Year End Update

So it's been quite a while since I last wrote. A lot has happened since October! My sister came to visit for three weeks with her little muffin of a kiddo and we had a blast playing, going to the zoo, going to OMSI, and basically having a great time.
In November Jason got his tonsils taken out. That was a rough three weeks. During that time I got bronchitis, which eventually became walking pneumonia. I am just now getting over that. Cough, cough.
Also during this time Ryan got bitten in the face by a dog. Urgent care, stitches, swelling, ointment, more swelling, more ointment. It was not fun. He has a couple of scars, but is otherwise unscathed. Thank God.
Just a few short weeks after the dog bite came another ER visit for Ryan after he swallowed a button battery. Call the poison control center (for the second time in three years), rush to the ER, xray, waiting room. Ta-da! Look at that! What a shiny, lovely battery right there in your stomach honey! Following the battery swallowing came two weeks of "looking" for it at the other end. I won't go into details. Suffice it to say, it was a smelly ordeal. Since we never "found" it, we went to the doctor a couple of days ago for another xray, and, again Thank God, the battery is gone. "He musta slipped it by ya!" The doctor says with a sly grin. Nice. At least we don't have to look for it anymore.
And before we knew it, it was Christmas and we were jetting off to Gig Harbor and Anacortes to spend time with the Grandparents. We logged a lot of miles this Christmas, but it was well worth it. We had a great time visiting and playing together, and were happily tuckered out by the time we got home.
And today is New Year's Eve. With all the excitement of the last couple of months, I think we will spend the last day of the year in our pajamas!

Cake

Nap time yesterday. We were tucking in, taking sips of water, saying prayers, and generally getting settled down. Ryan was stalling a little bit. He started gesturing with his hands and explaining to me that "when we get done with our rest, we can eat this cake." I go along with it. "Oh, honey that cake looks great. Did you make it for us?" "Yes, I did. It's got chocolate, peanuts, macaroni, onions, strawberries, and juice!" I pause as I picture such a cake. "Wow honey. That sounds great!" I have no idea how he came up with this combination, but I just go with it.

Jesus continued...

Ok, I couldn't help myself. I am a picker. I have always been a picker. It's hereditary. I get it from...one of my parents who shall remain nameless so as not to embarrass. At least I have stopped biting my nails. My cuticles, on the other hand, another story. But this post is not about me. Well, not directly. Just get that I am a picker.
You might remember we've been having lots of discussions with Ryan about how Jesus heals us and how He lives in our hearts. We have talked about how Jesus is healing Ryan's "bubbles." Ryan tells us every day about how "Jesus makes my fee better." So, enter me. The picker. You have to understand, Ryan has these blisters everywhere. They are not soft like water blisters. They are hard and getting harder as they heal. I was curious. I wanted to know if they were gonna burst grody virus juice everywhere or if they were gonna just return from whence they came, so to speak. So, I grabbed Ryan's finger in one hand, and a piece of paper towel in another hand (ready for the grody virus juice) and I picked the blister off. No juice. Thank goodness. Just a red spot. Ok, I can handle this. Ryan, on the other hand is totally squirming around "Mommy, let go." I let go. Ryan inspects his finger. Solemn faced, he looks at me. "Mommy, Jesus is not gonna be happy about this." Oops.

Where Jesus Lives

Ryan recently contracted the virus that causes Hand, Foot, and Mouth disease. It is a common childhood illness that causes multiple canker sores to develop in the mouth, on the gums, tongue, soft pallet, and down the throat. It also causes blisters on the hands and feet, and in Ryan's case, up his legs, arms, and all over his buns. He had a fever of 103 for two and a half days. He barely ate anything for five days. It is by far the worst acute illness he has had in his three years of life. We are currently on day seven of isolation. Needless to say, much time has been spent in prayer on his behalf lately.
A couple of nights ago as I was putting him to bed, we were praying about "his bubbles" as he calls them. Having just returned from Women's Retreat the previous weekend and having enjoyed some powerful worship time, I decided to sing worship songs over him. "I will sing praise, I will sing praise, no weapon formed against me shall remain. I will rejoice, I will declare, God is my victory and He is here...." Ryan is curious about this. "God is here?" "Yes honey, He is. Honey, do you know where Jesus lives?" I ask. Ryan thinks for a second. "Hmm?" I go on. "He lives in our hearts. He lives in your heart, and He lives in my heart." I pat our chests. Ryan pats his chest. "Jesus lives in my heart," he repeats. I am loving this and thinking that I have imparted a profound wisdom to my little boy here. God is good and this is such a sweet God moment.
The following morning we are snuggling in the rocking chair like we do every morning. We are quiet, and cozy and wrapped in a blanket. Ryan looks up at me. "Mom, Jesus makes my bubbles feel better." "I am so glad, honey." Suddenly, Ryan turns and begins pulling at the blanket. He unwraps us and grabs a hold of my tank top. He pulls open my top and sticks his head down my shirt. "Jeeeesssuuuusss! Jeeesuuuuuuus! Are you in there? Jeesuuuuss!" Not exactly what I was trying to teach him last night, but o well.

