of $35 or patch it? Frankly, neither of those options settle my stomach.

5. I went to have my eyebrows shaped for the first time. I'll save you the long story: the short story is the woman wanted me to come back in three weeks, and during that time I was not to tweeze at all. I lasted three days. Was she serious?!

6. My dear husband subjected me to Paul Blart: Mall Cop last night. When should I forgive him? If you see this movie anywhere, please spend that hour and a half scrubbing your toilet with a toothbrush...you'll feel a lot better afterward.

Ya'll have a good Wednesday!

Stetson = Sweetness

2009-11-10T18:51:00.000-06:00

Great Grandma. How many babies have those arms cradled?

Is there anything more perfect than a newborn's toes?

Self-inflicted scratching already. And apparently those little mittens can keep ears warm, too.

Guess which one is pretending to sleep. Ahhh, and the Swee' Pea gown! May rival his toes for cuteness.

24 hours old. One day down...that wasn't so hard, was it?

Yee-haw! Stetson is here!

2009-11-09T20:19:00.000-06:00

My great nephew arrived today at about 4:50 p.m. Little Stetson weighed a strappin' 9 lbs. 11 oz. Even though he was bound to be running out of room in his temporary housing, he still held on for several hours even after the door was...

Ew. Never mind.

It was a lengthy process.

But he's here and beautiful. And my nephew was floating around the halls grinning. And so was his mom. And his dad. And his two sisters. We were all floating around the hospital corridors...it was a happy time.

Especially when he caught his waiting-room-weary entourage off guard and burst into the room:

"...he's a big boy!!"

You'd have thought someone had yelled "FIRE!"

Oh, and since this blog is about me, I must publicly thank my good friend Amy who picked up Mickey from school and took him to her house for two hours or more while I waited for Stetson to come. And she did so with a smile on her face. I didn't actually see her but I know Amy and she lovingly helps people who barge in on her with 30 minutes' notice. So thanks, Amy...you truly are priceless.

Yep, and Alex waited it out with me and other assorted family members, even one who is engaged to the family...er, my niece. Aaron very generously turned over the reigns of his IPhone to Alex for most of the wait. Without his help I'd have been searching the hallways of the hospital for a mild sedative. For me and Alex.

So thanks to the people who helped me today.

But even if this blog is about me, today was SO not.

It was about a milestone my nephew and his wife will never forget. It was about them meeting their little boy for the first time. It was about two people suddenly realizing there's a life on this planet more important than their own. At least they'll feel that way...they're parents now.

Great Monday!

2009-11-08T20:05:00.000-06:00

Already November?! Let's pretend I posted cute Halloween pics and beautiful photos of fall leaves from our backyard. That's not so hard is it?

The big news in our family for November is that I'm going to be a great-aunt for the...hmmm, third time, and the little one arrives tomorrow. Being a great-aunt has nothing to do with one's age, by the way. It just means I'm great.

Yep, my nephew will be a first-time daddy...I can't even stand the anticipation of seeing him hold his baby in his arms. Oh, my. Why is it that I can remember him as a newborn like it was yesterday but I cannot remember what I had for breakfast yesterday? The years...they just fly by, and yet our memories capture the important moments and let us keep them forever. Thank goodness.

So they'll be starting their journey as parents tomorrow morning at 5:30 a.m. Good practice, since it could be five or six years before they get to sleep in again.

Best of luck to you W and L. Keep your baby, and your memories, close forever.

Book character day

2009-10-30T08:15:00.001-05:00

In lieu of Halloween costumes, my son's school has Book Character Day today. So the kids still get to dress up in a costume, but they're required to find their inspiration in a book so maybe they get a little more creative than Batman and Spiderman (but check back here after Halloween for those staple costumes).

So Mickey chose Mike Mulligan of Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel.** What an awesome story this is...Mike Mulligan has confidence that his Steam Shovel (who he gave the woman's name of Mary Ann) can live up to his lofty expectations, even though he wasn't sure until she was put to the test. I love that: a man laying staking his entire reputation on the confidence he has in a woman...er...Steam Shovel.

But that message is lost to Mickey, of course. I think he just likes how much of the book revolves around digging in dirt.

As for the costume, my friend Julie came through with the hard hat, thankfully. Pete just called from school, however, and said Mickey thought the hat was too uncomfortable to wear. Oh, well...

I got a couple of pictures, though, before he realized that.

**Thanks to my sis Judy. She passed along to me a shopping bag full of books one day and made it a point to recommend MM.

Note to self

2009-10-29T19:08:00.000-05:00

Don't leave blogging interface open.

Without locking my office door.

Or my boy in the closet.

