tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76568852024-03-14T00:45:09.171-05:00It's only meOccasional postings from a semi-working mom and suburbanite.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.comBlogger142125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-5083913545220478942009-06-01T00:14:00.003-05:002009-06-01T00:33:21.963-05:00Home Sweet Home v. 2.0We are finally moved into the new house. There are boxes everywhere and all of us are dead-dog tired, but we are in.<div><br /></div><div>I love it. It's fabulous. Not to toot my own horn, but this house kicks ass. It's pretty, it's functional, I like most of the choices that we've made, and am able to file the ones I don't like under Lessons Learned and move on. It's going to be a cool place to live.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's weird actually moving in and moving through something that has taken shape slowly over 6 months' time. I think it's like meeting an Internet boyfriend for the first time (or what I imagine it would be like anyway). You have an image in your head of what it should look like and be like and feel like, but the reality is both better and worse than what you had imagined. It's a surreal place where elation and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">disappointment</span> meet - kind of a funky feeling, but luckily more elation than <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">disappointment</span> in my case. The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">funkiness</span> is taking a few days to wear off. I think once I stop getting d<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">e</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ja</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">vu</span> when I walk down the hall because I've done it so many times in my mind it will feel more normal.</div><div><br /></div><div>We have So. Much. Shit. that it feels like it will be forever until we have the place in order. The Little Man is pushing for a Grand Opening Celebration (which more normal households call an Open House) though, so maybe we'll whip it into shape quickly just to get him off our butts. Nothing motivates like a persistant 5-year-old.</div>Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-42219264698335420302009-03-01T22:33:00.003-06:002009-03-01T22:37:32.054-06:00Five Today<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYCHSNOoAJtZHqfroN2JSxqzPwF0YMj0erif4FcF4fG2Y4ia8sKq5UcM4_sYdcFsV3LVucSDW6YgdBJzcgQz9M8iZG-jfuvJbSyqCXDz-8Q8tL_J7v0UtbR8xcaQlgrzV-VeVjQ/s1600-h/100_1444.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span><img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 320px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYCHSNOoAJtZHqfroN2JSxqzPwF0YMj0erif4FcF4fG2Y4ia8sKq5UcM4_sYdcFsV3LVucSDW6YgdBJzcgQz9M8iZG-jfuvJbSyqCXDz-8Q8tL_J7v0UtbR8xcaQlgrzV-VeVjQ/s320/100_1444.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308444358940987090" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">My Little Man<br /></div>Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-6081625455299176592009-02-28T22:55:00.003-06:002009-02-28T23:50:54.401-06:00On the Eve of FiveMy Little Man turns 5 tomorrow. He is so excited - it's quite the thing to witness him being so stoked about his birthday. New Toys! Cake! A Party! With Friends! And Cousins! And he'll finally be 5, like ALL the other kids in the Red Room (his room at school). It makes him wiggle like a puppy in excitement - it's a wonder he hasn't piddled on the floor. In fact, when we got home this evening he wanted to shower and crawl into bed immediately so his birthday would come even FASTER. <div><br /></div><div>And me? Well, I'm astonished, but I'm having some mixed emotions. My eldest baby has no baby left in him. He continues to be tall - he comes up to about mid-sternum on me now. He weighs in at a flat 50 pounds, and some of his size 6 jeans have hit the highwater stage. And he has SUCH an imagination. The child loves to build, and tell jokes, and play tricks, and read books, and sing. And (note that this is IN WRITING) he really likes to play with his sister. And he's doing well in school - knows how to read, write and sound out most letters, and he's been working hard to say his "L" sounds properly. Which will come in handy when he starts KINDERGARTEN this fall (Lord help me). This all adds up to him being a big boy now. Eeeek.</div><div><br /></div><div>He did bestow a bit of consolation this morning. He crawled into bed with us when he woke up this morning and said "Mommy, one more sleep and I'll be FIVE!" I told him that was right, and he was getting to be a big boy. He said "Don't worry, mom, I'll still be your baby when I get to be 5. I Love you." </div><div><br /></div><div>Little Man, I love you too. Happy Birthday.</div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-54909172878080203272009-02-19T23:59:00.005-06:002009-02-20T01:10:51.011-06:00Hola!Wow, I knew it had been a bit since I had dusted off the ol' blog, but September? Yikes.<br /><br />Sadly, I think the timing corresponds with my daughter's decisions that a) she's a night owl and doesn't like to go to sleep before 10-10:30, and b) that she must go to sleep, and sleep all night, touching her mom. As this leaves me with precious little time to spend on stuff *I* want to do at night, the blog has been kicked to the curb in favor of the occasional <a href="http://www.twitter.com/">tweet</a>, paying bills and reading news. I know, my priorities are wack.<br /><br /><br />The short update to the house is that it's coming along nicely. After all the slow-pokiness in the beginning, once they broke ground the builders have really kicked it into gear. I guess that's what they do best - actually BUILD, vs. doing the building paperwork. Who knew.<br /><br /><br />I must say that the time we took in doing research on the bank and the builders up front is paying off. I've heard a couple of horror stories lately about builders absconding with people's money or using shoddy materials, and I'm confident we won't have anything like that with our guys. I've been really happy with the builder, all of the subcontractors they're using, and the bank's oversight of the budget. Except for Mr. Me's occasional propensity to have an opinion that's just plain wrong - wrong I say! - about finish choices, it's been a good experience.<br /><br /><br />Eventually I'll publish an entire series of photos of the house construction, but for now here it is in current form.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3642/3294788318_c8cf094bc9.jpg?v=0"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 374px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3642/3294788318_c8cf094bc9.jpg?v=0" border="0" /></a> Voila! Its got walls! And a basement! And a great maw of a garage. And look - new roof!<br /><br /><div><a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3419/3294782576_94b997d82e.jpg?v=0"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3419/3294782576_94b997d82e.jpg?v=0" border="0" /></a> And the inside is . . . drafty. But we're gaining on it. (shown here - the Little Man's bedroom, of which he is so proud)<br /><br /><div>In other shocking news, selling a house is a pain in the ass. It's only been on the market 3 weeks and I'm already tired of keeping a spotless house. Especially as the Little Miss likes to have a bit of chaos around her at all times, and she's currently into diapers and diapering things. Which leads to many a morning of picking this up off the floor. </div><br /><div></div><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3457/3294817402_4caffaa6d5.jpg?v=0" border="0" /> Maybe it's mummification she's into, we're not quite sure. </div>Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-61836701538895570882008-09-30T22:51:00.003-05:002008-09-30T23:33:03.383-05:00Moving NowhereWe are slowly passing milestones in this housebuilding business. Is it done, you ask? What colors did you pick, you say?<br /><br />Let's not get ahead of ourselves here.