2008 -- A Review

Later I have a great story about everything that happened today, but first I wanted to take a look at the past year. It has been a crazy year in our house. Next year is not going to get any better, either. It seems to me that each year I expect things to 'settle down' and each year they get progressively crazier. Maybe I'm just getting older and unable to roll with the punches. Maybe I am turning into the mole my husband is and am beginning to enjoy holing up in my house with the blinds closed, watching movies and hanging out with my family. But then again, maybe not.

January. Ahh, January this year we moved into our new home. It was also the year the hurricane hit California and toppled every tree on base and in the RV park we were living in at the time. We were lucky that the trees stayed far away from our rig, but others weren't so lucky. There is the good, the bad and the ugly attitudes I had about moving in. But then, most of those things have changed.

February was less eventful, we were getting settled. But it was the month of the giant baby poop incident.

In March, Not the Momma tried to kill us. Apparently we don't worship Disney enough, because shortly there after we ended up in Mickey's Hell House. March was also the month that Not the Momma nearly drove us off of the road after having one of his startling revelations.

April was the month I was a fool and tried to clean my keyboard with bad results. It all ended happily enough, but it could have been avoided. We also visited the Sequoias near Fresno.

May (I always want to type Mary when I am typing May) was totally insane. What between the remake of Caddyshack going on in our backyard and the purchase of one of those things I said I'd never buy. The gophers have run away for now, and I am really enjoying Schmitty now that we've had him for a while. I know I'll love him even more come next June when Baby #2 makes its appearance.

In June, the dogs didn't get the memo that it's never hot here. They decided to do some backyard renovations to include installing a new swimming pool. Little Monster began really living up to his name. I also reached the landmark 300 posts. How I'm not famous like Dooce or The Pioneer Woman or anyone else I don't really know. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the spelling errors, grammatical faux-pas, or inconsistent posting.

Are you bored with the month by month recap of the year yet? Really? Because I see that you're still watching that stupid thing on VH1 that recaps the year. I think I'm a little bit more interesting than Britney's balded head and the election. Okay, Maybe not. Who cares. I'm finishing this up if for no other reason than I'm having fun reading my posts from the last year.

July. The hottest month of the year. The temperatures here on the lovely Central Coast of California actually got warm enough to defrost my toes, set up the pool and play outside for hours and hours on end. Of course, we were in Nebraska soaking up the heat there, relaxing at the lake, running between our parents houses and eating lots of good food. And then there was the time where I almost went to jail. Okay, so there was no jail, but there was a ticket. It was shortly thereafter that Not the Momma decided that Someone upstairs has it out for him.

August was pretty lame around here. Except for this. Seriously, if you only click on ONE link to previous posts, you should totally click on that one. Little Monster singing Itsy bitsy spider? He wasn't even 2 yet people! HOW cute is THAT?? Look at his little sun! We watched this the other night and we both almost died because the amount of cute that was coming out of my computer totally filled the room, pushing the oxygen out. It's a good thing it's a short clip.

September was the month that Not the Momma decided to try to prove that at any given moment the molecules in a solid object could align themselves so that another solid object could possibly pass through it (it's called tunnelling). He had a one in some number of trillions chance. But there's still a chance. He still has a scar from the incident, and Little Monster is now obsessed with 'boo-boos' and thinks everyone needs one on their knee. We also visited San Diego despite mice taking up residence in the fifth wheel and my bad attitude about the whole ordeal. It turned out to be a good trip, especially considering the good news we got the day we left. (Keep reading).

October was when I announced that there's going to be a Little Monster: The sequel. It's also when I began really feeling the symptoms. Little Monster also turned two. How sad is that? He's such a big boy now.

November was the month the sequel tried to kill me with morning sickness. I am NOT complaining. I am very grateful that I am pregnant, and that is has stuck around. Not the Momma and I only had a short time to conceive so that he would be home for the birth. That time was about up. Thanksgiving was awesome. We had some friends over and did tons of touristy stuff and just spent time at the house. December has been a great month as well. The morning sickness has subsided, everything is seemingly going well and the year is over tomorrow.

It is amazing how fast this year has gone. I can only imagine that the years will go by faster as the sequel is born, and everyone gets older. I pray that we'll continue to be happy and healthy. And by we, I mean our family and yours. Happy New Year!

Continuation of an Old Tradition...

Remember when I promised that recipe? No? Okay. Good. That means I don't have to give it to you and worry if we'll show up to the same blog party with a crock pot full of the same stuff...

Where was I? Oh yeah, I promised that I'd give you a recipe. I wish I was all cool like The Pioneer Woman and had taken pictures while I was cooking this, but then, my pictures wouldn't have looked as good and I would have felt bad for stealing her 'thing.'

So, As I was talking about earlier, we celebrated this year with a few old traditions. One being opening up new pajamas on Christmas Eve. The other is that in the midst of preparing for the candlelight service at church, preparing for the coming of Santa Claus and wrangling too many children, my mom had a few things on her plate without worrying about some big dinner. So, she always prepared soup. The first few years, it wasn't something we enjoyed so much. (Sorry mom!) But then, we were little, and the soup was clam chowder. After a few years of whining, she switched to potato soup, which was good. But one year, she came up with a recipe that knocked our socks off. It is so good that the last time I made it (before Christmas Eve this year), Not the Momma proceeded to eat the entire crock full. And then he cried when he found out it contained sour cream. Not the Momma + Sour Cream = Not so good. Where was I again? Oh, you want the recipe? Okay. here goes. My comments will be italicized, mm-kay?

-----------------------------------------------------------

Baked Potato Soup

Ingredients:

4-6 large potatoes

2/3 cup margarine (I use butter)

2/3 cup flour

6 cups milk

3/4 tsp salt

1/2 tsp pepper

4 green onions, chopped

12 slices bacon, diced

1 1/4 c cheddar, shredded

8 0z sour cream

Preparation:

Wash potatoes and prick with a fork. Bake at 400F or until done. Let cool.

Cut potatoes in half, scoop out pulp and set aside.

Melt margarine or butter, because I use butter in pot over low heat. Add flour, stirring constantly with whisk. It's almost a roux, aren't we excited!? Cook 1 minute. Gradually add milk, stirring until thick and bubbly. mmmm thick and bubbly.

Add salt, pepper, chopped green onions (leave a few for garnish), and diced bacon (again, leave some for pretties on top). Right about now you should begin to smell heaven cooking. No? Wait a few minutes. Cook until boiling, then lower heat to a simmer. Add sour cream and cheese. Serve when the sour cream and cheese are well mixed and heated. Garnish with the leftover bacon onions and a little bit of shredded cheese... MMMM yummy.

Shortcuts and Modifications:

I totally use the pre-cooked bacon that comes in a box at the store. It doesn't even have to be refrigerated until it's open. Because I hate cooking bacon. Hate. It. The boxes come with 15 slices, so I just chop it all up and dump it in. And the extra three slices make it taste that much better. Also, in order to be kind to my husband, who (as I previously mentioned) does not get along with sour cream, I used plain yogurt instead of sour cream. But the sour cream. It does a taste-bud good.

-----------------------------------------------------------

I really wish that I had taken pictures now. Oh well, you'll still love me. And if you don't after you try this soup, there's something wrong with you. Even Little Monster tried it -- and he normally only eats olives and bread with butter.

It won't be Christmas...

Not the Momma and I have discussed at length what ages we had our first real memories. Little Monster is quickly approaching that age, so at Christmas this year, I wondered as we came downstairs and he noticed that Santa had visited, as we opened gifts, visited Church, had family time and then friends over if he would remember any of it.

I've now come to the conclusion that Christmas will not be his first memory. That would be too nice. His first memories will probably be one of the following:

• Me opening a Hershey's kiss in front of him and denying him the chocolate, even after opening his mouth and saying "aaaah" like a baby bird.
• One of the multiple times we've groped him to check his new 'big boy' pants for wetness while harassing him about whether or not he needs to go potty.

