For he's a Jolly Good Fellow

Micah and I feel just awful. AWFUL. Last night at about 10pm, after already saying "Oh right, lets call him after dinner." we realized we HADN'T called him.

Him is my father in law Rex.

Yesterday was his birthday.

We are jerks.

Let me tell you about my father in law.

He is kind. He is giving. He is generous. He is a good man. He is a hard worker. He is good natured, funny, and loving.

I asked if he would help tear down the wood paneling in my basement bedroom. He redid the entire room, complete with tiered ceiling and new light fixture and paint.

He drove 45 minutes one way to attend Donuts with Dad with Lizzie at her school. After she specifically asked for him. Because he is very favorite Grandpa.

When the kids sleep over at their house he's been known to share the bed with a kicking, fidgety Lizzie or has been kicked out entirely by her and had to sleep in the guest bed. And he does this without complaint.

He married Leslie (my wonderful mother in law) even after meeting her teenage boys. And having at least one of them kinda suck in a few big ways (shooting his car with paint balls).

He called more than anyone else checking on the status of William when I was in labor. He could not wait to come see him and would have that night if that baby had not waited until after 11pm to be born.

He works hard, morning till night, in construction to contribute and lead his household.

He is an excellent and experimental cook. He always makes my steak well done, which is tough to do when everyone else is content with medium well or less.

He is patient.

He does not believe that biology has anything to do with family. He loves my husband as if he were his own son and my children as if they were his biological grandchildren. And has from the moment I told them I had kids. He has cared for Jenny (my husband's paternal grandmother) and has treated her with kindness, respect and dignity. Jenny loves him more than she loves Micah's birth father.

He loves his daughter and has always looked out for her best interests.

He thinks William looks like him.

He has forgiven Micah and I for not telling him about our secret wedding and making sure he could be there. We still feel like jerks for that too, by the way.

He roots for the Denver Broncos but is not a crazy fanatic.

He lets me play with his accounting software.

He shows me his plans and drawings that he does for people for construction.

For awhile he was the only person who could make William stop fussing during a holiday party. He held that over Leslie for a little bit and then dropped it.

Happy Birthday Rex. I hope you didn't work too hard and you had a great dinner. You're a blessing to our lives and both Micah and I feel like we don't need any other father because we have you in our lives. You have taught us both what it's like to have a "Real" father who loves unconditional and treats others with love and respect. Thank you.

Hate

I Hate the Westboro Baptist Church. More accurately, I Hate Fred Phelps.

I don't use the word Hate to convey that I am mildly displeased with him, his group, or their actions.

I use it in the sense that when I hear their name I feel my blood pressure rise. My cheeks turn red. I shake. I imagine doing things to them that are against my very nature and beliefs.

If you are unfamiliar with Fred Phelps or his group let me give you a quick but by no means extensive run down.

They are the church that protests deceased soldiers funerals, among other things. They are the ones holding up signs at those funerals that read "God hates Fags" (as well as others). They believe that because there are homosexuals and Jews in America that God has cursed America and that every dead soldier shows that God hates us. Obviously there is no correct country at this time according to this them but this group, calling themselves a Baptist church, made up of 70 or so members, led by Fred Phelps and comprised mostly of his children and grandchild, believe they are the only people blessed by God.

They also protested at Rev. Jerry Falwell's funeral. So they are equal opportunity haters.

I Hate them for what they do to grieving families. I Hate them for what they believe. I Hate them for their signs and their lawsuits and all of it.

But my God is not a God of hate. And I constantly have to remind myself of that when I think of this group.

My God tells me to Love my Neighbor (John 13:34-35, Luke 10:25-37, Matthew 22:39, & Mark 12:31).

My God tells me that when others wrong me it is not right to seek revenge but that I should forgive (Matthew 5:38-39 & Leviticus 19:18).

Jesus preached to all regardless of if they were different from him or not. He preached not only to Jews, which he was, but the Gentiles. He preached to the Romans, to the poor, to the wealthy, he preached to the sick and the healthy alike. His legacy lives on today because he reached out to everyone and loved all as his neighbor.