<br /><br />Slowly passing milestones equals more that the paperwork is *almost* done, and we might start building in the foreseeable future, than that any actual work has been done.<br /><br />Here's what's gone on:<br />County zoning requirements met - check<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Houseplans</span> complete - check<br />Building bids sought - check<br />Building bids obtained - three, painfully slowly<br />Builder procured - check<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Houseplans</span> revised - check<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Houseplans</span> revised again (by me so I didn't have to see the fucking <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">houseplan</span> lady again) - check<br />Financing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">pre</span>-approved - check<br />Building contract finalized - check<br />Land contract finalized - check<br />Site plan completed - check<br />Financing finalized- check (oh my god we are now so poor)<br />Site plan provided to flood people even though our land isn't in a flood plain - check<br />Land purchased - check (almost - I don't have the deed in hand yet)<br />Perk test - in progress<br />Building permit - later this week<br /><br />For those of you who have not yet had a crash-course in septic - or "where poo-poo go" - a perk test is where they test your land to see if water absorbs into the land at a rate that will work with a normal septic system, or if we have to use a funky expensive septic solution. We're so hoping for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">absorbent</span> land. Like, Bounty <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">absorbent</span>. Funky and expensive is not in the budget.<br /><br />The pathetic little list above represents seven months of work. And frustration. And watching things ever-so-slowly grind forwards. And second-guessing the wisdom of this project as we've watched the economy start circling the bottom of the toilet, faster and faster as the months go by. <br /><br />And they haven't even started, oh, BUILDING THE FUCKING HOUSE YET. But we're close enough that I'd better get in gear and get my 'before' pictures taken.<br /><br />P.S. The title of this post refers both to the state of the project and that the place we're moving has no address yet. Literally, we're moving to slightly North of nowhere.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-91606203590104158422008-09-06T22:51:00.003-05:002008-09-06T23:32:28.164-05:00The "I Love You" SongThe Little Man was helping me wrap a birthday present this morning for one of his buddies. His sparkling, happy eyes and general overall cuteness inspired me to sing "I love you" in a big, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">operatic</span> voice.<br />He didn't miss a beat, singing right back "I love you too!"<br />to which I replied " I love you more!"<br />then he sang, with a nice melody, "I love you most!"<br />and I belted (in a this-is-the-finale sort of way) "I love you up to the moon!"<br />to which he came back with a very loud "I love you more than McDonald's!"<br /><br />And . . . I had <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">nothin</span>'. His love truly knows no bounds.<br /><br />P.S. Yes, when daddy's not around, we communicate in song sometimes. Mostly with an opera feel. It's what we do. Stop judging, but feel free to be happy you're not around when it's going on.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-64249705839385550792008-08-18T22:08:00.002-05:002008-08-18T22:34:55.874-05:00Oh MemeI haven't done a meme here in oh, EVER, but this one that <a href="http://www.averagejane.com/">Average Jane</a> did the other day looked kind of fun.<br /><br />The rules are to post my answers to a quiz. There are no wrong answers because it’s all about me. Unless I lie to look cooler or smarter than I am.<br /><br />So, here goes:<br /><br />A. Attached or single? Married<br />B. Best friend? My Hubby<br />C. Cake or pie? Lemon <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Meringue</span> Pie (but only if it's tart enough)<br />D. Day of choice? Sunday<br />E. Essential item? Internet Access<br />F. Favorite color? Blue<br />G. Gummy bears or worms? Worms<br />H. Hometown? Byers, KS<br />I. Indulgence? Pedicures<br />J. January or July? January (I abhor hot weather)<br />K. Kids? 4-year old Little Man, and almost 2 Little Miss<br />L. Life <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">isn</span>’t complete without? Family<br />M. Marriage date? September 20, 1997<br />N. Number of brothers & sisters? 2 brothers - one older, one younger<br />O. Oranges or apples? Apples in the fall, oranges in the winter<br />P. Phobias? <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Claustrophobia</span> if there is no airflow<br />Q. Quotes? More Cowbell.<br />R. Reasons to smile? My kiddos (and seeing them go to grandma's for the weekend)<br />S. Season of choice? Fall<br />T. Tag seven peeps! Meme if you must - no assignments here<br />U. Unknown fact about me? I had a huge crush on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean-Luc_Picard">Jean <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Luc</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Picard</span></a> in high school.<br />V. Vegetable? Cucumbers<br />W. Worst habits? Procrastination<br />X. X-ray or ultrasound? Ultrasound 'cause usually there's a baby involved!<br />Y. Your favorite food? Mexican<br />Z. Zodiac sign? AriesMehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-8710472838471685432008-08-13T21:57:00.003-05:002008-08-13T22:46:32.260-05:00Building a House: The saga continuesI've been silent about the house building project for a while because it's going so. damn. slowly. There's not been much to report besides my intense frustration with the whole process.<br /><br />When last I left you, I was waiting for the final bid to come in so I could decide on a builder. The final bid came in 3 weeks after the others, and it was $60,000 higher than the next closest bid.<br /><br />I was SO pissed off that I wasted 3 weeks waiting for a bid that we clearly couldn't work with. I had expected the guy to be higher, but $60,000? Fucking robber <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">barron</span>.<br /><br />So. It took us an additional couple of weeks to get all our ducks in a row and choose between the remaining contenders. We finally did make a decision. And here we are, 4 weeks later, still <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">dicking</span> around without a builder's contract. Breaking ground isn't even on the distant horizon.<br /><br />Sigh.<br /><br />I'm hoping to have the last change the builder is requiring to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">house plan</span> done tomorrow. Then, when the mood strikes him, he might actually draw up a contract that we can haggle over for a week or so before we sign. Then it's off to play with the bank, title company and (God forbid) the county for another few weeks. If we're lucky, by the time the ground freezes we'll have a backhoe in place to sit and wait like everything else.<br /><br />Fucking delays.<br /><br />The only glimmer of progress is that we got flags put in the ground marking the corners of the house. It's weird - it looks really small, like it barely takes up any ground at all. At the same time it looks enormous.<br /><br />I got to stand in the place where my screened porch will be. I daydreamed a little about sitting and sipping a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">daiquiri</span> on it, watching the sun set. It was SWEET.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-31674107326077831782008-08-11T22:03:00.003-05:002008-08-11T22:43:01.414-05:00My CondolencesIt's been a sad few days. It seems that it's a funerary year - one in which I am destined to attend many funerals.<br /><br />So far this year I've said good-bye to my grandmother and aunt. This past weekend my aunt's husband passed as well - an expected loss, but hard on the family nevertheless.