Three Boys and A Girl

Another Picture

2011-03-06T11:09:00.000-08:00

Here is another picture from the same trip to VA. Joshy and John spent time with the kite on one of the windy days. I love seeing John with the boys. They truly do think he carries the world in the palm of his hand.

Old picture of Ben

2011-03-06T11:02:00.000-08:00

I came across this picture today and it is hard for me to believe how much Benjamin has grown. Now he is a little man but it is true what people say. They never do stop being your little baby boy.

"I'm a naked boy"

2011-03-04T20:43:00.000-08:00

This morning, I turn the corner to find two boys, entirely naked, wrestling on my bed.

Boys are so weird.

iPad

2011-03-01T09:40:00.000-08:00

I am currently having a love affair with the iPad I borrowed from work for some heavy document reading. That said, there is one downside I have found with this touch driven device. It turns out the that hand you scroll with is also the hand you generally eat your fast food with. This leaves three options. Not working while eating. Eating less greasy food. Becoming ambidextrous. Given those options and my understanding of myself and workaholic society as a whole, I have decided that the iPad might very well usher in the first fully ambidextrous generation this world has seen. I have long stood against Apple and its golden cow but little did I know its borg-like appeal to those wowed by shiny and new was coupled with a dedication to the betterment of mankind. Where I saw simpletons seeking status, they saw the dawn of a new era. I have misjudged them and their unwavering goal of world domination. History is being made, my friend, one Apple convert at a time, and I am there on the wide path, waving my iPad and chanting along.

Parrot

2011-02-27T09:35:00.000-08:00

This morning there was a bird making a ruckus outside our front window. Ben was bothered by the noise and began yelling that there was a parrot outside and to make him stop making that noise. John, in his all knowing way, said that he couldn't stop him from making noise because that was the way God made him. Joshy, without a pause, cues in with "You can kill him with a gun". Ben: "We don't have guns" Joshy: "Yeah, but daddy makes swords" Ben: "I don't like parrots".

At least we are clear on our options.

Think I'll pass...

2011-02-27T09:25:00.000-08:00

New Restaurant 1: Greek Food

2011-02-04T18:44:00.000-08:00

A group of people at work have started a new tradition of going to lunch every Friday somewhere "new". Not new to everyone, but not one of the regular fallbacks. The goal is to have tried every restaurant in the area at least once. Last Friday the pick was Zorbas. I had heard about it plenty from those who raved about their lunch salads and while I am neither a fan of lamb nor cucumbers, I wasn't thrilled at the choice but game. It is, after all, the nature of the "try something new" beast. Still, when I opened the menu...well...it was Greek to me...literally. I had tried a bite of a gyro (yee-rho...the menu instructed) before, but wasn't too impressed. So, I decided that I would go with a chicken skewer on rice, as it sounded safe and cucumber free. The waitress we were bestowed was less than thrilled to be at work and upon receiving my uncertain order, began to rattle off the types of rice I had to choose from. She didn't even say basmati which was the one in the description. I looked back and forth from the menu to her, looking for some written rice list, feeling absolutely lost and somehow pressured by her clear displeasure. At this point I can't remember any of the words she had said and was scared to move ahead into the sauce options if I had, so I blurt out, "I want a chicken gyro". I don't want a chicken gyro. I hate gyros. And their GY-ros. Not yee-rhos. Saying yee-rhos just sounds dumb. Like people who say burritos with the rolled r or try to use English words like loo. The more seasoned had ordered an appetizer of humus which basically looks like albino bean dip. Outside of the random olive and the questionable liquid drizzled on top, it wasn't too bad when smeared upon pita. I wouldn't say I loved it, but at minimum it was a Like Minus. Then came the salad. It is hard to explain as it was definitely not lettuce and was chopped. As though you had diced lettuce into small pieces and then ate it with a spoon. The gentleman who ordered it offered me a bite. The best way to describe it was that it tasted like something that was meant to go into something else. Like cream cheese. Now, that would be good on a pita. The panic ordered gyro was not great but I liked the fries, the least Greek thing in the place. At the end of the day, I am just not an adventurous eater. It is not the different culture thing, but more the complicated thing. I don't want something in a paste or with an olive or with a meat whose fleece was white as snow. I just want a piece of normal meat and some plain rice. Maybe some mashed potatoes or sweet potato fries. The chicken on a stick would have been great...I would guess. I mean, it is reserved for only those well versed in rice and you just can't get more elite than that.

The History of Rap

2011-02-03T20:03:00.000-08:00

John, this one's for you...

Zoo Day

2011-02-02T21:13:00.000-08:00

Last Saturday promised to be unseasonably warm and so we decided it would be great fun to get out of the house and take a day trip to the zoo. Hard to believe Joshy is in short sleeves in January. We got there around 10am and although the parking lot was hardly full, only one ticket window was open and outside it a 20+ person line. Jess and Ross were meeting us there and so I went ahead and bought everyone's ticket simply because I get annoyed when I have to wait. The idea of standing in line for 15 minutes and then waiting for them to arrive and then waiting another 15 minutes made me feel grumpy at best. Our first stop was the Children's Zoo. Being January, most of the attractions inside were not running as they involve water. John was not in the mood for the Lorakeets as they generally bite his ears and I couldn't convince Joshy to go with me to feed the goats. All Ben cared about was finding turtles. We actually spent the longest time watching the coi swim. They were giant and beautiful and reminded me of Nijo Castle, a hibachi restaurant we were taken to as kids. You crossed over a coi pond on the way into the restaurant and I remember standing there and watching them swim back and forth beneath the little bridge. By the time we made it out of the Children's Zoo and through the herpatarium, I was thirsty. Thirsty, hungry and in a bad mood. The bad mood born of the thirst and hunger. Some people don't do tired. I don't do hungry. Pizza and diet coke to the rescue. In the aquarium, we watched the Sea Lions and each said why we wish we could be one. Joshy wanted to turn circles while he swam. I wanted to breathe underwater. Yeah, I know. Sea Lions don't breathe underwater. Donned on me about 10 minutes after I said it. We rode the carousel and Joshy wanted me to ride on the animal next to him. Now, I have gained quite a bit of weight since the fall, courtesy of stress and chocolate cake, and as I stared down that monkey, my fear was two fold. First, breaking a zoo merry-go-round seemed less than appealing. Probably not good for the ego and who knows how much mobile monkeys cost nowadays. Second, I am well aware that what goes up must come down and as the ride slowly comes to a stop, all you can think is Oh Lord, Please let me get off of here gracefully. Gravity is not the chubby man's friend. Luckily, all was well and Joshy did not have to wrestle me free from the child's amusement ride. He just sat on his tiger and we pretended to race. I love the conversations that we have. After the last stop at the bats and carrying Ben what seemed like a mile, we called it a day and headed home by way of Chilenos, where Joshy learned he liked enchiladas and Ben ate his weight in chips. It was nice to be out of the house. Nice to spend time with the boys. Ben and me cheering on the sand turtle trying to climb the rocks. Joshy instructing me on how flamingos sleep on one leg and which types of frogs are poisonous. Ben on John's shoulders, leading him by pulling on his ears. Random men touching Hadley's face. It was a good day.

(More pictures from the day are availabile on Jess's Blog. My camera died about 10 minutes in.)

Splash Zone

2011-01-09T09:10:00.000-08:00

Grand Country Inn had an indoor water park that turned out to be perfect for the boys. The majority of the park is seen above and involves an intricate play house type set up with water falling from every direction. The big downpour shown above (in a stock photo lifted from their website - hard to run through water toting a camera) happened every 10 minutes. With the ringing of the bell, kids all scurried to the splash zone to be pelted with sub zero water. I was happy to stay in the kiddy area where the water was a balmy temperature and not raining down on my head. The part of the park not shown above, outside of the kiddie pool, is the lazy river that runs on a lower level of the building. That was our first stop upon arrival. The first attempt at getting Joshy in the innertube was a bit of a struggle as he couldn't decide if he wanted to ride the tube like a sunbather or paddle with the tube under his arms. Once he realized he could touch the ground, though, he was off. That was the nice part about a just deep enough but not too deep lazy river. The fact that he could touch the bottom allowed me to reside somewhere between "pool death grip" and "unsupervised children in water". Ben, however, wanted to be independent but laying in that innertube, he was hanging on for dear life. Not big enough to fill the center, he was dangling from where each hand held a handle of the tube. He didn't want us to hold on but I had definite visions of hands slipping, heads falling underwater and newer, stronger, water phobias emerging. In the toddler area, he could run around life vest free. Slides just his size, emptying out into six inches of water. Joshy and John tacked the big water play area and the 100 gallon bucket of water. Here Joshy was able to go life vest free, as well. The freedom was intoxicating for them.

You will note that John forgot to take his shirt off upon entering one Lazy River and, not having thought to bring clothes to change into, got to opt between wet shirt or no shirt for the trek back to the room in 50 degree weather. The next time, extra clothes came along, and you should have seen us trying to fit a bag of clothes, four towels, 3 pairs of normal shoes and 1 pair of shoes as tall as the locker itself in before shutting the door. At least we got our 50 cents worth of locker space.

Fantastic Caverns

2011-01-03T18:42:00.000-08:00

On our way home from Branson, we stopped by Fantastic Caverns outside of Springfield. I'm told it is the "only ride through cave in the world, making it great for seniors and those with small children". It was a cold day in Missouri but the cavern itself stayed 60 degrees year round and was a welcome contrast to the 30 degree winds. As we were piling into our tram, the tour guide asked Joshy if he would like to sit in the front with him. Joshy hopped in and we were off.

The portion of the cave we toured was wide, the smallest portions still wide enough for a single tram, although with a low ceiling that required huddling down. One of the first areas you entered was a large open area that had served as an underground speakeasy in the 20s and later as a stage for some of the Ozark music still on display in Branson today.

At one point, the guide stopped the tram and hopped out to show us what the cave looked like without any light. Once he shut off the lights, you could hear Ben yell out "I can't see. I can't see". Soon, the guide lit an oil lamp to show us how the first explorers saw the cave. It lit up just the area around the tram itself. Enough for Ben to say "I can see" but not see much. He again blew out the light in transition and you hear Joshy say "Okay, where are the lights now". Once he had finished the light portion of his tour, he mentioned as he headed back towards the jeep that usually the kids were yelling for him to turn out the lights again. I told him that he probably didn't have to worry about that with my children. They aren't scared of the dark, but they much prefer seeing.

Periodically, the guide would stop and hop out to walk back towards us and explain the portion of the cave we were in. Of course, Joshy would take this time to hop out of his seat and walk towards the back of the jeep and wave or make silly faces. One time I turned around to see that he had gotten out of the jeep altogether and whisper yelled a "Joshua, get back in the jeep" with visions of him falling down a sink hole in my head. Retrieving him just seemed like a hassle I didn't need. Not a fan of small spaces.

Ben took this picture of me at one of the paused portions of the tours. He was engaged while we were moving but 4 minutes of talking is hard for any little guy to sit through.

These twin columns are in the first chamber the 12 women who first explored the cave entered. They were pretty magnificent. Here again, he turned off the lights to show us how they appeared to the women, lit by candles held in cans.

After the tour, the guide commented on how many questions Joshy asked. I just smiled because curiosity is one thing I love about that boy. I wondered if I would have been brave enough to venture into the utter darkness with only a candle and unending vastness before me. My dad took us to caverns when we were little and I still find them just as magical today as I did then. An entirely different world, 139 feet under ground. Found by a man following his dog who was busy chasing a rabbit into a hole. A hole women squeezed through in dresses with candles for light. A hole 20 feet from the blasted entrance, made with room enough to fit a tram and years of travelers drawn by humanity's need to explore.

Branson Vacation

2010-12-30T08:20:00.000-08:00

This morning I wake to find myself in Branson. I know…Branson. This week was meant to begin with a car trip to Virginia but a winter storm and 12 inches of snow nixed that. At first, I was decidedly certain that fate hated me. I had gotten it into my head that salvation lay in Virginia, somewhere different and away. But, refusing to stay home during my first week off from work in over a year, we began to formulate a plan B. With little time to plot a new course, John and I settled on Branson as there were packages galore and we had never been. Perhaps the strong stereotype of Branson being reserved for the old and the hillbilly was baseless. You know, like other stereotypes of women being emotional or Star Trek conventions filled with 50 year old men who live in their parent's basement. So, off we set to a hotel boasting indoor water parks and the world’s largest banjo. Relying heavily on technicality to sustain different and away. Hotels with doors on the outside and the distinct feeling one needs to break out the black light don’t really fit the romanticized version of getting away. That said, about three hours into the car ride, it was clear that what I had seen as disaster was a blessing in disguise. It was as though God looked down on us poor souls and knowing we were out of our freaking minds to consider 21 hours in a car with a 3 year old, graciously said let it snow and saved us from ourselves. Lesson learned. Always fly. Having made it within 30 miles of Branson, we began to see our first glimpse of the city by way of billboard. The old man holding an infant playing a double necked banjo sealed it. Stereotype true. Really, I had grown suspect of Missouri itself. An hour out of Branson we began to see routes that were letters instead of digits. Route Z. Route PP. A state unafraid to stand in the face of route numbering convention and say let’s turn this mother on its head. A state that had a higher population of people who could recite the alphabet than count to 100. The first official Branson attraction to come into view was a neon lit buffet named Yakov. I don’t think the humor there needs any help. And then there is the moment you drive over the hill and see the strip in its pearls on pigs glory. Grand Country Inn. Radiators and indoor/outdoor carpet but free unsecured wi-fi. Something only in perspective when you realize what a hotel snob I am. I can literally feel my white trash reputability rising. Is this what the world views as down home American? Yosemite Sam and 4 generations of Presleys? And no, not the King of Rock and Roll variety. Still, as I look out at my day, chiding my son to stop picking up the phone to call "all our friends", I have the hopes of lazy rivers and Silver Dollar city to keep me warm. And the belief that if I somehow get stuck in hillbilly hell, I have friends like you to come save me from the twice daily jamborees.　

Are you awake?

2010-12-26T13:06:00.000-08:00

Joshy has talked in his sleep since he was a toddler. Not babbling, but full conversations. A moment ago, he asked for a drink of water. Thinking he was awake, I took him a cup. When I reached his bed, he sat up, eyes wide open and asked me if I could hold "this". So, I mimed taking the imaginary object out of his cupped hand and replacing it with the water, which he gulped, handed back to me, and then laid back down, perfectly asleep. Whatever was going on in his dream, he clearly was thirsty. John is much like him in that. I can have full conversations with him, thinking him awake. The upside? Sleep John generally agrees with me. The downside? Awake John rarely remembers. Ben is more like me. Asleep or awake. And if awake unnaturally, usually grumpy. Awake unnaturally and without a diet coke, flat out mean.