So I am torn. This Westboro church is coming to Denver next week. They are protesting several schools, one Catholic school and several Jewish Temples. I could join the counter-protests that are being organized throughout the city and tell them how wholeheartedly I disagree with them. I could tell them I Hate their views. I could tell them that they are wrong. That they have perverted God and the Bible the way a Muslim Terrorist has perverted the Qua ran and Allah.

In my mind they have done the same thing.

Or.....

Or I could volunteer in my community. There is garbage to be picked up, soup kitchens we could work in and donations of household goods and clothing we could make.

Or I could work in my garden. I have specific plants and containers where I am growing food for donation. I have been meaning to post about those but couldn't gather my thoughts enough to tell everyone about my goals.

But. I will now.

I received a packet of free seeds from Plant a Row for the Hungry and have planted them, along with a variety of other items. My family is not super great about eating our vegetable's so we will be donating anything we don't eat to a local food bank or pantry that I found through Ample Harvest (which has an iPhone app, FYI). I suspect that there will be a lot of tomatoes and jalapeno's in addition to the carrots I am growing specifically for them.

So, do I teach my children to stand up against evil with words and actions at a counter protest or do I teach my children to stand up against evil with compassion and actions at home?

I don't know honestly. WWYD?

Blessed Monday

Every other Monday I lay my head on my pillow and fall into an exhausted sleep. It seems like every other Monday Micah needs to hold me for at least 5 minutes and tell me everything is okay and it's going to be okay.

Because every other Monday my kids have had their first full day back at "home" and they are desperate for Mommy Time.

Every other Monday I have to make an effort to cook a meal instead of just relying on Micah and I to figure it out for ourselves.

Every other Monday is the Monday before Friday payday and we're broke. And out of "edible" food according to Kylie.

Every other Monday is the Monday after employees have submitted or forgotten to submit their time sheets and they call in panicked that they wont get paid.

Every other Monday is the Monday before severance payments and people who have been laid off call to find out if they will be getting their checks.

Every other Monday follows a weekend where we were so busy we didn't stop moving for 10 minutes because we didn't have the other 2 kids so we were trying to get all our weekend "errands" completed.

Every other Monday my kids want one on one time with me. They want my full attention, they want to show me their "skills" of bike riding or retainer wearing or poem practice or comfort nursing (that last one is just William). And they want to have my attention without any other kids being present.

Every other Monday my life becomes loud and noisy and restless and busy and crazy and hectic and stressful.

But every other Monday my life feels more full, more blessed, more complete.

I owe you all

Alternatively titled: Grandma's birthday

Sorry posts have been light this week, Micah was sick, I was sick etc.

We celebrated Grandma Jenny's birthday on Sunday, which was Easter, and I can not thank you all enough who sent cards and prayers and helped with the party and especially Leslie and Melissa to help with the whole thing.

First: Here are 2 pictures of Grandma in her hat like I promised. Sorry, I ate your cake though.


The crown hat is actually Melissa's. Their kids wear it on their birthdays and she brought it in case my hat sucked. While my hat didn't suck it certainly didn't have the impact that the crown did.

Micah says there is a special place in hell for taking a picture of her in the hat and posting it on the internet. I hope he's wrong. Or that my good deeds for the day wash the hat thing out.

I picked Jenny up from the nursing home around 11:30am and she could not move fast enough to get out of there. As we were leaving I assured her that she would not be back until after dinner and she was thrilled. Her days seem long there sometimes and the party certainly helped break up the day to day for her.

I'll post Easter pictures later but we did have a massive Easter Egg hunt thanks to Grandma and Grandpa and the kids loved it.

To Eric and Elisa, thank you for the three separate cards. Jenny enjoyed opening them and while she didn't know you she played it off REALLY well. She opened Joshy's picture first and smiled and asked "Now how old is he again?" I told her 6. I hope that's right, sorry if it's not but I seem to remember him being a year older than Lizzie.

She planned to hang the kids pictures up in her room at the nursing home and she loved your card as well.

To Aunty Connie and Uncle John, thank you as well. She really loved your card and cried opening it.

To Mia, sorry, she didn't have a clue who you were and my explanation that you two were church buddies did not fly.

Mel, Leslie and I signed cards to her from people who weren't there and we all had gifts for her that she loved. Jewelry, trinkets and shoes, she loved it all.


Leslie served dinner and provided the cake and the kids got to help blow out the candles.