<br /><br />I opted out of traveling 3 states away to attend his funeral for a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">myriad</span> of reasons, but I got another dose today anyhow.<br /><br />A bad, bad dose.<br /><br />I found out yesterday that a co-worker's husband died in a hiking accident late last week. He was 31.<br /><br />THIRTY-ONE.<br /><br />He was a very talented, vibrant person, as is his wife. She and I were pregnant at the same time last year - she with her first and me with my second child. I helped throw a baby shower for her. The girls are 2 months apart.<br /><br />It just makes me ill to think about it. To think about a little girl just the age of my Little Miss having to grow up without her daddy. Of her mom suddenly being a single working mother whose best friend is gone just like that.<br /><br />It breaks my heart.<br /><br />I went to the memorial service today along with a number of other co-workers. It was nice to see the hefty turnout - the line was about half a block long to sign the book at the door when we got there, and the service was standing room only. Even though I was crammed with about 25 other attendees in a hot entry way craning to hear the service through an open door, I'm glad I went. The service was well done, and my co-worker did one of the bravest things I've ever seen. She got up and read a letter to her husband. It was superbly written - poignant, funny, and real. Perfect. And she read it flawlessly - didn't break down once. I am proud of her, and in awe of her.<br /><br />I am sleeping with both of my kids and my darling husband tonight. And holding on to all of them tightly while I can.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-87780729070478977092008-07-19T23:50:00.002-05:002008-07-20T01:23:52.965-05:00Mentally Random (Randomly mental?)The last month I've felt insanely busy and like I'm not accomplishing anything at the same time. It's a weird dichotomoy, one I can't quite wrap my mind around.<br /><br />There are an endless supply of household chores to do or boxes to pack or cleaning out closets or cleaning up messes or house repairs calling my name. The kids constantly want something or need juice or want me to play with them or have hurt themselves and need a cuddle and kiss. Work is just getting busier in the coming months. And in between there are builders to call and quotes to compare and bankers to question and choices to make. Tons and tons of choices to make.<br /><br />Yet it seems that I'm doing nothing. We're slowly getting things crossed off both the "selling the house" and "building the house" lists, but my internal housebuilding clock (yes, it's there already) says we're running late, and we keep having to cut crap out to afford the payments. I'm not advancing my career (because the efforts of the part-time don't count). I don't have any new hobbies. No vacations planned. No realization of life goals on the horizon.<br /><br />It's annoying.<br /><br />Things will probably loosen up once we get the new house built, but that's another 6 + months out. Which leaves a gaping chasm of time in which I'm still going to have this feeling that makes my eyelids itch. It seems that the easiest thing to spice things up would be to schedule a vacation. So maybe I'll do that.<br /><br />In other news, in anticipation of her upcoming birthday, the Little Miss has donned the mantle of a "terrible two" and is all of a sudden opinionated, stubborn, defiant, pouty and generally hard to get along with. She has, however perfected a fist-bump, high five combo secret greeting with her brother that is absolutely adorable. We've decided that we'll still keep her for now.<br /><br />I have been wondering - how long do you think until the fist bump makes it to the list of developmental milestones? Maybe if Obama is elected?Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-32772429358130438972008-06-12T21:25:00.006-05:002008-06-12T22:25:33.834-05:00My Ass is Getting Kicked by Someone Whose Foot Doesn't Reach That HighSo you know how I said how much I missed the Little Miss and was so very happy to have her home?<br /><br />That really hasn't changed so much, except that I'm ready for her to go back to Grandma's now.<br /><br />It's the sleeping, you see. She doesn't do it. And I miss it, oh how I miss the sweet uninterrupted nights of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">scream-less</span> slumber that I knew, lo, these many days ago.<br /><br />We have been doing battle every night over this sleep thing. That's seven in a row, folks. I want her to sleep, and she doesn't feel the need. I want her to sleep in her bed, she wants to sleep in mine, with me, <em>right next to</em> me with her feet up my nose. I want her to go to sleep when I put her to bed. She feels I should rock her, or at least sit in her rocker, for the hour plus that she <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">languorously</span> takes to drift off. 2-3 times Every Single Night.<br /><br />I. Am. So. Sick. Of. This.<br /><br />We have both been <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">wearily</span> rolling out of bed in the morning like boxers in the fourth or fifth round - bleary-eyed, wearing down, but still willing to dodge a few more punches. She's got an unfair advantage in the form of 2 1/2 hour naps every afternoon, while I have to make do with whatever <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">caffeine</span> I can suck down and the toothpicks that prop open my eyelids.<br /><br />In spite of this, I've been making slight progress with a newish tactic, which I call Shutting the Door and Ignoring What Happens Within. The crying has decreased from 40 minutes the first night, to 30 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">minuets</span> the next, and last night at 2:30 it was only 7 minutes. Granted, I think she's been sleeping in a crumpled heap on the other side of the door, but you know, she's sleeping. And her bed is in there should she choose to use it.<br /><br />I get that it sounds positively barbaric, but I tell you, it's probably a better tactic than, say, leaving her on the neighbor's doorstep, or shipping her to Tanzania. Which have both crossed my mind.<br /><br />Today while I was doing the only thing I was able to focus on at work - surfing - I discovered that the lack of sleep is not only making me <a href="http://www.news.harvard.edu/gazette/2007/02.15/09-nosleep.html">dumber</a>, and <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/481340.stm">old</a>er, it's also making me <a href="http://www.kmbc.com/health/16584982/detail.html">fatter</a>. Oh my Lord I hope that this shakes out before I'm 350 pounds and sitting in the corner sucking my thumb and rocking.<br /><br />My good friend <a href="http://surrenderdorothy.typepad.com/">Dorothy</a> writes that <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sleep-Weak-Mommybloggers-Including-Finslippy/dp/1556527721/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1209098733&sr=1-2">Sleep is for the Weak</a>. Well, sign my weak ass up.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-37018655030705749392008-06-07T22:58:00.004-05:002008-06-07T23:59:46.814-05:00The Little Miss Looms Large<div><div>It's been a kind of weird week. The Little Miss's daycare was closed this week, so we packed her up and shipped her off to spend the week at Grandma's on Sunday. We didn't get her back until Friday, and I discovered that's a really long time to go without your Little Miss.<br /></div><br /><div>Don't get me wrong. It was nice to have some extra time with the Little Man and to just parent one child - who can wipe his own ass! - for a change. I got to sleep straight through four nights in a row . . .bliss! And while I was sleeping I didn't have two little feet trying their best to to kick me out of bed. I had 40 extra minutes every evening by not having to put her to bed, and mornings were quicker as well not having to get her ready and constantly talk her out of being picked up.