2009-10-29T13:21:00.000-05:00

jgjggfhgl,thyl,ygy,lgt,gkgfffffff.fgggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Wait, we have movement

2009-10-27T21:44:00.000-05:00

Who knows why I'm compelled to post a video here tonight. More of "talking to myself" I suppose.

And this one has way too much information in it when you consider I haven't even posted my boys' real names. Just disregard that stuff. And realize I did not prompt him to repeat it, either.

Try to also disregard the lack of pitch, rhythm, and tune.

And pay attention to the cute.

Just make sure your good wine glass isn't too close to your speakers.

Is it still shopping if you don't buy anything?

2009-10-27T13:02:00.000-05:00

Shopping alone is rare for me. I usually have at least one of the boys or...the horror...the whole family waiting impatiently for me in the car or on the other side of JCPenney.

So when I do go by myself...ah, the bliss. I can browse and compare prices and visualize to my heart's content. Except I don't do that because I can't relax because I'm flipping open my cellphone every ten minutes to see what time it is so I don't forget to pick someone up (you'd think I had ten kids or something. Truly it's a miracle I wasn't left somewhere to be raised by truck drivers when I was a kid.).

All that mess to say: I try to have a definite plan when I shop. A carefully crafted mission considering the needed item and the amount of time I have to find it.

I had that all that today...mission miserably failed.

All I wanted in the world was a plain red long-sleeved T-shirt for Mickey to wear as part of his costume. But those are not to be had anywhere, since boys' clothing makers tend to puke graphic designs of monster trucks and boxy superheros on the fronts of all shirts.

So looks like Mickey gets to wear one of Alex's red shirts, which will probably still fit him anyway.

The other part of his costume I needed was a hard hat. Like a construction hard hat. Little boys like to wear hard hats, don't they? Well, apparently not enough for Giant Halloween Store to stock them. But fake rubber b r e a s t s must certainly be in demand, since a couple of versions of those were available. And big axes shoved into rubber masks...thank goodness no one will have to go without those this Halloween. (Note to self: wait ten years to take boys to Halloween store.)

It's a very real possibility I'll have to buy an entire Bob the Builder costume in order to get the stinkin' hat. And I'll have to go to Walmart for it. Ugh.

And I'll probably be dragging people with me when I go.

I may be the one who needs the hard hat...

I wanna talk to me again

2009-10-25T20:45:00.001-05:00

It's amazing how a subject can occupy so much of your thoughts and yet your actions toward it are non-existent.

Like blogging.

And working out.

And unpacking those last two boxes from our move three months ago.

But we all know which of these concerns me at this moment.

And unfortunately it has nothing to do with a treadmill.

Yeah, lately I've thought about blogging at least ten times every day, but for some reason the urge isn't quite enough to actually do it. I think I'm in that funk again where I'm analyzing it way too much...as I told a friend the other day: every word I type out here I imagine some one person I know reading it. But it's difficult to consider your audience as individuals when you blog; there are too many people who read me from different areas of my life, and trying to write directly to every individual is a fruitless concept, to say the least.

So I suppose I should just get back to the basics, and start writing for myself again. I'll be breaking a number one rule of any type of writing, and that is to consider your audience.

And ya'll will just have to listen in while I talk to myself.

Surprises

2009-10-09T07:59:00.000-05:00

My boy has blond hair. Is that "blond" or "blonde"? I'm really not sure. But I really forget that it's blond(e) until I see pictures like this one from a year ago.

It's not that long anymore, for sure.

Blond(e)? Still. But getting darker.

Maybe I take a lot of pictures of him because I'm afraid I'll look up one day and it'll be chocolate-y. And because his blonde-ness still confuses me. Although he has a smattering of blond-y cousins...equally confusing. But it makes the whole clan look a little more interesting during get togethers.

His blue eyes...they're still confounding me, too.

A lot about this boy confounds me, come to think of it.

He's just looking the part.

Parlez-vous soccer?

2009-10-08T12:36:00.000-05:00

Mickey had his first soccer game last weekend. Yes, it's Thursday and I'm just getting around to alerting you of this news. I hope you made it through the week okay.

Nonetheless, it is new territory for me: Mickey's playing an organized team sport and I know absolutely nothing about it. Basketball, baseball, even football, I believe I could come up with one or two valuable pearls for him to take with him on the field.

Soccer?

Soccer is like a foreign language to me.

I know there's a ball. And the players chase it and try to score. Like basketball. And football. And they chase a ball in baseball, too, come to think of it.

Maybe it's not that foreign after all.

All I know is just before his first game, I struggled to come up with any pregame advice for him, since I had no idea what he's actually supposed to do. So I just said "...run fast. And listen to your coach."

Hafta' keep that one in my hip pocket for future foreign sports.

Patience x 10 = Coach Chad

...or, could be he's sneaking in a keyboarding lesson.

Whatever he told them, it was riveting to most players.

