Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Good Car

Remember the unfortunate demise of my old car?

Which then led to the getting of my new car, which I have been severely negligent in properly blogging about?

Well it's a really awesome car, and so totally perfect for me.

Because it reminds me, repeatedly, about needing to change it's oil.

Which is so freaking cool!!

Usually I tend to notice that the car needs an oil change a few hundred miles after it was due, and then often end up taking another month to actually get it done.

(Sorry Subie)

But Tiggo (the name of the Ford 500 I now have) starts beebing at me like crazy when it gets to be time, and when it's past time it beeps at me annoyingly every time I turn the car on.

Car and me, so totally made for each other.

(And thank you, dear husband, for figuring out just the perfect car for me years before I ever would have :-)

Monday, August 30, 2010


Remember the post about "old" being 10 years older than yourself, as quoted from my father quoting his father?

Well today is my (not old yet, according to him) father's birthday.

Which is really important as it means Kristina gets to help Grandma bake him a cake, an activity she has been greatly anticipating (and practicing for!) for the last week.

It's also really important, because it means I get to eat cake, an activity I've been anticipating for the last week.

(Since Peter insisted we throw out the last of Kristina's leftover pony cake, instead of my vote for bringing it with us so I could continue to eat it....)

Sadly, my father wasn't nearly as excited as Kristina about the pony party idea.

He's also much harder to shop for, since his ankle surgery means plastic pink princess heels are out of the question.

And do you know how hard it is to find a sparkling tutu in the mens department??

And do have any idea how hard it is to fit 64 candles on one little cake?!?!?

Ah well, I hope it's a happy one anyways Dad!

Oh, and Kristina made you a rock present to go along with your sand and gravel birthday cake last week, I'm sure there somewhere out in the yard waiting for you still.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Weatherly Woes

Colorado generally has pretty nice weather.

It just does.

But that doesn't mean it's predictable weather, nor in any way consistent throughout the day, let alone a few weeks!

And I have sadly lost the innate ability to dress for Colorado, in my years living in non-extreme weather environments.

Like, the one where you dress in tank tops and shorts despite it being a chilly barely 60 out, because within two hours it'll be over 90 airtemp before sun factor.

Or the one where you never ever leave the house without a sweater or light jacket, because even if it is 90 right now clouds can move in and drop the temps by at least 20 degrees in minuets.

Or the part about needing completely different wardrobes for the difference in climates between the mountains and everywhere else.

(Really, it's only thirty minuets for driving, at a minimal of 15 degrees temperature difference....)

And my forgetting of these things totally shines through in most of what I packed, particularly for the girls.

(It's not like I have much of a personal wardrobe to work with anyways, as I only seem capable of shopping in Gymboree and Hanna Andersson.)

But I did remember one very important detail, and that is that the basement of my parents house (which is where the guest rooms are) gets COLD at night.

And packed warm sleep wear for all.

So despite the occasional off outfitting, at least the little ones have been nice and toasty at bedtime thanks to the wonder of fuzzy footed sleepers.

Now if only I could convince Peter to wear one, the dinosaurs really are just too jurassicly awesome to outgrow.

Saturday, August 28, 2010


Ever heard of Squishables?

They're very large round stuffed animals, and from what I can tell from the pictures people send them, almost entirely bought for young adults.

And I totally want one.

But as I'm the young adult with young children, I disguise my personal want of squishy stuffed animal cuddliness by saying I want one for my children.

And have actually been quite close to getting one for Kristina a couple of times, but never quite followed through.

Moslyt because I get caught up in having to many adorably squishy choices.

I mean, the cow is just so happy looking, who wouldn't love a cow? But then, I may be slightly influenced by my own dear (stuffed cow) Eggtha being so fondly from my youth.... and since this would be for Kristina, I don't want to just get her what I want.

(Although the cow really is pretty freaking awesome.)

So then I consider the dinosaur, because she does like them and I'm all for gender neutrality on toy choices. But Rexy just isn't as smiley happy looking as some....

And then I go through another dozen, each one making me less certain about what would be a good choice than the last. Because really now, it is so hard to just chose one.

So then I chose six or eight, and load them into the shopping cart.

And realize I'm about to spend $300 on stuffed animals when there's barely enough room for Kristina on her bed with all the ones she has already.

Not to mention details like them being bigger than Adrianna right now!

And I (sadly) close the web page, and continue on my merry (not spending money on things I shouldn't be spending money on) way.

BUT, there may be the occasional young adultish reader of my blog out there who has the overwhelming need to spend $44 on the cutest little stuffed octopus (seriously, cutest thing ever!) do adorn their bedroom with quaint squishable pride.

And it would be so totally (squishibly) awesome!

Friday, August 27, 2010

Questionable Intellegence

I graduated from the IB program in highschool, made honor roll while getting myself a BA in college, was admitted to law school, and began a masters program.... and yet I am still an idiot.

Yesterday's brilliant beyond brilliant move involved the complex piece of technology, the cell phone.

See, Peter and I and the girls went to the super nice super big Flatirons Crossings Mall for the morning.

(The first outing we've done with our kiddos in the last week, thanks to the supreme awesomeness of grandparents.)