Happy Christmas EARLY Morning

2010-12-25T12:34:00.000-08:00

4:15 - Sounds erupt as Joshy finds the stocking on the end of his bed and the microphone inside.
4:30 - Benjamin joins in, repeating announcements of the candy in his stocking while Joshy opens the wrapped things inside.
4:45 - Half asleep instruction to leave the bath paints IN THE BATHROOM. Drifting back to sleep to the sound of Benjamin talking about painting something yellow.
5:00 - "We got tooters. We got tooters in our stocking." (fart sound) "Ahhahahahahahahah"
5:05 - "Mama. Mama. Thank you for the tooters."
5:10 - (fart sound) "Ahahahahahahahah"
5:30 - The deflation of all hopes of sleeping till 6 and a drowsy trek down the stairs.

Merry Christmas to parent's everywhere on the one morning where children's excitement over whoopie cushions makes sleep deprivation worth it.

After this first picture with Ben grumpily pouting, I was excited when the next shot featured two non-scowling kids. It was only after editing it that I noticed. Ben! Why do you keep sticking your hand down your pants??

They had a wonderful Christmas. More presents than they know what to do with. And, unfortunately for us, many noise makers in the bunch. Harmonica, recorder, guitar... We are going to have to think long and hard when comes along on our car trip.

Toy of the Year

2010-12-24T08:56:00.000-08:00

Not a big shopper, in combination with big promoter of Nick Noggin, commercial-less TV, I was apparently out of the loop regarding the new cool thing. Sing-a-ma-jigs. So, when one showed up as a birthday present for Ben, I had no idea what it was or how addictive a freaky looking stuffed animal with a hair band for a mouth could be. One squeeze of the belly and it starts jibber jabbering. Squeeze the hand to change modes and now it is singing a song. Long after the kids lose interest, you sit there, squeezing the stomach in the perfect rhythm to have each syllable of the song timed as it should be. Every squeeze the next syllable comes. Singamajig doesn't miss a beat. Squeeze their hand once more and you have access to a scale of notes that, when paired with another in the same mode, belt out in perfect harmony. We have two in our house and while the kids were playing whatever version of battle below, mom sat upstairs in the room, taking a break from wrapping presents, making two quazi-bears sing. You have to wonder who thinks of these things. They are attractive by no means and the synthesized voices bear no resemblance to reality and yet, one squeeze is all it takes to suck you in. Perhaps genius and madness are only a thin line apart after all because only crazy or brilliant created this thing. Either way, I'm sold. Follow the robotic sound of Clementine and there I will be. Oh..my...dar...ling...oh...my...dar...ling... Nite...nite...

Chicago

2010-12-19T08:53:00.000-08:00

I realize that I never spoke of the trip I took to Chicago for a conference in September this year. I had never been before and was lucky to find myself in the windy city during unseasonably warm weather. Staying downtown, I was quickly finding myself quite in love with the city. Only there 4 days, I had convinced myself by the time I had left, that I was ready to make a change. Ready to start over somewhere new, somewhere urban, somewhere a train took me to work. I am not at a point to leave now, in the midst of school and with a job I love at a company I truly believe in. In an industry I find consistently fascinating. But, sitting on the rooftops next to Wrigley Field, Chicago seemed to be under a different sky, one of endless possibilities. As I sat, wet from the rainstorm rolling through, the field bright green against the grey sky, I was entranced by the taste of a different world. As I look back now, I don't know that Chicago proper is what endeared me but the idea of different, itself. The allowance to believe, for a moment, that all our ills can be dispossessed by state lines. But Chicago itself, well, I despise the cold, more than most anything, and as you recall, unseasonably warm was part of that mental picture I had built. Reality of winter looks more like this:

What it did show me, however, is that there is a part in me that is ready to find a new world where John and I can step out and find a new footing. But for the time being, here is where we need to be. Here is where I want to be. But who knows what the next 10 years will bring. I may find my perfect mix of urban and industry, somewhere on the equator, where winter never comes. In the meantime, here are some pictures from the trip. Two girls, completely buying into the belief that the reality of a city can be captured in a tourist's eye view. You know it isn't true, but it feels far more magical that way.

It was bound to happen sooner or later

2010-12-18T17:18:00.000-08:00

Let me begin this post with a recent picture of Benjamin. It was taken a few months ago, but serves the purpose well.

Now to the story. Yesterday, while I was at work, the boys were off school and home with John. As is the usual routine, after lunch, they went upstairs to take their naps. Having settled down in their beds, John went about his business. Later, going to check on them, instead of the sounds of mouth breathers, he hears hushed whispers coming from the bathroom. Turning the corner, he finds two little boys, one with scissors in hand and the other missing considerable amounts of hair. Joshy had managed to find the shearing scissors in the cabinet above the toilet and Benjamin was getting the full barbershop treatment. And John didn't catch them after simply a trimmed bang, no Ben was sporting full on monk. All my baby boy's curls were gone, hair cut to the scalp excepting along the edges. Hence the monk-esque feel. John calls me at work, ducking in the bathroom so Joshy doesn't hear him talking in a hushed whisper, and through a voice, strained by resisting laughs, explained how my eldest had cut my youngest's hair and that it looked horrible. And, in fact, the pictures that I am about to attach, do not do it justice. When seeing it live, half the back long, half in patches, it was almost painful to look at. A walking billboard for "my parents don't love me". Even now, I can't help but laugh because it literally looked like he had stuck his hand in a light socket or perhaps half his head contracted mange. Joshy, of course, said that he was trying to help Ben, and while I am sure there was some truth buried in the attestment of good intentions, when we offered to give him the same haircut as Ben, he wasn't quite as certain about how good Ben's hair looked after all. It was more like a drawn out "no" as both hands clutched his hair.

That brings us to today, when mama went to Target to get a hair trimming kit to finish what Joshua Reuben started. Benjamin was actually quite a good customer, wiggling far less than his older sibling is prone to do and shedding no tears through the process. About half way through trying to make something of the monk do, Joshy was insistent that he, too, needed a haircut and then soon John was in line, as well. So, mama cut three boys hair today. One because he couldn't be seen in public, one because he can't have his brother get anything he doesn't get also and one because if I am doling out haircuts, might as well tame the fro. During Joshy's cut, as I reached the top of his head and turned him about to face me, I asked, "Joshua, Did you cut your own hair also?". Right smack dab in the middle of his hairline, an entire chunk of hair was missing. Not shorter, missing to the scalp. He insists no, and then I touch his scalp and remind him that I can see where the hair is gone. Out comes the admission. Thank goodness he didn't keep going because I would have had to completely buzz it and Marcellus boys do not look good bald. They look like Timothy McVeigh. A bad experience with John and "a 3 all over" taught me that. Still, as they say, all's well that ends well, and I would say it ended decently well. Three trimmed boys, gelling Ben's new big boy haircut as he and Joshy chant over and over, "We will not cut each others hair."

(They had just finished eating their popsicles, hence the red face, and were apparently cold, hence the floating heads.)

Benjamin Keith

2010-12-11T08:40:00.000-08:00

Today is Benjamin's birthday observed. The actual day is Monday and on that 13th of December, he will be three years old. We are on the cusp of an entirely new phase of life. No more toddlers. No more babies. We are on the horizon of life with kids, who wind up in your bed with their freezing cold feet pressed against your leg. Benjamin and I sat having a conversation last night about whatever superhero happened to be at the forefront of his mind and it still surprises me how much his speech has exploded over the course of this year. Today we are taking him to Toys R' Us for the birthday tradition of letting them go to the "special toy store", only gone to once a year, on their birthday, and let them pick out their own presents. Since we never go there, it is fun to see their faces when they are faced with an entire store of nothing but toys. Three years old is the first year they get to go, so Ben is excited. He is already planning on getting a "Woody toy" and a pig and a dinosaur. Clearly he has Toy Story on the brain. That is what he was talking about last night. Not a superhero. He was explaining how Buzz Lightyear flies through the sky. -50 good parent points for clearly phasing in and out of paying attention.

Happy Birthday, Benjamin Keith. You make my heart happy.

Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades...

2010-12-05T17:04:00.000-08:00

Today as I was driving to a baby shower, I passed through a few suburbs of Oklahoma City and one of the city signs said:

Welcome to

Warr Acres

Almost the capital

of Oklahoma

It made me laugh. Whoever came up with that as their town motto is either incredibly funny or incredibly sad.

The bike of John's dreams...

2010-12-04T16:53:00.000-08:00

I was attempting to take what turned out to be a horribly blurry picture of some tree lights with my blackberry when it told me the memory was full. So, hopping into there to delete a picture or two, I saw this picture of John that I had meant to show off long ago. I believe I mentioned how for Chesapeake's 25th Anniversary, they had the Orange County Choppers build them the first natural gas powered motorcycle to come out of their shop. The bike moves from building to building throughout the year and it happened to be in the lobby of my building when John ran up to work with me one Saturday. I could see it in his eyes, as he stopped dead in his tracks, that we were about to detour in that direction. After examining it closely, with the respect of someone who loves that show, he hopped on and I snapped this shot. I have to say, he looks ridiculously hot on this thing.

"There is no such thing as luck. There is only adequate or inadequate preparation to cope with a statistical universe" - Robert Heinlein

2010-11-30T21:40:00.000-08:00

Today I had a lunch meeting with one of our bankers. I was wearing a pair of black shoes with a thin heel whose pad had been lost to the uneven pavement across the street, where everyone who arrives later than 7:00 ends up parking. When I walk across tile or pavement, you can hear it scratch like nails on a chalkboard if I fail to pick up my feet. But that embarrassment aside, as we were walking to the banker's car, I managed to step my heel perfectly into a seam in the cement. Now, those of us who wear thin heels have all had this happen before and it puts a little hiccup in your step, but you pull your foot free and you move on. Not this time. I pulled my foot and it didn't give, my forward momentum almost dropping me to the ground. I stopped and pulled again. No budging. Finally I slip my foot out and gracefully reach down to tug it free. Nope. So now I am holding the shoe with both hands pulling as hard as I can, making mini-jumps in my attempt to free my shoe. On one final jump, the shoe breaks free and Laura goes flying backwards, luckily catching herself before landing on the pavement. Super classy. Last night when taking off my sweater I tore a hole in it. Last week I found a hole in a different sweater while wearing it...at work. I popped a button off the back of my pants when getting into my car. I regularly walk around with a tag hanging out or some sort of string. I have broken the heel off two consecutive pairs of shoes within two months. I have lost a sweater vest. I have a bruise up my arm from where I hit myself with the string of a recurve bow while shooting an arrow at a target. I took a huge bite out of a bran muffin I had thought was banana nut. That one, karma, was below the belt.

All in all, the running joke at work is that if something bizarre is going to happen, it will most always happen to me. If there is someone who is going to get trapped in the elevator for 15 minutes in the morning with a pregnant coworker prone to panic...all together now...it is me. And yes, it was me.

Glitter Mandate

2010-11-29T20:54:00.000-08:00

Shouldn't there be some rule for online stores that mandates that all pants involving glitter clearly state so in the description? Preferably in big bold letters? If there was, then the shipment I received from The Limited today would have not involved me looking like a disco ball exploded below my waist. Why, you ask? Because I wouldn't have purchased the pants that said WARNING: DISCO BALLS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS GARMENT. Who wears silver glitter pants anyway? Can you see me being taken seriously in a business meeting when only one thigh high pair of leather boots away from being picked up by Richard Gere? So, now I have to go through the effort of returning the pants and finding some that don't make rainbows by reflecting the sun's rays. All effort that could have been avoided by the glitter mandate.

DWTS

2010-11-28T13:36:00.000-08:00

I have recently developed a new addiction to add to the ranks of diet coke and music on iTunes. Dancing with the Stars! I really don't know how it happened but I remember a time when I didn't watch DWTS and then my next memory involves me watching the show and then re-watching all the dances on YouTube over and over...and over. Here is where I should stop sharing and yet I continue on. I will watch the videos and look only at the boy and then re-watch only the girl. I look at their reactions during the judging and their interaction with their partner. Then I look at past seasons to compare their reactions to their other partners. I watch the backstage confessionals that weren't aired. I even saved one of their twitter accounts as a favorite on Internet Explorer. And I HATE twitter. It is a problem and with the close of the season, the reality of the problem is quickly setting in. No more new information, no additional dances to analyze again and again. I so badly want to be on that show but as John politely informed me, I am missing the key ingredient...being a star. So, now we have a new goal, friends and family. I need to come up with a way to become a B level star so that I can get on that show. I am open to ideas. I wouldn't say that I have a stand out talent in any of the so called "performance" arts and I really don't care for attention or entertaining others, so that leaves scandal or reality tv. Survivor is out because I don't wear scarfs as tube tops. The Bachelor is out because John couldn't see the value in making it to the final round only to be found out as having a husband. Something about all the making out. That leaves The Amazing Race which seems doable but would require the effort of getting a passport, which seems like a hassle, and Big Brother, which I have never watched, but seems to runs some claustrophobic potential. Wonder how leave of absences for Reality Television works. Especially when only done to get on a show that would require a further leave of absence. So what I need is a way to have the cameras come to me. A documentary? With all the cable channels, I'm sure there is some space for a series about a 30 year old girl who works a normal treasury job with two kids, a husband and an ill-advised idea of going back to school. I mean, who wouldn't watch that? We could start a campaign. Make Laura famous by word of mouth. Each person tells 10 people who in turn tell 10 people, ad infinitum. I despise forwards but since I cannot vanquish the complete foolishness inherent in them, let's use it to my advantage. Tell them some magic fairy will grant them their wish if they promise to unquestionably view me as a celebrity, not too famous but just famous enough. If Paris Hilton can be famous without a skill, why can't I? All it takes is people believing it to be so. And getting arrested for cocaine...

In the meantime, here are some of my favorite dances of the season. I can feel the void in my life already.

Happy Thanksgiving

2010-11-26T21:41:00.000-08:00

It is hard to believe that Thanksgiving is here. Or was here. Only moments ago it was fall and now we are on the one month countdown for Christmas. As time moves more quickly, it is easy to become numb to it and before you know it, the days grey together and become one running blur you can't quite get your hands around. I know this because my blur just set me down one day after Thanksgiving. We spend Thanksgiving proper at my mom's house. Playing games, watching football and eating copious amounts of food. I like when we spend the evening there because I have time to sit down and peck at the piano a bit. Reading sheet music is not like riding a bike. It is much more like reading Hebrew and after 8 years post Hebrew II, I am fairly certain I wouldn't be able to tell you the difference between "to make" and "to kill". Although writing about it now makes me yearn to know it again. There's something about knowing a language where you read right to left. It is like you are part of a world completely opposite to your own. A world where having 5 wives and hoards of children wasn't worthy of a series on TLC. A world where there was no Thanksgiving or 8 to 5. It was more like sun up to sun down. Whenever I want to complain, I think of 14 hours tending herds. Give me financial markets any day.