If it has to be one of those mean memories, I hope for the first. The second one I hope he can repress until after years of therapy. The whole potty training thing. I'm not sure if it's a good sign that for the past 3 hours, even through dinner and 2 cups of apple juice, wrestling and Daddy torture, tickling and giggling uncontrollably that the child is still dry. We have put him on the toilet at least 6 times in attempts to get him to go. He sits there looking at magazines, kicking his feet, talking and singing the whole time with nary a trickle. Will he remain dry until he explodes? Is he biding his time until we put a diaper back on him? What are parents to do?

***Update*** Apparently, 3 1/2 hours is the amount of time that a 2 year old can control the contents of his bladder before he has to empty it on the carpet.

Old Traditions

Sorry about the interruption, there. We're still dealing with the aftermath. But this is about Old Christmas Traditions.

If you can remember being little, and thinking about Santa Claus coming on Christmas Eve, munching down on some cookies and bringing presents, you remember how terribly exciting it was. It wasn't bad enough there were usually gifts under the tree anyway. You'd been watching them for weeks (and if you were smart like me, you'd probably tried to sneak peaks at them), waiting for Christmas Day to come so that you could open them. At one point there were four children five and under in my house growing up. I can't imagine being the parent to four kids, so excited they couldn't sleep on Christmas eve. In order to alleviate some of the craziness (at least I assume this is why), my mom allowed us to open ONE gift on Christmas Eve. She picked them, of course. We always got a pair of pajamas. To this day, I fondly remember going to bed on Christmas Eve in a brand new snuggly pair of PJs each year. I am continuing that tradition in our home. This year, things got a little crazy. My mom sent Little Monster a pair of Pajamas:

Thank you Grami!

Excited about the new Jammies

New Superman Jammies

Little Monster loves his new pajamas. So much, in fact, that we have to trick him into wearing actual clothing.

As for other traditions, we had a light (ha!) meal of bread and soup for dinner Christmas Eve. The soup is delicious, and I'll post the recipe soon, but alas, it has been more than 10 minutes so I must annoy my child until he relents and sits on the potty again.

Interrupting Christmas...

I have an "Old Traditions" Post that I am going to put up soon, including a yummy recipe, but first I have an interruption.

The past few days have been rather interesting around here. Little Monster is on the cusp of needing to be potty trained. But I'm lazy and don't want to deal with the mess of wet pants and loads and loads of never-ending laundry. We already have never-ending laundry. I can't imagine what a potty-training toddler and a new baby are going to do to this household's laundry piles.

I have not been very gung-ho about the whole potty training thing at all and Little Monster has NO desire to actually use the toilet. However, he certainly has the desire to remove his pants and diaper if it gets too wet. We've been lucky so far **rapping on all the wood I can find nearby** that he hasn't felt the desire to remove poopy diapers, but I'm sure that day is dreadfully near. I guess it's a good thing we have two full weeks of not many places to go. While we're home, he'll be wearing the new underwear and ruber pants he got for Christmas and diapers while we're out. Otherwise that duct tape I've been thinking about strapping him to the wall with is going to end up wrapped around his waist to keep his diapers shut.

A New Christmas Tradition

Christmas traditions are hard to establish when you're constantly moving. This year, we're home, but next year who knows where we'll be. We could be in Nebraska, hanging out with the Grandparents, travelling across the country to some other state. I try to cling to traditions that we can do whether we're on the road, visiting family or at home.

A new tradition we started this year was a Gingerbread Tree. People do gingerbread houses, but we couldn't find a decent kit. In hind-sight, that was okay. Little Monster is waaay too little to decorate a house, but a tree is right up his alley. I found a kit that contained a bunch of gingerbread star cookies and frosting mix, got everything out that we needed and made sure to get Little Monster all ready for some possibly messy kitchen fun.


I'm not sure he's excited. What do you think? We laid out our star cookies so that we would be ready to stack them. I laid the first cookie down, gluing it to the foil-covered plate and turned my back to grab another. What would any two year old boy do?


He grabbed it off the plate and ate it. It ended up being a good thing. He "helped" by munching down on a probably-stale pre-baked gingerbread cookie while I attempted to assemble the tree with the frosting. It leans a little. But then, it was supposed to be assembled by a two-year-old. Once the tree was mostly together, we decided to add a little 'green' and some decorations to our tree.



Of course he took some time to taste test the little balls that went all over the tree. And he decided that the Star didn't go on top, it went at the bottom with the presents. Fine with me, it was his tree.

The finished (crooked but cute) Product:


The kid when he was done:

You can tell by the green on his face that he had fun tasting everything. And if you look in the bottom left corner, you'll notice I was a very nice mommy and left a few of the candy balls for him to eat when we were done.

I was very glad that we hadn't attempted a house. I don't think that would have went nearly as well. The whole experience was wonderful. I also had to get over the fact that the tree wasn't going to look beautiful like the ones on the box, because Little Monster was going to be putting it together. It isn't about the end product, it's about the fun getting there. It did take me a few minutes to get to that point as we were scrambling for water, mixing the icing, and getting things ready. In the future, I'll be more prepared for disasters and laughter and be more willing to let things get a little crazy. I'll also make sure I have EVERYTHING out and ready to go before I let Little Monster in the kitchen so that he's not dumping water on the floor while I search for the mixer beaters.

Thanks Little Monster for a great time. I loved laughing because you were sneaking cookies, taste testing the candy, and making general messes. I hope that you'll enjoy doing stuff like this with me every year. Merry Christmas and thanks again. I am excited to continue this tradition year after year -- at Grandma's house, in our fifth wheel as we travel from duty station to duty station, or in our home. I love you.

Holiday Plans

This year we're kickin' it at home. We've kindly told out-of-state relatives that if they want Christmas with us, that they can come here. And they did or are.

We aren't going anywhere else, either. This will be the first school break that we haven't gone somewhere. We've been to Morro Dunes, San Diego, and Nebraska for the other three breaks we've had this year. We're moving next year, so we'd like (read: Mommy Mary would like and if she doesn't get her way it is not a good thing) to have one relaxing year at home. Unfortunately, relaxation is something Not the Momma doesn't do well. He fidgets and gets bored easily. He's already beat one video game this break. And it hasn't even been a full week yet.

We do have some family crafts planned for the next few days since it will be extra cool and rainy. We're going to bake cookies, decorate a gingerbread tree and a Rice Krispie House (no gingerbread house kits to be found!), watch Christmas movies and hang out. Christmas Eve we'll have soup and go to Church. Christmas morning we'll have breakfast, maybe go to Church again and make some dinner. I've invited our new neighbors over. Who knows if they'll come.

After Christmas, who knows what will happen. We've got a whole additional two weeks before he has to go back to school. Pray we don't all kill each other after an overdose of Christmas Cheer -- especially because my egg nog remains un-spiked this year!

Reasons I am a certifiable Grinch - sort of.

I am a Grinch in that we are not doing a big "gift-give" this Christmas. Little Monster is getting some "big boy" underwear, a book about potty training, a potty chair, some pajamas and a few small toys. Not the Momma is getting -- well, I'll tell you about that later. As for the rest of you, I can't afford anything. And I don't feel remorseful. The lack of remorse bothers me a bit.


I am not doing Christmas cards this year. If that makes me terrible, so be it. I'm sending out an email with a picture of Little Monster. I may even take the time to write out a dorky letter and photo shop a Santa hat onto Little Monster's head.


We have not (and might not) take Little Monster to see Santa this year. Ever since the burn, his eyes and face are all gross, green, and/or broken out.



I am pregnant. And Crabby. And I don't like it when people touch me. Or breathe on or near me. The only exception is Little Monster when he says "Mommy, Hugs" hugs me then says "More Hugs!" and repeats that.

Someone has figured out how to take off his shorts and diaper. He does so when he's in his playroom by himself. Hopefully he didn't pee on anything.

I lost a $200 key fob for the minivan. I finally got around to having the dealer program the new one I ordered to find out it didn't have a right "piece" or some other baloney and I would have to come back later.

It is day one of a very long break with my easily bored husband who owns no property to maintain, fix or update. It could be a long, long break. And he's started complaining about the lack of blogging going on over here.

My week in moments.

My week was full of moments that made me laugh and cry all at the same time. Some of it was pregnancy hormones, but others, who knows.

**********************************************

You know the day might not go so well when your child wakes up, you look at his green, weepy eyes and he says:

"Mommy, Eyes. Boo-boo."