Grandma insisted on getting a picture with everyone and getting everyone's names. Mel's friend Andy took the pictures for us and we even managed to sneak his wife Amy into one of the pictures with us.
I feel incredibly blessed to have such a wonderful Colorado family to make Jenny's birthday so wonderful.

I normally try to be really positive on this blog but for a second I do just wanna complain about something.

We put the word out a month in advance about the party. We called people. We reminded people. And yet, when it came down to it, NOT ONE of her own family or old friends came to the party. Not one of them sent a card or called. The last time she talked to her own son it was when he called the nursing home to tell her he needed money to come see her because she was so far away. (Or at least that's what we've been told. For the record he lives 30 minutes away.)

Jenny may be rough around the edges and I know her memory is crap but she knows the important people. Andy, my brother in law, was the only out of town person to call and talk to her. None of her sisters, nieces or anyone else even bothered to send a card and that makes me a little angry. Wait, a niece did send a card. One. My own family, literal strangers to her, sent cards. People from as far away as Pennsylvania and Ohio sent cards. But friends she used to have lunch with on a weekly basis didn't bother to send a card.

Okay. That's out of my system now. Sorry. I just needed to say it.

I'll leave you all with this. Thank you again, everyone who made is such a success.

So wrong

There is something inherently wrong being the youngest brother to 2 older sisters.


You can bet you wont survive with your dignity intact.

It's a Vegetablepalooza

I have been awful about updating on my garden. My indoor vegetable garden that is since it's still not warm enough to plant outside. As you may remember, last time I updated my garden was small. Things have happily changed since then.

This is my radish. Or radish's. This was actually an accident. I had an extra 12 in terra cotta pot lying around and thought I would throw some flower seeds that I got in a seed exchange in and see what happened. I was not paying close enough attention and suddenly, I realize I had thrown in a handful or radish seeds.

If you ever want to plant something that will sprout quickly, radish seeds are the way to go. These literally sprouted within 2 days. I don't even like radishes.

Remember Pretty Pea? She's a little larger now.
I put a plastic fork and half a chop stick in last week to help stabilize her but she seems to have figured out something better and is actually hanging on to the top shelf of my window.

Her sisters, Sweet Pea and Mylie P (After my niece Paloma and her brother Myles) have also sprouted and seem to be doing well.
You may see a cuke behind those two, it's doing well as well but it's stem is fatter and it isn't as tall. Thank goodness.

Finally, I would like to introduce you to my pepper pots. As you may recall, they were quite barren before. Well look at them now!


We started naming them but ran out of name ideas as more and more of them sprouted. Apparently I was a little heavy handed with the seeds for the jalapeno plants.

Also, after the last time I updated, I also planted white onions, cherry tomatoes and regular tomatoes. Those are growing on the top shelf right now and are doing well.


Here is the image that greets me every time I walk into my kitchen. I honestly, can not wait to get home each night and water my little garden while Will watches and supports me from his Bumbo seat.

More plans include carrots, chives, oregano, assorted other herbs and possibly some lettuce. Oh and green peppers. All in containers since the dogs will probably destroy anything I plant in the yard. We have begun gathering containers and so far I have 2 whiskey barrels and 2 huge planters. I buy them when I find them cheap so I have time to hunt since we have another month until I can safely move them outside.

A hair raising Friday

I want to talk to you today about my blessed hair. *ya, I know, bear with me, the pictures will be cute*

About every 2 years or so I cut my hair short. REALLY short. Well, it looks really short because prior to that it was really long. I tend to cut anywhere from 8-12 inches off and my hair which was once tucking into the back of my pants is now tickling the bottom of my earlobe.

I am incredibly lucky that my hair grows so long in such a relatively short amount of time. This year I'm sure it was due to my pregnancy but in the past I tend to have at least that much in roughly the same time frame.

The last time I cut my hair was January 2008. It was a few days before Brian and I went to Disneyland for our 10 year anniversary. It was possibly the worst vacation ever. We seperated shortly after returning home.

On Friday morning I looked like this:

Then this happened:

So now I look like this:

William took a minute to get used to my new 'do. But he did enjoy a little play time.

On the day you were born....

My kids like to hear the story of when they were born. I probably tell it 5 times a year to Kylie and 20 times to Lizzie. Will still remembers the whole sordid detail. He doesn't ask. Yet.