Being a mom means...

Giving up all the strawberries in your Red Robin strawberry lemonade.
Never going to the bathroom alone again.
Having to blow on someone else's food while you're dying to eat yours.
Researching and appreciating the finer points of stain removers.
Getting over your squeamishness of other people's bodily functions.
Learning the true meaning of the word repetition.
Being the recipient of the best good morning snuggles on the planet.
Never sleeping again.
Morphing craft time from knitting and beading to finger paint and sidewalk chalk.
Needing the phone number for poison control for the first time in your life.
Trying to explain why balloons don't stay up forever.
Never being able to have your plate of food belong to only you again.
Loving someone more than you ever thought possible.

I swear I don't make this stuff up

We have already done the say prayers, take a sip of water, snuggle for a minute and kiss goodnight routine. We have left, and we are just sitting down on the couch for some of our own time when Ryan begins calling for me. I go in to see what's up, and he wants me to lay down with him. Not uncommon. So I walk over and kneel by his bed so we can snuggle some more. But I am tired. My back is hurting. So I pile up a couple of blankets and a pillow that are on the floor next to his bed and lay down. It only takes a second for him to lean his little body over the side and say, "I miss you down there, Mommy." He rolls off the bed, onto my chest, and then onto the floor next to me. I fluff up the blankets and pull his pillow down for him to lay on. It is dark. We are quiet. Just about the time I start thinking he is actually going to fall asleep right here on the floor, he pipes up, "Maybe I'm thinking.....tomorrow we can play princess. You can be the princess and I can be the prince." He is the cutest thing I have ever seen. "That's a great idea honey." We snuggle some more and after a little while, I scoop him up and put him back in his bed. Then I kiss my little prince goodnight, again.

Special

My parents divorced when I was very young. Being the oldest, I sort of became the "other adult" in the family, as do many first born children of divorced parents. As such, I grew up very fast. All through my childhood, teen years and into my early twenties people constantly told me how mature I was. I was mature beyond my years. I was smart. I was advanced. I was special. I think secretly I reveled in my uniqueness. I had an advantage over my peers that made me stand out and excel in school and later in the workplace. I can't tell you how many job reviews I have had where my boss has praised me for my maturity, intelligence, poise, and wisdom.
Then I hit my thirties and that all changed. It is almost like my physical age caught up with my intellectual age. Like the two time lines, once vastly different, are tracking exactly parallel to each other now. In fact, in all honesty, I think my physical age is actually beginning to surpass my intellectual age. Crap. How did this happen? I am no longer viewed as mature beyond my years. I don't stand out from my peers. I am not praised anymore for my maturity, intelligence, poise, and wisdom. I have spent the last few years struggling to reconcile this new me with my memories of the old me. In truth, I still don't have all the answers. Here is what I do know. I know that being a mom is the most important thing I have ever done, and that "mommy brain" is a price I am willing to pay. I know that I am still special to the Lord even if I don't feel special to the world. And I know that no matter what phase of life I am in, I will always be special to two boys who are very special to me. And that is enough for me. And I am totally okay with it.