</div><br /><div>But.<br /></div><div>I didn't have her to cuddle. I couldn't sniff the baby smell that lingers in her hair. She wasn't there to say "hi mama!" 26 times and wave when I got home at night. I didn't get to see her cuddle her babies and then drag them down the hall by the foot, head bouncing along on the floor. I didn't get to argue with her about her outfit in the morning (ok, I secretly like that she's so strong willed, even though it's a pain.) I missed out on her fabulous bed-head in the morning (she really does get some spectacular hair going in the morning for it being thin and stick-straight). I didn't get to hear her growl, or belly-laugh. I didn't get to watch her play with cars and say "vroom vroom!" I <em>missed</em> her.<br /></div><br /><div>I don't think I was the only one. Though the Little Man staunchly denied it, I caught him more than once hiding something up high so she couldn't get it, and looking through the house for her. His dad took the same tone - mouthing that he didn't notice she wasn't around, but I caught some forlorn looks in the direction of her bedroom.</div><br /><div>Her personality has been blossoming since she turned one, and she's been becoming more and more herself every day. Turns out, she's also become a very big part of our household. You always think these things, but it's kind of nice to have it confirmed.<br /></div><div>It's also nice to have her back.</div><br /><div>And now, drum roll please . . .</div><br /><div>drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr</div><br /><div>Today, 19 months to the day after she was born, she finally smiled at a camera. And yes, she's covered in chocolate cake batter.</div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209368023253818162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3x9NdFmfBEm3GAoux1tDCu8FwCbe1DtomepTT7MegZVXMgWbOk9oKk9bVykWAwAyfz9ajPznbhZoQE-O5eAZZlqKlgZJqMgyYk3KzU2-iwgvu5XYsC7FbgDBbQSSXULgSQmyJ6w/s320/Christy+Pictures+014.jpg" border="0" /></div></div><br /><div>And not wearing any pants.</div><div><br /></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209370409568786898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSBDUDAyUuyo69C925EAoYBt9J5bXWUvIMHhcoNNmGQKLup3on1yU8TN9svSRQlR2RdfZLYLPKB0pW0LyhWYfgnmNuanziEGDAkhb9URZGg4tx5SIguIcQibjcrmxEQuLvEeeztQ/s320/Christy+Pictures+006Cropped.jpg" border="0" /></div>Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-63162358985170459552008-06-03T22:39:00.005-05:002008-06-03T23:47:38.331-05:00Rolling Along On the HouseAnd now, for another <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">house</span> update.<br /><br />We are <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">eeking</span> ever closer to actually starting to build a house.<br /><br />Yes, that sentence is an accurate portrayal of the amount of action happening with this project.<br />I'm telling you, this building process is like being towed by snails through a sea of molasses. It is G-O-I-N-G S-O S-L-O-W.<br /><br />There has been progress. Some progress. We have final - FINAL! - house plans. That's pretty damn exciting. We've been working on them since <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">flippin</span>' March, but I tell you it was worth it. I luv them. I can walk through the entire house in my head, and it becomes more real with each choice of outlet height and plumbing fixture we make.<br /><br />We've also gone in front of the County Commission and squeaked through a 2/1 vote to allow us to zone. After listening to 2 1/2 hours of meeting, they made this decision. After talking about our case for one ENTIRE HOUR of that time, the two meeker commissioners finally found their <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">cojones</span> and voted down the stronger commissioner to give us what we need. I had no idea it was such a big deal.<br /><br />We MAY even be able to go straight to applying for a building permit, though no telling when the zoning department will make up their minds about that. It is fascinating to watch the wheels of local government work. They're digging back 10-20 years on our title to find out the answer to a question that I'm not convinced is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">relevant</span> in the first place. I guess they need to stay busy so they can keep their <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JSSUcj9zlH8"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">phony</span> baloney jobs</a>. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Harrumph</span>!<br /><br />We're also talking to builders. We have bids out to 4 guys, and another that wants to bid it. There are 2 front-runners at this point, but we're still trying to understand all the details well enough to know if the bids are apples to apples or not. Likely, they won't be, but I would still like to understand if the difference is made up of supplies or their margin. It would make the decision a little easier.<br /><br />Any way we put it, we're going to be spending kind of a scary amount of money on the house. I don't think it's anything we can't handle, but the raw numbers are a bit shocking. Kind of scary exciting, this house building stuff.<br /><br />The Little Man is pretty stoked about the new house too. He knows where his room is on the plans, and what all the other rooms are too. In the midst of this, he's started to get interested in the concept of money, but doesn't really understand dollar values yet.<br /><br />"Mommy, how much is our house"<br /><br />"Two dollars"<br /><br />"Wow! Two dollars." He pauses for a minute. "Mom, our new house is going to be <em>five</em> dollars. It's going to be so awesome."<br /><br />Yes, yes it is.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-76041548163543002482008-05-20T23:21:00.003-05:002008-05-20T23:58:11.377-05:00Not a Fan of Precious Moments, but I'll Keep TheseThe Little Miss has finally figured out how to slither out of her toddler bed by herself. She's been in her big girl bed for a couple of months, but has, till now, lacked the confidence to leave it herself. Which was cool by me, because I wasn't quite as ready as Mr. Me to do away with the crib. But that's all gone now and she's mobile, baby.<br /><br />With her <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">new found</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">skilz</span> she has decided that when she wakes up in the middle of the night she needs to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">tootle</span> on into our room, pat me on the ass and say "mama" loudly until I pick her up and plop her between her dad and I.<br /><br />Then she curls up and goes back to sleep.<br /><br />This has happened 4 nights in a row now at 3:10AM. I realize that stricter parenting could make this stop, but 3:10AM is a particularly weak time of day for me. Every morning I resolve to fix it tomorrow night, and every night I reach over and pick her up and tuck her in so we can GO TO SLEEP ALREADY. So, much to my disgruntlement, she sleeps half the night with us, the middle bar to our capital H (feet must be on mom, head and patting hands on dad).<br /><br />This morning was particularly awesome because the Little Man had a night terror about 4:45, so he wanted in too. So I slept sandwiched between the two little moochers until 6:45, when I think someone kicked me in the head? stomach? both simultaneously? and I decided to get up.<br /><br />I managed to sneak out from between them and into the bathroom for a shower without disturbing them. Or so I thought. As it turns out, I woke the Little Miss, who in turn screamed for me and woke her brother,. He patted her on the head and sang her songs -"Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star", "Rock-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">a-bye</span> Baby" and the Transformer's Theme Song - until she went back to sleep. I'm so SO mad I missed it.