Yesterday was my birthday. I'm 31 now. Scary, I know.

Unfortunately my mom isn't here to tell you the story of when I was born. Luckily I, like my children, was always fascinated with the story. So I know it by heart.

On the day I was born it was a Friday. My mother was 2 weeks overdue and was essentially living on Mallomars (cookies) and cigarettes. (Don't judge her)

She woke up that morning and felt....different. Something was different than the day before but she really couldn't put her finger on it. Within an hour or so though, she thought she might be in labor.

So she called her friend, I think it was Barb, and said "Hey, I think I'm in labor."

Barb said, "Great, lets go to breakfast."

So they did.

After breakfast my mom went to her Dr's appointment where he confirmed she was in labor. He told her she needed to go to the hospital RIGHT NOW.

Being the hippy that she was though she informed the Dr that she needed to go home. After all Harvey's sons (My fathers sons, my brother and ex-step brother) were at school and she needed to be home when they got home. Besides, there was laundry that needed to be folded.

So she went home and folded laundry and waited for the boys to come home.

At about 5pmish she decided she should probably go to the hospital as the labor was starting to get a little rough. She left a note with the boys for Harvey when he got home from work and drove herself, in labor, to the hospital.

I have no idea what time Harvey got there. That part of the story was never really mentioned.

But he did. At some point the Dr determined that I was stuck on her hip and they needed to use forceps to get me out. My father told them no. He was afraid it would damage me or scar me or something. So my mother labored and pushed for several more hours until finally the Dr told my father to kiss his ass, this baby wasn't coming out any other way.

So I was delivered via forceps at 11:10pm on March 23, 1979 at Providence Hospital in Anchorage, Alaska. I weighed 6lbs, 9 oz. I have no idea how long I was.

I mentioned I was 2 weeks overdue right? When my babies go overdue they tend to be in the 8lb range. Just sayin'.

Craft Day

Every couple of months or so Leslie (Micah's mom), Melissa (Micah's sister) and I plus the children get together for craft day.

Craft day started in November 2008. I asked Micah if he thought his sister and mom would be up for getting together and making crafts. He shrugged and said why not?

I can't remember now if I called to ask or if I made him call (most likely) but we met at Leslie's house for Thanksgiving crafts and a tradition was set. Now we try to come together as Leslie's house every couple of months with the kids and make a themed craft day.

In early March it was for St. Patrick's Day but strangely I procrastinated and waited until the last minute to get the crafts. Like the day before craft day. So pickings were slim.

Mostly we just painted because Myles likes painting crafts and I had made him do heart stickers the month prior for Valentines. I feel ya buddy.

We painted wooden snacks, pottery animals and flower pots. I'm hoping to use the flower pots for Earth Day in April.

Leslie also put together an activity for the children that involved blowing glue into bubbles through a straw. It's MUCH harder than it sounds.

The girls attempt to mold their glue into small balls

Myles is ahead of the pack on listening to instructions and attempting the bubbles

Myles achieves bubble

William is very enthusiastic about his cousin's accomplishment

Paloma paints her wooden snake

Lizzie gets her bubble..finally (with an assist from mommy)

Paloma gets her bubble with an assist from Auntie Lacy

The baby is very entertaining

Everyone wants a piece of the baby

The table of destruction. And if you look closely, some of our flower pots. That front one is Myles'.

All in all I think we had a good time, at least I did. And the kids seemed to. The only downside was I think we ruined at LEAST one of Leslie's white chairs. I really should have thought that paint through a little more.

We were just plain tuckered out afterwards.

Will - 4 months

Dear Will,

You are 4 months old now and are making leaps and bounds as you grow older and larger.

You tried rice cereal for the first time today. You were incredibly excited about the spoon and very patient while you tried to figure out how to move the cereal from the front of your mouth to the back. Mostly that was a failure. You did make the attempt to keep the cereal in your mouth by letting me put some in and then sucking on your fingers. That worked a little better but we still have a long way to go.

At night you let me put a little mashed avocado on my finger and stick it in your mouth to suck. You seemed to do pretty well with that.

You have really found your smile and while I dont often catch it in pictures, your smile is a sight to behold. You grin wide, toothless grins and often your whole body radiates with joy at whatever has made you happy. I day dream about your smile when I'm at work and can't wait to come home to them every night. Well, those and you're chub.