And at one point during our marvelous store browsing and adorable children's clothes buying (really now, do people even do anything else at the mall besides buying baby clothes?) Kristina and I needed a potty break and Adrianna was due for some nursing time.

So us girls made a beeline for the Nordstrom's restroom, since they have this super cool ladies lounge (private room of comfy couches) tucked in there as well, and Peter went on his merry man-store browsing way.

And we had the inspired plan of using cell phones to reconnect up when the leisurely baby snacktime was finished.

And when we were done I whipped out my cellphone and told it to call 'Peter' while expertly pushing the stroller with one forearm.

(And by expertly I mean I actually managed to get out of the ladies room this way.)

And the cell phone kept going to voicemail after two rings.

And I kept calling it.

And it kept going to voicemail after two rings.

And I kept calling it....

(You get the idea here.)

Now I did happen to stumble into Peter on my way to the Disney store (totally figuring Peter would eventually go look for us at those types of stores if he couldn't reach us) while still attempting to call him, at which point I declaired that his phone was either off, broken, or sucking big time for getting a signal while in the mall.

To which Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket, to show me that it was in fact on and claiming to have service.

So I called 'Peter' again, and held up my phone going to voicemail again to his ear while his phone was happily sitting in his hand doing absolutely nothing.

At which point he glanced at the phone, and pointed out that it was dialing our house number.

Go me.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Midnight Madness

Alright, vacation blogging is hard.

See, despite going to all these new places and doing all these new things which would be awesome to write about (especially if I actually managed to remember to bring the camera along occasionally....), it is exhausting going to all these new places and doing all these new things!

On top the physical exertion of daily walking miles around at the brisk pace my husband calls moseying (since we don't have children to slow us down and necessitate frequent stopping, which my lazy butt is so accustomed to), and the staying out to all hours of the night (well, 9:30pm or so), our children have been punishing us for leaving them.

Yep, punishment by the cruelest form known to munchkins: EXTRA sleep deprivation.

The last three nights Adrianna has been refusing to allow me to put her down in her crib.


All night long.

And just in case you're wondering what that's like, I suggest filling a pillowcase with 18 pounds of eggs and trying to gently cradle it against you for the night, while not cracking any of the eggs.

(For an even more realistic approach, I'd replace 6 of the eggs with a ferret and duct taping the whole thing to your nipple. But as that will almost assuredly result in something horrible happening, I would have to advise against it.)

((Unless, of course, there's a video camera rolling.....))

She has also been spazing for no discernible reason every 45 minuets or so during the night despite being in my arms, where she starts thrashing and doing a house waking squawking cry for a few minuets, at which point she will stop and continue to nurse or paci suck and drift right back to sleep.

And last night Kristina decided not be outdone in punishing her child-ditching, theater-going parents, and added a couple nice rounds of puking.

Now, remember the part about us being at my parents house?

Well, that also translates to me having trouble finding extra sheets while stumbling around half asleep in the dark while holding a nursing baby who (according to her, at least) cannot be put down under any circumstances.

BUT, the most wonderful saving grace of last night was my most wonderful husband.

Because even though Adrianna was very much on a held-by-lactating-parent-only kick, Kristina was totally happy to have Daddy holding her and getting her into a dry sleeper and tucking her back into her towel covered bed.

And then he offer to sleep on the trundle in her room to make sure she's ok during the rest of the night after her third vomiting incident.

Daddy really is pretty awesome.

(Even if he doesn't lactate!)

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Visiting Grandparents

We've only been visiting my parents for a few days thus far, but it's made for quite a different expierience.

See my parents would also be the grandparents of Adrianna and Kristina (unbelievable, I know), and they take their grandparental role very seriously.

Like the one that says they get to watch the grandkids while Peter and I go pretend we are normal 20somethings who actually do recreational date like things together.

And we have been out to numerous leisurely lunches, shopping, on a Celestial Seasonings tour, browsed bookstores, enjoyed the sights and sounds of Pearl Street, and attended the Boulder Dinner Theater.

And it has been both awesome and really, really strange.

Like, we actually have adult conversations at those leisurely lunches, and don't spend the time telling small children to sit down and be quiet, or attempting to place all items on the table out of baby extendy arm reach.

And shopping means going into non kid oriented stores, and spending as long as we want looking at things without needing to quickly vacate the area when a small child who may or may not belong to us (ahem) knocks over an endcap display.

And the Celestrial Seasonings Tour, well that's just some serious tea drinking and hair net wearing fun right there and a must for all Boulder area visitors.

Bookstores..... yeah, we only enter those for story time with kids along.

Pearl Street actually wouldn't be terrible with children along, although we'd probably spend the whole time in Into the Wind, which ranks right up there as one the top 5 most awesome toy stores of all time.

(Grandrabbits is at the top, and a total MUST for any with children who ever find themselves in Boulder, Colorado.)

And the Boulder Dinner Theater's production of Peter Pan was just indescribable!

(And would be child appropriate when one has 10 year olds for children.)

Unfortunetly, I have been exceedingly lacking in bringing cameras along for any of this, so you all will sadly be stuck using your imagination for how awesome all of these things were.

Plus half of them wouldn't allow photography anyways.