Addendum:
Ok, I can't stand it. If you read the above post and feel sorry for me, please don't. I did not write it so a bunch of people would respond with notes about how great I am. I am not fishing for compliments or an ego boost here. My ego is just fine. I am not complaining. I am not depressed. Trust me. If I was, I never would have written this post.
Here's why I wrote it. One, I wrote it because it was on my mind, and has been for a while. Two, I wrote it because I truly (finally) do feel okay about it. Three, and most importantly, I have heard this same kind of story from others and thought (and this is the point which proves how fine my ego really is) that my experience and thoughts about this might be of help to someone feeling the same way.
The point of the story is to be happy with who you are not because of what other people think of you or say about you, but because of who you are to the One who created you. Because of who you are to your children, your husband, your wife. These are the most important relationships, and for me, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. So please don't feel compelled to tell me how cool I am. Unless you just genuinely can't help yourself. And if that's the case, I'll just smile and say "thanks."

Explosion in the spare room

I unpacked the spare room closet a couple of days ago. An explosion happened. I don't know how it happened. All I did was unpack three boxes labeled "crafts, beading, and sewing." Oh wait. Beading. That's what happened. I haven't done any beading since we moved. Since long before that actually. It was considered "non essential" and so it was one of the first things packed up. So there I was, surrounded by plastic tubs full of beads, beading tools, wire, string, bead books, and basically all things bead. To say I got distracted would be an understatement. Re-directed would be a better word. That's okay. I'm totally okay with it. Nan won't be here for a month so I have some time to clean it all up and get it ready for her and Noah. A month is plenty long enough. I think.

Rain coat and toothpaste

Its raining today. Ryan is running around the house with his rain coat on. With the hood up. Its very important to have the hood up, apparently. Jason went into the bathroom to finish getting ready, and made the discovery that "running around" is not all Ryan has been doing in his rain coat. I have no idea. To us, it is a mess. To a three year old boy, it is a super fun Saturday morning game.

Ugh...laundry

I am sitting in the hallway outside my laundry room surrounded by what can only be described as a sea of dirty clothes. I am sorting. And sorting. And sorting. I admit, it has been a few days since I have done laundry. Not many, just a few. A minute ago I started a load in the washer and I can hear it going through its different phases in the room behind me. As I continue to sort, and the washing machine continues through its cycle, I think to myself that the washer might beat me to the punch here and finish washing that load before I finish all the sorting. I call over to Jason, exasperated, "You know, there is something wrong in the world when the washing machine washes a whole load faster than I can sort all the rest of this laundry!" Without missing one single beat and totally nonchalantly he replies, "Is there something wrong with the washer or is there something wrong with you?" "Ha! You just earned yourself a date with my blog for that one!" And I go back to sorting.

Sentences you never thought you'd say

Ryan came in from the back yard and told me that he peed on the dog. Do I even want to ask why? "Honey, don't pee on the dog. He doesn't pee on you," I explain. This is all the motherly wisdom I can summon this early in the morning.

Spitting

Recently Ryan has discovered how to do zerbert things on various parts of my body. My arms, my legs, my face. This leaves me covered in zerbert slime. Lovely. Shortly after the "zerbert on body parts" realization, came the "zerbert in the air" realization. This leaves the air, the couch, the floor, and anything else in its path, sprayed in zerbert slime. Again, lovely. Let's just say the spraying is not one of my favorite things. There is a lot of "Ryan! Do not spit! It's gross!" going on in my house. The difficult part is not laughing with him, because when he gives you a zerbert his laugh is absolutely awesome! I must hear more of that laugh. I love it. Apparently, I love it enough to be constantly wiping slime off my arms! When the spit sprays, however, the love ends. I just can't deal with it. It's so grody. Enter this morning. I am sitting in the rocking chair drinking my coffee. Ryan walks over, climbs up, and snuggles in. Just as I am thinking how sweet a moment it is, he suddenly sneezes a huge sneeze and sprays sneeze spit all over my lap. Before I can say anything, he looks up at me all innocent. "It's okay, Mommy. That was just a bless you spit." He is so pleased with himself for explaining this to me. He snuggles back in and I think the moment is still sweet, even if I am covered in spit.