Last week, Joshua's school put on a short program for the parents. The thing I like about the school is that they mean business when it comes to programs like this. A class gets up, sings their songs and then on to the next grade. In and out in 15 minutes. Done and done. Joshua's kindergarten class dressed up as turkeys to perform their songs. His face lit up when he saw his dad and me there in the audience. Even though I knew it was important for us to be there, I still found myself surprised at how clearly the pride and excitement was written across his face. John taped the performance and I use tape loosely as it was done with his phone. Phones are crazy now. I use mine to email and call. But in fairness, I do use John's for Angry Birds. So addictive...but SO fun. You have to wonder who sat and thought, "OK, so there are these pigs and they steal some bird's eggs and then build structures of wood, glass, and stone and then the birds hurl themselves at it in anger". I probably would have looked at them with a "riiiiigggght". Then I would have proceeded to kick myself after missing that gravy train of an idea. Simple, addictive and with more levels than one can dream. A mobile home run.

Here is the aforementioned video of my son, the turkey, and his comrades in turkey fun. (He is the third from the right and, although you can't hear it well, is thankful for his toy motorcycle.)

I just heard my husband say...

2010-11-20T20:41:00.000-08:00

"Ah...snap". You know, I've never thought of myself as a lesbian but since it seems I am married to a 13 year old girl, I apparently am. A cradle robbing lesbian. Who'd of thought...

Down with AAC

2010-11-20T20:21:00.000-08:00

I am so aggravated because I have just wasted an hour and a half of my life trying to find a way to get my iTunes music converted to mp3 files without having to pay for it. I already paid for the songs the first time around, I see no need to pay $60 for a means to play them wherever I want. I have downloaded nearly 7 different software trial versions thinking I would be sneaky and convert them all at once and then uninstall the program. Well, clearly I am either not quite so sneaky or the programmers are not quite so stupid because yes, you can download them during the trial...and end up with 1582 one minute versions of your 1582 songs. And of course they don't give you a heads up. You know...just to drive home the lesson. You can hear their chuckles with your first "what the...uggghhhhh". So essentially there is now an entire market subset benefiting from iTunes monopoly over the portable media market. It is ridiculous. I am on the verge of readiness to pirate the software to illegally convert the protected music I ALREADY OWN. The only thing stopping me is the certain virus that comes with the pirated license key that throws a thousand pop up screens while blaring "I AM WATCHING PORN". My computer hasn't successfully updated from April 2009 until today. This very day. They have finally patched whatever it was that was blue screen of death-ing my machine. The last thing I need is the red screen of "you should have known better than to download pirated software from illegal Russian sites". Today's battle may have been lost but the war is not over. And yes, while it will probably end with me paying $29.99 for someone to profit from my misfortune, their profit will only come as the last straw. And let's just say that I've got a lot of straw.

Following Jessica's Lead

2010-11-20T12:21:00.000-08:00

In response to Jess's post number one, here are my 15 facts...

1. I hate text language used in email. In fact, I hate text language all together. Is writing an "x" instead of "anks" really saving you all that much time?

2. While on the topic of email, I hate forwards. I don't want to be snowballed or kissed or blessed by some angel who proves how many people in my contact list are true friends.

3. My favorite feeling out of doors is to have the sun warm on my face but the wind cold against my skin.

4. I love handwritten notes. In a world powered by technology, I refuse to lose the the history and magic captured in handwriting.

5. I generally pick my restaurants by the desserts they offer. Olive Garden wins a lot. I adore the Black Tie Mousse Cake.

6. When someone remembers something about me that is inconsequential, like my best friend when I was 10 or the way I eat my salad, it makes me feel more special than most anything else in the world.

7. My favorite candy is Hot Tamales.

8. I have a small addiction issue with Diet Coke. And by small, read big.

9. I HATE taking showers. More specifically washing my hair. Every time I wash it, I feel depressed knowing that if I live to 100, I will have to wash and fix my hair 11,972 more times.

10. I love listening to the lyrics of songs, finding the little twists and play on words. I feel like I found a little treasure.

11. Sister Hazel is my favorite band, of all time, forever and eternity and the first time I saw them live, I cried.

12. Every morning I wake up and am thankful that I married the sweetest nerd there ever was. And no, nerd is not a mistype. The guy has created a program on his computer named Catharine that says Hello to him in the morning. It is a little creepy actually.

13. I have gotten myself stuck behind a copier, wedged underneath a sofa, foot stuck in a car, fallen out of a golf cart, fallen out of a door way, fallen off a curb, walked into a pole, walked into a door frame with wet paint, etcetera, etcetera... Gravity, randomly placed architecture and small spaces dislike me.

14. I am easily annoyed with planning things for large groups. As soon as there is more than one reply to the email, I am done. Just tell me where to be and I will be there.

15. I would rather get a root canal than go to any event that involves mingling.

...and the first 15 shuffle songs that come up on my iPod when I select all music and shuffle (and a link to play it if it is one you like, too).

1. Sunshine by Todd Snider

2. Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley and Allison Krauss

3. Awakening by Switchfoot

4. On a Night Like This by Dave Barnes

5. I'm Finding it Hard to be a Gentleman by The White Stripes

6.  Shame by Sister Hazel

7.  You and Your Heart by Jack Johnson

8.  The Bird and The Worm by Owl City

9. From the Inside by Linkin Park

10. These Exiled Years by Flogging Molly

11. Just to Get High by Nickleback

12. If it's Love by Train

13. About a Girl by Nirvana

14. Pride and Joy by Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble

15. Keep on Lovin' You by Steel Magnolia

Sporadic will be the state for awhile

2010-10-31T09:52:00.000-07:00

It has been quite some time since I have posted, I know. I hear it from time to time from those who had liked keeping up with pictures of the boys. In truth, I haven’t taken any pictures to post. I find myself exhausted all the time and when the time settles in the evening, any mental energy once used to plot the humor of my day onto paper was long since drained. I have 12 hours finished for school and another six by December. My work is still as demanding as it ever was but it is not a busy that I disdain. I am tired from the stress and the stress itself I do not enjoy but the job is one that I love. However, leaving work for a 4 hour class two nights a week wears thin after a few months. Joshua is rounding out his first soccer season and the twice a week practices have been borne by John. The two games a weekend proved to interrupt the time usually meant to capture the nothingness absent all week. The house has descended into unmanageable clutter. The joy of watching Joshy play has been the saving grace. My only nights free are Tuesday and Wednesday and those often find themselves used for working late or accomplishing the few things that no longer find time elsewhere. I have gone weeks without seeing the boys in the evenings and at the end of a long day, John and I sit and stare at one another with the resolution that he and I must power through as I will regret if I stop what I have started. In the process of hiring a few new positions for my group, I realized that a college degree today is what a high school degree was 20 years ago and a master’s equivalent to undergrad. Anyone without a master’s degree was screened out before they sent the batch of applicants for my review. This year I had to fire my first employee. He had a master’s degree and yet had none of the work ethic or enthusiasm I would hope for. But that is when it sunk in. He was green and slow to learn but his piece of paper would push him to the top of a pile, ahead of me, if we were fighting for the same stack. And so it was decided that I would go back to school. I wanted to protect my family if the worst were to happen and not end up at the bottom of every pile. After these classes I will have whittled away my first six months of a two year run. I can’t promise that you will hear much from me during this year and a half of remaining climb. It will be sporadic and potentially uninteresting at best. Still, I will try and put up pictures of the boys from time to time and rely on Jess to post pictures of the rest. Like John in impromptu Kiss makeup and the boys gently holding Hadley as her head drops off to the side. I love my boys. They are kind and show me unending love. I will do my best to continue to let you watch them grow. It hits you in stages. Ben is now potty trained and that trumpets the end of diapers. For our lack of planning and consistency, it somehow still happened. Joshy is starting to read. Ben still belts out Soul Sister. I don’t know that life is normal but it has found its rhythm for the time being. And as I sit here, surrounded by comforter, computer in lap, sun speckling through the windows and the sound of two boy’s voices responding to the TV’s request for them to say “echo”, I am content. A quote I stumbled onto a bit ago has become something I have held onto. “Face reality, not as it was, not as you wish it were, but as it is”. And “as it is” is not too bad and as always, for the part not preferred, this too shall pass.

Shhhhhh

2010-08-02T19:40:00.000-07:00

This morning, Joshua had reached the limit of "alone time" in his room after waking up and so called out "Mama" to let me know it was time for us to be awake. Then, in a loud voice, I hear Ben yell from his doorway, "Don't wake Mama up...she is sleeping." As I lay there groggily, all I could think to say was "Thank you Ben". Nothing beats a two-year-old who's got your back.

Hadley Joy

2010-08-01T11:22:00.000-07:00

Hadley Joy Owens is officially here and...sleeping. She is precious and while a healthy 7 pounds, feels so light and little. I just remember Ben, going on 8lbs, and feeling much more...dense. We saw her Thursday night in the hospital and she slept for all of the two hours we were there. Not even the noise from two rowdy boys stirred her. Ben was the first to want to hold "it". He sat in my dad's lap and I set her in his arms and his little head, unprompted, leans down towards Hadley's face and whispers, "I love you". It was such an unguarded moment that could barely be heard and melted my heart with adoration for my little boy, normally charging with Wolverine or leaping from something to his certain harm, sitting there so gentle and tender. We all had our turn to hold her, ending with John. Joshey's biggest concern was Jessi and making sure she was okay. She most definitely holds a special place his heart and when Ben was off to twirl in the privacy curtain, Joshy was cuddled up with her on the bed, not ready to go. Jess and Ross are here in town through Thursday and after that, I start getting use from a Pike Pass in driving back and forth to Tulsa. Joshy has already made me promise that we will go up and visits on some weekends. I am so proud of the boys, they will make for dear cousins. And I am so proud of my little sister who is now a mom. It is so hard to believe but I have no doubt in her. She will handle it with grace and grumpy exhaustion as we all do and Hadley will love her life with a mom who brings laughter into each room she enters. Even the labor room, when aided by enough medicine. Let's all say together "Percoset is our friend..."

Hello Ben...

2010-08-01T10:42:00.000-07:00

New Segment: Dilbert of the Week

2010-07-19T18:53:00.001-07:00

Joshua-ism #2

2010-07-19T08:46:00.000-07:00

*after Joshy rubbed something wet on John's cheek*

"What was that? Spit??"

"No."

"Water?"

"Yes."

"From where?"

"My mouth."

Update

2010-07-18T05:46:00.000-07:00

I am happy to say that summer session is out, I am done with my first two classes AND...drum roll please...I got an A in each. The timing of the class was most unfortunate because it coincided with the time I was down a person in my department and struggling to find a good fit for the job. There are many a night when I wondered what I had been smoking when I decided this would be a good idea, but on the other side, both with school and with work (extended a job offer on Friday that was accepted), there is a renewal of will. I know that my blogging has suffered in reliability but with 60 - 70 hour weeks on top of school, writing...well...anything falls to the bottom of the list. The list falls to the bottom of the list. It is survival mode, exhaustion and random spontaneous bursts of tears. Last weekend everything culminated with 40 hours worked between Friday and Monday but this weekend I am home, thinking only minimally about work and more about how much crap I bought at Target. *yells with fist in air* TARGET!!!

As we head towards August, we head towards Joshy entering Kindergarten and us trying to figure out how to catch up on our 30 hours of volunteer time we are backlogged in owing the school. I am planning yet again to start working out this Monday after an insane four months have left me greasy inside and 10 pounds heavier. Isn't there some rule that says every 12 hour day demands a chocolate shake? Sometimes it is easy to forget that Joshy is only 5 and when I am asked politely in the morning if he can play his DSi, I am reminded of what a good boy he really is. He speaks so pragmatically to Benjamin that it cracks me up. Instead of forcing him to do something, Joshy "convinces" him to do something through persuasion and I have started to wonder if that is the better or worse of the two. Force Ben would eventually tire of but persuasion will have Ben doing all sorts of crazy things, thinking it was his own idea. Ben loves his big brother and everything Joshy says or wants, we hear a two year old echo saying or wanting the same thing. Getting to play in Joshy's room lights Ben up and no matter how much he mimics Joshy and follows him around, Joshy never seems to get aggravated. All their fights are generally about toys or someone poking the other. Stop touching me. I'm not touching you...Joshy says with his hand a few inches from Ben's face. Let's remember, this is the boy who at two, when told to not say no one more time, looked at me with fire in his eyes and mouthed the word NO in defiance without any actual sound coming out of his mouth. Ben is different because as soon as he gets in trouble, there are instant apologies and I love yous gushing from his mouth. Joshy is not going to apologize come hell or high water. I have no idea what parent he inherited that from... *crickets sound while I look incredibly innocent*

John is still working at the State and busy with changing staff and projects of his own. He has been such a good sport with my work load leaving the boys much on his shoulders. We have finally signed with a construction company to come fix the damage from the hail storm. It amounts to a new roof, siding, windows and shutters. Also something about air conditioning rudders and a roof for the shed. Too bad insurance doesn't cover landscaping. It wasn't damaged but is just out of control. Our backyard is like a jungle and with each passing summer, increasingly hard to maintain. We really need to invest in a swing set...but unfortunately my Target doesn't sell it...so its unlikely as a spontaneous buy.

In the evenings John and I have taken up playing Modern Warfare 2 in the hopes to hone our skills and beat my coworker I have been talking smack to which I completely cannot back up. I am so glad I am not the bar type because I would have long ago gotten myself killed. I have become quite addicted to diet coke and at any moment, you can find 4 to 5 large sonic cups scattered about my office. Add the ones I drink at night and I am fairly certain the coke has replaced my body's water. That's me. Blood, chub and diet coke. Reminds me of a t-shirt I saw that I want to get. "I drink diet coke so I can eat regular cake". Amen to that brother. Amen to that.

Jessica is about to pop and while over yesterday afternoon was starting some heavy breathing from time to time. I told her to get her butt home because I was not delivering her baby. She was here picking up the computer that John had modified with new RAM and perhaps a processor. They were also testing out skype and as I walked in from the store, all I see is my mom's head on John's computer talking. I understand the point of video chat, but it is a little creepy when not specific to a conversation. It is like a floating head or an "ignore the man behind the curtain". The upside will be that Jess can see the boys and we can see Hadley more often than if it was only during trips to Tulsa or them to OKC. Technology is crazy. The other day I was driving to lunch and an old school rap song came on and I remembered buying it when it first came out on those cassette singles you could get for $3.00 with only the one song on it. Making your own compilation tape involved waiting for the song to play on the radio and quickly hitting record. Now you can just sit with no wires attached and download songs for $0.99 from outer space.

I hope this ridiculously long post finds everyone else well. I so wish I could see many of you more often.

Take care, L

Big Boy Bed

2010-07-17T20:28:00.000-07:00

This picture is sub par at best, taken in the pitch black with a phone BUT look at my baby sleeping for the first night in his big boy bed. He has his Toy Story blanket and his Sleepy Sheepy (a cow we all now refer to as a sheep in lieu of arguing its species with him) and is sleeping as sweetly as ever. My little men are growing up.

Target: How I love to hate thee...