It's not pink eye, but we got drops in case it gets bad. It is most likely a cold combined with irritation from the smoke the controlled burn that they did yesterday.

At the doctor's office he announced "All Done!" every time the doctor finished listening to his lungs.

It nearly broke my heart, when on the way home from the doctor's office, he rubbed his eyes. I asked him if they hurt and he responded "It tickles!"



Daddy says: "Why is it called Pink Eye when the stuff is Green??"


**********************************************

We ran to the mailbox twice -- or rather Little Monster ran while we walked. If you've ever watched a two year old run four blocks, you know how silly and cute it is. Especially when he's yelling songs at the top of his lungs. And stopping to touch the fiber optic snowflakes lining the sidewalk. And trying to read a pamphlet while running home.

**********************************************
Kleenex was barking uncontrollably yesterday. I went outside to kill her because she JUST WOULDN'T SHUT UP and I noticed that Chewie was missing. The door to the garage was open. And so was the big garage door. Kleenex was being a big fat tattle-tale, ratting out the boy dog because he ran away. For the first time in her life, she's had a good reason to bark like a maniac.

**********************************************

The dishwasher that has been broken since Thanksgiving is now fixed. I feel like I have my life back! This after being threatened with having to wait until January to get a new one, Friday to get one stolen from another vacant unit, and coming home from the store today to find the dishwasher in pieces.

**********************************************
My neighbors are moving overseas. As such we inherited a Beta fish, a cactus, and 3000 pounds of snack foods. Little Monster and Not the Momma are in Oreo and Ice Cream heaven.

**********************************************
You know you're hormonally pregnant when you watch a St. Jude commercial and start bawling your eyes out. Not teeny little tears, but Big fat, loud, sobbing tears that are practically inconsolable.



Of course, what person with a heart, can see the little baby barely walking (second 41) with the IV and bald little head and not break up into a million pieces? Wait, you can watch this commercial without being a crazy, bawling, wreck? Okay. Maybe it is the pregnancy hormones.

**********************************************

I'm on day number two being z.ofran and puke free! Yay!! Of course, that makes me a bit paranoid that something has gone wrong. Why should it? I don't know. I'm in the second trimester, but I'm still afraid that something has gone wrong. But that's just the paranoia speaking.

**********************************************

Little Monster demanding pie every ten seconds for the entire week.

**********************************************

How was your week?

Bicyclists are friends, right?

People who ride their bikes everywhere have my utmost respect, awe, and admiration. They are getting exercise, saving gas, and making me feel a teensy bit guilty for driving around in Schmitty, my gas guzzling Minivan. (Yes, I feel guilty, even though I'm so sick with my second child I can barely hold down food most days, and I'd have to lug around my 35 pound two year old in a trailer behind me. I'm crazy.)

I do have a bone to pick, though. The other day, I was driving out of my neighborhood when I noticed a friend of mine was in a car accident. A car accident caused by a bicyclist who ran a stop sign. Luckily none of his three children were hurt, nor was the person walking with her child in a stroller or the the driver of the other vehicle. The potential was there, though. About a month ago, I nearly ran over a man who ran a stop sign on his bicycle. Again, last night, a man on a bicycle blew through a stop sign --after dark no less -- nearly causing an accident.

I get that it sometimes is inconvenient to stop at stop signs. And then you have to work up the energy to get those pedals started again. It's also inconvenient for me to stop. I have to completely stop, wait for pedestrians to cross, other cars to cross and work up the energy to get my lead foot back on the gas pedal. But you know what? I do it. I stop. Because it's safe for everyone. Do bicyclists realize that they are technically on a vehicle and are required to follow all of the same laws that automobiles are required to follow -- including speed limits? Sometimes I'm not sure. Yes. If you are on a bicycle, riding on the street, you are required to stop at all traffic stops, lights, etc. You are not allowed to go faster than the 15 mph speed limit. No exceptions.

We who drive our automobiles do need to be vigilant in keeping an eye out for our friends who are walking and riding their bikes. But you also need to ensure that you are watching out for us, by following all of the stop signs. Really, it's for your own safety. If your bike and my minivan get in a fight, I guarantee the minivan will win. I will escape uninjured, but my mental health will suffer if I hurt you -- even if it is your fault. Please be aware of the laws, and follow them -- it's better for everyone.

Troublesome Tuesday?

That's Little Monster. His name is spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E. Not because he's naughty and disobedient. Because he's smart. And curious. And he really likes juice.

This morning I was in the bathroom when I heard the backdoor shut. Immediately after, I heard Little Monster still playing in his room. So I knew he was inside the house and I wasn't terribly worried. He was inside, the door was shut, life was good.

Fast forward a few minutes when I got out of the bathroom and finished an email. I go check on him, and he's sitting in his playroom with a Capri-Sun.

Hmm. Capri Sun is stored in the garage. Unless... Was there one stashed in here? That can't be possible, we'd just cleaned that room a couple of times recently. We would have found it. Then I remembered that Not the Momma had told me we were out of juice boxes and that I should get some more next time I went to the store. Hmm. Even Odder.

"Little Monster, how did you get that juice?"
"BOOS!"

He had a stinky diaper too, so while I was changing his diaper, we continued our discussion about the 'boos.'

"How did you get that juice?"
"baraahhdg"
"Garage?"
"yes!"

That led me to think. That means the door I heard slam was Little Monster RETURNING to the inside of the house. He had gone into the backyard, walked to the garage door and opened it, found his juice, brought it back inside the house and shut the door, removed the straw from the 'boos' and had tried to get into it.

Trouble. That's what we've got around here. Not so much for Little Monster, but more for the grown-ups in this house. Now we have to figure something better out for the doors. Because, folks, my doors are 'baby-proofed' with those annoying handle covers and dead bolted. And he won't open them when anyone is looking. He's sneaky. Trouble. with a capital T.

What? Who is this?

I am still alive. Even after going a week without posting. I know it's bad when I have to actually LOG IN to my blogger account. It's even worse when Not the Momma who normally whines about the amount of time I spend blogging begins to whine about his lack of online reading material.

What can I say? It has been busy around here. We had friends for Thanksgiving, spent the rest of the weekend decorating for Christmas and being lazy. And I threw up a lot.

Then there were about two days of me throwing up while trying to get the house ready for more guests (I failed at that one), getting as much work done as possible. Wednesday we got up bright and early, hit the gas station, Starbucks and headed out to the airport to pick up my parents. There was a little more Zof.ran and a little less throwing up.

We had a great time hitting tourist destinations, local restaurants, and just playing at home. Little Monster was totally enamored with Maw-ma, and and Paw-pa. He spent the entire weekend holding their fingers, showing off for them, and tricking them into loving him even more than they already did. I think their hearts were ready to burst by the time they left. He was incredibly good the entire weekend, of course, making me look like a liar when I talk about how naughty he is. Although, there was the ONE incident at the donut shop with the screaming and the throwing himself to the floor. But then, he's two and if we only have one of those in five days, then all is well.

Mommy, Daddy and the dogs were spoiled as well. The dogs got to go on a real, honest-to-goodness W-A-L-K. Perhaps we'll have to do that a bit more often. Would it be wrong to leash the child at the same time? It would be easier to handle them all. Mommy and Daddy got to sleep in a couple of mornings (sleeping in means past 6:30) because either Gramma and Grampa were up with the Monster to play with him, or they had tired him out so much the day before that he slept later in the morning. That made us ALL happy. Mommy and Daddy also got to go out on a DATE! It was a short one, but it was fun. And spontaneous. Not to mention, my parents felt obliged to wash the dishes every time I turned around. Because my dishwasher broke. On Thanksgiving. Now we have to train Little Monster to wash dishes, and I'm thinking it might be more work than washing them myself. I'm all about taking the lazy way out.

Little Monster was not very happy to see them leave Sunday afternoon. I'm not sure how much of that is because that they showered him with attention and love, or how much of it is that he was spoiled because Mommy and Daddy let a few rules go lax while they were here. I'm guessing it was 10% lax rules, and 90% missing them.