<br /><br />Cut to this afternoon, on the swing set out back. I was pushing the Little Man on his swing, and trying to simultaneously play catch with the Little Miss. It was sort of working - catch with the Little Miss doesn't require much movement on my part - but the Little Man was in a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">whiny</span> mood anyway and went into Full Scale Whine-o-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">rama</span> when he realized he did not have my undivided attention. He whined that I was pushing too hard. Then not hard enough. Then too high. I finally told him that I wouldn't play with him any more because the whining was making my ears bleed, and immediately there was whine-induced fake crying. Upon seeing his (fake - did I mention he was so faking it?) dismay, his little sis dropped her ball, walked over to him and patted his back and muttered at him, trying to console him.<br /><br />They are SO UNBELIEVABLY CUTE together I almost can't stand it. It causes huge goofy smiles to spread across my face every time I see them being so sweet to each other. Then I remember they likely won't be able to stand each other in a few short years, and that I'll be able to drag out gooey stories like this and watch them stare at me in shock and horror.<br /><br />And then the smiles spread from ear to ear.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-82127500390856693492008-05-16T22:50:00.004-05:002008-05-16T23:41:23.795-05:00Wa-hooie!There has been a lot of good things going on the last week. A refreshing change from the Charlie Brown sentiments that too often make up the posts here, eh?<br /><br />For starters - our house plans are done. In case you didn't catch that: OUR HOUSE PLANS ARE DONE! The dance I did as I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">leaped</span> from my chair when Yahoo revealed the final sketches was likely not attractive, but it was done with gusto! I can completely walk through the thing in my head - I've <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">dreamt</span> about it a couple of times. It will fit our family just perfectly, and it's exactly what I was looking for.<br /><br />Huzzah! Now on to finding a builder.<br /><br />Then, yesterday I found out my friend <a href="http://surrenderdorothy.typepad.com/surrender_dorothy/">Rita's</a> book is available for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pre</span>-sale! She has worked her ass off for over TWO YEARS on this book, and it's been amazing to hear in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">snippets</span> what all she's gone through to make this childhood dream of hers come true. (You could read about her journey to publishing <a href="http://surrenderdorothy.typepad.com/surrender_dorothy/2008/05/an-idea-no-long.html">here</a>.) The book - Sleep is for the Weak - is a compilation of blog posts from a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">rock star</span> roster of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">mommybloggers</span>, and I can't wait to read it. It's amazing to see someone work and sweat and strain and finally achieve a childhood dream. Rita, you are now officially one of my honest-to-God heroes.<br /><br />Buy it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.amazon.com/Sleep-Weak-Mommybloggers-Including-Finslippy/dp/1556527721/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1210179014&sr=8-1"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/4173l2s65ML._SL500_AA240_.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />And finally, just this afternoon, I helped the Little Man to catch his very first fish! We were at a local community farmstead which has fishing available for the kids. "Fishing" consists of a tin bucket of 4 fat worms and the rental of a bamboo stick with a line and a hook that you can dip in their pond filled with Sunfish for the bargain price of $3. It's very <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">sophisticated</span>.<br /><br />Of course, my son thinks it's awesome. He threw over his first horse ride on a horse named for his sister for the bucket of damn dirty worms. I will give him credit for gusto - he reaches right in there for the worms without a grumble, just a few comments on any extra-<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">ordinary</span> squirming as he's trying to hand them to me so I can skewer them on the hook. *shudder* The fourth worm won us our prize from the pond, though much to my relief it managed to wiggle <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">itself</span> off the hook and back into the pond right after I shot the photos. I try not to be too <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">girly</span> of a mom, but I'd just as soon not touch worms, fish, snakes and most bugs if I can get away with it.<br /><br />My proud fisherman (the fish, it's a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">bigun</span>)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxJh2KJB3dZb41_6h_R_zLNKy_9_GU6YkZ4b5TIK7akJJz6olUNbhwcv1mgca70dKqOmFhG3WdLPh7WoiOMpjd6rY3_8k2yxkZOSmfSBV7EF73zs-m1M3iojMR7pSJMh0GwIdKWQ/s1600-h/NatesFirstFishSmile.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxJh2KJB3dZb41_6h_R_zLNKy_9_GU6YkZ4b5TIK7akJJz6olUNbhwcv1mgca70dKqOmFhG3WdLPh7WoiOMpjd6rY3_8k2yxkZOSmfSBV7EF73zs-m1M3iojMR7pSJMh0GwIdKWQ/s320/NatesFirstFishSmile.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201200371391189666" border="0" /></a><br />It's so nice that there's so much going right to think about when other areas of my life are not going quite the way I'd prefer.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-65130812535717393312008-05-07T23:32:00.005-05:002008-05-08T00:06:22.807-05:00Living With Bugs BunnyI was trying to explain my son's personality to a co-worker, and the best I could come up with was he was like living with Bugs Bunny.<br /><br />My Little Man is a trickster. He loves to play jokes - to hop in your seat right before you sit down, and to tell you the opposite answer to the question you asked, and to steal something (usually food) right out from under your nose. He is quick - physically and mentally - and has a very active and well-used imagination. This combined with the endless amounts of energy this busy little boy <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">possesses</span> gives you - Bugs Bunny.<br /><br />Case in point: Yesterday morning I asked him to go downstairs to our fridge and get me an iced coffee (I love me some Caribou Iced Coffee, though apparently they don't think so much of it as it has no home on their site). Pretty soon I hear his little voice, bursting with laughter, say<br /><br />"Mom-my, I've got your <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">coff</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ee</span>."<br /><br />"Great - where is it?"<br /><br />"It's behind my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ba</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ack</span>." (giggle giggle)<br /><br />"OK, well give it to me."<br /><br />"Here it is!" And he busts out laughing as he brings forth a Gatorade.<br /><br />"It's a Gatorade!" This he barely gets out as he's laughing hysterically.<br /><br />I chuckled at him and told him to take it back and bring me my coffee.<br />He disappears back down the stairs, and proceeds to repeat his little joke with a bottle of water, a different flavor of Gatorade, a pop, and a gallon of milk. (He did complain bitterly about having to haul the gallon of milk back down two flights of stairs. The price of comedy is steep.)<br /><br /><br />Can't you just see this child leading Elmer <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Fudd</span> on a wild goose chase all over the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">forest</span>?<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197866965616348274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG5rl44H_pNm1sD3cpc8yVhZQQURLgfXrToTwtBU4xMbUR1TJSimmDcRp4cS_zOONdJbeey3x9dai2-ipYapzF5n9-Lkj4-7vQDJMXAfFnys-oUolyRJpIUK_V-ULRjB83F1qHEg/s320/ornerynate.jpg" border="0" />Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-20314667393618802762008-05-03T22:34:00.005-05:002008-05-04T00:36:54.497-05:00Some ThingsNo one thing to write about, just a bunch of little ones.