2010-07-17T17:43:00.000-07:00

I have decided that Target is a most dangerous place. You walk in to get cleaning supplies and walk out with a toddler bed, two night stands, all new bedding and sheets, four pillows, a Toy Story throw, two pairs of shoes and a bottle of 409. All it takes is one step inside and the black hole of Target Brand products taunt you with their name brand similarity and yet sensible pricing. What is a comforter without a matching sham? What is the perfect pillow case without a new pillow? You roll down the center aisle gathering wall art and black baskets, picture frames and small decorative clocks. To make it even easier, Target has thoughtfully put all the items you never knew you needed right on the end of each aisle, perfectly within arms reach. Joshy recognized the red bulls eye of Target by the time he was a toddler and we would sit in the car each trip and practice reading the letters in the word Pharmacy or Market. Target means icee. Target means Starbucks. Target means walk of shame into check-out nine with your overloaded basket of unplanned goods. Still, it is okay Target tells you. You'll find a way to afford this. You'll see. You're right, Target. Who said you have to feed kids every night or clothe every part of them and if I don't get this particle board nightstand now, what if they are sold out when I come back or worse yet, replaced by something of better quality and durability for a higher price. And so you check out and close your eyes as you swipe your card, pretending you didn't hear the dollar amount the clerk just said loud and clear. And as he hands you the receipt that is half your height and with a smile says how you saved a total of seven dollars today, all you do is nod as you crumple it into your pocket and head towards your car to unload boxes into your trunk and back seat. And as you drive away, Target's lure over you begins to fade and you realize what you have done yet again but then you think, those shams really will look good with my paint color...

Joshua-ism #1

2010-07-16T17:30:00.000-07:00

Tonight John found some of the RCA plugs broken off in the tv and turning around, asked if the boys knew anything about it. Immediately Joshy says "Ben did it" and points to him. John looks at Joshy skeptically and says "Really? Did you see him do it?"

"No."

"Then how do you know he did it?"

"I read his mind."

DSi

2010-07-11T18:28:00.000-07:00

Reuben has been actively wanting a DSi for the last few weeks. He generally doesn't ask for specific things but the boys in his summer class have them and he has been playing Mario Kart with them for the past month. I didn't really realize it until the day he came up to me and greeted me with "Hello, I'm(a) Luigi" in the voice familiar from my days with Mario Brothers 3. So, today John bought him one and as soon as it was turned on, he knew exactly what to do. In fact, I am watching him right now from across the hall plug in his charger and hook it up to the system. He had run in a few minutes ago to show me that he had finished in "three". When John tried to find the place to stick the stylus, Joshy told him that there was already one in there and that was the extra. He is no n00b. Yes John, that was for you. And yes, that is an arrow on his forehead. The Last Airbender toys have made it into Happy Meals and he is the Avatar. Personally I would go with Water Bending but mostly because I really don't want to drown and that seems to negate the threat.

Dear Queen...

2010-07-11T18:14:00.000-07:00

After watching Young Victoria, I began to muddle about on the internet trying to find more information about her time as queen and stumbled onto this.

"You can write to Her Majesty at the following address:

Her Majesty the Queen

Buckingham Palace

London SW1A 1AA

If you wish to write a formal letter, you can open with 'Madam' and close the letter with the form 'I have the honour to be, Madam, Your Majesty's humble and obedient servant'.

This traditional approach is by no means obligatory. You should feel free to write in whatever style you feel comfortable."

I laughed and thought, I am so going to write the queen. It made me wonder what people wrote about and then think about people who write fan letters to stars. I have never thought to write one but I wonder if anyone who reads this has. I dreamt once about writing Jennifer Anniston but that involved asking for $1mm. Some sort of pay it forward situation that conveniently involved the paying off of my mortgage and possibly something involving cows. I have this vision in my head of the star and their special room with their bags and bags of fan mail but I wonder how much people really receive. How would you even go about knowing where to send one?

Reese Witherspoon

Hollywood, CA

Is it like the bin in the post office for all the letters kids write to Santa? Or Elvis? Do you always get a signed picture back? If so, John, we need to write Bob Barker. I can't believe that you lost that picture in Dirty Santa. One day my grandchildren will look up and say to me, "Grandma, why do we spay and neuter our pets?" and I will say, "Bob Barker, sweetie. Bob Barker" as I lift my hand and extend my arthritic finger towards the picture. I know, I know, but it really is my own fault for popping my knuckles.

You know you are married to a computer nerd...

2010-07-04T08:19:00.000-07:00

...if you are woken up to your husband excitedly telling you that he has found a way to hack the iPhone to accept any carrier.

...when half of your extended family have his cell phone on speed dial for any and all computer issues they encounter.

...when you have a closet so full of piece meal computer parts that, if B movies turn out to be true, they could rise up and take out most of the city.

...if you know what Linux is and how to partition a computer to operate it along with standard windows.

...when you can watch Big Bang and understand ALL of the references.

...when you have had a conversation with him from two rooms in the same house via instant messenger.

...if you knowing how to work command prompt is "hot".

...if he can solder a computer together in under 5 minutes but fixes a car door with a package of pledge wipes.

...if his defense for arguments is "he read it on the internet".

...when your children learned what a mechanic was by playing one in a FPS.

...when you know the term FPS.

...when you have a life full of so many wonderfully weird and perfectly happy days where you never know what is going to come along next but are sure whatever it is will be modified or enhanced until it never works again.

I'm on a boat

2010-07-03T14:15:00.000-07:00

The reunion officially starts each year with the Saturday morning pontoon boat on Greenleaf lake. This year was a year of fishing and the most successful yet. We caught four fish total (2 of which were caught by me, who will be referred to as Master Angler from here on out). Luckily though, Master Anglers are not required to remove their own fish from hooks. Catching and touching are two different skill sets altogether.

The boat is a mixed bag for John Nathan. While, like the rest of us, he enjoys the time out on the lake, his fear of the "scareball" tends to counteract said joy. He puts on 4 different layers of sunscreen in most instances and this year in a last minute "I ain't playin'" move, he went for the umbrella. All this time I have been getting him computer games for his birthday and should have been investing in parasols...

(Like father like son)

(Hadley's first pontoon ride)

(Mom taking a page out of Jess's book and self taking a pic of her and dad)

(I LOVE this smile)

(But all that excitement wears a boy out.)

As we approached the sun's peak, we decided it was time to jump in and cool off. The water was the perfect temperature but without an anchor on the boat, we found ourselves playing a little bit of catchup everytime it started to float away. Due to the migration, we eventually ended up closer to shore and with shore comes plants. At one point they had grown so thick that we needed to drive the boat with swimmers hanging on to get out of the marshy area. The entire time Jess and Joshy are screaming from the plants up around their legs. Jess is hanging on to John's neck, keeping herself afloat by pushing John under. He is trying to hang on to the boat to not get left behind, I am trying to drive slow enough to not leave any collateral damage in my wake. You wouldn't think some water plants could create so much drama but that's easy for the Master Angler to say now. Put me back in the water with the leafy tendrils and I am freaking out all the same. Seriously, it is just gross.

(Reason #102 why it is a bad idea to take a dog scared of the water into the lake with you.)

(Here is the problem. What goes in....must come out...)

One of the best things is looking back and seeing how much the boys have grown. Hard to believe the different three years makes.

Joshy

2010

2009

2008

Ben

2010

2009

2008

As the last requirement of any day on the boat, we wrapped up the journey by getting stuck in the sand. The boys watched as papa walked along the sand bar to try and formulate how we planned to get outselves out. When in a boat, waste deep water is generally not a great thing.

Not to take away the suspense, but between Ross and Dad, they got us going and unlodged from the sand. The rest of us pitched in by...doing nothing. Do I feel bad, you ask. Not really. That is why there is social order. Master Angler at the top and then pretty much everyone else. Yah servents...yah.

Reunions are full of...

2010-07-03T13:34:00.000-07:00

Happy moments...

Caught off guard moments...

Crammed in the car moments...

Fighting moments...

Tired moments...

Water balloon moments...

Silly moments...

But mostly happy moments...

What happens when 2-year-olds find markers in a bag you left on the floor...

2010-06-27T05:47:00.000-07:00

You run, you slide...

2010-05-31T13:53:00.000-07:00

God bless whoever at the Slip 'n Slide plant came up with the idea of a slide with three lanes. No "Mom, Ben won't move" and no pterodactyl yell Ben makes when he doesn't get his way. It's genius, I tell you, genius.

Brian Regan

2010-05-30T12:36:00.000-07:00

I stumbled upon this guy and he cracks me up. This is just a short clip, but checking out his Comedy Central videos is well worth it.

Back to School

2010-05-29T22:29:00.001-07:00

As of two weeks ago, I started class at OCU. I have two summer classes, Business Statistics and Abnormal Psychology. It is funny taking statistics after having worked in finance nearly 10 years. I was working through the problems and it asked for the weighted mean and I thought "Oh, this is the class that teaches that". Having never taken any business classes, the concepts I know through experience are fun to divide up in my head by which "subject" they are technically in. I forgot how much fun math problems were. Putting in an answer and getting the green check mark of correctness. Selecting pie chart and it telling you "wrong, pie chart would be a better answer". Dang you online glitches. The hardest part of psychology is the reading. A large page with small type times 50 for one week. Some of it is exciting and some of it you read between a head nod waking you up and everything going dark again. Reading the subject matter, I am again reminded of how fortunate I am to be living in the time that I am. Before medicine or outpatient therapy, people were locked in asylums or dunked in rivers until the demons inside were exorcised.

A study I found truly interesting was conducted by Rosenhan. It is part of what paved the way for the detailed definitions of mental disorders that psychologists now adhere to.

Where a Kid Can Be a Kid

2010-05-29T19:17:00.000-07:00

Tonight John and I took the boys to Chuck E Cheese or as I like to call it, purgatory for adults. Big kids cutting in line for drinks, two small children at the ticket redemption machine putting in 200 tickets one ticket at a time, taking 15 minutes for a child to choose between a plastic spider and a glitter tattoo. It is where good parents go to be punished. That said, nothing beats the smile on the face of a little boy who just successfully made a basket for 2 tickets or found a balloon bicycle to ride.

John was on Ben duty and I was with Joshy. We played skeet ball, shot mummies, shot baskets, jumped rope and watched John play a game where you hold on until physically in enough pain to let go. I walked away when it started smoking. My personal favorite was playing this game with Joshy where you hit the screen with hammers trying to kill all the spiders, cars or any other "bad" thing in that particular stage. Not to toot any horns but someone (i.e. me) managed to get in the top 20 high scores of all time. In your face, 7-year-olds!

We walked away with 4 sticker sheets for Ben and a plastic popper thing for Joshy. By the time we got home, Ben had taken all the stickers off the sheets and stuck them together in one big wad, which he wore on his shirt while him and his brother ran around in our yard with the neighbor boys. It was nice to see them so happy. And nice to not be the parents standing underneath the ceiling play tubes begging for Jackson to come down.

Anybody ask for ice?

2010-05-16T20:45:00.001-07:00

This afternoon I was busying myself taming my hair and readying the boys for dinner with my family. My parents and Tina were the first to arrive and no longer than five minutes after they walked in the door, the day which had been clear, became an onslaught of rain and hail. Hail larger than I have seen in person before. The ones Joshy and I are holding were picked up after 15 minutes of melting in the 75 degree weather.

When the storm hit, Jess and Ross were on the road and pulled into a gas station to avoid the ice. A good move when considering the divots scattering the hoods and roofs of my parent's car and my own. When it first began to hit, I twinged at the sound of the hard ice stones pelting the windows. It was not the usual click of pebbles tossed at a window for attention but golf balls driven at the windows with full force. We all just waited for the inevitable crack...

that inevitably came...

Across our northern facing windows are panes that are broken and cracked. Holes that appear as if victim to an unruly child with baseball and bat. Still, there are worse things than a brisk spring breeze wafting through the house. And our siding is steel, so while dented thoroughly, it fared much better than the neighbor's vinyl, pockmarked with cracks and holes where the ice went through. Our Hyundai is worthless on a good day and so I find myself far less forlorn than my neighbors with Hummers and Mercedes. No, I mourn my picture window and the dented steel for the annoyance it will be to replace. But with the storm season we are having, at least I can choose not to worry about it until after spring, as any repair would seemingly prove in vain. Check tornadoes and hail off for the week. Give us a good Godzilla rampage and we will have the golden trifecta.

Tornado Clean Up

2010-05-15T21:33:00.000-07:00

The tornadoes that came through this past week hit the land that belongs to my manager's parents. Fortunately, it didn't hit the house directly, but did knock down most of their 30 and 40 foot trees. Somehow, they fell within inches on either side of the house but left the house proper unscathed but for a hole in the roof. A trailer across the fence didn't fare as well and pieces of wood paneling, shingles and insulation were scattered amidst the broken limbs and brush. For me, gathering those pieces is the hardest part. With a couple on chainsaw duty and the rest with pick-up trucks and wheelbarrows, the broken limbs and trunks made their way to three piles smoldering in the pasture. At first the pace was quick but soon you notice how much heavier the trees seem and how steeper the hills feel as time begins to pass. A truth I am certain is etched into the muscles of all who pitched in. Moving the big trunks felt a little accomplished. A sign of my toughness. Moving the limbs seemed like a better idea. Having killed my back with my toughness. The ground was soppy but luckily John's extended size tube socks had me covered with a double layer up past my knees. They would throw diesel onto the brush piles to encourage the burn. At one point the the flames shot up so violently and high that I could feel it warm on my face. You learn what burns well and to throw the bigger logs to the middle of the pile. No small feat after carrying them all morning. By the end you are using your whole body to blindly chuck each piece as high as you can. All three piles were far taller than we were and there was still much more to do when I left. It is crazy what a little bit of wind can do in a matter of minutes. The swing set had been thrown into a tree, the wooden play house swept away. Some logs being chopped, some being burnt, one full grown monster being slowly cut into movable pieces. But for all the sweat dropped moving trees, how preferable it is than having to search through debris for belongings. Tornadoes are random yet specific. They do not simultaneously take on an entire city like a hurricane or quake but from those that they hit, they take all. A house does not survive a direct hit. I grew up learning to stand in doorways while the earth rolled and shook and became an adult who learned to take shelter in closets with mattresses and pillows. The waiting is the worst part of a tornado. An earthquake was always sudden but with a tornado, you sit, you listen and you wait. In those moments the quiet is not your friend, it is the barrier you strain through to find the faintest clue if the storm will pass. No more thunder. Slower winds. The sound like a train that tells you it's near. Weather is a strange thing and no matter what method it takes up arms against you, it is a force against which we cannot contend. We can run, we can hide and we can wait.

Oh Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds Thy hands have made. I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, Thy power throughout the universe displayed. Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to thee, how great Thou art. How great Thou art. - Carl Boberg

Dinner tonight

2010-05-06T20:09:00.000-07:00

We took the boys to Olive Garden tonight because I was too tired to grocery shop and we are running on bare bones at home. When they brought the salad and bread sticks, I fully expected the boys to turn up their noses (as Ben did) at the salad but Joshy bee-lined straight for it. He ate salad, the red onions and the banana pepper, which makes it official. He is not my child. I am an incredibly plain eater. I like lettuce and dressing. Nothing fancy, nothing that looks like it could be a leaf on a tree and definitely no peppers half the size of my hand. But Joshy, he loved it all. He just kept trying everything and liking more than he did not. Eating vegetables I only eat when forced. Or fruit. I forget which way tomatoes swing. I can't believe how much it still surprises me when I see how old he has really become. The waitress was taking drink orders and first John ordered, then me and then I ordered for Ben and then as I am about to open my mouth I hear "and I will have a Dr. Pepper". It was this little man sitting across the table from me, ordering his drink just like the rest of us. He isn't the baby boy I have to force feed green beans anymore. He is a kid and eats roughage all on his own.