Sleeping in the tent

Last night we decided to put up the tent that Ryan's Grandpa Apple and Grandma Mo got him for his birthday. We were watching two extra kids for the evening and so we had quite the full house. We played outside in the back yard. We played in the tent. We watched movies. We had dinner. We had snacks. We screamed, we yelled, we giggled. When it was all said and done, Jason and I were exhausted. But in a good way.
Ryan was totally into the idea of "camping out" in the tent. So, we hauled it down the hall and into his bedroom. Jason lined up blankets on the floor and got his pillows in there, just so. Ryan crawled in and I got him under the covers. I crawled in next to him and we did our regular night time snuggles and kisses. We said prayers. After prayers Ryan said, as he sometimes does, "Can Daddy lay down me?" I said, "Sure Honey, Daddy can lay down with you." So Jason and I made the switch and I went off to get ready for bed. A little while later after the house was shut down, the lights were off, the dog was in bed, and I was ready to head that way myself I heard the boys talking quietly as I walked by Ryan's bedroom door. I decided to give them a bit more time and so I headed into the office to get on the computer. As often happens, I lost track of time on the computer. Email, Facebook, random news stories I don't actually care about. Suddenly a strange sound interrupted my sleepy, internet induced haze. At first I couldn't quite place it. Then it hit me. Snoring. I hadn't even heard Jason go to bed. I turned off the computer and headed to the bedroom. Jason wasn't there. He wasn't in the bathroom either. I crept down the hallway and peeked into Ryan's room. There they were, fast asleep. In the tent. Jason snoring away and Ryan snuggled up to him, both of them out like a light. I couldn't bear to wake Jason, so I crept back into my room, crawled in bed, and fell asleep to the sound of my sleeping campers down the hall.

Day two with no "b" (pacifier)

Yesterday morning we made a bold move. While Jason held them, Ryan used the big scissors to cut the rubber part off of his b's. We had him do it (don't freak out, he is not allowed to touch the big scissors normally) because we wanted him to take ownership of it. Not to mention, we didn't want to invite the "You cut my b!!!" cries we feared would come if we did the deed. We told him that only babies use b's and since he is such a big boy, he doesn't need one anymore. He likes being a big boy and this logic worked well. Right up until we got in the car. A familiar "where's my b?" situation. The following conversation ensued.
Ryan "Mommy, where's my b?"
Me "Remember honey? You cut your b's off. We don't have anymore b's."
Ryan "Maybe we can go to Walmart?"
Me "Why do you want to go to Walmart, honey?"
Ryan "Maybe we can go to Walmart and get a new b? Would that be great Mommy?"
He is so cute I don't know what to say. I tell him again how b's are for little babies, and how he is a big boy and doesn't need a b, and as my heart melts, I think about how hard it is for mommies to give up the b's too.

My Mother's Day present

Last Mother's Day Jason got me an outdoor fire pit. I hadn't asked for one so it was a total surprise. Due to the chaotic nature of late spring and early summer, the fire pit remained packed away in its box all these months. We moved and never once used it in Lacey. So this last weekend while our parents were visiting, there it was in the garage, beckoning me to set it free! Marshmallows were calling to me. Jason and his dad got some wood and marshmallows from the store. They unpacked the fire pit and within minutes we had a campfire in the back yard. I spread out a blanket and we put chairs in a circle. Some us played musical chairs as the "smoke follows beauty" rule was in full effect. We roasted marshmallows on old wire hangers. Revell make a smore with a piece of dark chocolate I found in the pantry and some of Ryans graham crackers. We, and by "we" I mean "I", ate marshmallows until we couldn't eat marshmallows anymore. We marinated ourselves in campfire smoke. Finally, we trickled one by one into the house as the night got darker and the stars got brighter. We put Ryan to bed. When it was all said and done, I went out one last time. I laid down on the blanket and looked up at the stars. With Sam lying next to me keeping me warm, I finally reconciled my twenty-something camping self with my thirty-something, non-camping self. Who needs to camp when you can have a campfire in your backyard? Not me. And I'm totally okay with that.
We did the whole thing again the next night, except with actual marshmallow roasting forks we got at the store. It is an awesome Mother's Day present. Thanks honey!

I'm a princess...apparently

The other day it was so hot, I didn't know what to wear. If you know me, you know that I am not generally a dress up kind of girl. Not that I have anything against it, I am just more of a wear what's most comfortable type. As such, I mostly wear jeans, capris, yoga pants, khaki type pants etc. My wardrobe contains just a few skirts and dresses. Enter the day it was 109 degrees. That kind of heat is like walking into a heating blanket the minute you step out of your house. I had an errand that I had to run, despite the sweltering thick of the early evening. I was hot and I was irritated that I couldn't find anything comfortable. I finally settled on a totally out of the ordinary choice. I came out into the living room wearing a tank top (gold standard for me in the summer) and a long, airy, flowing skirt. I was feeling uneasy since this particular type of skirt I know is not the best choice for my body type. Circle skirt plus my hips equals giant every day of the week. Nevertheless, I was so hot, I didn't care. Neither did Ryan, apparently. He came running up to me, smiling, and started twirling around flinging my skirt up at the edges. "Mommy!" he exclaimed. "You're a princess!" My heart melted. I should wear more skirts.