<br /><br />My report on the house is that there's NOTHING TO REPORT. The house plan lady has gone AWOL since Wed when we were supposed to see new sketches. The zoning department has not received the letter which kicks off the next part of the process, though it was sent over a week ago. This all pisses me off, but I'm trying to take a Zen approach and pretend like it doesn't.<br /><br />I'm also making little progress on all the little projects we need to finish to get the current house ready to sell, which ALSO pisses me off. I think the fault lies somewhere between me being inefficient with time and Mr. Me's obsession with World of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Warcraft</span>. Probably doesn't help that we're both sitting here on laptops this evening instead of doing our chores.<br /><br />The Little Man is doing extremely well at preschool, and has been pretty good lately in general, knock on wood. He's growing up pretty fast; in his mind it's even faster. He got up this morning and was stark naked but for a pull-up. I could have sworn that he had <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">PJs</span> on when he went to bed, but my mind, it does play tricks. When I asked him about it he said "I sleep naked now, Mom. I'm almost 5." I'm really having to get good control over my laugh reflexes around him these days.<br /><br />The Little Miss is a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pacifier</span> addict. She LOVES them. She will find a stash of them and sit for 15 or 20 minutes, holding as many as she can in her pudgy little hands and rotate them through her mouth, happy as can be. We literally have about 50 of them in the house, but I can never find any because she <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ratholes</span> them. I've started to catch on to some of her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">hotspots</span>, and will periodically raid the big one behind her bed to snag 6 or 7. There's normally one or two in her little push car and among her stuffed animals as well, but lately she's started to try more exotic locations like the fridge and the canned goods shelves. (I'll have to remember these things when she's a teenager and I suspect she's hiding something . . .)<br /><br />Since she's going on 18 months, I'm trying to slow down the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">paci</span> use. I really would prefer that she didn't look like Bugs Bunny at age 5, so we now have a rule that she can only have a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">paci</span> at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">naptime</span> or bedtime. Man, it's hard. She screams like she's being murdered when I take them away, and I have to be constantly vigilant because she pops up with one from a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">hidey</span>-holes about every 30 minutes. She's slowly getting used to it, and getting easier to distract. Maybe I'll be able to transition her off of them easier than I thought. Then again, maybe I'll have to invent the Patch for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Paci</span>.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-10450610800332845162008-04-25T19:51:00.003-05:002008-04-25T23:21:09.295-05:00Moving AlongThe house building is sluggishly moving forward again. We finally have completed a few steps in the zoning process, and have gotten to the point where we're waiting for an appointment to go in front of the County Commission. Hopefully then we will get permission to zone the land, after which we have to have it surveyed, platted, and go BACK in front of the Zoning Commission so they can approve the way we have it drawn up.<br /><br />Bah. Seems like much ado for a few lines on a map.<br /><br />On another front, the houseplans are at long last almost finished. I'm pretty excited - I think it will be a good place to live. Three bedrooms, 2 1/2 baths, kitchen, greatroom , dining room, mudroom, a screened porch and a basement. I'm really looking forward to the screened porch.<br /><br />Though we're building a larger house than we currently live in, we're losing 2 rooms, unless we can afford to finish a room in the basement. So I'm trying to think of the best way to make up for that space - it could get tricky.<br /><br />After the plans are completely nailed down we'll give them to 2 or 3 of the builders we've met over the last 2 months and get estimates. Hopefully the estimate will be close to what we've projected and we'll acutally be able to afford the thing. I'm so very ready to get actual numbers and budgets and finally get rolling.<br /><br />That's all I've got for now. Here's to hoping it's not long before I have another installment!Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-32547149358387573932008-04-16T20:55:00.007-05:002008-04-18T00:02:49.941-05:00FarewellMy grandma died on April 4<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span>.<br /><br />This is the grandma who taught me to bake yeast breads. Who taught me to sew. Who I picked green beans and strawberries with, and cooked and cooked and cooked and <em>cooked </em>meals with at harvest time.<br /><br />She taught me a new knit stitch at her 91st birthday party February 16<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span>.<br /><br />She and my grandpa ran a dairy farm 2 miles down the road from where I grew up, which made us next-door neighbors. We spent a lot of time with them, helping with farm chores and eating my grandma's fabulous full-o'-fat farm cooking. They always came to our school plays and ball games, and my brothers and I helped them show the Brown Swiss cattle they were so proud of at the State Fair every September.<br /><br />Grandma had moved away from the farm six years ago after my grandfather passed away, and I admired the way she embraced such a big lifestyle change at the age of 85. She always kept herself busy - exercising every morning, knitting and quilting for mission projects, playing bridge, going to church and singing in the choir. She even played in a bell choir, though I don't really know how she was able to lift the bells.<br /><br />I wish I had seen her more - she only lived 1 hour away but I was seldom able to get to her house for a visit. I did get to see her the night before she died, though, which I'm very <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">grateful</span> for. And she knew my kids, for which I'm also grateful.<br /><br />I know she was ready when she went. It was a pretty spring day when she died, and her hospital room had a rather rural view of a large bank of grain elevators, which I think she would have liked.<br /><br />It doesn't make me miss her any less though. Goodbye, Grandma. I love you.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190444167144963410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 260px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 182px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="138" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2oUdO2FY8qxwJKLfW1PSVmoR_smhbdcswHcc3ibfVpp2Ybi61KzTlSeacX8nwDR7xEvo9EJFKBUIMC1uJal_L74sHxXM7qXA7B7K-f5HSr46lZDyGsaZwEctG0nXo-kmRhCWEnA/s320/Maggiephoto01.jpg" width="234" border="0" />Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-31973927060100103112008-04-15T00:03:00.003-05:002008-04-18T00:20:54.965-05:00Proof of Easter Cuteness<div>I finally got my camera back from my mom's house and downloaded Easter photos. You are warned - there is almost too much cuteness!<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgznZraB3otUoI6XCjHWN5BKK6gqxFlIPawAaHJYEd8c9PXtdFcY7iurKejFMHfAzKhUudfjjXKwfKzb_kwxjztrgaPvCiJLHCu82icUkGnkmK9uImCMgqWdt9BktMOiDClPi3arA/s1600-h/easterkids.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190446907334098274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgznZraB3otUoI6XCjHWN5BKK6gqxFlIPawAaHJYEd8c9PXtdFcY7iurKejFMHfAzKhUudfjjXKwfKzb_kwxjztrgaPvCiJLHCu82icUkGnkmK9uImCMgqWdt9BktMOiDClPi3arA/s320/easterkids.