Coins for Charity

2010-05-03T19:19:00.000-07:00

Joshy's school is collecting coins in the classes to give to a charity and Joshy made a point to remind us that he needed to take some change to contribute:

"There is a box for sick kids and I have to put in pennies, quarters, nickles and diamonds."

John then asks him what he did with the change that we sent him with this morning.

"I bought a snack"

These are the true lessons of life. Sick kids trump diamonds but afternoon Pepsi trumps all.

Vegedorkianism

2010-05-02T19:17:00.000-07:00

Vegetarianism. I get it. Whether health or animal rights or the whistle of boiling lobsters, people all find their way there for different reasons. I was one for two years to avoid eating pot roast. So, I am totally with the reason not making sense. That said, there is one subset of vegetarian I don't not care for and she was sitting to the left of me at dinner. If you want to steer clear of the cow, fine, but it is not some definition of self for others to admire, it is you eating broccoli and leaving more steak for me. We all make decisions but when you go out of your way to trumpet that decision, talk about that decision through half the meal that it becomes apparent you think this decision is your hall pass to the next echelon of society. The chef put shrimp on her plate, not having been privy to the chatter prior, and not only did she have him scoop it away, she made the person next to her, her sister, switch plates with her. Chef says "Oh...are you allergic?" "No. I am a vegetarian." Of course you are. Her sister says, as she hands her the plate, "Sure, as long as you don't mind sugar" making me realize that she was eating steamed rice with sugar. She had six open packets she was shaking the last granules out of into her bowl. What is with this family? And all the while, Ms. Vegetarian who can't have her eating surface come in contact with meat was diving into the fried rice that had not only been on the same grill as the meat and handled with the same utensils as the meat, had eggs in it. Eggs that came out of a chicken's butt and you can't get closer to brushing up against meat than that. The chef asks, "How long have you been a vegetarian?". Calculating in her head she says, "Since before Thanksgiving. It makes it hard with no turkey but you get by." Yes, you are a true martyr indeed.

Spring Program

2010-04-25T18:30:00.000-07:00

Benjamin had his spring performance this past Thursday. It is put on by his day care and is the infants through 3 year olds singing through 6 or 7 songs. The day care is at the same location as Joshy's preschool and one of the older classes at the school decorated the stage as their art project. Ben sat front and center, which was great, since he spent the majority of his time just staring at the crowd like this:

And this:

But as soon as motions got involved, he was sparked into action and singing along with the song.

As soon as they said "Itsy Bitsy Spider" he had his spider fingers ready to go. Same with Baby Bumble Bee and This Little Light of Mine. Nothing is more fun that shouting "No!" every time the teacher threatens your light with a bushel. The part of the program with the motionless rhymes was just not enough to engage a boy who usually was in bed a half hour prior. At the end of the show, Ben hopped up to walk off the stage until his chocolate radar went off and he saw the teacher with the sweets out of the corner of his eye and plopped back down until the candy bag made it his way. When it comes to candy, this boy ain't playing.

The most adorable part occurred prior to the show when Joshy was eating dinner and one of his classmates, Sylvia, came up to say hello. Her first comment was that Joshy was eating a hot dog just like her, to which he said, "Does it look like I am eating a hot dog? Nope. I'm eating a sun." and then repeated with some other random stuff. I just smiled at the little boy who has picked up his mama's humor. Tonight we went to eat and while Ben was jumping on the booth seat singing 5 Little Monkeys, Joshy, John and I were talking about names for Jessi's baby girl. I asked if Sylvia was a good name for a girl and he looked at me with this wry smile and said "Yeeesss". Then John suggested Autumn to which Joshy replied, "Autumn isn't even a word". We then covered the alternate word for fall and when John suggested it again this time Joshy still shook his head with a "A person definitely can not be Autumn." We also ruled out Ann but he was okay with Mary and just gave me his "you're being silly" look when I was carrying around imaginary baby Pineapple. If only he knew that was one removed pine away from an actual baby's name...

We're Drawing in the Rain

2010-04-24T18:17:00.000-07:00

This afternoon we had a brief spring shower come through. The kind of shower that goes from breeze to monsoon and back again as the clouds pass over. We told the boys that with the rain we would go out to eat tomorrow instead of tonight. Of course, they insisted that we go right then because we had umbrellas. We joked that they would be soaked and poked at them with whether they wanted to go out right now and see how wet they would get. "Yes!" So, we said, "okay" and out they ran, barefoot with chalk in hand, to play in the rain. It was pretty adorable to watch...from the porch...where John stayed nice and dry.

I love two little boy's feet with puddled jeans, sopping up rain around their ankles.

Ben tells Joshy the plan.

Ben likes to rock his daddy's hats.

Two wet and happy boys.

Email to blog

2010-04-17T20:03:00.000-07:00

Here is why this picture is amazing...I emailed it to my blog!! I have been blogging for awhile now and I just figured out that I can take a picture from my cell and email it to my blog and voila, when I sign in a post is waiting for me with the picture inserted. If I am sitting at a computer and an idea pops into my head, I can just type it up and email it to the blog and it will be sitting here, ready to publish. I took this today at a wedding of my coworker's that I attended. To the left is Heather and the right, LeAnn. Both a part of the many laughs I am privileged to share in at work. The wedding was lovely. The dj was classy, the reception was elegant, and the bride flawless. But let's not sway from the main point of it all. I can email to my blog!!!

Oh and they were playing this game on their iPhones called Words with Friends or something of the like and what was basically iPhone scrabble, turned out to be entirely addictive. When I got 30 points for the word quid, I looked around, fully expecting some pats on the back or perhaps a gold star. Nothing. So, I rewarded myself with a second piece of cake. And victory tasted wonderfully good.

iPhone Repairman (a post by John)

2010-04-15T20:43:00.000-07:00

So it started 3 weeks ago. I was dropping off the boys at school and walking back to my car. I was not paying attention, carrying some assorted papers from the school when I tripped. Ready? Cause this is where it gets good. As I tripped, some of the papers in my left hand were about to fall but in my right hand I was carrying my iPhone. So what do I do? That is right. I dropped my iPhone without thinking, grabbing the papers and remember feeling the relief that the papers were OK. Relief followed by "wait, what was that sound...". Ah, the classic sound of breaking glass. Yes, Ladies and Gents, I just smashed my iPhone to save a paper from touching the ground. Wait...it gets better...

I call the Apple store to see what it would cost to fix the shattered glass, $200 Dollars. Well I am certainly not going to pay that since I can buy an entire used iPhone for less. Shady online dealers want 75, but why even pay that when I can buy the glass and do it myself for $15 dollars! So, I purchase the glass and receive it yesterday. After watching YouTube clip after YouTube clip of do it yourself, I am feeling pretty secure in my iPhone repairmanship. I meticulously take apart my prized toy screw by screw, and did a fine job of disassembling. Well fine might be a stretch, but the job got done in an hour and a half. We'll just ignore that the YouTube guy did it in 13 Minutes. Moving on. I am putting the phone back together piece by piece and am almost finished as I put the new glass in and think to myself...This looks great! Wait...where is that other ribbon cable at? Insert defeated oh no. I had sealed one of the ribbon cables under the glass in the adhesive tape. No problem, I can fix this. Enter hair dryer, warming the glass so I can separate it and retrieve the ribbon. I go to lift the glass and it is coming up enough that I think I can pull the cable out and out it comes! No longer stuck to the glass and...no longer attached to the iPhone... Yep I had successfully re-broken my iPhone before I could even assemble it again. That takes talent. So now I have re-ordered my glass kit again. $35 Dollars and 3 weeks later, I still have a broken iPhone. Classic Move for a guy. Tries to fix something he is not qualified to fix in the first place and only wastes money or makes it worse. I am the double threat as apparently....I can do both.

You know what they say...

2010-04-14T21:00:00.000-07:00

I was washing my face in the sink, thinking that John and I had once again managed to not get to bed early in spite of promising each other 3 to 5 times throughout the day that we would. As the water splashed off my face and I looked into the mirror at my exhausted eyes, I thought "Welp. The best laid plans, right?". And then thought, wait...the best laid plans what? I have used the phrase a thousand times but this is the first time it dawned on me. What is the second half of the phrase? Never work out? And while sometimes good plans don't work out, indeed, it would seem that the "best" laid plans would not fall into that category a statistical majority of the time. It is a truth wrapped up in a predicate-less subject. Surely it started as a sentence. The best laid plans go down in a roaring ball of flames? No wonder it is hard to learn English. It doesn't make sense why my head knows it means what it does. I understand Bob, but the picture on the wall. Yes, you stopped caring three sentences ago but the blog post on nothing.

Know it all

2010-04-13T16:00:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke up to Joshua telling us that the toilet had overflowed. Always a good way to wake up. He has this new thing where he needs half a roll of toilet paper to blow his nose and instead of the trash can, the unused wad of toilet paper goes into the toilet. So, we then proceeded to discuss the three square limit on nose blowing. He left the room as I laid my head back down on the pillow, not quite ready to wake up. (This goes back to our not wake up time if still dark outside rule). Of course, my eyes were soon again open to the sound of Joshy moving a bag full of blankets as tall as he is out of his closet (a prior space saver bag failure) and moving his chair in. “Joshua. What are you doing?”. “I am standing on the chair to get my race car off the shelf”. By race car he means race car track. As my head goes back on the pillow I tell John, who is just now stirring, “Joshy is about to pull a bunch of track onto his head”. Then feeling guilty at my initial instinct to choose sleep over stopping him, I again call Joshy into the room, mourning the loss of any chance of more sleep, and discuss the idea of climbing up to his top shelf in his closet and pulling things down. Two thumbs up on initiative though. And while there, we decided to rehash the three square rule. He said “I know.” “You know, huh?” “Yep, I know everything”. “Everything?” “Yep everything”. “Okay, then why is the sky blue?” “Because it is wearing a blue shirt.” (his tone providing an understood "duh") “Ah. Why can’t we fly?” “Because we don’t have wings.” “Why can’t we breathe under water?” “Because there is no air in water.” “Why isn’t water red?” “Because God didn’t make it red." he says with each word emphasized, as any adult would when putting the kabash on a "why" conversation, before tacking on, "Besides, if it was red it would be lava”. I can't argue with that.

Meet the new staff

2010-04-11T17:35:00.000-07:00

I have made a decision to give something a whirl. While I am generally a little obsessive compulsive when it comes to writing (I have every written document leaving my department come across my desk for grammar and sentence structure check - yes, we should all be thankful Laura still has any staff left), I have decided that I would try letting John do some posting on the blog as work is taking up more and more time and evening Laura, more and more exhausted. And when Laura is the walking dead, blog updates are the first to go. So, I have trepidatiously added him as an author, with the idea that he will save his first few drafts for me to look at before he posts them. I mean, we can't just start giving people free run, posting all willy nilly. That is just irresponsible. That said, you will hopefully soon see his first post about a park and duck. Once it comes out of editing...

Uppy, Uppy

2010-04-11T09:12:00.000-07:00

Benjamin is in the midst of his "fill in the blank" twos. The blank depends on the day and somehow his fits just seem more whiny than terrible. Every time something brushes up against him it is this ginormous cry with him toddling towards you with a "Uppy, uppy, uppy". It his abbreviated version "Up, Please". When he is sent to time out, he cries in between yelling "I love you" and "I'm sorry". Definitely not the stubborn, unapologetic Joshy we are used to. That said, the crying gets in your head. The constant "My diaper", "Joshy touched me", "I hurt my foot", all accompanied by tears can drive a person crazy. Yesterday, in a moment of weakness, instead of attending to his whiny cry, I just started to mimic it, crying and saying uppy, uppy. He looked at me for a second as he ceased crying. He then walked up to me and hugged me and told me that he loved me. He comforted me. It made me smile because he did to me what he wants each time he cries. It just goes back to the truth that we all naturally give as we like to get. If kind words are what reach your heart, your instinct is to show love through kind words to others. I suppose that is the challenge of parenting. Two boys means two different ways of understanding love. Two different ways of correction. Two different styles of pressing their boundaries. When God decided to not send children with instruction books, He clearly hadn't heard the phrase "work smarter, not harder". Then again, neither have the men made in his image each time Christmas and bike assembly rolls around. But what He did know is that those gentle kisses with their little chubby hands on each of your cheeks makes it all worth while. It is quite tricky, really...

A Star Wars Easter

2010-04-04T21:43:00.001-07:00

I will have all the pictures and the cute, gory details of Easter up here in a few days, but I would be amiss to not take a few minutes before bed to speak to the ridiculousness of the Star Wars egg dying kit. I don't remember who makes it, but they know who they are. The color pellets were fine. Who can mess up colored powder? The problem came post coloring, once dried in the tear out rings. There were two kits. One Star Wars and one jungle. Ben takes off with the jungle, sticking elephants and trees one on top of another on his eggs. Having dipped a few myself and far too mature for cartoon monkeys, I searched for the Star Wars sticker page to get an Ewok to accent my dual color dye job. Here is the thing. They weren't stickers. After trying and failing to peel them off, I realized that they were something similar to a tattoo type contraption, with the sticky under a solid sheet of plastic. Okay, I think, just stick and rub. So I lay the plastic against the egg and scratch with the stick provided in the kit. Nothing. Thinking that one may have just been a dud, I pick a new one. I scratch longer and firmer. Nothing. Now my dad takes a turn. He thinks hotter and so holds it under his thumb and gets a sliver of one to stick. Now we are one to something. Tina tries a cloth with hot water which brought us back to no cigar and then I come up with the brilliant idea of hair dryer. Out she comes and on it turns, burning my fingers as they try to hold the rubbing against the egg. After two tries and charred skin, Dad suggests heating the egg or perhaps heating the rubbing first. Maybe dryer. Maybe wetter. Maybe it shouldn't take this much effort to figure out how to use something that is made for 5 years olds and costs $2.99. The best part is that here, where you expect me to come to the part of the story where we finally figure it out, you'll have to settle for disappointment. We never did figure out how to get the Wookie on the egg or any of his other Tatooine cohorts for that matter. They are all on the plastic, just as they came. Perhaps the duds of the batch. The inevitable lemon from the factory. But I like to think that it wasn't a dud. I like to think of families all over this country, sitting with sticks and that confounded piece of plastic wondering how in the world it is that they can't manage to stick R2D2 to an egg and feeling just that much dumber for it. I like to imagine the man whose worked 20 years packing egg decoration kits and one night over drinks thought "You know what would be funny...". The man who had the wherewithal to see a joke to the end. The man who is laughing now as I type, picturing me with my stick and wet towel and hairdryer. The man I tip my hat to. He got me. He got us all. And though not the legacy I would have picked, a legacy all the same.