Guilt is a funny thing

So I am sitting at my computer surfing around, checking my email, looking at Facebook. It's 4 in the afternoon. I haven't showered or brushed my teeth. I am still in my pajamas. So is Ryan. I have been doing laundry, but my goal of cleaning both bathrooms is still that, just a goal. And I am feeling guilty. Guilty that the house is a mess. Guilty that I am a mess. I see a friend of mine from Olympia has responded to a post of mine on Facebook. In her post she suggests to me that I "friend her sister" and that I should check out the blog that the two of them do together, http://domesticatesophisticate.blogspot.com. So I mosey on over and start reading their blog. It's all about how you can still be cute and stylish and be a stay at home mom. There's even a little FAQ on the left about how not to be frumpy. Remember, I am reading this IN MY PAJAMAS! At 4 in the AFTERNOON!!! I feel like a schmuck. The author talks about how getting dressed and putting on make up and doing her hair is a priority for her. She does it for herself, for her husband, for her son. She cares for them and she cares for herself for them. I AM IN MY PAJAMAS. Immediately I sprint to the shower. I brush my teeth. I put on non pajama-y clothes. I want to go shopping. I want to wear lipstick and earrings. My son comes in and does a zerbert/fart thing on my arm. Okay, well, I may not be cute and stylish, and I may have zerbert slime all over my arm, but at least I am clean.

Warning...this is a gross one

We came home last night from a great family outing. We went into downtown Portland to OMSI. We saw an IMAX movie called "Bugs" which was on that gigantic screen and pretty cool. We went upstairs to the kids play area and played in the sand pit. We got all wet playing in the water exhibit. We looked at frogs, spiders, rats, stick bugs, and turtles. We stopped on the way home at Flying Pie Pizzeria and had dinner together. It was a great day.
Then we got home. To our disgust we discovered that Sam, who had been in his kennel for the few hours we were gone, had an "accident." There is no way to describe the smell in the house. Poor Sam, covered in poop, was laying in his kennel looking pathetic. There was poop all over the kennel. There was poop all over the carpet. It was disgusting.
Immediately we put Ryan in his room with a Curious George show to watch on the little dvd player, put Sam outside, took the kennel outside, and turned on the hose. While Jason hosed down the kennel and scrubbed it out, I went to work on the carpet with the steam cleaner. We opened all the windows and turned on the fans. Jason gave Sam a bath. By ten o'clock it was all cleaned up and the smell was fading. We emptied a bottle of Febreze in the house and left the windows open all night.
Thankfully, this morning, other than the kennel being in a different spot, you'd never know what we were doing late last night.

Mixed Metaphors

In an attempt to record for posterity my families funny tendency for mixing metaphors, I will blog them. Here goes.
Explaining to my friend Kelly that a circumstance is not new to me I say, "This is not the first time I've been around this wagon..."
Here are a couple from my Dad, "We were really taking it in the bath." Decipher: We were taking it in the shorts.... or We were taking a bath...

"There's a few ways to play that wrinkle." Decipher: I have no idea..... but somehow he made sense.
In a discussion with Jason I say, "Well, let's not hatch the chickens before they lay..." Once again, not sure what exactly I meant to say here, but it made sense at the time.
And of course there's the classic "You're barking up a dead horse." But, I think my Dad made that one up on purpose just to be silly. Stay tuned. The more tired we are the funnier they get.

I'm a total homebody

A quick update. We are working feverishly to get the house in order, the fence up, the sprinkler system all repaired and running smoothly...all in 100 plus heat. Now granted, we have a lot going on. But still, it turns out, I am a total homebody. Here we are, back home, surrounded by a ton of friends, and what am I doing? Staying home. Working on the house. Cleaning. Blah, blah, blah. If it weren't for Jason making plans for us, we'd probably stay home every night and look at each other. (Ok, well, maybe not...)
So, I went out of my comfort zone today and invited some friends over. And they are here now. Gonna go be social. Cool.