Somebody had different ideas...

Oh, pleeeease let the ball come my way.

Yeah, baby!

Not in my house!

Goalie gloves and jersey: ready!

That's what I said...

It's all in how you make up words

2009-10-03T19:36:00.000-05:00

So today was a particularly long day for the Home Team with a lot of activities, and I began it at 5:30. A. M.

It's SATURDAY.

Anyway, by the end of the day I was just a smidge on the edgy side and not in the mood to cook so I brought home Chinese food for the family (okay, for Pete and I. The boys just stared at it.)

At the end of the meal, I asked Pete to read my fortune cookie since he'd opened it for me. Not because he was being extra sweet, but because I said "give me half of that." My fortune, as read by Pete:

"The love of your life will get you through any circumstance."

I had to laugh at that, loudly, given my current mood.

Then Pete informed me he'd read it wrong; it actually said:

"Your love of life will get you through..."

Hmm, I think I'll bank on the first version.

Storyteller

2009-09-30T13:41:00.001-05:00

Here's proof that I do have people in my life other than Mickey and Alex and their daddy.

I'll start in the middle: that's my mom Rosemary. Isn't she pretty? She really hasn't changed much in the last...forever. I was about 25 before I appreciated anything she did for me (is that what I can expect from my boys?).

The lady on the left: that's Dorthy, my mom's next door neighbor of, let's see, how old am I...almost 44 years. She's a part of our family, too, whether she likes it or not. I think she's still trying to get over the shock of seeing a family of 13 move in next door. True, we all moved out eventually, but then we brought more little kids back to visit.

The gentleman on the right, that's my brother-in-law Roy. He and my sister have been married about 31 years (and a charming couple they are!) He owns a construction business based in Smalltown, Oklahoma, where he was born, by the way.

Roy is the storyteller in the family. Real or fiction (and sometimes a very gray line in between) the man's favorite thing in the world is to weave a tale in front of a rapt audience. And they're usually worth your attention, and usually involve a reptile or horse or some type of equipment (possibly an injury, too). In spite of living in a small town, the man has met so many people throughout his life, had so many experiences at home and traveling...and manages to recount his adventures like a Western novelist.

Telling stories, the interesting kind, is a skill I've never had; I stumble over reciting what I had for breakfast.

Not Roy. I've wondered how he got so good at it. Maybe his dad taught him, or he learned it from his brothers. Maybe it's spending countless hours at the local restaurants or rodeos or family gatherings. It does seem like cowboys in general gravitate toward...each other. And when they do, they stand around with an arm propped up on a corral gate, a booted toe dug into the dirt, and the stories flow, usually with laughter at the end.

Wherever he learned it, storytelling is something he continues to practice on anyone who'll give him a chance. Mom and Dorthy, they've heard hundreds of his stories over the years, maybe the good ones more than once.

Interestingly, he's getting ready to be a grandpa pretty soon...

...and he'll have a whole new audience.

To be. Is to run.

2009-09-27T21:21:00.001-05:00

...and splash.

And enjoy a 90-degree September day.

For $7.87 from the K-Mart clearance rack.

And run some more.

Running, running, running...

And remember you have a brother now and again...

Overheard: the wistful 5-year-old

2009-09-24T22:00:00.000-05:00

Today Mickey's kindergarten class got to attend an assembly put on by some of the older kids at his school. The kids were singing and dancing and wore costumes...a very colorful production (I peeked in the gym myself). Later I asked him if he enjoyed it:

"oooohhhh, mom, you would have loved the girls. They all wore bows! They were sooooo pretty! I could have looked at them alllll daaaaay looooong..."

I don't know whether to be amused or worried...

Your kids look blah, and it's for sale!

2009-09-23T13:06:00.000-05:00

Last weekend I took the boys to have their pictures taken; religiously I've taken them to Big Department Store Portrait Studio on or around their birthdays to preserve the moment and their newest outfit in a photo. I've taken them there so I can get decent photos at a good price, and I've been happy with the result for the most part.

Until now.

Their most recent pictures were mediocre and I'm being kind. The boys were set up in the same poses they've been rehearsing for the last several sessions...so much so I think all their portraits are starting to look alike. And to my horror, the "photographer" had them saying things like "fuzzy pickles" and "cheeeese." Just typing that makes me cringe. Neither was enough to get a genuine smile out of either boy, and Mickey even looked to be grimacing.

I thought maybe they'd look better when I sat down with the "photographer" to review them. No. She'd prettied them up with enhancements (at nine dollars per enhancement) and written words on them...I suppose in an effort to soften Alex's all-teeth facial stretch. And then she tried to convince me that a package, complete with royalty-free CD (as if I'd want copies of the mediocrity), for $129.99 was by far my best deal.