We have exactly one month to get the family into shape before the next set of Grandparents arrive to spoil us rotten. The month of boot camp is totally worth all of the giggles, belly laughs, and silliness and fun that went on the last week. It was far too long between visits this time. I can only hope that things work out so that there will be lots of 'De-spoil the family' boot camps in the future.

Thankfulness.

Let's face it. I'm a complainer. I don't usually behave as though I am grateful for everything in my life, but really, I am.

I am thankful for the debilitating nausea that has accompanied this pregnancy. It reminds me that I am carrying a child -- a healthy child. It reminds me that there are so many women in this world who are unable to carry a child. Each time I pick up my prescription I am reminded of how lucky I am to have healthcare that will cover the expensive medication that allows me to be able to eat and drink -- and how lucky I am that I live in a time and a place where that medication is available to me. I believe that without it, I'd have died of dehydration weeks ago.

I am thankful for how naughty my son is. Naughty is relative, and generally his naughtiness is brought on by curiosity and energy. Both things that you only find in smart, healthy children. I have been especially thankful that I have been able to witness him growing up and learning. He has brought more laughter into my life than any other one thing. I mean, who else will start off the morning by drinking out of the dog water, sharing it with his stuffed dog, and then demand that his doggie is poopie and needs a diaper?

I am thankful for my husband. Even when he's whining about the vacuuming that I've asked him to do in preparation for today. Because it means he's home and safe. And although there is a sly, sarcastic comment among the chores, it reminds me that I too hate vacuuming and am lucky to have found a spouse who will help out. He has been a true blessing lately. He has picked up the slack for me these past couple of months. In more ways than one. It doesn't mean he isn't getting up before 5AM to get to school so he can study. It doesn't mean he isn't coming home at dinner time exhausted from having formulas crammed into his head all day. He does. But when he gets home, he often takes care of Little Monster, picks up a lot of the mess we've made during the day, fixes dinner, cleans up and puts Little Monster to bed. And after all that, he still wants to spend time snuggling with me. How lucky can a girl get?

I am thankful for everything the Lord has given me -- good and bad. Because I learn more from the bad than I do from the good, and the bad reminds me that no matter how bad I think I have it, there is always someone who isn't nearly as lucky as I am. I am thankful for family that loves each other. We are far apart, yet distance cannot stop the relationships that our parents are forming with Little Monster. Rarely does a day go by when he doesn't ask for at least one grandparent. Our family enjoys rare relationships without the tension that many families struggle with.

How wonderful my life must be when the only things I have to complain about are things that don't really matter -- the holes in the backyard, the dogs that bark, the house that's not exactly clean, the bread I wrecked. It means I am rich enough to have dogs, food, a house, and the family that makes it home.

Definition of Procrastination...

That's what's going on in my house right now. I have piles of laundry to do, vacuuming, and a guest room to get ready for guests. I have bathrooms to clean, and a fridge to empty. I have thousands of toys that need to be put away. I have to call and order the pizza for dinner tonight. The dogs need baths, I need a nap.

But I am sitting here listening to the sweet sound of my two year old snoring. It is sweet, indeed. Because he is sleeping. I hear the sound of the movers loading up someones house down the street, hammering their wooden crates shut. My dogs are breathing heavily as they doze on the couch beside me.

I know I should be sorting toys, or cleaning a fridge, or doing a long list of other things that need to be done, but right now, a little bit of quiet sure is nice. I don't imagine that there will be much quiet left around here soon.

Tomorrow I plan on finishing up whatever needs to get done around the house and preparing a majority of our Thanksgiving feast. I will put it all together and then bake/heat/brown it at the end. I pray that I will be able to get it all done. If I don't, well, we'll have to wait an extra 30 minutes for dinner tomorrow. Or, the stairs may not get vacuumed.

Thursday my goal is to be relaxed. (Ha! If you know me, you know that's a fat chance.) But that's my goal. We'll eat our Thanksgiving dinner on my CHRISTMAS plates, and we'll watch the Peanuts Thanksgiving special.

Randomness

Going a few days without my no-pukey meds is not fun. I plan to ensure that never happens again.

Little Monster has decided sleep is for the birds unless a parent is in bed with him. It sucks. Especially when the severity of my pukey problem has a negative correlation with the amount of sleep I receive.

Not the Momma is awesome in the middle of the night. He rarely grumbles about getting up to take care of Little Monster when I'm so far gone I couldn't hear an air horn two inches from my head.

I wonder how many women died of dehydration during the early months of pregnancy back in the day before meds.

Have I posed that question before?

The ant mess has been taken care of. With the help of Not the Momma and toxic chemicals. Yay for toxic chemicals.

My house is trashed, and my once clean living room is messy again. Surprise.

Diet Gatorade (G2) is gross. But it's not being rejected. Yet.

Noon is so close, yet so far away.

Fanatic??

So, the other night, my dear dear husband said I was becoming a religious fanatic. I was initially offended until he explained that I was no worse than a Trekkie. I didn't mind it so much, because he's totally a sci-fi fanatic, and Little Monster is a Nemo fanatic... And it's true. I'm a big fan of Jesus.

So I guess I am a religious fanatic. But does that mean I have to find the religious version of Comic-Con and show up dressed as my favorite bible character? How would a religion-based Comic-Con type thing work? Would people from all religions be invited? It could be interesting to see a bunch of Buddhas, Mohammad, and Zed, that crazy dude from the Christian Scientology's religion. Or is he from the Jonestown craziness? I don't know. All I know is that could be one volatile combination.

Friday Fun....

There is no Friday Fun Today.. I had it all yesterday. I ate a sandwich and cookies. Oreo cookies. With milk. You know how when you're eating the cookies and you take a sip of the cold, delicious milk, it not only tastes but FEELS good? Yeah. You should so do that today. Get some Oreo's and milk, and eat at least seven of them. You're mouth will feel so much better for it.

Today, I only have a bit of sarcasm. My living room is clean. At least one room in the house is dust free and vacuumed. I wanted to write a Friday Fun post about how much fun this weekend is (not) going to be since I didn't get my Z.ofran request to the Dr's office in time yesterday, they're closed today, and now I have one pill to get me through today, tomorrow, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday until I get to the pharmacy. At least I'll have some coping skills.

Oh, and the ants.. they're migratory sugar ants. Meaning they migrate from one area of the house to another. Fun times. Fun times.

I was never good at tag.

I hate to run, so I always got tagged, and then I couldn't get rid of the "it" status once I got it. I got tagged by my friend E.

So here goes.

8 Things I’m passionate about:-

My Christianity
Being a good Mother
Being a good wife
Abolishing No Child Left Behind
Everything in life is a choice
Teaching
Sign Language (not recently, so much)
Singing (again, not so much recently)

8 Things that happened yesterday:

Little Monster woke up 4 times in the night.
I was a bad mommy, locked him in his play room and slept until 8:30
We went to the grocery store
A fight ensued at the grocery store about the lack of steering wheels in the truck shopping cart
I opened the pantry door to find it moving with ants
I spent the afternoon killing ants with windex and cleaning out the pantry
I cleaned out the fridge
We had grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch

8 Things I do now

I am working on publicity and retreats for PWOC
I go weekly to bible study
I am a mommy to one and 2/9
I spend a lot of time in the bathroom kneeling over the toilet
I lay on the couch like a lump waiting for the second trimester energy to come
I design ID cards for police departments
I act as a mediator between the dogs and my husband, and the dogs and my child.
I pray. A lot.


8 Things I can not do

I cannot stop throwing up without medication.
I can not seem to gain enough energy to complete anything
I can not come up with 8 things I can't do. Because I'm a military wife, I have to do it all.

8 Things I often say

LM! NO!
We are NOT watching the Little Mermaid again!
LM! Good Job!
LM You have good manners today.
Stop Barking!
You may not have a fruit snack.
No juice until after lunch.
Zo.fran is my best friend.