Here is an excerpt from an article on the web about the Emmy nominations

" "The Sarah Silverman Program," and edgy HBO series "Big Love," about polygamous families, and AMC's "Breaking Bad," about a meth-making schoolteacher, broke into the best drama series ranks.

The dividing line falls neatly between the adventurous shows fielded by niche cable networks and the largely mainstream, predictable offerings from broadcasters.

"It couldn't be on any broadcast network," said "Breaking Bad" star Bryan Cranston, a best-actor nominee. "Ten, 15 years ago you'd say that was a downfall. Now it's one of the positive points of television. If you can be a show that's on cable instead of broadcast, more than likely, you have a much greater chance of producing quality television." "

I'm sorry. Since when does a polygamous family and a meth-making school teacher qualify as "quality television"?
Apparently programs need to be "edgy" and "adventurous" to be considered quality television. Apparently the definition of "edgy" and "adventurous" is "sinful" and "illegal". If you're not, you're mainstream and predictable. How boring.

Now, admittedly, I haven't seen any of these shows since we don't have those channels. I am only commenting on the concept that if it is inappropriate for broadcast tv, it is more likely to be a lower quality show. I bet House, Lost, 30 Rock, and The Office would disagree as well.

Almost there

This morning marks change. As if we haven't had enough of that in the last couple of months. Jason gets home from Oregon today, for good. He has next week off for the big move. I can't believe we're moving AGAIN. I mean, I didn't think this house was necessarily long term by any means. I just imagined we'd be moving North or West instead of South. And although I am really excited to be going "home," I am realizing these last couple of days that I will be sad to leave Washington. We've been here exactly one year, eight months, and twenty one days (thank you Mo and the date calculator web site.) Not much time by any stretch of the imagination. Barely enough time to unpack the garage all the way!
In the short time we lived in Washington we really did do a lot of things. First and foremost, we strengthened and deepened our relationship with our parents. Ryan has gotten to know his grandparents very well and has built relationship with them in ways he wouldn't have had we not come here.
Second, since we had very few friends here, Jason and I really learned to rely on each other in a new and different way. We became better friends. In marriage, especially with kids, it is so easy to get distracted by the day to day, the bills, the kids, the house, jobs, and all the little details of raising a family. Sometimes you forget to have fun with each other. This last year and a half we had so much fun as a couple and as a family. Whether it was Point Defiance Zoo, NW Trek, the beach at Tolmie State Park, the little park by our house, Hand's On Children's Museum, Seattle Center, or just in our back yard we learned how to play again and that has been awesome.
Another bonus of moving was me getting out of my sheltered shell. I had never lived anywhere other than in Clackamas County. Ok, Gladstone, Canby, Milwaukie, sure they're different cities, but really, not too different. Moving to Washington forced me out of my comfort zone and opened my eyes to new places, new people, and somewhat a new side of myself. I never knew I was a person who could not only experience all that "newness,", but a person who could actually enjoyed it as well.
Financially the move has been great for us. The Lord got us out of the Canby house just as the market was crashing, and got us into this house and Jason into his job at Dex in just the right market for him to shine and excel the way he has. The experience and sucess he had in Olympia made a huge impact on him getting the job in the Portland market. We are both very excited to see what the Lord has in store for us in this area.
As for me, I have been clinging to two truths for the last several months. The first is,

Hebrews 10:23
²³ Let us hold tightly without wavering to the hope we affirm, for God can be trusted to keep his promise.

And the second is,

Isaiah 54:11:12

¹¹ “O storm-battered city,
troubled and desolate!
I will rebuild you with precious jewels
and make your foundations from lapis lazuli.

¹² I will make your towers of sparkling rubies,
your gates of shining gems,
and your walls of precious stones.

Although I have sometimes felt like a storm battered city with all the change and chaos that have been the last two years, I trust in the Lord and I know He is faithful to keep His promises. He is rebuilding us with precious jewels and making our foundations from lapis lazuli. We are almost there...