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div>Little Man and Little Miss posing on Grandma's piano. Cheesy smiles from the one, a hint of amusement from the other. Frankly, she looks a little long-suffering. Speaking from experience as a little sister, that won't be changing any time soon.</div><br /><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXtLlyXPfe6TSRgQ4ACoTUcHpxCSHgs8FM3l-f9ODXHRKgAC-RestDEcwpmWLWAT1Bj-gUrv02HXhUsbIlTPml9T0rW9P6d43134JpsyichOnbPtD9j7AEmJ4z7TVy9SubV5hV-g/s1600-h/eastersadie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190446907334098290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXtLlyXPfe6TSRgQ4ACoTUcHpxCSHgs8FM3l-f9ODXHRKgAC-RestDEcwpmWLWAT1Bj-gUrv02HXhUsbIlTPml9T0rW9P6d43134JpsyichOnbPtD9j7AEmJ4z7TVy9SubV5hV-g/s320/eastersadie.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>The Little Miss, she likes her new shoes.</div><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190449394120162690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGUdIu9sDHFPhGkVB4_detyayko_L295wXcvo-GerlRvojdk11Nir1Qwv9Y_uycU1OQ7JkjW1hiZUH5Uhq3YWNmpEtLHgeHpBSR3mXXnpsLFDJKb0NdklR43khEew69Ss0dFEiFg/s320/100_1184.jpg" border="0" />My favorite Easter photo this year. Kids, eggs and jellybeans. Is there a better combination? I also love that the paci was very apparently thrown over for a jellybean. Fickle kid.</div>Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-91613436289010777652008-03-24T21:04:00.004-05:002008-03-24T22:32:36.388-05:00Zone ThisI have downgraded the house building experience from merely Pain In the Ass to Gigantic, Flaming Pain In the Ass. I knew that my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">posterior</span> was in for a rough bit with this process, but never did I imagine the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">rigmarole</span> involved, and we're only the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">teeniest</span> way into the thing.<br /><br />We had an appointment with the Planning and Zoning Department in our county-to-be last week. I set the appointment with one guy, and figured it would be about 30 minutes, wham-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">bam</span>, we're out of there. After an hour and a half in a little room with three of the county's finest <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">zoners</span> and planners (watching them for the most part figure out how to use their new mapping software), I now know I must plead with the County Commission for zoning mercy, and, if my pardon comes through, plead again with the Planning and Zoning Department and then AGAIN with the Planning and Zoning Board (the Board, of course, not to be confused with the Department). There shall be much zoning, and even more planning!<br /><br />All this, to build this little orange rectangle here (note the the general lack of houses, trees, or really <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">anyfuckingthing</span> around):<br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181498900723739234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrzNv9Ezcdmra9T9LhyphenhyphendKZDtyQ83Q43wu-NbSFfu6dMkTcBzu89VPfR76LKdmMAUYPsosF6wd0rVRNMHEY6Hr_AnoTaxH8Uys20mflAhnrVdau9eAvRxXH88puY2KCrbNhHfMqWA/s320/Utility_mapper2.jpg" border="0" /></p><p>I guess the coyotes give a fuck if your easements are planned in. Little bastards.</p><p>I also met with 3 builders last week and talked with 2 more over the phone. I feel like I'm making <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">progress</span> there, though after walking through so many model homes I'm sure when I get my allowances for floors and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">counter tops</span> I'll be so sad to find I can afford only linoleum and other plastic products instead of the lovely granite and slate I've been seeing. And then I will pout.</p><p>In non-house related news, the Little Miss is one hell of an Easter Egg hunter. She was up before any of the other kids and found every one of the eggs hidden under two feet. She then quickly learned to squirrel the jellybeans out of each and every one. My girl, she likes her some jellybeans. She was absolutely adorable in her little yellow polka-dot Easter dress. It was so cute that, in a stunning feat of suburban <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">housewifery</span>, I made everyone else in the family wear yellow to match her yesterday. It was like the Von <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Trapp</span> family, but with less whistles.</p><p>The Little Man had his four-year-old checkup last week. He was so excited to go because he wanted the doctor to tell him how tall he is. He's been obsessed with his height and his "long legs" lately. And for good reason. The child is 43 1/4" tall! And weighs 40 pounds. Did I mention, it was his FOUR year old checkup? He is kind of an Amazon stick person, and proud of it. The scary thing is that he's only a few inches (for him, a couple of months) from riding all the big kid rides at the amusement park. Yowza.</p>Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-15311493059849668792008-03-15T22:46:00.003-05:002008-03-15T23:37:58.664-05:00It Really is MeDamn, but the dust is thick around here. Actually, according to the History channel, if I had left a building neglected like this for 6 months the vegetation and vermin would have made serious inroads towards completely demolishing the sucker.<br /><br />Thank <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">goodness</span> the Internet is a vegetation and vermin-free environment. (At least the vermin are mostly not the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">bitey</span>, house devouring types)<br /><br />While I was hiatus-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ing</span>, both of the kiddos had birthdays (birthday party planning is over for another 9 months YEAH), the Little Man started <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">pre</span>-school and LOVES it, and the Little Miss is walking, talking (some) and showing her true personality and will any day be running the house. My, but she's a bossy little thing. For someone whose vocabulary consists of "mama", "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">dada</span>", "hi", "bye" and "ball," she makes it crystal-clear exactly what she wants and browbeats her live-in servants (aka Mom, Dad and Big Brother) into getting it for her. But, she's adorable, so we don't chafe at her rule so very much.<br /><br />In addition, two family members and a good friend's mom have been fending off cancer, another close friend had a miscarriage and it seems that every time I talk to someone I learn of new, funky, health-related issue that someone is dealing with. It's enough to make me want to stick my head deeply into the sand and wait for 2008 to pass on by.<br /><br />Not that these stories (and more!) wouldn't have served as great blog-fodder, but quite frankly, I just haven't felt like it. However, a combination of events has made me want to tell stories again:<br />1. The Little Miss has decided that entire nights of sleep are now <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">ok</span> with her (THANK GOD)<br />2. My current knitting project is full of holes and I don't want to start over tonight (oh yes, I've started with the knitting)<br />3. I think I made a major breakthrough this week on a project I'd like to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">chronicle</span> - building our new house!<br /><br />I'm very excited about actually having made progress on the house. We decided FEBRUARY 2007 that we were going to do it. Since then, we've been looking at house plans (I swear I've seen at least 1,500 of them) and talking to builders, kind of getting our toes wet. We are finally at a point where we need to make a move and things did start churning this past week.