8 Favorite TV shows

Grey's Anatomy
Gilmore Girls
How I met your mother
Big Bang Theory
According to Jim
Lost
Friends
Charlie and Lola

8 Favorite foods

Chicken Pad Thai
Pizza
Cashew Chicken
Thanksgiving Dinner
Rhubarb Pie
Strawberry Lime-aid
Chips
Chocolate Chip Cookies with Iced Tea. (weird, I know)


8 Things you may not have known about me:

I was born in California
I was raised in Nebraska
I lived on a lake as a child
I crochet when I get the time, and thoroughly enjoy it
My second and third toes are slightly webbed
I'm a slob and I hate it. (I was doing better until I got pregnant)
My favorite high school job was Dairy Queen
My first car was a 1986 Chevette

Too much cuteness...

Last night Little Monster decided to prove how smart he was by matching all of the letter magnets on the fridge with the cards they came with. On his own. It was amazing.

He also decided that his stuffed Giraffe (a new favorite) and Doggy needed diapers, because they were poopy. He even wiped their bums with a wipe.

A new pass time has become diving off of his bed onto the floor. He holds his arms out as though he is going to dive head-first off of the mattress. It's a whole 6 inches, but the face he makes looks as though he's preparing to dive off of a 20 foot platform.

If you ask him what a frog says he says "diidddit diddiit" while trying to hop.

Yesterday while we were cleaning up our Thanksgiving program, Little Monster found a music stand that was set to his height, grabbed the sides with his hands and began to croon a song never sung before.

Since I've returned from my trip, Little Monster has discovered the word "my" and has begun using full sentences. Of course, translation is still needed for others, but he's speaking in FULL SENTENCES! When will the growing up end?? Or at least slow down?

We are talking about potty training again. He's telling us when he's poopy, bringing diapers and wipes. BUT he did have an accident in the tub the other day. I'm still waiting to see more signs of readiness. He's also discovered he doesn't get into trouble for getting up at night if he's poopy, so now when he's about to get into trouble he says "POOPY!" I'm not sure what to do about this dishonesty at this point. For now, I tell him he's not poopy and it isn't nice to say things that aren't true.

I apologize for the numerous mentions of "poopy" in this post. But its what happens when you've got a toddler. At least we have quit referring to it as "filling his pants." I know some people will be happy for that.

Wonderous Weekend...

This past weekend I was at a convention for my bible study group (Protestant Women of the Chapel --or PWOC). It is a group set up for women who are in or married to the military. It was an amazing, eye and heart opening experience. If you're a Christian, you've certainly been somewhere that when you walked in you could sense the presence of the Holy Spirit -- He was there this weekend. He was there BIG.

Our speaker was Lisa Harper. She was incredibly down to earth, open about her flaws, and incredibly personable. She told two stories that REALLY really touched my heart.

The first was her take on the story of Jesus, the Pharisees and the adulteress woman. Do you know the story? It's from John Chapter 8 1-12:

1But Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. 2 Now early in the morning He came again into the temple, and all of the people came to Him; and He sat down and taught them. 3Then the scribes and Pharisees brought to Him a woman caught in adultery. and when they had set her in the midst, 4they said to Him, "Teacher, this woman was caught in adultery, in the very act. 5 Now Moses, in the law, commanded us that such should be stoned. But what do You say? 6 This they said, testing Him, that they might have something of which to accuse Him. But Jesus stooped down and wrote on the ground with His finger, as though he did not hear. 7So when they continued asking Him, He raised Himself up and said to them, "He who is without sin among you, let them throw a stone at her first." 8And again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.

You've all heard that line from Jesus. But that wasn't necessarily what she was preaching. There is a HUGE act of mercy in this story, and it isn't even that after he said that everyone left without one stone being thrown. Lisa said this: Imagine this woman, who thought she loved a man (who should have been thrown in with her, wasn't), was caught IN THE ACT, which meant she was not wearing much, and if anything, she only had a blanket to cover herself. All the eyes of the crowd were on her. She was feeling betrayed because the man she thought she loved had not been charged (and was perhaps involved) in this situation. People were staring at her, she wasn't covered, and she was guilty of a sin. Instead of rebuking her, Jesus knelt down to write on the ground with His finger. Everyone in the crowd (remember -- he was teaching so there were LOTS of people there to see this) looked at him after the Pharisees threw her before Him to see what he was going to do. And he held their attention by doing nothing but drawing on the ground as though He didn't hear. THAT, my friends, just as Lisa said, was an act of mercy. It gave her one second, during the most humiliating moment of her life, when everyone was watching, of privacy. A moment, where she could re-adjust her blanket to ensure that she was covered. A moment when no one was looking at her anymore.

I can't tell the story as well as Lisa did, but it sincerely touched my heart, knowing that Our Lord is so merciful, and knows exactly what we are going through. He knows exactly when and how to extend that mercy to the people who follow Him, even when they've made a mistake and done the wrong thing.



The other story she told touched me even more deeply and even more personally than that. She was illustrating an example of how much God loves us and how He knows how we need to feel that. Her story was about her step-father, whom she loved and adored. Her real father wasn't reliable -- really, he wasn't much of a father. (hmm. Sound familiar?) She was out with her step-father at the mall and they met a group of women that he worked with years ago and hadn't seen in a while. She stood there as they talked, stiff, wondering how the situation was going to play out and what he was going to say about her. When one of the women took notice of the little girl standing next to him she said "Well, I'll be! She looks JUST LIKE YOU!"

Now. If you're like me... You've been in situations that are similar to this. You wonder what your step-father is going to say.. "Oh no, she's not mine.... She's my step-daughter." You start sweating and your heart races, and thoughts go through your mind, and you wonder. How much does he really love me.

Her step-father's answer was to turn to her pull her chin up so he could examine her face. He paused, and said "Yes. Yes, she does." That acceptance, the little tiny phrase that probably didn't mean much to that man, meant the entire world to that little girl.

It means more than anything else in the world, when you don't have a 'real' father. When your step-father is tested in such a way, when he could easily explain away that you are not his, but only a step-child, brought to him through marriage. One he cares about sure, but not HIS. The love that is given when you, as a step-child, are acknowledged as just a 'daughter' is truly the greatest gift a "step" father could ever extend to a "step" child. And yes, my step-father always introduces me as his daughter. And it means more to me than he'll ever be able to understand.

That kind of love, that kind of mercy, again is the kind of love our Heavenly Father has for us. We are His. We are not his step-children, we belong to him. No matter when you think you don't have a Father, or that you don't fit in -- you do. Even if you don't have a merciful step-parent who is able to make you feel so a part of his life, you are a part of His life.

By Now I may be...

...Pulling my hair out because I miss my husband and kid so much, OR having so much fun I never want to go home.

It's probably somewhere in the middle. I'll be back tomorrow and I'll have news of Texas, and maybe Arbys. Just don't mind if there's Arby's sauce splattered all over the screen and I make less sense than normal. Because if I've gotten Arby's, I'm probably drunk on all of the Roast Beefy goodness and jamocha shake-y-ness.

Yeah. It could be scary. Maybe I'll wait until the Arby's hangover is over to post. I'm not excited about Arby's on my way home Sunday. Nope. Not at all.

Friday Fun.

I'm warning you. This game is highly addictive. Very highly addictive. You don't want to go there. I swear. I first started playing this game a long time ago. Back when AOL was the best option for internet and 56K was fast. it's still addicting. Only now, there's more.

There is Traditional Slingo, Sling-Do-Ku" -- a combination of Slingo and Sudoku, and Triva Slingo. Not to mention the other bazillion addicting games on the site. I won't even talk about the entire day that I spent playing the endless version of Merry Poppings between visits to the bathroom and wrestling with Little Monster. Nope. We won't mention that. It just wouldn't be right.

And don't blame me when you sit down to play ONE game, just ONE game, and you look up and realize hours have passed, you've missed lunch. And suddenly it all makes sense that your child has been trying to eat his toys, pulling cake mixes and canned soups out of the pantry. That's just a hypothetical situation though. Have fun playing!

A first.

As you read this, I am most likely on an airplane somewhere between California and Texas. Or perhaps I'm in an airport bathroom. Who knows. Hopefully I'm not making use of any little paper airplane bags.

This is not the first time I've been on a plane. Far from it. It is, however, the first time I've spent more than a few hours away from Little Monster. The first time I've not been home at some point in the night to sneak into his room and look at his little quiet face, snuggle him and kiss him and watch the subtle smile that appears when he knows, even though he's unconscious, that his Mommy loves him.