What comes first...

2010-04-02T17:46:00.000-07:00

When John arrived to pick up Joshua from school yesterday afternoon, he was met by the teacher and an “Okay...here is the deal…”. They had dyed eggs at school that day and Joshy was very concerned that they stay cold so that he could eat them when he got home that night. He made sure they were kept in the fridge the entire day and although uncertain about taking them out, even though about to leave, the teacher was sure to show him that they were still cold and could make it home. This, of course, begs the question as to why he would associate a hard boiled egg with being inedible when at room temperature, but wanting food refrigerated instead of left out is hardly the instinct to correct. It is the “pizza laying out for two days…probably fine” that leans more towards the questionable. So, they get the eggs home and Joshy tears into the first one. After a bite or two, he asks to throw it away. John isn’t really paying attention, so he says fine and Joshy tosses it with the remainder of the eggs going into the fridge. Later John was asking Joshy about the eggs and he said that he didn’t like them because he didn’t like the cheese in the middle. Yes, sweetie, I don't like that cheese either. Of course, as John was explaining that it wasn’t cheese, it was a yoke and then trying to explain what a yoke was, they got to the part where the egg was what chickens grow in. “I am biting into a baby chicken?!? Gross!”. He then proceeds to mime eating a chicken and how gross it would be to bite in and come away with baby bird head. So what did come first? The egg or the cheese covered baby bird head? I am afraid we may never know...

Addendum

2010-03-21T11:45:00.000-07:00

It snowed.

How many weather men does it take...

2010-03-19T18:50:00.000-07:00

Please tell me why I am sitting here listening to rain that is to become snow after the high today being 71. How can you have a 70 degree day followed by a day with 3 to 5 inches of snow? It is one thing to have back and forth weather, but this is just ridiculous. Blizzards don't get bookended by 70s. It is against the natural law of things. It is like bookending an ice cream cone with polish sausage and haggis. It just doesn't happen. So, I am calling it as one weather man writing forecasts while on the chronic and the rest falling in line. After walking jacket free today, I can not feasibly imagine being ankle deep in snow this time tomorrow. We shall see.

Day at the Museum

2010-03-19T18:22:00.000-07:00

This week has been Spring Break for Joshy and he has been carted to the Omniplex, the zoo and on Wednesday, to the pediatrician for a well check-up and then on to the "dinosaur bone museum". The first picture is him posing by the triceratops but I have to tell you, I am fairly certain that I was far more excited than him. He looked, admired and was ready to move on, while I stood there, shaking him with excitement over seeing the bones of a real dinosaur. REAL DINOSAUR. Still, he was more entertained by me screaming when I was running my hand against a bone sticking out of a wall and the wall moved. It was meant to spin but I was not aware of that intent when I applied oh so gentle pressure.

Finishing with the viewing rather quickly, most of the time was spent in the Discovery Room where digging up bones was a big hit. At first, I went at this one spot with him, thinking that I was showing up all those other 5 year olds by clearing off a white bone I had spotted. Unfortunately, the white bone was just the floor of the pit that I had managed to excavate. That is when I explained to Joshy that it wasn't about what we found but about the technique demonstrated in finding it.

During story time a very loud volunteer from the local library read books and sang songs. I love watching Joshy participate in group songs because he lets loose without hesitation. With Joshy at the helm, Joe was working that button factory and there were no wiggles left to waggle out. But best of all, was the face painting they had set up. Instead of something organized, they just laid out the face paint crayons and let the kids have at it. Joshy loved it. It took no time before his entire face was covered and he had moved on to my cheek. When they then handed me the sheet with removal instructions, I began to rethink this entire venture because if it is permanent enough to need removal helpful hints, my son may just have to spend a few days green. Luckily, that worry was for naught.

It was such a wonderful day, just having one on one time with Joshy. As he sat listening to the story during story time, he just suddenly looked up and said, "Mama, I love you". I love you too, Joshy Reuben. I love you too.

Go dog go

2010-03-14T20:46:00.000-07:00

My husband has decided he wants a mastiff puppy. In honor of that, let me tell you a little story about 9 animals and a couple who have no business having pets.

First there came Chip. Named after the chipmunk he resembled as a kitten, scampering along with more of a hop than a gait. He was the perfect cat. He was eaten by my parent's dogs.

Next came Bear. Bear was rescued from the side of the road by newlywed John and Laura. He was being sold by a man who clearly did not care for his animals and our hearts couldn't help but save her...and her worms...and her mange. She tore holes in the carpet and pooped on the floor. We gave her away.

Meet Bo and Nilla. Rescued, not from the road, but the front of the mall. Bo had the dark nose and sandy coat associated with the Siamese and Nilla the cream and white that drove vanilla as her name. They were wonderful cats, gentle and just playful enough. You would find them laying in the sun all day and bounding back and forth through the night. I loved Nilla and the way she would paw at my face. The softness of her coat and the roughness of her tongue on my hand, telling me she wanted to be pet. Then overnight they turned. They began going to the bathroom everywhere. The vet gave them clean health and we couldn't keep fighting them out of the crib and off every baby thing we had. Changing sheets that he been gone on or clothes or blankets left out. John took them away.

Enter Bonnie and Clyde, shortly after we were robbed. The idea was outside pets, sure to work better with our personalities and scare away children with visions of stolen electronics in their head. A win-win. A Great Pyrenees mix, they were loyal and had each other as running companions out back. When still puppies, Bonnie slipped free of my grasp and was hit by a car, fortunately only breaking her leg. Even though it healed, she always retained that limp. A living memory of how much vet's charge to set a leg. Clyde would greet you with a jump. At 100 pounds a piece, not only were they hefty but when standing on their hind legs with their paws on my shoulders, Clyders was as tall as me. One day we came home to our fence having been beaten in. Bonnie was gone but Clyders was running around near. Clyders made it to our new house but soon after, he died.

Jake. We saw him downtown and adopted him because our hearts are apparently not connected to our minds. He was a jumper. We took him back in a week.

Salty. After Bonnie was gone, we thought that Clyde needed a friend. We found another Pyrenees mix at the pound; a puppy. They didn't get along as famously as we had hoped, both fighting for attention, no matter how much love they got. Clyde died and then Salty started to run away. After fixing every hole and space, we didn't know how he got out. He went to live on farm. A real farm. Not the one that is code for "he died".

And then there was Aria. Never was there an animal I wanted to love more as she was the dearest of gifts. But unfortunately, she was also annoying as crap. She was around my head all the time. In your face. Making noise. Not happy in small spaces. Not happy in big spaces. She went to live with a cousin.

My sweet John. We love the idea of pets. I know you think you want one. The dog running by you in the back yard playing fetch. Sleeping at the end of your bed. But think about the dog going to the bathroom in the kitchen. Scratching the hard wood floor. Eating his weight in dog food. That weight being 160lbs. We are bad pet owners, John. Bad. I didn't even include the fish that we killed and all the plants that have died. We are lucky our children instinctively gravitate towards food or they may never be fed. If you love the mastiff, don't bring him home, let him be free. Free from 40 hours alone at home each week. Free from owners who have gone through as many pets as years they've been married. Owners whose only successful pet is one who needs nothing, eats nothing and warrants none of their attention. Remember the past John. Remember it and let the dream go.

Mastiff puppies. Run.

Super Mom

2010-03-13T16:41:00.000-08:00

Today I bartered with Jess: new maternity clothes for manual labor. We swung by Wal-mart on the way back from the mall to pick up some cleaning supplies and decided to try this new Kaboom cleaner that sprays on blue and turns to white when the dirt has been absorbed. Will it work? Probably not. But at the time, the thought of not scrubbing outweighed that probability. Later that evening, Joshy had come in from playing outside and was poking his nose into what was going on in the house. Seeing the Kaboom spray on the counter, he told Jessi that it was what you spray blue and when it is white you rinse it off. She said, "Where did you learn that?". His response? "I saw it on tv."

Between that and his utter shock and awe when walking into a room that is clean, that little boy is advertising the traits no parent wants highlighted. Do I let them watch tv in the evenings? Yes. Do I have a less than clean house? Perhaps. Do I want the world to know that? No. I want them to picture me with my red checkered apron, fresh pie in the oven, birds chirping in the window, sun shining through my sparkling clean panes onto my table set with napkin origami. Are my children watching television? Of course not. They are memorizing the names of the presidents and jumping rope in knee socks. It is easy to hide reality when the boys were a few months and 3 but now the jig is up. I can no longer hide the laundry that occasionally gets calf deep. The need to sometimes say "just go watch tv". Joshy has molded to the world we have formed for him and is marked with cleaner commercials and unmade beds. My illusions of Martha Stewart are officially dead. They were frankenstien-ish before, but now the coroner has called it. All that's left is the truth of parents who are too tired to think when they get home and make spaghetti on auto-pilot. That leave their towels on the floor and mail in piles. Allow playing with the kids to be their excuse to not clean dishes. Think about chocolate cake, all the time. Well, the last one might just be me. I am exhausted and average and fairly certain I ran over Suzie Homemaker with my car. I love my children, diet coke and WebMD and would rather rip off my toenails than clean...anything. But my unclean, tv watching self has turned average into an art. And my boys are happy with average, so that feels like perfection to me.

To Frizz or Not To Frizz

2010-03-09T19:31:00.000-08:00

When did picking out hair products become so complicated? I needed some new shampoo and decided to try and find something that would help with my dry ends. Have you looked down that aisle lately? There used to be two types of each brand. Oily to Normal and Dry/Damaged. Now there are not only moisturizing shampoos, but a degree of moisture to choose. One has nutrients, one is supposed to stop breakage; one has some blurb about your hair drinking and each list some plant or food product that is going to revolutionize my hair. Worst of all, select a shampoo and it only gets more complicated from there. Do I want a balm or a serum? Shine or de-frizz. One protects from heat, one is activated by it. No flyaways. No humidity. No chance.

Make it to the hair dryers, as yours has started to smell suspiciously like fire, and still no hope in sight. Tourmaline. Far-infrared. Ions. Ceramic. They promise shine, fast drying. The veritable chance to redefine genetics. Brush with boar bristles or more Tourmaline. Avocado oils on the straight iron. Magic floating plates. Straighten and curl. Dry or wet. The bigger the promise, the bigger the cost. Pay enough and the straightener turns your hair to gold. Worse of all, I believe them. They tell me the negative ions are going to save my hair from the inside out and I say, “Okay”. My want of having shiny, soft hair, tossed about by the wind, outweighs my resistance to paying the extra four dollars because it says very in front of soft. The cheaper one doesn’t. It says 1875 watts. Watts won’t spin my hair into silk, increase its growth speed by 50% or create world peace. So off I walk, ionic ceramic, long hair moisture, split end therapy in hand. Shine serum at home and tousle me softly mousse. All to have my hair in a pony tail each morning by 9:00. I don’t want the effort, but I want the promise. The promise that if I stopped and played by the rules of the tourmaline, my hair would look perfect and soft. The promise that if I ever get myself out of bed before 7:15, shiny, manageable hair is mine to be had. And that promise is worth its weight in gold. Or at least $39.95.

Ben

2010-03-08T08:00:00.000-08:00

You will notice that the song Ben usually belts out is just a mumbling of distracted words as he is far to concerned with his sticker book. Mostly, I just wanted you to see him smile.

Happy Birthday Joshy

2010-03-07T07:00:00.000-08:00

Joshy is 5. Not quite sure how it happened. He was my sweet baby boy such a short time ago and now is a preschooler with a big heart and gentle spirit. He brings so much love and laughter to this house.

Friday he came home from school early after getting sick in the classroom and then in the hallway and again and again through the night. He seemed better the next day so I packed him in the car, as we do on birthdays, and drove off towards Toy's R Us. It is the one day out of the year where the boys get to just run free in a store full of toys and pick out whatever two or three things they want. Half way there, I hear the all too familiar crying from the back seat and tear off the road, pulling him out of his car seat just in time for him to throw up all over the pavement. At the end of it all, instead of tears or any complaints, he looks up at me and thanks me for rubbing his back. When we did finally make it to the store later in the day, he was quite selective or, in other words, took an eternity deciding what he wanted. When we finally checked out, they asked if he wanted to be in the birthday club. It was free, so I thought, sure, why not. I rethought this when they then come walking towards Joshy with balloon in hand. You know, some people have balloon fears and it should be cleared with said people before giving their child balloons to take in cars. I am just thankful that he had been sick and therefore was tired and easily persuaded that balloons had to travel in trunks. This morning he was up and sunshiny, so given to redo, it would not be an argument so easily won. I hate balloons. It is like the haunted house where you know the man earning minimum wage in the mummy suit is about to halfheartedly jump out but not knowing when, still leaves that edge of fear. You don't know when the pop is coming, but in the hands of a five year old, you just know it is. The sound of fingers on the latex makes my skin crawl. I would rather sit in a vat of spiders than have to blow one up. Well, as long as they aren't the kind that crawl up your nose and eat your brain.

To make things more palatable to Ben, I got him a Wonder Pets sticker book with over 700 stickers, all of which I believe ended up on him, papa, the floor or any other surface he could get them on to. He slept with the book and woke up covered in stickers of Lenny, Tuck and Ming Ming, too. He is in full swing two year old grumpy when he doesn't get his way but his idea of a fit, crossing his arms with a pout, just makes me smile for its adorableness. Much easier to not acknowledge than the screaming fits Joshy performed at the same age. Memories of walking through the mall with a screaming child in a stroller are all coming back.

Joshy ended up with two helmets. One of Iron Man and one of a Storm Trooper. Of course, as with all of Joshy's toys, soon after opened, they were being shared by B and Ross. They were shooting the darts at the storm door, wearing the helmets and displaying their skills with the light up light saber and ninja sword.

It was a fun night and my cake I baked, which normally turns out iffy, stuck to the pan or dense, actually turned out good. I can say this because I helped myself to two pieces. I just wish that Joshy had felt better and could better enjoy every one's company. Although, from the sound downstairs, he is making up for it this morning.

Oh ______!

2010-01-05T19:14:00.000-08:00

Joshy is currently experimenting with those sayings you insert when something doesn't go your way. It started out with "Oh Man!". A clear pickup from Swiper the Fox. From a boy at school, he inherited geez. A few days ago, he started using tarnation and tonight, when he missed the balloon I hit at him, he said "blast". He knows that an exclamation of some sort belongs to that scenario and like any good consumer, he seems to be giving a few a test drive before adopting one as his own.

This morning, he came up the stairs to find Benjamin playing with his little alarm clock and took it away (of course, resulting in crying from Ben) because, as he asserted, Ben might break it. John told him that if Ben broke it, he would buy Joshy a new one. Joshy thinks and then says "You will buy me a cooler one?". John, more focused on getting dressed than the conversation, said "Yes". I am in the bathroom working on my hair and after Joshy scurries back to his room, I hear him telling Ben to "throw it down" and then showing him how. I am like, "I can hear you J0shua". The alarm clock destruction goes quiet.