Thank you, dear grandparents, for taking your grandparental duties so seriously and caring so expertly for your beautiful little grandchildren.

Their parents really appreciate it!

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Flying, With Husband

I've done many a plane trip just me and the kiddos, but very few with my husband along.

And I have to say, it makes for a different experience.

First off, the ability to leave all the stuff (and maybe even the baby!) with someone else during Kristina's signature "I have to go POOPIES!" run through the airport to find the nearest restroom is a priceless luxury.

Because navigating into airport restrooms with children, bags, strollers, and luggage is an unholy nightmare I would not wish upon my enemies.

(Well, I might wish it upon those really snarky few fellow flyers who get cranky at Kristina for her good behavior and make snide comments about babies flying when the baby isn't making a sound, but that's a whole different rant....)

And having somebody to help push the stroller and carry bags is exceedingly awesome, not to mention how enjoyable it is to converse with another about things other than what the big bad wolf just did the princess and why we have to go rescue her before the alligator comes.

It was also the first time I've gone through air travel with somebody willing to sacrifice himself to the evil TSA interrogation and screening just to save me the annoyance of a pat down and to assure that our daughter can have her beloved chocolate milk in flight.

And it was the first time I've traveled with someone who chose to enjoy the Heineken lounge.

I have to admit, joining him in that hypothetical world where my every waking second isn't spent caring for small children doesn't sound half bad.

Especially since it was really good beer.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Costume Concerns

This year will be Adrianna's first Halloween AND the first Halloween where I get to dress up adorable siblings in adorably coordinating costumes AND (probably) the last Halloween where I'm dressing up a true Baby.

So needless to say there's a lot of Halloween costume stress going on over here.

(And by over here I totally mean just in my mind, as nobody else in the family really cares.)

Now, Kristina was an adorable monarch butterfly last year, and the costume still (barely) fits. And since it was a nice (Tom Arma!) costume, I'm really all for using it again if Kristina's agreeable.

And as Kristina still totally doesn't understand how this whole Halloween thing works, looks confused when I ask her what she wants to be, and sees getting to wear her butterfly costume as a super special treat, I'm going with her being agreeable.

Except that barely fits really does mean barely fits. She can't raise her arms all the way up in it, and if she grows a micro-centimeter taller I have serious doubts about being able to fasten the top button on it.

And that snug fit means NO room for the three sweatsuits she'll need to stay warm in upstate New York.

So I hesitate to immediately procure a perfectly coordinating one for Adrianna.

(And have had trouble finding a (currently produced) baby bumblebee one I really like.)

(Cause really now, what would be cuter than being able to sing "I'm bringing home my baby bumblebee" while holding a baby bumblebee?!)

So I've been pondering different costume ideas.

My all time favorite for a family costume event is to have me as Princess Leah, Peter as Hans Solo, Kristina as Yoda, and Adrianna as one of those little teddy bear looking things.

(Ewoks??? Definite proof that we really must get the whole set when it comes out on Blue Ray in 2011, so I can make sure all my terminology is correct when I teach the girls about the dark side.)

((And our car would totally be the death star, since we got the Darth Vader voice for our TomTom.))

(((Which is so unbelievably (geekily) awesome to listen to!! And I'd highly recommend watching the recording studio videos on the TomTom site as well! )))

But getting right back to Halloween costumes......

Another idea I had for the family was to have me as Little BoPeep, our children as sheep (which totally means I'd get to smack their behinds with a shepherd's crook to get them to behave, right?), and Peter as a wolf (that part was his idea).

Or the child scaled version, of just having Kristina be BoPeep and Adrianna her little sheep, which admittedly would be pretty cute.

I also had the thought of being trendy and making Kristina Alice (in Wonderland) and Adrianna the white rabbit, but then I couldn't find any Alice costumes that weren't skanky looking.

(If it's identical to something Peter would flip out over our 16 year old wearing, I'm going to rule it inappropriate for a preschooler. Gotta have principles, y'know.)

And I started to feel a little bad about just making Adrianna an accessory.

But not quite bad enough to stop me from thinking I should make Kristina a monkey and then put Adrianna in a banana costume.

Or better yet, make them both monkeys and put ME in the banana costume, because they most certainly are always driving me bananas!

(Ha Ha... Ha....??)

Except that with Kristina newest love of all things pink, princessed, and tutued I stopped to ponder whether she'd want something more girly for a costume.

Or at least consider the potential event that she would be mildly upset by other children having tutus and wings and wands and her being in a monkey suit.

But this isn't a hard problem to remedy, it just means putting a tutu ON a monkey costume, and since I know we've put tutus on just about everything else.....

Wait, whadayamean there's NO tutued monkey costume?!??

Come on, there's numerous tutued bumblebees , tutued watermelon, and bat fairy and for crying out loud!

(Really now, BAT FAIRY??)

Not to mention this indescribable tutued turkey.

Oh wait, I think I just found a (absolutely horrifying) girly monkey one......

On second thought, I'm thinking we can make that butterfly costume work again this year. Or like, anything that doesn't involve that monkey thing or this abhorrent pony costume.....

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Rasberry Florid

I discovered, quite by accident mind you, the greatest idea EVER for helping people diet by simply eating less food.