I'm sure Not the Momma has all kinds of devious plans to eat nothing but donuts and pizza for four days while I'm gone. Or maybe not. They will probably spend the entire weekend outside getting dirty and doing all kinds of boy things that I don't want to know about.

I am going to miss watching Not the Momma be the awesome Daddy that he is, the kind of Daddy that makes my heart grow beyond the confines of my body. Yeah, I'll probably miss him too.

I am going to miss the weather here. We are going to have good weather this weekend. 75 degrees. And I'm going to miss it.

I'm going to miss a lot of things, but maybe we'll be able to get some Arby's on our way home from the Airport Sunday. Then it will all be worth it. If nothing else, I'll be able to sink my teeth into a warm roast beef sandwich with Arby's sauce, have a Jamocha shake and some fries. I won't miss not missing that.

He's a catch, mine husband.

Lately I've been feeling a mixture of guilt and depression. I know a majority of it is hormones. The rest of it, well, anyone would feel depressed. My house looks like a tornado went through followed by a hurricane and a tsunami. I'm spending most of my mornings in the bathroom ridding myself of the terrible toxins I've put into my stomach - food and drink - while yelling at Little Monster to stay out of the bathroom. I don't want him watching that. My husband is doing all of the work around here, even though he's the one that goes to work every day. It sucks that I am not doing more. Add all of that to the hormones, and you've got one brain working on overdrive.

So yesterday, when he came home from running some errands, I was thrown off when he brought me a gift. It was a new pair of pajamas.

Get your mind out of the gutter. Not that kind of pajamas. A warm snuggly pair of shirt/pants pajamas that's all pretty pink with stripes and silk edging. Yummy, nice, make a gal feel loved type of pajamas.

See what I mean? He's a catch. And I love him.

Skewed Reality

When you're caught between sleep and awake the lyrics:

"Dave's over there underneath the red hat"

sounds a lot like

"Dave's over there with a nicotine patch."

Disturbing lyrics on a children's TV show about smoking cessation aids will certainly help you move out of the realm between sleep and awake and into the world of the living quickly.

Um. This one's for you anonymous... How I weaned my kid.

Believe it or not, the number one search for this blog has to do with weaning. Apparently, back in August of 2007, I spent a lot of time pouring my heart out to the internets about the dillema. This post is my number one hit. I am by no means an expert, but I did get through it. And so will you. After all, I don't know any college kids that see their Mommy and rip up their shirt to get a little milk.

Anonymous -- A friendly hint.. I would happily update you with more information, but it's a lot easier if you leave a way for me to get in touch with you so that I can help. Because that's what I'm all about. Helping people.

***********************************************
Wow. I spent the past few minutes going through old blog posts. I no longer feel guilty about the empty baby book. It's all right here. First steps, notations of first words, dancing, the whole bit. Even some mushy goodness.

And right along with all of that there were several times that I talked about nursing Little Monster. From when I didn't know if I nursing was going to work, the battlw between my laziness and independent sleep, controversy over where and when I should nurse, my personal dilemma about when I should wean, weaning itself, it's setbacks, the final, actual weaning and of course, the aftermath.

Weaning was slow and gradual for us. I started by not feeding him for the least necessary feeding -- the one he was least emotionally attached to. After a couple of days, he was used to not getting nursed at that time, so I moved on to another time. I believe I got rid of the nursing sessions in this order: middle of the night, mid-morning, mid-afternoon, first thing in the morning, mid-evening, lunchtime, and bedtime. As you introduce solids and foods, you're helping the weaning process. There were a couple of rough days when I was sore from being engorged. There were a couple of times when he whined and wanted to nurse, and I gave in. All in all it took about a month or two to wean him completely.

Oh, I also forgot. I broke the rules. I gave my baby whole milk. Because he refused to drink formula. He was fully weaned at about 11 months. I nursed him at bedtime for a lot longer than I took between phasing out the sessions. I gradually worked him off of that too. I'd nurse for 5 minutes, then 3 minutes, then 2 minutes, then no more. After I nursed him, I rocked him close and held him for a few minutes before putting him to bed.

So, if you're looking for help as to how to wean, hopefully this has helped you. If it hasn't, you can certainly google "how to wean" and get some assvice from experts.

And I'm sorry to those of you who thought you were going to get a break from talking about my breasts and their secretions. This should be the last one... For a while. A few months at least.

Dear Bloggy Friends...

I am going to miss you. I have had to unsubscribe from a few blogs recently. Blogs that I loved. Blogs that aren't normally full of heavy reading, political opinions, and insults to me. But recently, that has changed. Many of the people I have read for months have suddenly decided that I am a jerk. And they've told me so, and many in some not-so-kind words, and a few with graphics as well. I understand they weren't directly JUST at me, but they were directed at my friends, and the people that I spend quite a bit of time with. So, yes. I have decided to unsubscribe. Because you have hurt my feelings by directly insulting me based on my political and religious beliefs. A genre of blogs that is normally about fun and family has turned much darker, and I didn't like it.

I was a supporter of John McCain. Period. My husband is in the military, and democrats like to get rid of the military. I didn't think that some of the policies Obama was going to put into effect were financially responsible. But do you know what? Now, I support Obama. Because he, in a few short months, will be the President. As in, the person who is in charge of the company my husband works for. He can order my husband to his death if he feels it is best for our country. So I will pray for the new President, and try to support him. That is the way I am. I am appalled that there are people who threatened to leave America should McCain take office. I didn't consider leaving (unless we get stationed overseas) -- never once -- based on who was elected to be president.

I have mixed feelings about Prop 8, but I kind of understand the reasons for it. Churches would be in trouble if Prop 8 failed. Because they could be SUED for following their religious beliefs by discriminating about who could be married in their church. I think that life is confusing enough without the schools teaching my kid about a whole new faction of relationships. I don't need to explain how a family with two daddy's or two mommies can have babies, when I've told him it takes a Mommy and a Daddy.

I agree with the passing of Prop 4. Prop 4 required a minor's doctor to notify her parents before they get an abortion. I don't think that's right. Because folks, not everyone loves their kids. Not every family is happy. Not every parent is responsible enough to do the right thing when their troubled teenager comes to them with the biggest problem they've probably ever had. I don't want a girl to get beat to death by her parents because she wasn't getting the love she wanted from them, turned to the wrong person, and got herself in a bad situation. I don't want her to go to some black market abortionist to take care of her problems and end up unable to ever have kids, because things weren't sterilized or done properly. Have we not learned from history? Women are going to do things to get rid of their precious babies if they are desperate to get rid of them. Isn't it better that if they are SO desperate to make that decision that they do it RIGHT, instead of dangerously!?

So. There you have it. Those are my beliefs. I had quit reading new blogs, because I had too many to read... But, now I have been able to drop quite a few people who have flipped me off, called me a bad name, and insulted me based on my beliefs. Because, folks, I'm not afraid to share MY opinions with you. But if you don't agree with me, I'm not going to attack you personally. I'll just agree to disagree. That's how we're different. And that's why I can't be your friend anymore.

Avoidance...

I've pretty much avoided politics lately. For many good reasons. I still kind of am, but there are few things that bug me:

1. The Electoral College bothers me. Why should someone who recieves 50% of the popular vote get 2/3 of the electoral vote. I would feel the same way had the election gone the other way. In the days when your vote really does count (at one point Obama and McCain were 18 votes different in Nebraska), you kind of feel like it doesn't if you live in a state with 55 electoral votes, and you KNOW that the candidate you choose is not going to win that state. Hypothetically.

2. The media angers me. Journalists are supposed to be non-partisan aren't they? Why is it that newspapers and places that are supposed to be informing people about the pros/cons of voting one way or the other can take a side? Doesn't that make their reporting biased if they promote one position??

And now we're moving on... Getting ready to see what this new president will in fact be able to do for us. I am a bit concerned about the Democrats being in control of EVERYTHING... Mostly, because they generally are nasty to the military and that's our main source of income. And because they like to control everyone's lives by legislating things that don't need to be legislated -- like common sense. But that's just my opinion. If people are too stupid to use common sense, then they deserve the consequenses.

What are your thoughts on the electoral college and the media??

Warning! This post contains graphic material.