That's a good segway into something I want to talk to you about. Your chub. While you were my middle child in terms of birth size, you are far and away my fattest baby at 4 months old. At a 3 month Dr visit you weighed in at a hefy 15 lbs. Your sister Lizzie weighed something like 12lbs at that age. I'm not sure what Kylie weighed then as I can't find those records but you can sure bet, it wasn't 15lbs. Comparing pictures of your thighs and her thighs at the same age makes her look skinny in comparison and at the time she was the fattest baby I had ever seen. I'm just saying buddy, keep up what you're doing because it's obviously working for you.

What seems to work for you, by the way, is breastmilk. When I went back to work and school with your sisters respectively, they quickly lost interest in nursing. Within a week after full time daycare bottle introduction they were both completely over me. But you, you aren't willing to go so quietly into that good night. You still nurse after I pick you up from daycare, at night on the rare occasions you wake up and all day on the weekends. You are a milkaholic. I'm okay with that for the time being and am able to pump at work but I am beginning to wonder what it's going to take for you to wean. You aren't so easily swayed by the easy drip of a bottle.

You have just in the last week or so really learned how to laugh. I can sort of get you to do it but your Grandma Leslie has you down cold with it. She knows all the good spots on you and it's pretty much a given if she talks to you you'll laugh. I'm pretty sure you're a Suck Up. I understand you might be going for "Favorite Grandchild Status" but I must warn you, you have a lot of competition from your cousins and sisters. It's going to be tough.

The Phantom of the Opry is there....

So Friday night was the final performance of the middle school play Kylie was in. It was titled "The Phantom of the Opry" and was a spoof of the "Phantom of the Opera". Kylie had been complaining for weeks, nay, months, that it wasn't the original Phantom but managed to suck it up and audition and perform.

She actually had two rolls in the play, the first being Felicity Van Loon, a "culture vulture" if you would believe the playbill and the second being Smokey Fish, a one "man" band. We saw her the night she was Felicity which had much more lines and time on stage.

No small parts you know, just small actors.



Here is some video of Kylie talking about how Christine is a nobody and they want to hear Carlotta sing. The stage lights went out in the middle of the performance (I'm not sure if it was supposed to or not) and the background fell. (It was not supposed to, I'm pretty sure)




Despite some really awful weather yesterday (near white out conditions where I work) Micah's sister Melissa and her husband Matt plus their two children Myles and Paloma were able to make it and Nana had flown in from out of town to visit. So we pretty much took up a row of seats.

The cutest thing to happen? When Kylie came out on stage Lizzie, who was standing in her chair to better see her sister, started calling out "THERE IS SISSY! HI SISSY!" and waving. Many in the audience turned out to see and smile but luckily Kylie didn't hear it or at least it didn't throw her off her game.

For my Aunty

I try and write back to people in my comments and I fail when I'm at work. It wont let me. Sorry. (and side note - Elisa -OMG! Did I read your aversion to sweets lately correctly?)

Here is my first tattoo. My mom had been nagging me for weeks to go get it done. I believe she may have called me a wuss. Or wimp. Or both. She was like that in a loving way.

So one night, in the dead of night, I left my VERY ill husband (who ended up going to the hospital and being admitted for a week the next morning with Colitis) and went to the tattoo shop I had been scouting out.

It was in an older part of Tucson and I was driving a Toyota Corolla. And wearing a soccer mom looking pink sweater and khakis. There was no one more out of place that night than me.

I walked in and explained what I was looking for and they told me no problem and set me up with the "head" tattoo artist. I went into his office that had a window looking out on the rest of the shop and we discussed my 3 leaf tattoo.

The office was painted blood red and he had mini-statues of the character HellRaiser all over. He had multiple tattoos and piercings including skeletal birds on the sides of his neck. One on each side. Did I mention I looked out of place?

After the discussion I showed him where I wanted it placed, on my inside right ankle. This is where my aunts and mother all have THEIR tattoos (which is a much better story than this one). He left me alone for a few moments to gather myself because I was afraid. He recommend I do some deep breathing and "find my happy place".

My happy place was back at home in my warm bed watching Mythbusters on the Discovery Channel.