Make everything they put in their mouth taste terrible!

See, I went to the dentist for a cleaning (only a little overdue... like a year or three...... but no cavities so it's all good!) and they put on this varnish florid stuff in the delightful choice of raspberry flavoring (it was that or bubblegum, I'm just not convinced the other would have been any better).

I was given the instructions that I could eat and drink with it on, just not anything super hot, and that it would brush off at bedtime.

Well turns out dentists totally LIE.

Or at least greatly understate and leave out critical details.

Like that food and drink will end up combining with bitter raspberry florid flavor to make your super yummy leftover Chinese food taste horrid.

And we won't even discuss what that nasty lingering taste does when combined with leftover chocolate birthday cake.

And this is where it becomes a brilliant weight loss strategy! It's so much easier to not eat huge amounts of leftover birthday cake when it tastes like crap, instead of the yummy goodness it really is.

And I'm pretty sure that would be true of just about any yummy (read: fattening) food!

Now, getting back to the evilness of dentists, remember the part about "it'll come right off when you brush"? Well, I don't know what their definition of 'come right off' is, but if everything is STILL tasting like fake raspberry florid DAYS (and many, many brushings later), it sure didn't come right off in my humble (desperately needing non-raspberry-florid-flavored-chocolate) opinion.

So look, the stuff not only has made me drastically cut down on food intake, it's also made me a champion 12 times a day tooth brusher.

Nasty tasting varnishes: it'll be big for weight loss AND promoting good tooth health.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Friday, August 20, 2010


I absolutely love checking out the stuff left at the curb with a big 'FREE' sign taped to the top of it.

Which is interesting, considering I view garage sales with some disdain.... apparently paying $2 for someone's junk is unreasonable, while simply picking it up off the side of the road is much a more acceptable activity.

Or maybe it's that the people at the garage sale marked something as $20 when it's really only worth $2, and I hate haggling.

I suspect the lack of obligation to take stuff greatly increases my want to view it as well, since no-ones watching the free pile I don't feel guilty browsing and driving on, while I get uncomfortable with the piercing seller's glares shot my way as I disdainful pass over their boxes of warped tupperware lids and leftover-from-the-80s clothing.

I also frequently don't have any cash with me beyond the 38 cents Kristina is currently playing with in her car seat, and just feel plain stupid writing a check for single digit amounts.

And of course, the only things I really look at are kids stuff.

But I think I've had a few good finds, including a toy lawnmower, toy wheel borrow, sandboxes, and a cat carrier.

And a few days ago there was a pretty good sized plastic kitchen up the road from us marked FREE, that I thought would be GREAT for outside play for Kristina right now since she just loves cooking things up with sand and dirt!

(Mmmm mmmmmm! Mud pancakes with a dandelion on top and a sandcoffee on the side!)

Now if only I had managed to convince Peter to come drive home from work and pick it up in his truck before somebody else made off with it....

(Those evil bastards!)

Sadly Kristina will be forced to continue concocting (or cooking, as she would have you believe) her sandbox delicacies in the toy wheel borrow.

In summary FREE is good, garage sales are bad, and ultimately I'm only interested in the kids stuff anyways.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

My Life

Tried to computer draw an idea I've had for a while, edited to not include people since I suck at faces with Paint. It came out better than I thought it would, since its been years since I've done much of anything like it. And doing it made me want to go dig out my drawing pencils and seeing I could still create anything through that medium.

Now to only have another 12 hours in a day for all these creative pursuits....

(Oh, ans it gets bigger if you click on it, just in case you want to actually see the lace on the baby booty and such.)

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Bye Bye Babies

Peter and I had pretty well agreed that we were done having children by the time he got home from the deployment a few months ago.

(Mostly because I had run out of arms to hang on to potential additional children with and am so sleep deprived I really can't fathom extending my known sleep loss another two or three years on top of what I'm already paying.)

(And Peter only wanted 2 in the first place.)

And as Adrianna is in her 7th month of post-uterine life, we've started to accumulate outgrown baby stuff.

(Which is very different from the outgrown toddler stuff which is still being kept for Adrianna's soon to appear toddler years.)

(Although both make for a child's closet overflowing with boxes.)

And with the news that we'd be heading back to Oklahoma this spring, I'd made the (personally horrifying, as I had neatly boxed and saved everything of Kristina's, even the stuff I didn't like!) leap of logic that we would (probably) not be moving the outgrown baby stuff back with us.

But then consoled myself with the knowledge that the physical necessity to "get rid of the baby stuff" could be put off for a few more months, because I'm sure by then I would be a in much better place to let go of all the sweet little pink dresses and itty bitty hats.

Or at least have fully accepted the idea and made it part of THE PLAN in my mind of how all of the move will work.

And once THE PLAN is set, it can never ever be deviated from.

(Unless, of course, an act of God and/or inception would happen.)

But then Peter came home from work yesterday.......

The spouse of one of his co-workers, who is expecting a baby girl in October, had a baby shower this past Saturday (also known as Kristina's 3rd Birthday Bonanza Day).

A seriously awful and extra crappy baby shower.