No pictures of b.oobies or anything perverted. Just discussion of vomit. Stop reading now, or forever hold your peace.


I don't know what went through my mind last night when I decided to take my prenatal. I haven't been able to take it for a few days. I really don't know what went through my mind when I took the Omega 3 fatty acid gel pill. You know, the one made from FISH OIL. It tastes like vanilla when you swallow it.

I figured out why it tastes like vanilla. The vanilla covers up the fact that it's made from FISH OIL. I took the vitamins because I thought for sure since I haven't been able to keep any food in my stomach, I needed some nutrition... Why I thought the pills would stay when food doesn't, I have no idea. Alas, the pills were rejected. And the fish oil pills -- they don't taste like vanilla the second time. They taste like.....

Well, if you've ever been to Omaha, going to say, a dance club... and you've parked in the Absolutely Fresh parking lot... They taste a lot like that.... Let's just say that if you've never smelled Absolutely Fresh... it's most definitely NOT fresh smelling... It smells more like a bunch of dead fish have been heaped in the alley for a week or so -- in 100 degree weather. I'm sure it wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been for the fishy resonance.

Not the Momma is afraid I'll never be able to go to the beach again... I told him no.. The beach on its worst day smells as good as freshly washed laundry in comparison.

Lesson learned: No more fish pills. Ever. Ever. Again.

The end.

I was sitting here on the couch, minding my own business when I felt a breeze. A cold breeze. I thought it was odd.

And then I heard it. The sound of the back door shutting. Little Monster was the only one in his toy room. The dogs were outside. Not the Momma was sitting a few feet away from me on the couch. Surely Little Monster hasn't learned how to open doors with the safety 'toddler-proof' handle covers installed? I must have not completely closed the door when I let the dogs out.

After letting the dogs in, and locking the deadbolt it happened again. A cold rush of air wrapped around my ankles, followed by the marked slam of the back door. No one in the house had moved. Except, of course Little Monster. He has learned how to open doors -- despite safety covers, despite locked dead-bolts. At least he doesn't know how to unlock the handles yet. When that happens, the world will surely end.

Especially because lately I don't have the patience to deal with that in a humane, friendly, loving, motherly way. It is very difficult to have patience with a child whose main source of entertainment is running his dump truck into the dogs and then letting out a shrill high-pitched scream that I'm certain is setting off car alarms around the county. I can deal with that normally, but when I'm hunched over my favorite porcelain chair trying not to let my eyes fall out of my head, trying not to pee my pants as my stomach hurls its contents out with enough force to stop the rotation of the earth, I lose my patience a little quicker than normal.

We're on the way to the Wal-Marts to get some Zofran. It's a very limited supply, so I'm saving it for those days when I want to leave the house looking like a human being who is more than three seconds from death. And for next week when I am travelling to Dallas for a conference. Let's just pray that my health insurance isn't a jerk today and thinks that I should be allowed to drink and eat... and you know, not visit the hospital for IVs.

Oh yeah. If my dog exhales within three feet of my face again, I'm giving it away to a random commenter. Which dog? Yes. They come with a supply of food, toys, medicines, and a kennel.*

*I'm kidding. -Maybe.

Favorite...

This has become one of my favorite songs... It is just so true.

Thanks Eden for posting it on your blog!!

Friday Fun! ( a little early)

It's kinda easy this week. We started our "friday fun" on Thursday. It will continue until Saturday at 1:00. When I kick everyone out of the house.

Today was Little Monster's birthday. So we had cake,





opened presents






and Little Monster spent the evening playing with his new toys. Let's just say he had fun making them race around the room. It was a little out of control to see him lining them up as though they were getting ready to race side to side, and then they began to 'race' front to back in a line. He also got "mack" from the movie Cars. We spent a good part of the night loading and unloading Lightning McQueen into and out of the trailer for him. Yeah. Fun.

We also carved pumpkins. After it was over, Not the Momma confessed that he had not been looking forward to it. It was seeming to be more of a chore than a fun family activity. He also confessed that it had been a lot more fun than he thought it would be. And then, I had to tell him that he was a jerk. No. I'm kidding. I felt the same way. I hadn't really wanted to carve pumpkins. We had tossed out the ideas of just painting faces on this year, since Little Monster would be able to do it himself. We did end up carving pumpkins. A pirate for Not the Momma, a goofy face for me, and a cute chubby cheek face for Little Monster. Then, I had fun playing with the camera:



With Flash


First attempt without flash


No flash - sturdier surface.

Yeah. It turned out to be a good night. Little Monster went to bed way late. I managed to eat food and keep it in me. Not the Momma watched a spooky movie. It was a night memories are made of.

What do your pumpkins look like??

Is it possible?

Surely not. It can't be possible that exactly two years ago I was sitting in a hospital bed with an infant. It can't be possible that the 9 lb 10 oz baby boy has turned into a 31 pound child who walks around and has opinions.

Unfortunately, I think it is. After all, two years is a long time in a military family. In the two years since you was born, we've lived in two states and two countries (if you include Not the Momma's Bahrain home), we've lived in three homes, seen the Grand Canyon twice, and been from one coast of the country to the other.

The most amazing thing that has happened, is that we have been able to be a family. you know your Daddy and love him more than anyone else in the world. It was obvious this morning when you came into our bedroom and spent the entire morning climbing on Not the Momma and smashing your head into Daddy's in just the way you do. You love the mornings when you get up and find Daddy still lying in bed.

The first second I saw you, Little Monster, you stole my heart.

You still have it. Especially when you scrunch up your face and do the cheesy family grin, or when your're doing something hilariously naughty.

You're a good kid. I couldn't wish for a better child, with a bigger heart or sense of humor. Little Monster -- Happy Birthday. Your Daddy and I love you more every day, with every hurricane bath time, with every demand to watch meh-mo (Nemo), merman (The Little Mermaid), and Cahs. With every demand for my breakfast toast, or his Peanut Butter M&M's we are happy you are here to share our lives with us. Heck, I think even the dogs like you as long as you're not trying to run you over with your dump trucks.

Happy Birthday. Keep growing, but not too fast, and stay who you are. We love you.

Quote of the Night:

Announcer:Tonight! Biggest Loser Families, then Law and Order, SVU!

Guys from SVU: If ever there was a night of television that honored donuts, this would be it.


So. So. So. Wrong. On so many levels. Biggest Loser and SVU, honoring donuts. Just. So. Wrong.

PrompTuesday! It's back..

What I really mean is that I am back to doing participating in PrompTuesday. The morning all day all night every moment sickness is taking its toll. If I live until December 1st, I'm sure I'll live through the rest of it too. Go visit and read the other submissions. This one should be a fun one to read!

The theme for today is:

This week, tell us who you are, what’s inside, where you’re from. Share your memory fragments, those visions in your head, those figments that make you, you. What bits and pieces formed your whole? Are you whole? Tell us.


I am from summers spent eating Popsicles on the front steps in my swimsuit.

I am from winters spent eating Oreo's meant to be snowman eyes, and the dessert for my bagged school lunch.

I am from summer mornings with the smell of gasoline, the feel of vinyl seats, and the feeling of humid air as we drive across town to summer school.

I am from daily bicycle rides to school, and then from school, afternoon snacks of carrot cake and milk.

I am from summers spent at the lake swimming, water skiing, getting sunburned, smelling of Coppertone, fighting flies, and sitting around the campfire after dark, competing for the first satellite sight and the best roasted marshmallows.

I am from a group of friends, all packed into my 1986 Chevette, cruising the main drag on our way to The Coffee House for Mocha's and deep conversation, followed by late night Taco Bell cravings and possibly missing curfew.

I am from afternoons and weekends spent working at Dairy Queen and sampling everything on the menu, while having whipped cream fights, trading food with the guys at Taco Johns and Wendy's, and making 'maple leaf' faces.

I am from a place where the summers are hot, the winters are freezing, and the spring and fall are too short, where the mountains are a day away, but worth the drive.

I am from happiness mixed with a little pain, a little sadness, and just enough learning.

I am from four states and counting.

Dwelling on the Good.