Sometimes you really should listen to your kids

This morning as I am reading the news online, Ryan walks into the bedroom and has taken his jammy pants off. I ask him why he took his pants off, but he is too into his cars to answer. So I reach over and do the "look for poop" move by pulling his diaper back and peeking into his buns to check. No sign of poop, so I say, "Lets take off your pee pee diaper, okay?" He says, "No, Mommy!" Of course, I don't listen. He even pulls away from me a little bit, but does that sway me? No. I pull the sticky tabs off each side and fling the pee pee diaper from his little body and say in triumph, "That feels better, huh?" He responds, "Mommy! You dropped my poop on the floor!" And lo and behold, there on my bedroom carpet is a giant ball of poop. "Mommy you're so silly!" Man, I should have listened to him!

These days you gotta be smarter than your smartphone

And apparently I am not. So we got new phones. The first set was the new Blackberry Pearl Flip. We didn't like the keyboard so we decided to go for the whole shebang and get the Blackberry Curve. At first we liked them. They have a full qwerty keyboard with ONE letter per key. They are Internet capable, have a nice camera, good call quality etc. However, after a couple days playing around with them we noticed a couple things we weren't so hot about. First, the battery life sucks. We had to plug them in every night! I guess if you're used to this it's no big deal, but we were used to plugging in our phones every few days, and to have the battery start to drain after a single call was disappointing. Next, and here's the biggie, we could barely figure out how to make a phone call, let alone texting and taking photos. Don't even get me started on trying to figure out how to change the ring tone. These phones are like a little computer you have never heard of before. They are so complicated, they actually offer a CLASS so you can learn how to use them. I have not felt this stupid in a VERY long time. I consider myself a relatively intelligent person, not a genius, but certainly able to keep up with most. I found myself saying, "Remember when you could just pick up the phone and call someone by dialing numbers? Remember when texting just involved typing?" Now I am scrolling, highlighting, selecting, answering little prompt questions....getting lost in the layer after layer of menus trying to find the stupid "profile" button so I can turn the darn thing off vibrate...but I digress.
So, after the last three days of blundering around and feeling like a total idiot, I give up. I don't need Internet access from my phone. I don't need yet another way to check my email. I don't "tweet." I don't want fifty different ways to contact every person I know. I just want to make a call now and then. So, once again, I am off to the post office to send the smart phones back in return for...a dumber phone? Maybe. Or at least one that doesn't have me wishing for the days of rotary dials and cords again.

Good Job Honey!

Ryan: "Mom, can you put my pants on?"
Me: "Why are your pants off honey?"
Nothing.
Me: "Honey, did you go potty?"
Ryan: "Yes!" Big smile on his face.
Me: "Good job honey. Where did you potty?" Knowing full well I did not hear him in the bathroom.
Ryan: "Outside!" Even bigger smile.
Me: "On the deck outside or in the grass?" Please be on the grass...please be on the grass....
Ryan: "On the grass."
Me: "Good Job Honey!" Sweet. Now I don't have to go clean the deck.

To pack, or not to pack. That is the question...

Man, another day closer to the big move back to Canby and I cannot seem to get together enough motivation to vacuum, let alone pack another box. I am at that point where every room is half done so it looks like I have made quite a bit of progress, however, the "miscellaneous" stuff is still hanging around and in reality would take FOREVER if I left it to the last minute. So maybe I will just play around on the blog. I am working for posterity. I think this is what my dad calls "creative avoidance." O well. At least I am being creative at something.

Question of the day

Mommy, "Honey, did you pee down the heater vent?"
Ryan, "Yes!"

Great. At least we're moving.

Went to my parents house last weekend

Ahhhh! The rest, the food, the movie on the big screen downstairs, the sleeping in, and oh yeah, the photo lesson. Although I technically went there for the photo lesson, the other stuff was so great I think I might have to make a regular retreat out of it. (like how I invite myself Dad n' Mo?)

It was a great weekend for rest and very productive too. I went to Ana Cross Stitch who is carrying my stitch markers, met the ladies there and updated my inventory. Dad gave me the short and sweet for taking great photos of my product. Mo gave me a tripod. We ordered a light box to make a little table top photo studio. I am so official. I can't wait for it to get here.

All the while Jason, husband extraordinaire, was home taking care of Ryan and Sam. I think my favorite line of the weekend came from Jason as I was driving home. It went something like this:

"So you're on your way home?"

"Yeah"

"Ya know how I always say I haven't done anything around the house, but I really have and I surprise you?"

"Yeah...."

"Well, just to warn you. This time I REALLY haven't done anything!"

Hee hee. I love it when he gets a taste of my daily life. I become SO COOL in his eyes!