This morning I woke up to find the tiger claw thing on my stomach. You know, the tiger's head on a stick and a trigger at the end that makes him open and close his mouth. The next thing I know, Joshy had jumped into the bed next to me with the dinosaur version and I am spending my first waking moments having an all out war: dinosaur vs. tiger. The endeavor is littered with random questions from Joshua about how something works or how to say chocolate milk in Spanish but his curiosity is refreshing. Excepting, of course, those occasions where his "why"s drill down further than my expertise. We all thought we would never use the "because that's the way it is" but sometimes...well...that is just the way it is.

I still can't believe he's 2

2010-01-04T19:45:00.000-08:00

Ben has officially used the toilet...twice! He is getting in the habit of telling us each time he has to (or just went to) the bathroom. Most of the time it is right after, but a few times it has been before and 2 times a success. He sort of just started this on his own, as opposed to us sitting down and deciding to potty train and making the commitment to take him to the toilet every hour or so. It is hard for me to believe that he is at the age to start potty training. I remember Joshy seeming so much older. By 2 1/2 he was potty trained and sleeping in a big boy bed and Ben just still seems too small for any of that. Perhaps I am just clutching tighter because he is my baby. For me personally, the first year feels like FOREVER but after they hit one, it just seems to fly by. You no longer have to choose between them and sleep and are not so mortally tired that it feels like a toss up. They walk. They have a personality. They say "brother hit me" right after they, in fact, hit brother. I love his hugs and how he buries his head in your shoulder. How he'll surprise me by answering a question of Diego's rescue pack that I wouldn't expect him to know. Can Diego use a zip line to get to cloud forest? "Yes." *head turn* How do you know zip line? "Wa wonder pets?" No Ben, mama is sick of Wonder Pets. "Wa wonder pets?" I am going to kill that caterpillar just so I don't have to see them save it. But children's programming aside, I suppose it is happening whether or not I am quite ready for it too. My baby boy is growing up. He is a big boy on the big boy potty and we all know that it's toilet today, Wall Street Journal delivery to his crib tomorrow.

Category: Unexpected Wake Up Calls

2010-01-03T20:24:00.000-08:00

You're clue:

Diaper bag.

(do, do, do, do, do, do, do...do, do, do, do, DO, do, do, do, do, do...)

What is the object found in the middle of the street this morning by the cop who rang our doorbell at 5:30 to tell us that our car had been broken in to?

That's right Jane. Tell her what she's won.

Last night a thief, which to his/her credit, managed to break into several cars up and down the street without tripping any alarms, made a run through our neighborhood. Fastforward to the doorbell at 5:30 and John running down the stairs and back up again in search of pants. Joshy is walking out of his room saying "Is it wake-up time?" and I am shoving John my pajama pants so he can answer the door. It wasn't till I had gotten my discombobulated self to the window and saw John and the cop talking near the cars that it hit me what happened. Thankfully they had been able to get in our cars without breaking windows (the same can't be said of the hummer across the street) and we have nothing of value for them to take. The most promising thing was a black diaper bag that was quickly tossed when found to contain...diapers. The pack and play and car seats would have hindered the fast getaway and John's fast food wrappers, well, they chose not to do us the favor of removing those. Still, having a car rustled through, although unnerving, beats having it stolen in its entirety. John's car was stolen when we were on vacation several years ago and by the time we came back, it had been crashed and impounded and because we hadn't filed a report prior to the impounding, they wanted us to pay a several hundred dollar fee to reclaim it. Yeah. Ridiculous. I know. But, through that lens, I'd much prefer the rustled contents. I am sure our sweet neighbor with the window to replace would say the same.

Let it snow

2009-12-27T11:33:00.000-08:00

Getting out on the roads Christmas Day, it was the strangest thing. I don't have a picture of the volume on the main streets, but driving down the road, I was weaving in and out of cars lodged and abandoned in the snow. There were few drivers out on the road which made for an eery quiet. The thought nagging in my mind was "Where did all these people go?". We must have passed 40 plus cars. They couldn't have all walked home late in the night, could they? It wasn't until we got out of the city and onto the back roads that we thought to get the camera out. There was much less traffic but you can see the drifts on the side of the road that were car door high. This road was wide enough to accommodate two cars but at one point, we entered a plowed path that was just one lane. A half mile in, we were met with four cars coming the other direction. Their car tried to turn and got stuck in a snow bank. John hopped out to help push it free and we were then left with the task of backing out of the slalom path we had just navigated into. I was so tense holding on the steering wheel as we bumped around in the uneven divots littering the packed snow and ice that I found myself sore the next morning. If it wasn't for the 4 wheel drive in the truck, we wouldn't have gone out at all.

Below is the picture of my parent's car that got stuck on Christmas Eve and was shovelled out Christmas Day shortly after this picture was snapped. Fortunately the snow was not near as high as other drifts around the city had been and the snow had melted several inches from the night before but it was just high enough that the tires couldn't spin their way out. Oh how I wish that I had a picture of May. It felt like I was driving in a zombie movie or world ending event. Cars scattered about. Abandoned. These three cars don't do it justice.

From the sky, we received 14 inches. From the plows, many cars received much more. Ones that were just stuck tire deep, like my parents, awoke the next morning to find their car wedged in three feet of snow. Good for those of us driving. Bad for those who'll be shoveling their way free. I stole a few pics from the news site to show what I mean. It doesn't capture zombie-esque, but is does capture attack of the snow plows and the sight of passing mail trucks and even a city bus motionless in the snow.

I am certain that all those dreaming of a white Christmas, didn't dream of this. Probably more like fires and cocoa and carolers in red bonnets and fuzzy gloves. Snow men and sledding and giggles. Not shovels and frame repairs. I guess it rings true. Be careful what you ask for. Even at Christmas, the most magical season of all.

You know it is time for haircuts when...

2009-12-26T14:50:00.000-08:00

Nothing beats ponytail wars, while inside, staying warm and out of the blizzard. We were Samurai. And yes, note the sweater vest.

Winter Wonderland

2009-12-25T14:54:00.000-08:00

We officially have a White Christmas on our hands. I knew some freezing rain was coming, but wasn't really planning on the blizzard warnings based on the 40mph winds tossing snow about. In fact, as I type, my parents are stuck on the side of the road 2 miles from their house, waiting for my Uncle to come and save them because it would be quite a hike home in calf deep snow. Why are they out? Tina had to work. Apparently animals at the vet still have to eat, even if in zero visibility snow. I am not an animal person, so I'll plead the fifth.

Joshy and Ben have been chomping at the bit all morning, wanting to get out and play in the thickening white blanket covering our lawn. With the wind whipping about, we figured if we bundled them up and took them out they would be begging to come back in. Yes, we are that dumb. They loved it which makes me think that they are not their mother's child. I don't mind snow and I love wind but not wet wind that gives me frostbite. I much prefer the woods and leaves and sun that speckles the ground to slowly losing feeling in my toes. Still, the boys and John had a blast as I stood in the door way, snapping pictures. There were snowballs thrown and laughs traded and tears when they finally had to come inside. I expect much more time out tomorrow when the sun has reemerged to replace the bone chilling wind.

Merry Christmas from three snow covered boys and one sensible, warm girl.

Christmas Program

2009-12-24T14:38:00.000-08:00

Joshy's preschool class had their Christmas program this past week. It was rather adorable, them singing Rudolph and We Wish you a Merry Christmas, reindeer hats and Joshy making up motions that I don't believe to be planned. During We Wish you a Merry Christmas, him and the little boy to his right were doing that arm motion you equate with blokes singing in a bar with mug in hand on each We Wish. He had a good time and was so proud of his sweater vest. In fact, he has worn it every moment he can since and is wearing it as I type. I think he slept in it last night. Who knew that all he wanted for Christmas was a sweater vest?

He's the smart guy

2009-12-09T16:43:00.000-08:00

John and Joshy were playing swords tonight and I watched them as they rallied back and forth, Joshy being the good guy and then claiming he was the bad guy. Here is how the conversation went:

Joshy: I am the good guy. Fight.
John: Got you. You're dead.
Joshy: Okay, I am the bad guy. Ready. Go.
John: Smack. You're dead.
Joshy: Okay, I am the guy that doesn't die. Go.

That solves that.

O Christmas Tree

2009-12-08T16:21:00.000-08:00

The weekend after Thanksgiving, the boys helped John and I set up our new Christmas tree. If you remember from last year, new is because I had yet to buy or own a tree short enough for the house I live in. Somehow, as I look at a 8 ft tree in the store, my mind's eye pictures our ceilings towering far above it while the 6 ft tree is barely taller than me. So it was that we would get home and inevitably celebrate another Christmas with a half assembled tree as the ceilings turned out not to be 10 ft tall and the top section of pre-lit evergreen had to remain in the box. This year I was determined to learn from my mistakes, as all incredibly wise people do, and bought a 6.5ft tree that fits perfectly in our front room. With a red star and a hodgepodge of ornaments ranging from sentimental to "seriously...you are going to put a swan on the tree?", it is perfect and as I told Joshy, our house just feels like Christmas. We even managed to get our stockings hung, though not by the chimney with care, but with $2.99 garland and twist tie bows tied to our rail. After it was done, I just sat down in a chair and stared, my heart so happy to see the tree complete and up well before December 23. Now we just have to figure out where we put that tree skirt...

He is his father's son

2009-12-07T07:07:00.000-08:00

Being carried by my room, Ben's greeting of choice? "Hi mama. Love you. Peace out."

(drum roll)

2009-12-05T06:51:00.000-08:00

I am pleased to tell you that I have recently become a part of the exclusive group of people known as...Snuggie owners. That is right, I now have my very own, as seen on TV, long sleeve blanket! Oh, we have all mocked it. Laughed at the over exaggerated actors unable to get their hands out of their blanket to answer the phone or save their child from sticking a fork in the socket. We have all thought it looked ridiculous when their relieved faces donned the snuggie while playing backgammon. But, here is what you need to know. Throw their sub par marketing team out the door and picture being cuddled up on the couch watching Stargate Universe freely drinking your diet coke and snacking on your almonds without having any part of you uncovered. It is hands down the coolest thing ever. Plus, you look like a wizard, which is always a plus...

Nothing really matters.....but moi

2009-12-03T19:52:00.000-08:00

Meet the boy's new fascination or as they call it, "the mama song". When you get to the red fur and drums, you'll see why. They laugh every time, without fail. It's heartwarming to see the Muppets gift Queen to them as Wayne's World once did to us.

clap clap DE-FENSE

2009-12-02T21:47:00.000-08:00

Tonight I had the privilege of going to a Thunder game with some girls from work. Not traditionally the biggest of basketball fans, I have attended two, yes two, games this month and have had a complete blast at both. In fact, after repeatedly answering to who let the dogs out and reminding the players when it was time for defense and when it was time to charge, I am certain that I will barely be able to speak tomorrow. Of course, you have to count in the shameless screaming for t-shirts and frisbees and every time we dunked or stole. I also vaguely remember some verses of we will rock you and bird calls but everything begins to blur when you are inebriated with exhaustion and laughter. For the first of my two games, the half-time show was a single man who was all five Village People and was hilarious. This time around it was Native American dancers and while I am appreciative of the culture shout out, I am pretty sure they just spun in circles for 10 minutes. Not a cumulative circle. Just 8 people stationary in court position…spinning. Of course, it was hard to pay attention when you are continually distracted by the world’s last remaining mullet. It was long, tangled and unwashed; sweeping gently back and forth across his PBR logo with each swig of beer. It was just as a true mullet should be. And let’s not forget to take a moment of silence in honor of the inflatable mascot who suffered a mid-court deflation, head flopping behind as arms and legs scurried off the floor. Or for the man painted completely blue who lost the biggest fan contest to an equally blue fan dressed up as Thor. There is nothing is worse than going smurf in vain. Well, except for being a grown person donning streamers and cat ears. Still, two thumbs up for the Thunder Cat reference, even if I don’t remember them having pompom manes. Thundercats HOOOOO! It was a great night from the tip-off to the funnel cake to the three, count them, three cashiers it took to change out the nacho cheese to the car ride home and the heated debate concerning why running around a car is inherently Chinese. It goes against everything I stand for, but basketball might just have a new fan.

Mozarts in Training

2009-12-01T16:55:00.000-08:00

At Thanksgiving I turned around to the sound of mismatched notes and saw the boys just sitting together at the piano, playing away. At the end of the day, these brothers love each other. Just a little less when one has a bigger share of the piano stool...

The holiday season has begun

2009-11-26T11:36:00.001-08:00

It seems to get increasingly hard to find the energy to blog as we roll into the holiday season. I say energy because I can find the time, but as I sit down with my laptop perched in my lap, the next thing I remember is my head hitting the downside of a bob and ssssssssssssssssssssssss running across the screen. I love the holiday season but it is hard to believe that it is already here. Hard to believe that a turkey is cooking as I speak. This year I'm responsible for three things including a dessert which I have now made twice. Not twice in my life. Twice this morning. I had gotten inspired and decided to shoot for Paula Dean. The instructions were simple enough, but the not noticing the vanilla had expired in 2007 was not. I knew I remembered us having vanilla extract but that is probably because I must have seen it in the cabinet for the last 4 years. I thought it smelled funny and yet poured it anyway. Sometimes I wish I could go back and tell myself "THINK!". So, with bad vanilla mixed in my bowl and not enough corn syrup for another batch, I call to John who jumps out of the bath and makes a scurried Walmart run. I had gone myself the night before to pick up ingredients and upon reflection, I should have thought in advance about the certain pecan shortage. I literally got the last bag in the store, though not enough for the recipe. John comes back with syrup, vanilla and corn flakes for the hash brown casserole. The casserole that just came out in time for the pre-cooked turkey from the local rib joint to go in. Perhaps buying your turkey isn't in the spirit of Thanksgiving but it is in the spirit of reducing the cooking time from 8 hours to 1 and it tasting tender and flavored and not at all like the last turkey I tried to cook in a bag. The memories of being awake at two in the morning, trying to pull a bag of frozen gizzards out of a half thawed turkey are still crystal clear. Somehow my gravy turned yellow and the potatoes soggy but I had a platter in the shape of a turkey and the common sense to know that I would never repeat that again. To add insult to injury, my mother has decided to take her Christmas card pictures today. A wonderful idea as a day full of cooking always affords time for attention to appearance. Perhaps I will go in my current unshowered state and just hold the dessert as proof as to why. Yes, my hair is sticking up on one side but do you see the homemade caramel and toasted pecans?? So, your holiday greetings include me looking a little greasy. Just chock it up to a commitment to cooking and serving desserts with no expired ingredients.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Cinnamon Rolls...yum

2009-11-15T07:10:00.000-08:00

This morning, John made mini-cinnamon rolls for breakfast and gave each of the boys 2 to eat. He had taken to work on some things while the boys were eating and the next thing he knew, he walked into the kitchen to find the stool next to the counter and the cinnamon roll plate empty. The boys had eaten their two and then the remaining six. As I type, Joshy is going to the bathroom singing "What's gonna work...teamwork" as loud as humanly possible while Ben repeats "eeeevvvaa" over and over while driving a car up and down the side of the door jam. This was preceded by them running circles on my bed, singing the monkey song bookended by their questions of "What are you doing?, What are you doing?, What are you doing?". Good thing for us our children aren't affected by sugar...