Like to the degree that Peter said that not having one at all (which totally pulls the personal heartstrings of me never having a baby shower, despite having two babies) would have been far better than this one she had because her family spent the whole time ridiculing her and the few meager gifts given were total junk sort of extra crappy.

(Except, I'm sure, for Alyse's ;-)

And then Peter was asking if we had boxes of baby clothes Adrianna had outgrown, and if he could bring them in to work today for them.


Of course she can have the outgrown babyclothes!

(As long as she'll overlook the tear drops from me packing up the stupidly overpriced Gymboree outfit (which really meant a lot considering at the time I was working at an hourly rate which is now below the minimal wage, and Peter's wasn't much better) we went out and got the morning of the ultrasound where we found out Kristina was a girl, since I'd been drooling over the store windows since before I was even pregnant.)

(And the ones on Adrianna's "I love daddy" sleeper that she wore when we she was 4 days old and we went to the airport to pick Peter up from flying home from Iraq on leave, where I can't even begin to describe the look on his face when he held her in it in the airport beyond it being one the extremely few times I have seen tears in my husband's eyes.)

So I dug out all the little sizes and got them neatly organized into a couple of boxes, attempting to tell myself it was a great reason to get around to sorting out all the stuff Adrianna has outgrown that was still floating around in her dresser, and reminded myself repeatedly about how much the hand-me-downs we got for Kristina meant and helped when we didn't have anything.

And kept thinking of how many hand-me-downs we're still getting, and how much I still like getting them and how much wear the girls still get out of them.... that somehow doing this is completing the great circle of hand-me-downs life.

And tried really hard not to be sad about physically following through with the decision to have no more babies.

(Thank goodness we're not quite drastic enough to be getting Peter fixed yet, I'd be more of a mess over it than he would!)

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Education, My Dear Watson

Politicians are stupid.

Or maybe it's just that they like stupid ideas.

Or maybe it's just that they end up saying stupid things.

Or maybe it's just that they're ordinary people whose ordinary statements are taken as nuggets of gold (or crap....), plastered all over the media, and immortalized for all time.

So I think that all the people who get to be in charge of stuff (a very lose term, to be sure, but should cover all areas of "being in charge" in regards to the governing bodies) should get specialized education once elected to their post.

Particularly education pertaining to what they are expected to govern.

Or better yet, what they will be talking about.

Before they go on the record as having said something about it.

That way, instead attempting to pretend that they have some idea of what they are talking about, they might actually have some idea of what they're actually talking about.

Craziness, I know.

See, elected officials are just ordinary people who somehow convinced other ordinary people that they are both better at and able to do something extraordinary.

No specialized education is required for most elected governing positions.

Government for the (ordinary) people, by the (ordinary) people.

Which is totally ok, and a key principle behind the founding of our country, and all that.

But once elected to a post, there should be on-the-job training for what they will be dealing with. Like, if elected to the board of education, they should obtain extensive knowledge about our current education system.

Preferably before trying to "fix" it.

And if elected officials are making statements about, say, the economy or the national deficit, they really should have some basic knowledge of how economics work.

(You know, the parts about to efficiently decrease debt you need to decrease spending AND increase income that even I seem to know.)

((And I chose my major in college specifically to avoid taking intermediate microeconomics!))

We require the doctor that is going to operate on our bodies and the lawyer who will sue the incompetent doctor to have gone through extensive schooling and certification before being allowed to practice.

But politicians barely need to verify that they know how to read, if they get lucky through some fluke of alphabetical listing and butterfly ballots.

And yet somehow we expect them to have vast knowledge of just about everything, and mock them mercilessly when they don't.

We should not be judging these people harshly, as they are merely mortal.

Very stupid mortals, at times, who are just in great need of some additional education.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Murphy's Day Off

Kristina had her party on Saturday as planned, and Murphy's Law was officially suspended just for the occasion. Which also means that this post is going to be pretty boring, since Kristina's party went off without a hitch. There were no comically catastrophic cake failures, the weather was perfect, and we didn't even have a trip to the ER!

Well, we almost had to go to the ER, but it would have just been for Peter or me.

(Which seems totally befitting after we hijacked her party....)

See, I had been slicing garnishes for pony punch (why on earth was I doing that? I have no idea, the 'sparkling lemonade' instructions told me to, and apparently it never occurred to me that no-one would be able to see those pretty colorful slices anyways through the foggy plastic pitchers it was going in because no store in upstate New York would possibly consider stocking a plastic punch bowl in August), and managed to almost sever my middle finger mid-lime.

Ok, it probably wasn't almost severed, but it DID start gushing a whole lot of blood AND stinging like crazy thanks to the lime juice covered knife.

And there was a moment when Peter was attempting to put the third (after I'd instantaneously soaked through the first two) bandaid on extra tight to act as a tourniquet to get the bleeding to stop where I was eyeballing the clock and deliberating whether there was any chance at all that I could get stitches done in the ER and back home in the 45 minuets before people were supposed to show up.

But in addition to making my finger turn purple and throb, Peter's tourniquet also made the bleeding stop.

(Thank you dear husband for keeping my finger from needing stitches, I'm very sorry I was whining about you making it turn purple at the time.)