At this pitch I told her "the pictures aren't that good." Then I wanted to scream "...and I'm their mother!!"

She didn't try anymore upselling.

I still left having ordered several sheets of average photos...because average is still good if your kids' faces are there. And I'd fought to get them dressed and to the appointment and having to reschedule the whole thing somewhere else was not an attractive option.

But now I'm determined even more to figure out Behemoth DSLR and take my own photos of the boys. Or pay a premium for a photographer who sells skill and artfulness instead of...meh...

Kids' faces deserve better.

Pizza's fourth cousin twice removed

2009-09-17T20:36:00.000-05:00

If you've ever wondered how far you can possibly get from a pizza-like food, and yet still give it a name with "pizza" in it, look no further.

...and then wonder why I was compelled to tell the Internet about it.

Love ya, BC, but please, back to the drawing board.

Four: the cake

2009-09-16T20:21:00.000-05:00

Yes, the non-toddler had a birthday cake. Yes, I made it. Yes, I'm in Year 6 as The Mother Who Refuses to Pay for a Bakery Birthday Cake for Her Kids.

But for Alex's #4, maybe I shouldn't have been that mother.

I made the very big mistake of committing to making Alex a Lego cake. So I got reminded of it every day for a week. When am I going to learn that my boys have brains like steel traps when it comes to promises from their parents?

So I was in it whether I liked it or not. The very simple and exquisite example that enticed me so is pictured here. (Aside: does anyone know how they could have possibly gotten that well-defined edge around all the bumps when marshmallows are curved?)

My version wasn't exquisite. Or simple. It took me six hours. And I sweat (not on the cake, though, since I moved a fan into the kitchen). Seems those little blocks required freezing between layers of icing, and the little round thingies (big marshmallows halved) needed to be frosted indi-freakin-vidually.

I can't complain too much, really. I knew without a doubt it would be a challenge even with the simple design. Especially when I amped up the recipe to two cake mixes and making my own buttercream icing.

But for some reason I wanted the Lego cake to happen anyway. And happen it did.

Alex loved looking at it, although he refused to eat any of it. Thanks, honey.

In the car today I decided to throw caution to the wind and ask him what kind of cake he wanted next year.

"Transformers."

"Uh, yeah, that'll be a half-sheet ready for pick-up on September 16..."

Four

2009-09-16T03:00:00.000-05:00

As of today my house is void of toddlers.

Excuse me a minute while I collect myself.

My littlest is Four today. I capitalize the word because I feel it's deserving...at least in my little mind. See, Four seems like the end of all things babyish. All things toddler-y. Pretty soon his softness will be replaced with lean, wiry limbs like his brother's. And it'll all happen overnight.

Just like his first four years.

I have one of his baby pictures on my wallpaper and Pete wandered by and asked me whose baby it was.

His OWN baby.

Think four years is a long time?

I think it isn't. Not nearly long enough...

Happy Birthday, sweet. I want to pinch those cheeks forever.

So, how've you been?

2009-09-14T12:28:00.000-05:00

Hi, blog. Yes, I know it's been a while...not much, how 'bout you? I'm not sure why I called I guess I really just wanted to talk to you. Well, I was thinking maybe later on...we could get together for a while. It's been such a long time and I really do miss your smile...

...I'm not talkin' 'bout millennium. And I don't want to change your mind. But there's a warm wind blowin' the stars are round.

And I'd really like to find time to write.

Happy Monday peoples...

Storming

2009-09-04T08:24:00.000-05:00

Sent Pete and Mickey on their way this morning with umbrellas and jackets. Alex and I hover under the eves and wave them off. Doesn't take long for Alex to start weighing too much for me to hold, so I put him down and he scurries inside to the recliner and Super Why. And somehow he cuddles a Lego-built helicopter, too.

And I'm doing laundry, and cleaning up breakfast dishes, and doing various other mundane things.

My job, in other words...

It's Friday, the end of the work week, but that doesn't really matter much to a stay-home mom. Our job is where we live. We don't get to stop doing it for two days every week.

And I'm happy about that.

Especially when it's raining and I get to retreat back inside my house with a soft three-year-old.

Another first day...

2009-09-02T21:17:00.000-05:00

I do have another son. He started back to Mother's Day Out this week...same school he's been visiting a couple of times a week since he was nine months old.

One of his teachers is a former teacher of Mickey's. The other...the incredibly sweet mother of one of Mickey's good friends.

I felt like kicking back with my hands clasped behind my head. Ohhhh, yeeaahhhh...

Pics from the day...sometimes I wonder if he assumes his non-expressive, staring into space look especially for me and my camera. I'm not really sure I should even post these; the boy looks like he's dreading it with every fiber of his being. I assure you...this IS his happy face.