But I wasn't there. I was in a scary look tattoo shop. So I closed my eyes and imagined calm meadows and forests, a babbling brook and maybe some chirping birds. Not skeletal ones. Imagine the opening scene from Bambi. That was me in my mind.

I heard him come back into the room but I was very relaxed and so just left my eyes closed. I heard him moving around, gathering equipment and still floated along, in my happy place.

Then he sat down on the stool by my foot and YANKED up my pant leg. This startled me obviously because 1)I hadn't shaved my legs above my ankle and 2)he YANKED on me.
My startled expression made him comment "In case the blood starts squiring out your pants wont get messy."

Happy place. Gone.

All in all the experience wasn't bad, it felt just like his underage girlfriend said it would, like a cat scratch on a bad sunburn, and I walked out of there feeling great.

I had to hide my tattoo from my then husband because he believed that women with tattoos were trashy. Despite his mother having 4 and his grandmother having one. My mother had one and NOW he and his girlfriend go get tattoos as a hobby. I believe she has something like 4 or 5.

So here is a picture of my first tattoo.

My second tattoo. I got it done September 30, 2008. That's the day my divorce from Brian was final. Micah took me to get it and held my hand while it was done. It hurt a LOT worse, in case you were curious.

It's a Forget-Me-Not. Being from Alaska that flower means an awful lot to me.

So that's my story of my tattoos. What a long read to get to a picture.

St. Patricks Day (a day late)

As my family knows, St. Patricks Day in my house is huge. I don't celebrate any holiday for a whole week like I do St. Patricks Day.

Every year my Aunt Connie sends me a St. Patricks Day Card and a gift of some sort. This year it was window clings and cups. Which was awesome. (She also sent me a St. Patricks Day Table Runner a few years back because I coveted her daughter's table runner for awhile. She's the bestest Auntie. But don't tell the others.)

All week I generally wear green clothes, green beads, hair hair ties and on St. Patricks Day itself I wear a green tattoo (temporary of course).

But not this year. THIS year the headiest head honcho from HR came to visit us. Her Compensation head honcho (think Cheney to the honcho being Bush) SAT WITH ME while I handled employee issues.

So my director asked me to tone it down. No crazy socks (I own 4 pairs of St. Patricks Day socks), no crazy hair bows or bands (uh yeah, a few of those too) and no tattoo. Talk about crushed.

I managed to wear my socks but kept every else to a dull St. Patricks Day roar.

At least at work. At HOME however, everyone managed to wear green. Well, except the baby. He doesn't know his colors yet. (Never mind that I'm the one who dressed him. And he HAD a St. Patrick's onesie from Aunt Connie.)

Nana came to town to watch Kylie's performance this Friday in the Phantom of the Opry and we went to Applebee's for dinner.

Will enjoys his Green Beer. (Not really people!)

Will and I sport our temporary St. Patricks Day tattoos.

Lizzie enjoys her green balloon animal T-Rex hat.

Nana enjoys a dinosaur balloon hat from time to time as well.

Splish Splash

Will was taking a bath!

William has always loved bathtime. He's a regular bathtime boy. Never cries and generally is just happy to be in the water.

He's been working on sitting up for a few days now and still can't really do it unassisted but is getting better at it.

Tonight he discovered splashing in the tub. I made Micah video tape it because it was too cute.

It's been 10 days and....

I've got some green. And not just because it's St. Patrick's week.

This is a picture of my first "group" of plants. They grow on the right side of my window.


Hey look! There is some green in the center. But what you might be missing is that there is ALSO green to the left. Let me introduce you.

This is my first cucumber plant. We'll call her Minnesota Cuke. (Those with kids who watch Veggie Tales just rolled their eyes at me. I know.) She's the biggest of the bunch and my only cucumber plant currently.

But THIS is my Sugar Snap Pea plant. Known around here as Pretty Pea. As you can see her green shoot has finally broken the surface and is headed towards sunlight.

This, sadly, is my pepper pot. Currently nothing going on in there other than some yellow balls that I believe to be well hydrated but not sprouting yet pepper plants. Micah assured me that via the seed packet these dont sprout for 10 - 20 days but I'm not holding my breath.

This is my second grouping of pots. They grow on the left side of the window and as you can see not much going on here. In fact only the Pea pot seems to have any possibilities.