Philippians 4:8
Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. (New American Standard Bible)

********************************

A long time ago, before my mom and I became a Lamaze class drop-outs (that's a story for another day), we had to share what aspect we wanted our child to get from our partners. I gave an aspect of both Little Monster's Daddy (his blue eyes) and my mom (her tidiness). I am a slob. Not the Momma doesn't quite qualify as slob, but he does qualify as a guy most of the time. He's spent too much of his adult life crammed into a tiny tin box or living in his bachelor pads to need "neat and tidy."

Since we moved into this house, I have decided that keeping the place up was part of my job. I have been doing a good job, but this pregnancy has put a damper on my efforts. Lately, cleaning hasn't been part of my daily routine. I have been letting a lot of things go. Yesterday Not the Momma helped (read: did most of the work) to get the house cleaned. He even picked up after the dogs in the backyard and bathed them. I really really appreciated all of the hard work that went into yesterday. Today was very relaxing, and I owe it to Not the Momma. Thanks baby!


****************************************************
Little Monster often runs around with a straw-type sippy cup of some liquid --water, milk, diluted juice, etc. Recently, the cups have started to spill. I'm not sure if it's his habit of chewing on the straws, or what. This afternoon, I was reading my novel, Not the Momma was upstairs --doing who knows what-- when I heard furniture in the kitchen being moved around. Then it got quiet. I waited a second and snuck up on Little Monster to see what he was doing, expecting nothing good.

I was quite surprised, when I found him wiping the floor with a napkin. He noticed me and said

"Mao. maamin." (which means, Milk, Napkin)

My child moved a chair so that he could get to the napkins easily, took one out, and proceeded to CLEAN UP A SPILL HE HAD MADE.

Next up: Potty training, cooking, and then -- I'm done!

I'm not sure if it was the cleaning we did yesterday, or his nature. But I got my Lamaze school wishes. Little Monster has his Daddy's beautiful blue eyes, and my mom's tidiness. Some of the time.

Complainers.

****Update 10/27. The letter was published. Just delayed. For what reason, I don't know, but it was posted today.******

There are a lot of complainers in this world. They are really starting to get to me. Do you want to know why? The people who are complaining the loudest, are the people who have NOTHING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT.

Some people in my neighborhood have gotten upset, because they have been told to remove political signs from their front yards. It is in violation of the lease they signed when they moved into our neighborhood, AND it is in violation of the rules the service member is to follow. (Basically military personnel are not allowed to post political signs at their place of residence if they live in base housing -even privatized housing. Any political sign larger than a standard bumper sticker is not allowed in their personal vehicle either.)

Someone said that it wasn't THEIR choice to come to here. It wasn't her CHOICE to live in housing. I disagree. And I told the entire neighborhood exactly how I feel. I am tired of listening to the spoiled people in our neighborhood complain about every little thing that has gone wrong.

If you are married to the military, you are IN the military, whether you like it or not. You don't have a choice. This is what I put up on the boards. I don't care who reads it. I will stand by my opinion. You always have a choice. ALWAYS. This was my response to the "I didn't choose to come here" whine:


Get used to it. Your husband is in the military. You don't have a choice in most things anymore. You think you have a choice over where you are stationed, but really, it is in the hands of the detailers and where the service member is needed. There are lots of people who live for cheaper than we do out in Seaside and Marina. They get better internet, but, like Chris I'd bet they have a sex offender living within three blocks.
NO matter what, you really ALWAYS have a choice. You could have chosen NOT to move to Monterey when your husband was stationed here. You could have chosen to NOT marry someone who was in the military. You ALWAYS have a choice.

There are a lot of things that are unfair about this neighborhood. I can't put a screen door on my house, we're not allowed to put ceiling fans in upstairs, no political signs, etc. But I CHOOSE to put up with those inconveniences to know that my neighborhood is safe for my child. I CHOSE to live in housing because the community was better than anywhere else we could afford.

Perhaps we should all take a look at what we HAVE instead of what we don't have and can't have. We have beautiful homes with loving families inside. Our bellies are full and we get to sleep at night without worries. There is job security in the military that can't be found in the real world. Many of our husbands will retire and collect a pension that can't be guaranteed in the civilian world.

It was in the lease that you signed when you moved in that you cannot put up political signs. If you don't like it-- you have the choice to give your notice and move to a different neighborhood.

It seems to me that there is a lot of complaining about silly things going on in our neighborhood. I can't say I never complain, but then I take a look around. We have more than 80% of the people in the military, 90% of the people in this country, and 99% of the people in this world. Take a moment and thank God for all that you have been blessed with. This home, this duty station, this life, they're only temporary. YOU have the CHOICE to be happy with it, or you can be miserable.

I don't know about you, but I'm going to choose to be happy with the knowledge that my husband is most likely NOT going to have to deploy while we are here. I am going to be happy because he is home nearly every night in time for dinner, with no worries about being called back. He doesn't have to stand overnight duty, we can make birthday party plans without worries of something breaking, or some disaster happening. I can rest in the knowledge that my husband will be home for the birth of my child, to witness its first smiles, first laughs and first steps. I choose happiness.

Which choice are you going to make?

So. Tell me. Is there something that you're choosing to be miserable about? Maybe it's time to give up that negativity, and CHOOSE to be happy about something else.

P.S. Not the Momma. I'm sorry. I promise I will try not to post things like that in public again. I know how you feel about it.

P.P.S. After all the complaining in our neighborhood about our lack of "free speech" the moderator denied that post. Or at least, hasn't posted it yet. I have not gotten an email from them explaining that it will not be posted, etc. So much for free speech, eh?

Friday Fun

My new addiction:

JigSawDoKu!! It's like Sudoku Jig-Saw Puzzle style!

Try it and let me know what you think!

Boo-Boos!

I'm not talking about Halloween. I'm talking about ouchie boo-boos.

Little Monster had his two year visit today. After the discussion about our guns (we don't have any) and the location of our knives (yes, they are placed out of his reach -- every day except Thursday. That is when he has his playgroup. We get out the knives so the kids can all play together. Ha.) and whether he knows what HOT is, he got his shots.

Since Not the Momma has been away since Little Monster has been born, he hasn't been around to witness the joy and celebration that goes along with stabbing a small child with long needles full of fluid that burns upon injection. Not the case this time. He got to come along. And while Little Monster didn't cry as much as he has in the past, he did turn beet red. The difference was that this time he screamed MOM MOM MOMMMMMMAAAAAA the entire time.

And when it was done, through tears, he started saying "boo-boo, booooo boooooo mom boo boooo."
In order to keep myself from bursting into tears, I asked "Aw, poor little guy, do they hurt?"
LM's response was, again, through and with tears, "YEEE-EEEEEESS!!!" Somehow my two year old managed to twist the word YES into a two syllable word, and in those two syllables he used more condescension and tone in a more appropriate way than some adults can.

He finally quit sobbing as we left the doctors office. But that wasn't the end of the drama. Oh, NO! Not the Momma tried to get him to walk to the van on the way out. When he was on his feet, he'd take two steps, then he'd knock his knees and thighs together while his feet were normal width apart. He looked like a knock-kneed goofball. And then he'd whine until he was picked up. This went on for the duration of the morning until I took him to the park. It isn't convenient for him to have to be carried through the park, so he pretended to be better. Or maybe there was some miraculous healing?

The next drama session was saved for right before nap time. I took off his pants and he saw the band aids. And again. It started. the bawling, and saying "boo-boo!!!" through tears.

Luckily, again, there was a miraculous healing and everything is fine in the household. And even better -- we don't have to see the doctor to get shots or anything else for another year.

Wordless Wednesday?

There will be no wordless posts here today! But I do have pictures to share. Lately, Little Monster has decided to boycott clothing that covers the bottom half of his body. We say "Let's put on pants!" and the child lays down, brings his heels up by his ears, and wraps his arms around his knees. No big deal, right? The child is only nearly two. Surely you can wrangle pants onto him without too much trouble? No. This child has the strength of the Hulk. When he is determined to not wear pants, only Daddy can wrestle them on him in a timely manner.

And that is why he is accompanying us to the doctor's office tomorrow to get the shots for his 2 year appointment. Because there is no way this morning sick mom can hold Little Monster down well enough for the poor nurse to jab those needles all the way into his thigh.