Sadee Schilling Studio

2009-11-10T11:05:00.000-08:00

My dear friend Sarah has created some artwork that I am so proud of and want to share with you. During all the time I had spent with her in college, I never knew there was an artist buried inside the girl that ran for fun and studied English by choice.

http://sadeeschillingstudio.etsy.com/

The hand and the imaging center

2009-11-09T10:06:00.000-08:00

I have been having some hand pain over the course of the past couple months. The dull burning sensation is manageable but if you compress the hand, as in a handshake, the pain is acute. I have been terrified of handshakes since a bank representative shook my hand and I, in the classiest way imaginable, yelled out loud in pain. Yelling at someone for shaking your hand always does make for a good first impression. After another month of navigating my way around meetings cunningly avoiding handshakes, I decided it was time to visit the doctor. I went to the clinic at my work which is handily a block from my building but, while staffed with qualified doctors, is not outfitted with radiology. So, I was sent to an Imaging Center where I was told to just walk in. As I entered and handed my form to the receptionist, I was told that they were short handed and therefore not doing x-rays. Okay, so let's back up. You are an Imaging Center. A center whose only purpose is to image. And you are so shorthanded, you don't have a single person to perform an x-ray. Right. She asks if it would be alright if I come back the next day. I pause and then decide to pass on my general annoyance and sarcasm dolled to those who ask questions that are not really questions. Would it be alright? No. So, what now? So, I leave. Two days later I am able to slip out early from work and drive back over to the center where, upon entering, I am told "Ewwwww...we don't do x-rays after 4:00". Okay, I was here two days ago and was sent away because apparently the receptionist was the only one who had made it to work that day and I specifically remember no mention of the 4:00pm deadline. She decides to call back and see if they can make an exception. Good idea. Fortunately they can. Good for both her and me, as she wants to live and I don't look good in orange. After being escorted to the room, my hand is placed on a cartridge next to a piece of tape with a big "R". She contorts my hand into all sorts of positions. You know, the kind you generally avoid with an injured hand. When finished, she tells me it will take her two days to develop the film. Now, I know we are circling around, but I would again like to point out that you are an Imaging Center. This is what you do. You are paid for nothing but taking images. Please tell me why you would not have any investment put into the equipment you are using. The hospital in Norfolk took the x-rays of Joshy and they appeared on the computer screen. You won't have them for two days because you have to first build the darkroom and then develop them. In Norfolk, it took 5 minutes. Here is took 30 because we had to make it to and from 1980. From now on, I will pass on your Imaging Center in lieu of finding my own radiation source and shooting it at my unprotected self, as you did, seeing no reason to cover any part of me as clearly the radiation hits nothing other than the spot where the light shines...which is why you have to make a point to take the previously used cartridge out of the room and you stand behind a protective barrier. Better safe than sorry.

Pumpkin Patch

2009-11-06T16:48:00.000-08:00

For the second year, we visited a pumpkin farm south of the city to select our pumpkins. Of course, I use pumpkin farm liberally. I am pretty sure they are shipped in pumpkins scattered amongst some vines. Still, they have corn mazes, hay mazes, goats to feed, horse swings made of tires and tube slides propped up on hay bales. You know, the safe way all slides should be propped up.

Looking at pictures from last year, it is amazing how much the boys have grown and how much worse the weather. Last year this time, it was a perfect day. This year, walking through the patch meant choosing the from the two dry paths and not those with ankle deep mud. Last year Ben could only sit where we sat him. This year, he was climbing up hay bales to slide down slides.

2008

Now

Jessi and Nana came along with us and as the last hoorah before leaving, Jess agreed to take Joshy through the corn maze. We had walked through it earlier and it seemed like just a big circle so, 15 minutes later, I was mostly just annoyed that they were still playing while we waited, hungry, feeling the water drops at increasing intervals. Finally, I sent John in to get them because patient and starving are concepts that I cannot reconcile easily. Soon, they were filing out of the maze, Jess and Joshy cheering that they were saved. Apparently, the maze is more of a maze than I realized and they had been legitimately lost. As Jess tells it, they were turning left and then right and then back where they started, running into others who asked if they had seen the exit to which they replied, "No. Have you?". Finally, as they, too, felt the raindrops Jessi turned to Joshy, gripping him by the arms, saying "Jessi is going to get us out of here", all the while certain she was hearing animals rustling around in the corn stalks. It was then that John turned the corner, as she tells it, to her and Joshy cheering at the sight of him. Seems like, for the first time ever, my instantaneous anger when hungry actually made something better.

And when I see him...I'm going to punch him...

2009-11-04T05:41:00.000-08:00

Joshy and Ben love when my dad is in town. All they can think about is getting to rough house around with him. Probably because he gets down on their level and is happy to roll around in the dirt if the battle demands it. Every time I tell Joshy that Papa is coming, he jumps up and down and Ben points him out in every picture he sees him in. He also points Ross out as Papa but we are working on that.

(I love that they are already versed in the concept of "kick 'em while they're down"....)

These two little boys love their Papa.

Happy Halloween

2009-11-03T05:07:00.000-08:00

This year Joshy fully understood the concept of Halloween and requested in September that he be Wolverine. He has been talking about it since and how Jess would be the Hulk and they would fight.

The night of, everyone came over to our house and dad and mom handed out candy while we ran the neighborhood in search of treats. Across the street from us there is a little boy Joshy's age named Chris, who he has become fast friends with. Well, we happened to set off the same time he did and the rest of the night, we were at the mercy of Chris and where he felt like going because Joshy's only concern was "going where Chris goes". We didn't mind. It was just so wonderful to see him enjoying himself so much.

Ben was getting into the spirit too. He would say "Happy Halloween" before the treat, "Thank you" after wards and then complete it with a "you're welcome". He loves to repeat people, so if someone said "so cute", out would come "so cute" in a sing song voice. He loves hats, so I had put on his striped beanie with his costume and he did, in fact, look like Super Waldo. Not intended, but entirely adorable.

Tina dressed up in her yearly inflatable costume and even Lexie had a costume to wear. Who is Lexie? She is the dog I don't clearly remember saying could come over but apparently was overruled by some conversation she and John allegedly had. Being outside, in the perfect weather, surrounded by families and kids...I am just continually so thankful for the neighborhood I get to live in. It is like when I was young, walking around the neighborhood with my pillowcase because those little pumpkins couldn't cover near enough territory. Or John, walking through his neighborhood, smashing pumpkins and terrorizing anything he could get his hands on. Yep...he was that kid.

It's a race!

2009-11-01T04:31:00.000-08:00

Or...at least a run with the word "fun" in front of it that came with matching t-shirts. Tina, Jess and I drove up to Tulsa this morning for the Tulsa Run. It was Tina's first run and I was so proud of her. We ran and then walked according to the timer in my hand and when in run mode, had the added fun of trying to zoom in and around the other walkers who clearly didn't understand the "stand to the left, walk to the right" concept promoted on people movers world wide. We had left that morning at 6:30 to get there on time and while not quite able to find our exit, we finally found our way to a parking lot with other numbered people wandering out of it. That said, it was a bit further from the start line than I had realized. Strangely enough, they did not seem to want to jog to the start line to ensure we weren't late. I believe the exact words, as I was shuffling along, was "and B is out...".

Jess, was...well, Jess. She is the one standing in the crowd at the start and performing over exaggerated stretches and waving to the people on high risers and cheering as we ran across the finish line. She makes me smile. The best of all was just getting to spend the morning with both my sisters. It is not often that we get to spend time just the three of us, driving down the turnpike, jamming to "1985".

Robin Hood, Prince of Really Cool 4 Year Olds

2009-10-20T14:23:00.000-07:00

This morning, the boys went out to my mom's house to practice their compound bow. Joshy has his own bow and Uncle Ross was ever the patient teacher. They shot at a fake deer made of who knows what. I haven't been close enough to inspect. Still, I much rather the "fake" than the real. Not because of any animal right sensibilities (definitely pro hamburger and bacon) but the idea of having to turn a carcass into deer steaks. Even the image of peeling back the skin or whatever it is you do to get the meat out. Only if there was no other way to get food, including the option to feast on dead party member's bottoms.

There is just something about a man with a weapon in his hand. Look at my John Nathan. Protecting us from Medieval Savages. Any closer era and the gun powder/atomic weapons win.

Welcome to Fall

2009-10-18T11:08:00.000-07:00

It is hard to believe that it is jacket weather already...

Boom Boom Pow

2009-10-17T10:30:00.000-07:00

Jess has signed up for a hip hop dance class on a whim and in the midst of practicing for her Dec 13th recital, has pulled the boys into her hip hop madness. Notice Ben who, since he first understood the concept of dance, dances not with his legs, but only with his arms.

My Beloved Baby Boy

2009-09-29T19:10:00.000-07:00

Tonight I was working on cleaning the kitchen and had finally resorted to barring the boys from coming in because telling Ben to put the knife back in the dishwasher and Joshy that I wouldn't answer him if he was whining, ended up proving counterproductive to my kitchen cleaning progress. We set up our leather ottoman in the doorway as a blockade. A blockade that doesn't block much of anything but serves as the line by which punishment comes if crossed. No sooner than I had turned back around to the sink do I catch Ben crawling up onto the ottoman in the corner of my eye. As I turn around and say "Ben" in my warning tone, he falls flat on his stomach and starts to fake snore. I turn back around and he proceeds to hang one leg towards the kitchen. As soon as my head turns in his direction, the leg comes back up and the fake snoring begins again. It is adorable but aggravating and entirely ornery. Every time I start the dishwasher, he comes along and changes the settings or turns it off. I think that the cycle is finished and open it up to a washer full of suds. He pretends to be sleeping and as soon as you close your eyes, he blows the air through his lips at your face to get the puttering sound along with flying spit. Or he will poke you in the eye while saying "eye" because he has learned that the excitement of him saying the right word somehow makes the eye gouging okay. His vocabulary is exploding but mostly with phrases like "no..no...bite" and "no more". That and his colors. The other day he even started to count along with Jessi when playing hide and go seek. Best of all, though, is his "sorry". He will say it in this sing song tone and gently rub your cheek. It is almost worth being hit. He knows "Bumblebee" and "Spiderman" which he sings to the Ironman theme song. Joshy could sing you the tune and correct you when you inevitably get it wrong. When the music is loud and he begins to dance, instead of moving his legs, he just moves his arms up and down like he is doing the...well that dance from the sixties where they are moving their arms up and down. All I can think of is Mash Potato but I am pretty sure that's not it. My baby is a ball of wonderful craziness embodied in the boy with his leg hanging into the kitchen pretending to sleep. I wish I had a picture that captured his precocious smile and ornery glare but somehow the times when it shows up are not the times I am thinking "take a picture" but more a "you better not put that marble in your mouth"...

Soul Glo

2009-09-28T19:18:00.000-07:00

As I was blessed with course hair, I often use Biosilk on the ends of my hair to try and keep from getting "Monica Hair" after taking two steps outside on humid days. Joshy happened to be in the bathroom with me when I was putting it in my hair a few mornings ago and of course, asked what I was doing. After explaining, I took my almost dry hands and rubbed them through his hair so that he could be just like me. Instead of putting the biosilk up in the cabinet, I left it on the back of the toilet while I stepped out of the bathroom to grab something. Soon I had Joshy trotting after me. He was proud to show me that he had used the biosilk himself and now had 1/2 of my bottle of serum applied to his hair. It looked like Soul Glo hair from Coming to America. You could mini-toboggan down the sides and have enough left over grease on your treads to make it across a field of sand paper and tackiest of glues. He felt so fly that I couldn't break his spirits and just told him how great he looked as I talked about using only a little and ringing the oil from his hair. Never has there been greasy hair so adorable and well meant.

State Fair Part Deux

2009-09-27T18:51:00.000-07:00

I had the opportunity to go to the state fair twice this year, the second time with some girls from work. One of them brought their daughter who was adorable and it is always fun to have a kid present because it is easier to explain away my excitement at seeing a Llama or Zebra when a kid is right there being excited too.

We stopped by the car barn to see all the cars but I was disappointed that they didn't have the Cube on display. That was the one I was most interested to see. Still, I got to see LeAnn spill funnel cake powder all down her front and that was something. What created the humor was my comment to her as we were leaving work about how she was wearing such nice clothes in comparison to me and my slumming it and how she was going to end up getting stuff on it. She of course said "What am I going to get on it?" with ridicule in her tone. So what do we call her covered in white (and some Indian Taco mind you)? Maybe case and point...

We played some games as well before the night was through. LeAnn played the horse race and I gave my best at the water squirting race (came in second - barely) but it was Kyra who who ended up scoring the loot for the evening.

The only thing that can make the State Fair better is the State Fair times 2. And let me just note that it took some impressive squatting and leaning for me to take this picture. Just saying. Don't want to keep props from being given where props are due.

State Fair

2009-09-25T11:00:00.000-07:00

There is one reason that I look forward to the fair. That reason? The food. There is no food like fair food and no other time in the year that you find it acceptable to eat a turkey leg, Indian taco, roasted corn, cheese on a stick, root beer jug, saltwater taffy, chocolate covered cheesecake, frozen yogurt and corn dogs all in one day. Every year it's the same. Go for the food, stay for the attractions.Rumble is the mascot for the Oklahoma City Thunder. Rumble the bison. Yes, it does make that much sense. Joshy, complete with B and his ecowater crown (again, ecowater and crown - the connection is clear), got a chance to take a picture with the man sweating to death in a bison costume in 100 degree heat. Joshy was pretty excited and we got a poster of Rumble to hang in his room.

Like I said...go for the food, stay for the fun.

Ben loved his spiderman that we bought for the boys. It was almost as tall as he was but he carried that thing around the Agcropolis, sometimes even making it walk along next to him. Him and spiderman moo'd at the cows, baaaa'd at the sheep, tried to crawl into the trashcan. He is quickly learning the phrase "no..no...dirty...gross...".
Last stop of the day was the carnival rides and games. By games I mean "how much do I have to pay you so that my son wins the ball?". $10 and two balls later we were on to the kiddy rides.
It was a good day as most all State Fair days are. The boys enjoyed themselves, I got to eat my weight in Indian taco, we all laughed and my parents had an excuse to be "stylin'" in their matching straw hats...

You can't ask for anything more.

School Pictures

2009-09-16T17:34:00.000-07:00

Look at my babies' pictures. I can just picture them telling Joshy to lean his head and every time I look at it, it just makes me laugh. I love my boys. They are both so handsome. I plan on sending some wallets out to family, so if you fall in the bucket, you should have one in the next couple of weeks.