Ten reasons Wipeout should stay on the air

2009-09-02T20:13:00.000-05:00

Have ya'll seen this show? Wipeout has to be the most fun on TV right now. I don't spend time trying to figure out show line-ups, but I'm guessing its days are numbered since summer's almost over.

But I think they should keep it around, and here's why:

1. The only show, ever, that makes my entire family laugh...genuinely.

2. Gratuitous and witty innuendo that keeps adults happy, and little kids happily clueless.

3. Muddy water. Then clear water that cleans off all the mud. I love this. Yeah, it's a little weird.

4. Fun to watch the boys fashion their own "sweeper arms" at home.

5. Host John Anderson used to be on one of our local TV stations. Nothing to do with the show, I know.

6. It's truly the only show we all watch where I don't have to worry about the boys seeing something that makes me cringe.

7. Comes on at 7:00 p.m. Still time for getting the boys to bed on time.

8. When it's on the boys say "Big Balls" a lot...more laughs for Pete and I.

...oh, shoot, I can only think of eight reasons.

Seriously, that should be enough.

C'mon, learn something!

2009-08-26T13:01:00.000-05:00

Alrighty, then.

Fifth day of school for Mickey. Wouldn't it be funny if I posted something every day about Mickey's kindergarten year? I could post what he said at the end of each day, what he brought home in his backpack, and what he had for lunch.

(Please tell me no one thinks I'm serious. Talk about the best way to lose all seven of you as readers.)

But really, it's that little stuff is all I've been thinking about lately. As far as what he's actually learning, maybe he's keeping that to himself for some big reveal in the future. The way far off future, I suspect.

Thing is, we new parents were instructed to let the information lie for a while...don't ask too many questions, don't pressure the kids to recount every minute of their day.

Easier said than done. But I'm learning.

For now I refrain from "what did you learn today" and gobble up the tidbits that do come forth from time to time ("we got to choose a book to take home today...").

I'm just impatient to know how he's going to do...what he'll accomplish in school and what he'll need help with. It's almost like when he was a baby and I wondered what he'd be like as a five-year-old.

Yikes...that means the time right now, right this minute, is going to pass in a flash.

Scary.

The first day

2009-08-24T07:56:00.001-05:00

Maybe by now I can write about Mickey's first day of Kindergarten without losing it. And I got The Big Camera out of its big case and put it to work (the mourning for The Little Camera continues).

In case you're needing to get to work or school and don't have time to read the rest of this post, the synopsis is that Mickey's first day of kindergarten was harder on me than it was on him. The whole family escorted him to his room where he dutifully took his place on the fun carpet with the other kids. Then we all just stared. Us at him, the other parents at their kids, him at the other kids, the other kids at him. Everyone just seemed to be waiting for some action to begin.

The only action, though, was me snapping photos. And after an awkward amount of time I finally decided to say goodbye, only when I approached Mickey and tried to call his name, I couldn't get the word out. Deep breath, deep breath, I'm thinking...please just look over here so I don't have to say anything. Finally I squeaked out something and he turned to me, which didn't help my state much.

But amidst the tears I gave him a hug and told him I loved him, and he gave me a really confused look...and then sat back down to await the action.

And then I beat it outta there with Pete and the ever-flitting-about Alex.

At the end of the day I tried not to badger him with too many questions because I could tell he was tired. On the way home he recounted a couple of details, and then, before we even got out of the parking lot: "...Mamma, when am I going golfing with Daddy?"

I'm thinking that's a sign of a multitasking brain, right?

No one was too happy about getting up and out the door so early.

A big pancake and sausage, as promised.

How old do kids get when they stop getting dressed in the living room?

Sorta looks like a mug shot, but I wasn't being picky. It looks dark outside because it was pouring down rain. Nice...

Pete said he was not nervous about Mickey's first day. But he's the one who put liquid Comet in the dishwasher that morning...

Ahhh, the new school supplies...seemed to be beckoning little hands to begin creating things.

It's as if they're saying: I'm a little unsure so I'm keeping to myself here. And waiting for some action...

...but in the meantime Alex can tackle me and loosen things up.

So here we go...Mickey's ready, I just hope I am.

My poor littlest. Whatever.

2009-08-20T10:27:00.000-05:00

I decided to start a new tradition with Mickey when school starts: he gets to go to the bookstore and pick out a new book. In order to protect Alex from the trauma he would surely suffer while watching Mickey get all this attention, I told him we would go to Target and he could choose a new CD. He's lovin' his music these days, especially putting in the CD and turning it on himself.

So after we took Mickey to school this morning (details on that later) off we went to Target to accomplish the task. Alex chose The Imagination Movers and talked about it the whole way home. He eagerly trekked off to his room, inserted the CD, and listened to exactly one-half a song.

Then he took the CD out and put in one of his old ones. And fifteen minutes later he's still in there listening to it.