The only other real eventful note of Kristina's party was Peter's own middle finger stabbing incident (while prying frozen burgers apart with his pocket knife), which was also fixed via bandaids.

(Nothing says "made for each other" like matching self inflicted flesh wounds.)

Hence why I think Murphy was taking the day off.

There were a few minor moments of stress, only half of the expected people actually showed up (really now, if you tell me you're coming and mention to other people who are coming that you'll see them on Saturday, you really should actually show up), and the party favors just had to arrive at the last possible second, and Adrianna did have a blowout diaper on her matching sister outfit before I could get any pictures of them together, and there was one Kristina meltdown point during....

But all in all, it was a good party!

The kids played in the dirt (and had we added water, I'm sure they would have been set for entertainment for the next week at least), food was eaten (although not nearly enough as we have leftovers to feed another two or three parties in our fridge AND are leaving on vacation in less than a week), Adrianna was adorable (she even humored Beth and was agreeable to being held by her (not me!) for quite some time), adults chit chatted (no really, about stuff other than our kids bodily functions even), and the weather was just lovely.

So now on to the not-overly-exciting-but-still-adorable-and-nearly-perfect-party picture show!

Please take note of the prettily garnished pony punch, absolutely ginormous pony balloon Kristina LOVES, deliciously perfect pony cake, and the bright pink plastic cups Niki so wonderfully decided to coordinate her outfit with.

After people left Kristina thanked me for her happy birthday party, and then promptly fell asleep amongst her beloved balloons.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Aged 3 Years

Dearest Kristina,

Today marks the day of your birth for the third time, and you have come a long way in those few brief years.

You have learned to walk and talk, run and jump. It seems like bandaids are always on your elbows and knees, but you have never been deterred in the slightest from sprinting full speed down our driveway or demanding "higher higher!" when pushed on the swings. And for that I have great admiration of you.

You have learned to talk. And talk and talk and talk and talk. And although occasionally I really just wish you could stop for a few minuets, most of the time I love hearing your stories and your view of the world. You chatter away on the phone to Daddy and your grandparents, which they find unbelievable cool. You know basic baby sign language, and will probably still be making the sign for "more" when your mouth is full of chocolate ice cream when you're 16. And it will still make me smile and chuckle.

You have learned to draw and paint, mold and glue. You sometimes even manage to create things that resemble what you claim they are. And I find your lollipop head with single stick line 'people' adorable. I can't wait to see what you will write when you get past the letters "s" and "t" (as somehow you can only draw circles, not 'o'), and hope Daddy is the one to teach you how to spell. And I'm sorry for all the times I get annoyed when you paint yourself instead of the paper, you'll be a great artist yet. Especially when you can clean up your hands yourself without covering my entire bathroom with painted hand prints.

You have obtained control of all your basic body functions and can handle most of your personal care, should you chose to. You can help yourself to food left on the counter or in the lower part of the fridge, and can even get yourself a drink of water if I leave a cup out for you. Every day you are taller and can reach more, and assert yourself more and more as an autonomous human being. Which is really very astonishing and terrifying to your daddy and me.

You have had some of the busiest few years of you life mentally, physically, emotionally, getting to where you are now, and have come a long way from that little (but always opinionated) pink blob that you started out as.

They have also felt like 3 exceptionally long years to me.

Your first year was the horribly lopsided boobs, thanks to your particular nursing habits.

The second brought was filled with sleep deprivation, as a result of your refusal to go to sleep and inability to stay down for more than an hour or two at a time.

The third has been the year of tantrums, where I have carried you kicking and screaming out of more places than I care to remember.

What will the 4th year of your life bring us??

Hopefully lots of laughter and learning and love, and a little less making you "husherated".

(She's been saying "you are making me husherated!" when she gets upset recently, I think it's a combination of 'frustrated' and being told to hush, but one never really knows with children......)

Happy 3rd Birthday Sweetheart!

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Party Time

Today is Kristina's infamous 3rd birthday party.

And it has totally been taken over us.

And by "us" I mean Peter and I.

The take over happened slowly, piece by piece... a party theme feeding Mommy's little obsession here, a menu to make grill happy Daddy ecstatic there.

Invites only sent to people in this state that we wanted to hang out with (and not say, to random kids in her preschool class who I might find the parent's face vaguely familiar in a non specific way, as I have never spoken to them ever) that happen to be in upstate New York this weekend.

But nothing too terrible at any one time.

(And Mommy's little obsession will make for some seriously awesome party favor packages.)

(Assuming that box ordered from China gets here by 9am today............)

And then, Peter just had to go by the Class Six (aka Fort Drum liqueur store) when we were getting foodstuffs for the affair.

And buy a pony keg.

He attempted to justifying it as befitting for the My Little Pony theme, on account of it being a pony keg.

Ha. Ha.


And that his buddies, I mean, the fathers of Kristina's friends told him to get one.

I told him the only way he and his buddies were drinking it at the party would be out of the bright pink plastic cups I had gotten as "extras" when ordering the pony party supplies.

And he agreed.

Sooooo... in retrospect, inviting 'the whole family' may not have been quite the best approach to a small child's birthday party.

But at least everyone there should be having fun.