Originally posted on webs.com on January 28, 2009

You know it was bound to happen eventually

While I am cooking dinner tonight I look over at Ryan standing in the kitchen next to Sam's water dish. (can you already see where this is going?) He is enthusiastically and happily swishing water around in his mouth. Not seeing his sippy cup anywhere, I ask him, "Honey, did you drink out of Sam's water bowl?" And, of course, his reply, a vigorous head nod, still swishing. And as fast as I was in turning to get a towel and lean over for him to spit out the water, he swallowed and smiled at me. What do you do? Luckily for me I am pretty much over the "germaphobia" I suffered from in college, and so I just kept cooking dinner. Probably won't be the last time...

Originally posted on webs.com on January 21, 2009

Funny Friday

Right now all three of us are wearing Santa hats because Ryan wants us to. Also, the pointy end with the ball on the end HAS to be facing back, apparantly. He is so funny. This is also an indictment of me since it is clearly not Christmas time anymore and all my decorations are still piled in the front room waiting for inspiration to be put away.

Another funny thing for today, well starting yesterday actually. I can't remember what I said, but Ryan thought it was funny and he said, "Thank you funny Mommy." And he has been saying it ever since. All day today when I get something for him, hand him something, or do something he wanted he says, "Thank you funny Mommy." Also thrown in there a couple times were, "thank you my funny."

He just cracks me up. I wonder how long this will last? As all cute things they do, I am sure it will pass soon and except for this blog, be forgotten. Another Mommy Bombeck for posterity.

Originally posted on webs.com on January 16, 2009

Kids take things literally

On Saturday I went over to a girlfriends house to do one of my favorite things...organize! We spent the day laughing, working, cleaning and in general bringing order to chaos. I loved it. She even had a label maker! If only we'd had color coded rubbermaid tubs...

At lunch time we were eating burgers that her sweet husband got for us and my friend was reminding her kiddos to gather up their library books for return. Her youngest explained that he couldn't find his book. My friend said that if he didn't find the book they would have to pay for the book and so he'd better look harder. I think someone at the table maybe mentioned that you get in trouble if you don't return library books. Then my moment to shine...I chime in, "Yeah and they send the LBI's after you, the library bureau of investigators, and if you don't hand over the book, they send you to library jail." (Ok, so I'm an idiot, I know! But I thought it was funny) Her son didn't respond much and the conversation drifted to other things.

Later on in the afternoon as we were finishing up, he comes into the bedroom with a very concerned look on his face. "What's up?" my friend asks. Her son barely gets out "I can't find it Mom! I've looked everywhere! I DON'T WANT TO GO TO JAIL!!!" And bursts into tears!

Needless to say, I felt like a total schmuck. I must remember this for later on. Kids take things so literally!

Originally posted on webs.com on January 11, 2009

If you can't laugh at yourself...Or Chicken Adobo

So tonight I am all proud of myself because I am making a new recipe. (Trying desperately to get in the groove of cooking at least 4 nights a week) I am making Chicken Adobo, which I have never heard of and have never eaten. It's basically chicken cooked in a sauce of garlic, soy sauce, apple cider vinegar, a bay leaf and some pepper. I am super smug as Jason walks in the door and says, "Wow that smells good. What is it?" I reply casually like I've cooked it a thousand times and it's old hat, "Chicken Adobo." He says, "Huh, I didn't know you knew any Philipino recipes. An old Philipino friend of mine used to make that all the time. Cool." Stopped short in my basting I think to myself "That's weird," because this whole time I was thinking this was a mexican dish. Then it hits me.

Originally posted on webs.com on January 9, 2009

My first blog. Ever

Mo says I have a knack for telling funny family stories and that I should write them down. She calls me "Mommy Bombeck" like Erma Bombeck (sp?). Since I don't know Erma or her writing I just trust Mo when she tells me that she was super funny.

So when I found this website and saw that I could post pictures and blog stuff I thought this might be a good way to get down my Mommy Bombeck stories. Of course I don't have any off the top of my head now. Probably because my head is full of my bed calling me for a nap, so maybe another time. It is enough to say for now that, soon, the good, the bad, and the ugly will be typed for all to read. Maybe it will be theraputic. Maybe it will bore people. I don't care. I just like doing something other than dishes, laundry and diapers for a few minutes of my day.

Originally posted on webs.com on January 9, 2009