So much for impending trauma...

Night before The First Day

2009-08-19T20:45:00.000-05:00

I had prepared another post mourning the loss of My Little Camera...it was a doozey, too, all about how sometimes losing things is not as much about the value of the item, but the inconvenience of replacing it, and how the thug who took it (which is the only remaining possibility) will get his payback when he looks up how much the camera is worth and realizes it may not be enough to buy his Vega a tank of gas. Yeah, had that post ready to go until more important thoughts started clouding my head, like

my oldest boy starting kindergarten. Tomorrow.

I thought to myself, my goodness, if this mommy blog doesn't have some sort of salute to that momentous occasion, then I say...what blog?

So I'm determined to post something about it, even if it takes me all night long to get it written. Although I have to get up earlier tomorrow than I have in several years to make The First Day happen with as little angst as possible.

There's laying out his the new clothes...uniform-wear, I should say. And I actually asked Mickey "what do you want to wear tomorrow..." Whoops.

And positioning the new backpack by the door, which is empty this first trip but for the new lunchbox. Mickey has informed me he wants to try the cafeteria selections, though...and soon.

Then there's the pancakes and sausage I've promised him...and for some reason he has requested a bigger pancake than Alex's. Doesn't make much difference if Alex is eating two pancakes to his one, but "okay," I told him.

And getting The Big Camera ready to go. And its battery charged. And getting my name and address on the bag and a small cluster of ink bombs stashed inside that will explode if it gets more than ten feet away from me.

And, tonight, trying not to think of this as an emotional thing. Trying to remind myself that very soon we'll have this school thing down-pat: the schedule, the homework, the activities. It'll all become second nature. Pete and I, and Alex for that matter, will slide into the school environment and the magnitude of the first day will soon fade in the shadow of the next milestone.

But I wonder if I can actually accomplish that last task: I think of myself as pretty level-headed when it comes to emotions. And then my nephews go off to college...and I get emotional not for me or them but for their parents saying goodbye to them. And I think of my niece recently becoming engaged, and I tear up not when she delivers me the wonderful news, but later when I celebrate it on the phone with her mother.

So how am I supposed to keep it together when I'm seeing my own son through a milestone? I truly don't know. I truly hope there will be at least one other parent taking it worse than me, someone else in the group who didn't wear mascara on purpose. Then maybe no one won't see me ugly-crying into a bank of lockers. 'Cause it's gonna happen...I can just about guarantee it.

But contrary to my rambling here, the day is so not about me. It's about Mickey and his First Day...one that I hope he remembers forever.

Or at least the sausage and the big pancake...

Sicker

2009-08-12T15:14:00.000-05:00

Today the boys and I went to the restaurant where I thought I left my camera to see if the person who looked for it was incompetent. She wasn't. No luck.

So I called Mickey's school. We'd been there that day for a function where I used my lost camera to take pictures...the whole reason I had it with me. No luck.

I really can't think of anywhere else to look, unless I've completely lost my head and stashed it somewhere in this still-unorganized house. Which could mean we don't find it until we move again. And by that time I'll be able to sell it to a museum for a lot of money.

So now I guess I'm forced to either by a new camera or learn to use The Big One properly.

Hmm, wonder which one Pete will vote for...

Sick

2009-08-11T21:45:00.000-05:00

That's the best way to describe how I'm feeling: I think I've lost my digital camera. Not my big one I just bought...no one could misplace that thing. My little point-and-shoot. I think I left it in a restaurant last Friday during lunchtime. The workers there looked once but didn't find it. I'm sick. There were a hundred or so pics on it...of the move, etc. And of the boys in our old house on the last day we were there.

I suppose it could be worse: the camera itself isn't worth a hundred dollars: it's almost five years old and it's limping along. If someone swiped it from the restaurant booth they'll be sorely disappointed in their loot. Good.

I'm almost as upset about losing the camera case it was in: a red Tamrac I've owned for probably fifteen years. It's been on every vacation, to and from the Caribbean a few times, countless kid and family events...and not a scratch or tear anywhere on it. They don't even make the model anymore.

And to finish me off...the fact that the case also contained misc. equipment that goes to my video camera. That'll be a cinch to replace.

I'm heading to the restaurant tomorrow morning to conduct my own search. And probably come home empty handed.

Sick, sick, sick...

Boxes and stuff

2009-08-10T19:14:00.000-05:00

I'm starting to wonder if the boxes that have yet to be unpacked really need to be. After all, the last few I've unleashed were full of things I forgot I even owned. Could that be a sign I don't need them? Wait, one of them was full of old cheerleading uniforms...surely they will be of some use to me again someday.

The boys are lovin' their playroom. And as long as I hear them up there running back and forth periodically I don't worry. It's when the quiet ensues that I feel the need to check on them. Is that a universal parenting thing??