With their bright pink plastic cups.

Friday, August 13, 2010

The Sleeping Baby

The saying goes "let sleeping babies sleep".....

When the baby is tired, the baby will be miserable (and as a result make everyone else within earshot miserable), and I really do try my best to let Adrianna sleep when she wants to and continue to sleep as long as she wants.

But for the longest time Adrianna would insist on going down for her morning nap 15 minuets before we had to leave to take Kristina to preschool.

(And stalling her would only work in so far as one didn't mind listening to a seriously pissed, tired, cranky baby squawk at the top of her very loud longs.)

I couldn't just leave (soundly sleeping) Adrianna home by herself, and I certainly can't expected Kristina to get herself to preschool (although her driving my car really is a terrifying thought...).

So I attempt to load sleeping Adrianna into her car seat without waking her.

And always fail.

Then we would drive to Kristina's preschool, during which Adrianna would often fall back asleep, so I can again attempt to carry her still sleeping little sweet self, but this time into the building to drop off Kristina.

And always fail.

I will often go to run errands next, since navigating stores with the usually happy baby is substantially easier than with the usually happy baby and the excitable preschooler. But of course, by the time Adrianna and I have driven to the store, she is usually asleep again.

So I sit in the car to let her sleep, since the poor thing has been trying to take her morning nap for the last hour without a whole lot of success.

But then time passes, and we start to run out of time to get the things done that I was hoping to do before needing to go pick Kristina up from preschool. So I attempt to carry the still sleeping baby into the store.

And always fail.

Going through the stores usually tires Adrianna out so she's ready for her mid-day nap right about the time I'm going to pick Kristina up. So I can again attempt to carry her still sleeping into the school.

And always fail.

And then we drive home, where she usually falls asleep during the ride, for me to attempt to carry her still sleeping into the house since Kristina usually isn't in the mood to just sit quietly in the car for a while.

And always fail.

Sleep little baby, sleep.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Extinct Unicorns

A friend of mine recently made the comic her profile picture on facebook, and in addition to be amused by it, I was also reminded of an illustration seen sometime during my childhood.

It was a fairly similar idea, which had unicorns, dragons, and griffins off to the side laughing and scoffing at Noah and his ark.

I think the ultimate message for children was supposed to be something about the lack of faith leading to their demise.

But I saw it as an affirmation that the mythical creatures as having existed, just like dinosaurs, and to merely have gone extinct.

I had whole visions of going into the field of archeology or paleontology, and digging up unicorn skeletons.

(Totally that scene in Jurassic Park where they're dusting off the Velociraptor, except with a unicorn instead.)

And then I was going to be a seriously awesome scientist, and bring unicorns back to life... except then I'd have to make sure they didn't come back evil possessed boogers that ran around stabbing everyone with their horns......

I had better be a really awesome scientist in this future imperfect life.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


It is our third wedding anniversary today.

And interestingly enough, it has proven to be something difficult to write about for me.

See, first I just went through and outlined the numbers, how many kids we've managed, how many times we've moved, how many deployments, that sort of thing.

But it just didn't seem like very good "anniversary" material.

(And came across much more as me just whining about the last three years of my life, not celebrating them.)

(Even if we have had 2 children, moved 3 times, and gone through a deployment.)

So then I tried to write about our wedding.

But ended up in a long ramble about the high cost of wedding dresses and the undervalued result of having that picture on your wall for the rest of your life.

(Which really had practically nothing to do with our wedding considering my dress was a whole three hundred dollars.)

And THEN I tried recounting what we'd done for our first two anniversaries, and realized that they really weren't much to write about.

(First one was spent caravaning from Colorado to Oklahoma with me driving our car and child and Peter driving the UHaul holding all our worldly possessions, just to give you an idea about our romantic celebrations.)

So I asked Peter what I should blog about.

And he was no help at all.

(To be fair, he did try, but just told me to write about whatever I wanted to, which is totally what I do anyways, just in case you hadn't picked up on that by now.)

But then I was thinking about a conversation we had early that day about my clothes, and realized that it encapsulates marriage very well.

P: "I like those shorts on you."
M: "Yeah?"
P: "Yeah, it's ok for some women to wear certain things."
M: "Uh.....what?"
P: "It's just that people who are old or who have had kids can wear different clothes."
M: "You're saying I'm old?"
P: "No no, just that having kids changes your body."
M: "You're saying my body sucks because I've had kids?"
P: "No! Just that it's good that you don't wear daisy dukes."
M: "You're saying my ass would look bad in daisy dukes?"
P: "NO! I was just trying to encourage you to wear shorts more by saying I liked them on you! That's all!!"
M: "Ooooh... k............."

And see, this is when I attempted to simply accept that as he was trying to give me a compliment, while being understanding that his Y chromosome caused overwhelming male-foot-in-mouth syndrome (MFIM) right then.

And because we've been married for three years, I have encountered MFIM before, and learned that it's really not worth picking a fight over.

(Even if he managed to say my rear end was old, fat, and would be inappropriate looking in daisy dukes, all in less than two minuets of conversation which he initiated in attempt to compliment my shorts.)

And because we've been married for three years, he knew when it was time to stop talking and make a quick exit from the kitchen.