<br /><br />We found someone in a neighboring town to draw us up some <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">house plans</span>. She's going to put the pieces and parts of the plans we like together into something <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">uber</span>-cool (and that we can afford to build). I've also talked to a banker and builder that I liked. We may end up not using them, but they didn't prove themselves to be idiots immediately, which was refreshing.<br /><br />This process promises to be one wild ride, so stay tuned.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-39265284108905530802007-09-17T23:10:00.000-05:002007-09-17T23:58:50.200-05:00Who do You Look Like?I find it interesting that people automatically try to determine who babies look like. Does he look like mommy? or daddy? Great Aunt Agnes maybe? Really, how do you tell? Especially with the little ones because their faces tend to be kind of mushed. Yet, people always look for it, and almost always offer an opinion.<br /><br />Resemblances become clearer as the child ages, though - my son tends to favor me, and the Little Miss is definitely daddy's girl. (See, I look for it too) Interestingly, the Little Man acts like his dad and Little Miss is displaying some of my traits.<br /><br />My entire life I've been told I look like my dad's side of the family, specifically my aunt. The spitting image, or so people always said. She and I neither one saw it, but there must have been something to it <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">because</span> I even had teachers in high school call me by her name more than once by mistake.<br /><br />Lately, the story has changed. Comments have tapered off about my resemblance to my aunt , and I've been told more than once recently that I look and sound just like my mom. It's kind of thrown me for a loop things have done a 180 like that.<br /><br />It's kind of made me think . . . Is it normal for a person to morph from looking like one parent to looking like the other as they age? Or is it perhaps more like when people get to look more like their dogs after years of living together? And could that actually happen to me - am I eventually going to look like Mr Me? Any thoughts on this?Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-24079933028261856252007-09-12T21:52:00.000-05:002007-09-12T22:31:22.873-05:00Hope for ImprovementIt's been a rather icky day. It caught me rather by surprise - it's the week before our anniversary <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">vacation</span>, and this week was supposed to be busy, but steeped in the anticipation of fun. Unfortunately, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ick</span> just kind of oozed its way in around the edges.<br /><br />I had some projects at work go south - 3 to be exact. They've been heading in a southerly direction for a few weeks now for one reason and another, but today seemed to have been the day the floodgates let loose. Never fun, and leads to "painful" discussions with clients. You know, the kind where you and the client keep from yelling at each other by using four-syllable Business Speak words in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ultra</span>-long compound sentences. Really not my favorite thing.<br /><br />Today was also my first weigh-in day of my 3rd installment of Joining Weight Watchers - again! I thought I had had a great week - you know it's going well when you're able to feel like you're starving half the time and yet resist eating anything. I've also exercised almost every day as well. I was excited to weigh in and lost a grand total of . . . .2 lbs. That's POINT two, folks. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">WTF</span>?<br /><br />I also was assigned a new computer at work. This seems to be a good thing, until you realize that the tech geeks never reload your machine exactly as you had it. I will be weeks getting all the software and passwords and settings that I have been used to using located and reloaded and tweaked to my liking on the new machine. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Argh</span>.<br /><br />Then I got home to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">fam</span>, and the Little Man - who is coming off his first fight at daycare yesterday - was feeling ill.<br /><br />Oh, you want to hear about the fight thing? The fight in which my 3 1/2 year-old THREW A PUNCH at another kid? And got punched back? Yeah, that was a special moment in parenting, getting to hear about that from the daycare provider. It may have also contributed to today's malaise - we spent the entire evening last evening punishing and lecturing.<br /><br />Back to my story . . .<br /><br />So, my Little Muhammad Ali was feeling ill this evening. He had had some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">diarrhea</span> today, and mid-way through the evening he blew chunks all over the living room. He hasn't done that for a year or so, and man, does the volume and consistency of vomit NOT improve as kids age. The silver lining here is that I was rocking the Little Miss at the time and thus Mr. Me got clean-up duty. Still, we had to light candles all over the house to get rid of the stench. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ick</span>.<br /><br /> I'll be staying home with him tomorrow. Which may be a good thing, with work going the way it is. And my stomach starting to feel <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">ooky</span>.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7656885.post-89977515289544925872007-08-27T21:24:00.000-05:002007-08-27T22:05:40.840-05:00Three-year-olds RockI love the Little Man at three. He has his annoying habits, but he's really become damn funny.<br /><br />Like the other day when we were going to the mall to get photos taken. By the time his hair was combed and he had on decent clothes (and his sister's hair was combed and she had on decent clothes) he decided he no longer wanted to go. I threw him in the car along with his sister and he did his screaming and carrying on bit until I offered a "treat" if he would be a good boy while getting his pictures taken. As he is a sucker for a bribe (even a vague one), he immediately switched gears and agreed, still snuffling from his fit. And we had this conversation:<br /><br />"So, you're going to be a good boy the whole time at the studio?"<br />"Yep."<br />"And that means no screaming."<br />"Nope."<br />"And no running around."<br />"Nope."<br />"And no back talking"<br />"Nope."<br />"And you will mind everything your mommy says, right."<br />"Yep. That's the problem."<br /><br />Or last weekend, when we were packing to go see the grandparents. The Little Man has recently started to pack himself for trips. The packing is a little suspect; his last overnight trip the bag included:<br />5 shirts<br />1 pair of shorts<br />1 dirty sock<br />1 roll of tape<br />2 tinkertoys<br />3 matchbox cars<br />1 Spiderman DVD (which he has never seen, and we do not allow him to watch)<br /><br />Still, we applaud the initiative and encourage him in his packing efforts.<br /><br />He came up last weekend and informed me that he was packed and ready to leave. I had not yet inspected the bag, but I knew he didn't have any underwear in there as we were waiting on the underwear load to dry. I told him that he wasn't ready yet because he didn't have any underwear in his bag, and that we'd have to wait on the drier to pack them.<br /><br />Two minutes later he comes wheeling his bag down the hall<br />"Mommy, I'm ready. Get your shoes on."<br />"No, you're not, you haven't packed your underwear yet"<br />"I just already did!"<br /><br />And I looked at him, and noticed his little bare bottom peeking from below his shirt, which minutes before had been clad in underwear and shorts. Those same underwear that were now trailing out the zipper of his bag.<br /><br />You see why I love three? I hope four is even better.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00574097041290271400noreply@blogger.com1