Little by little we are getting settled, but my word, it's gonna be weeks before I don't have something to put away. Although it seemed I was forever doing that at the old house so I suppose nothing much will change.

Alex asked me the other day when we were going back to the old house. I tried to explain as gently as I could that someone bought it from us and she's now living there, and we have a new house.

"Oh."

I know the questions will get more complex when they get older; for now I'm going to enjoy answering the easy ones.

So...eleven days until my oldest starts kindergarten and just a few days until two nephews and a niece start college.

And starts a new chapter on this blog...I hope.

We're in, but that's about it

2009-07-30T10:52:00.000-05:00

(I had a post completely written about the new house, but I'm writing from the library and something happened when I hit "publish." Thanks, library...)

A moving experience

2009-07-20T14:26:00.000-05:00

One week from today we'll be sitting at a big conference table with cricks in our hands from signing papers on our new house.

One week and one hour from today we'll be sweating in the July sun moving our entire lives under a new roof.

One week and a day from today, I'll bring the boys home from Grandma's, and instead of turning onto Gary Pl., we'll veer north a bit to their new home for the rest of their childhoods. (Really makes me wonder if Alex, just shy of four years old, will have memories of this house and how it was the only thing he knew for so long.)

It's the calm before the storm, folks, and here's how it's going to play out:

Friday: take the boys to Grandma and Grandpa's a little north of here. While we're there, we'll pick up a ginormous box truck belonging to Brother-in-Law, kiss our babies goodbye, and rumble back south to Tulsa. The boys will spend the night there. When we get home we'll begin loading onto it whatever we can fit...and lift.

Saturday: keep loading the box truck. Have two or three arguments with Pete about how I don't what my photo albums on it until the last minute since I don't want them baking in the heat. In the late afternoon Pete will go to Grandma and Grandpa's and pick up the boys. How he's getting there is still a mystery...since the box truck will be loaded up, etc.

Saturday evening: walk to church for the last time.

Saturday night: enjoy our last night together in this house. Pete will look at me funny when I start reminiscing...especially when I talk about when, on our wedding day, we walked over in all our wedding finery to have our photo taken in front of it. And when I talk about how he pounded a sign the size of a billboard in our front yard announcing Mickey's birth. He'll shush me when I tell him we'll remember the driveway where Mickey learned to ride his bike, and where Alex wore out his Little Tikes basketball goal. Then the whole family will fall into the remaining bed in the house...exhausted, and excited at our new chapter about to begin.

Sunday morning: try to get up before the movers get here at 8:30 a.m. Gather up the boys and shuttle them to their other Grandma's, where they'll be until Tuesday. Race back to Tulsa and clean, clean, clean. Sunday night Pete and I will head to a hotel for the night, since we have to have everything completely outta here and I'm not sleeping on the floor.

Monday morning: close on the houses in the a.m. Movers will meet us and our box truck at the new home...and the real fun begins.

That's the plan; I'm pretty sure there will be changes (ya think?). I will probably not be online for several days, either. To take advantage of having the thing disconnected, I'm taking the computer to the shop next week to have it tuned up and de-virused, etc.

So if I'm MIA for a while...um...you'll think everything's completely normal.

What's your best time?

2009-07-19T21:14:00.000-05:00

I'm 43 years old and I've finally realized I need to listen to myself: I am productive, eager, enthusiastic, and patient...

...in the morning.

I tend to get up before anyone in the house by an hour or more. I shower, put on makeup, do my hair, and get dressed before anyone's even awake. I go downstairs, make coffee, have breakfast while reading a cookbook, put in a load of laundry, empty the dishwasher, lay out the boys' clothes, fix their lunches if it's a school day, check my email and the news, and start planning the week's meals (okay, lying about that last one but doesn't it sound good?).

I do more before 9:00 as a stay home mom than I used to in a whole day at my day job. At least there toward the end of my cubicle career anyway...

I maintain that ferocious ambition at home for several hours.

And about 4:00, the wheels on the production bus fall off. By five, I'm skidding. 6:00, wow, pity the phone solicitor that draws up my number. I'm short with the boys, trying to fix dinner without letting the TV babysit them, and wondering if Pete's "I'm on my way home..." means he's in the truck with the motor running or he's "finishing up" an email. Big difference between those two scenarios.

So I've learned that if I'm going to try to accomplish something that will be especially taxing, like shopping for a week's worth of groceries with both boys, it needs to happen in the a.m. when I'm at my best. If you ever see me at Walmart after 4:00, might be in your best interest to pretend you didn't...