It's hard to see but that is the tiniest green sprout there with the white balls of pea seed directly underneath it. (Sorry, I don't know my technical plant terms. I'm a novice here and too lazy too look it up.)

I wont name it until that plant is upright. Any suggestions for that Sugar Snap Pea plant?

Is it wrong to name them? Just like you shouldn't name your farm animals because you're going to eat them, should I refrain from naming my plants since I plant to eat them as well?

Conversations with Lizzie

Alternatively titled: Reason I don't bake more

Me: Hey Lizzie, would you like to make some muffins with me today?
Lizzie: With frosting?
Me: No honey, muffins. Muffins don't have frosting.
Lizzie: No thank you. Muffins are just ugly cupcakes.

It's ALIVE!

I planted my sweet little pots of hope, er, vegetables on Wednesday. March 3rd.

Last night I came home a little worn out, a little tired. I had worked all day, dealt with my Cold, picked up 2 children, taken one to get her hair cut and was worn out when I came home at 7:30pm after leaving the house at 6:50am.

As my husband pulled out of the oven the best dinner I had ever tasted (one I didn't have to cook!) I noticed a slight flourish of green in one of my pots.

After eating my meal I went to investigate. Was it mold? Was it dropped foliage from the barely hanging on other green plant in the window?

Nope. It's the sprout of a CUCUMBER!

I know the picture is awful. It's because I was so excited I was jumping up and down. Which is good for excitement, bad for photo taking.

I then carefully checked out ALL the other pots and it appears that the peas, both pots, are on the verge of a breakthrough. The other cucumber, not so much. And neither of the peppers have made an appearance yet.

BUT I HAVE SPROUTED A CUCUMBER.

That's just about as good as hearing them shout "It's a boy!" or "It's a girl!".

Just wants to be a big boy

All of my children are different. Not "different" as in special in a way you talk about with raised eyebrows and behind your hand but just different from each other. Every child throws me a constant learning curve and when you are dealing with three different ages in life it's like a really extreme test all.the.time.

Will seems to be my up baby. By that I mean, he wants to sit up. All the time. He doesn't want to recline or lay on the floor. He wants to hold his head up and check out the world.

He also is excited about food. That's another post.


To that extent we have begun to take him off the floor and into more upright positions such as a bouncy non-walker type device.

We also bought him a new (to him) high chair this weekend and a Bumbo seat. He can now sit up to his hearts content.

Awww Mom.....

That Bumbo seat is possibly the cutest thing ever. He hangs out with me when I make dinner now.

And yes, he is wearing the same outfit in each post. It was a busy Sunday.

Remind me to tell you about the fish that's in the background of that last picture. It's a good one.

Week in review

Alternately titled: Things we learned or did this week



1. Kylie wants the theme of her Sweet 16 party to be "The '80's." I'm in search of a hair band. Micah is trying to convince her to have a Quinceanera instead.


2. I may or may not have given my 3.5 month old son gravy on Wednesday. If I had given it to him he would have really liked it. Along with the mashed potatoes that I may or may not have given him.


3. Lizzie tried to drink the aforementioned gravy straight from the serving spoon. She is her Grandmother's (Julie) granddaughter.


4. To get Lizzie to eat ANYTHING just serve it with sauce of some kind. Gravy, sweet & sour, ketchup, whatever. She'll eat it if there be sauce.


5. I have a list of Kylie's downloads from Itunes. She'll kill me when I tell you that not a one of them is from a Horror Metal band. They are ALL from '80's hair bands. I'm going to torture her tonight by humming "Pour Some Sugar on Me" by Def Leopard.


6. I had to clean lint out of my son's wrist fat rolls. I want to say to that Dr who was all worried because he was a couple of ounces shy of birth weight at 2 weeks old "How do you like me NOW?"

7. My plants haven't sprouted yet. It's been 2 days since I planted them. The anxiety is killing me.

8. Migraines suck. A lot. So much I had to see my Dr. and get medication for them. Yuck.

9. I'm registering for my PHR (Professional in Human Resources) Certification test tonight. It's going to happen in June. I need to start studying NOW.

10. Micah does not like gray shirts. He says they are boring. I need to do laundry a little more often to stop gray shirts from being a part of his wardrobe.