It sounds crazy, but I'm just now realizing this to the point of changing the way I do things during the day. Things that are easy, like letting the boys play on the computer or watch a video, need to happen during that witching hour at 4:00 or so. In fact, I believe they, too, begin to get bored with the day...probably a lot of kids do. So I used to blame that stress-filled time on them until I realized, hey! I have a not-so-great time of day, too. Who knew?

So what's your best time of day? Morning? Midnight? When do you have the most energy and what do you do to get yourself through the times of day when you're dragging? (And I already know about coffee.)

Overheard: Frightening

2009-07-16T10:30:00.000-05:00

Scary words from Mickey to start the day:

"...hey Alex, let's play Wipeout!"

(And happy 500th post to me!)

Mishmash

2009-07-15T20:26:00.000-05:00

-- I've started packing...hooray! How do you say goodbye to baby clothes? The boys have some I just can't part with, and I know I'm going to end up shuffling them around a hundred times before I find space for them. But I just can't put them in the giveaway box now...or ever, if you want to know the truth.

-- Mickey has a couple of new phrases that make me grin when I hear them. "...Grandma's house is so decorational..." and "...Mom, it's soakin' hot out here!" I think they work!

-- I used chipotle peppers in adobo sauce for the first time the other day in a chicken taco recipe. (Go ahead, say "adobo" a bunch of times...fun!) Then I noticed "chilpotle" on the label and I wondered if any other glaring errors had been made in the production of this can. Of course this blog is not perfect, but I try to avoid paying people to make mistakes.

-- Ya'll...Pete's in the middle of a horrendous travel week. Think about him and pray his travels are safe and he can get some decent rest soon. And his friend's wife is in the hospital suffering with a pulmonary embolism, which, given his history with that demon, has him visiting her in the hospital as much as he can. Her husband was out of state when she went in the hospital...can you imagine. Anyway, he's having a very draining week and I hope he'll be able to have a relaxing weekend...

-- ...after I go see the Harry Potter movie on Friday night with my moms! Woo-hoo!!

-- In my frenzied weekend, I missed a traveling Titanic artifacts visit which my good friend frantically called me to tell me about. And I missed it. I'm a little sick about that one...

The new house!

2009-07-13T20:43:00.000-05:00

I'm starting to wonder if I'll have everything packed in time for the move two weeks from today, but then I realize I don't have much choice in the matter. I'm feeling a little like back in college when I procrastinated for weeks before a final then crammed all my studying into the 18 hours before test time (for whatever reason I know a few college freshmen who read my blog; ya'll don't do that, mmmkay?)

As promised, however, here are some pics of our soon-to-be home sweet home. I'm calling them "before" shots, since we have a list a mile long of improvements we want to make:

Raining when I took this shot, so I wasn't getting out of the car to get the whole house.

Does anyone know the technical term for this thing? Looks like something that will require climbing on rooftops someday.

I love the bay windows. There are three sets in the house!

'Cause you needed to see the stone close-up.

Must. Be. Climbed.

Handwashing sink in utility room. Weeee!

Unfinished kitchen cabinets that will soon be "ginger." Better known as medium brownish-y.

"Hey, let's put granite in, but that means we have no budget for a backsplash. Maybe The Hometeam won't notice..."

The third bay window in the dining room just off the kitchen. This one looks out onto the...ready for this...BACKYARD! (Which I have no pics of...sorry.)

Formal dining room. But we're not calling it that because we're not formal (suggestions for other names welcome).

Den. With a weird closet thing that we'll have to define sometime.

Sort of a shot of the yard. It has a fence and trees. I'm livin' the dream, I tell ya.

...and the house has a front door.

With a window like this in the office, I'm sure to write some inspired blog posts for once. Right now I'd settle for just writing.

Stairs...which I don't really like having, except I love these since they lead to...

...a gameroom!

More gameroom.

My favorite bathroom feature: they all have these bureau-type vanities.

Guest room upstairs, too. Crooked ceiling fan included.

Boys' room downstairs next to ours. They'll be rooming together until further notice. Or the fighting starts leaving scars.

"Oooo, and let's not replace any ceiling fans. We can call them vintage!"

The bad news: all the closets are small like this. The good news: there's four of them.

New appliances. Yay!

Storage in garage. I'm very excited about this since we won't have as large a utility room in the new house.

I'm also excited about having a screen door in the garage. Oh the little things...

Spot for our second fridge. I still have mine from my single life. Seriously, save a couple hundred and buy one for your garage. Priceless for summer time drinks and frozen treats, stocking bottled water, trays of party food.

Ceiling fan in the garage. I'm sure there's a sweet spot somewhere those three blades will cool...

Mickey's very intrigued by the mail drop set-up. When he saw this picture he asked "...what happens to the mail when the garage door goes up?" Hmm...

Not looking forward to fitting all my pots and pans in here.

The utility room sink again. I'm in love with it.

I may even leave one remaining piece of "vintage" in the house.