See, marriage is all about love and understanding.

Even when half the couple has occasional MFIM troubles.

Happy 3rd anniversary Darling, I love you!

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Podiatrist Troubles

I have these moments in my life where I feel incredibly stupid.

And not the normal variety of "I remembered to bring the grocery list out of the house but then left it sitting in the car when I went into the store" kind, but rather the "I really am an idiot" kind.

The most recent would be a podiatrist appointment for yesterday.

(Flat feet are not improved by pregnancy, just in case you were wondering.)

It's been a few years and few pregnancies since I'd been to one, so I decided to call and my feet checked again.

(Ok, I'd been whining a lot about my feet hurting and Peter made me make the appointment, but the point is basically the same.)

And after calling several to find the one that takes my insurance (since we're several moves away from the last time I've been), I made an appointment.

AND I even managed to write it down on the calender.

AND I even REMEMBERED about it independently of the calender the night before.

AND I even had the thought that I needed to look up the address so I could find it in the morning that very same night before!

(All these things are really great for my sleep deprived, baby babble eaten, slightly stressed about an upcoming birthday party and cross country trip planning brain to keep track of.)

So I went online to look up the podiatrist....

And had the horrible, horrible realization that I didn't remember which podiatrist I made the appointment with.

I'm pretty sure it was in Watertown (as I wrote down Podiatrist Watertown 9:30 on the calender.... obviously neglecting to note which podiatrist that would be), and a google search (which I'm very sure was my original podiatrist locating search method) showed three.

Now, one of these is also marked as 'permanently closed', so I was going to take the great liberty on assuming that my appointment was not at that particular establishment.

Which only leaves two.......

Since it was after 11 when all this was happening, I did have the (really not very brilliant) thought that perhaps I could figure out which office it was at by their voice mails.

See, despite not remembering in the slightest the name of the podiatrist or which street it was on, I did remember that they were only open Mondays and Thursdays in Watertown, and thought that they might have a message recording saying such.

Well, turns out podiatrist offices suck for easily disclosing their hours.

So I had to suck it up and call them in the morning to ask the great question of "do I have an appointment here today?".

(This was almost as great as when I called Dish complaining that our satellite-which-is-called-cable was broken, only to find out that we have Direct TV.)

Except that, despite this being a moderately reasonable solution to my stupid problem, it had to get more complicated.

Kristina had preschool in the morning (hence why the appointment was scheduled when it was), which meant that I had to be leaving the house over an hour before the appointment.

And it turns out that podiatrist keep very lazy office hours, and are not open nice and early in the morning any more than they are open at 11pm on a Sunday night.

So I had to look up the addresses and directions and phone numbers for both, so I could sit in the parking lot of Kristina's preschool (while nursing too, mind you) to call and ask the oh so humiliating question of "are you my podiatrist?"

And because it is my life, despite there being 50/50 odds, there is of course a 90% chance that I would chose the wrong one to call first.

So I had to call both, just to make sure.

Because even worse than calling and sounding like an idiot is showing up at the wrong doctors office and looking like an idiot while also missing your across town (apparently) appointment.

(Which I did NOT do.)

((This time.))

And it was a really good thing I did, because apparently my appointment was at neither.

(Did I mention the part about how I'm sitting in my car attempting to figure out where I am driving to when all this is happening?)

So, thanks to the most miraculous invention of all time, the internet on the cell phone, I attempted to look up podiatrists again, to see if I missed something before.

Remember that one that google said was closed? And that I assumed my appointment wouldn't be at? Well, turns out that google was, shall we say, mistaken, and that assuming things really does make an ass out of oneself.

Since they were in fact an open and functioning podiatrist office.

AND had my appointment scheduled.

I'm pretty sure the receptionist only thought I was a little bit of an idiot (after I exclaimed "You're not closed?! Do I have an appointment with you?!?" when she answered the phone), and was kind enough to give me directions anyways.

In a mostly unrelated note, one should use extreme caution when doing a google image search for "foot", as some seriously bizarre images come up as a search result.....

Monday, August 9, 2010

100 Days

According to the counter thingy, this is my 100th blog post!

Somehow this seems momentous, although it really probably just another irrelevant measure of time passing.

But the past 100 days have made me work on forming complete sentences that do not contain the words "abababaa" and "oogaboogaboo", which means it's probably been mildly beneficial for me on a personal level.

Or like, we can pretend an intellectual one.

(Ah yes, I do remember how to use spell check....)

I'm not sure what counts as success or failure with blogging though.

I personally feel somewhat successful since I wanted to do a daily post and have actually (amazingly) managed to do that.

Granted a few of the posts really weren't much to write home about, but I still maintain that the pure act of getting something posted each day should totally count when dealing with insomniac hyperactive children, returning from war husbands, and a house that has self-generating-piles-of-crap kitchen counters.

(No really, I swear papers put on the counters totally start breeding like rabbits every night.)

But then, is success measured by fame?

The only things I ever manage to make the news for seem to involve breastmilk and classified ads....

(Note to self, make blog post about taking out a classifieds ad to sell breastmilk.)

Or perhaps a blog is not successful until it has a certain number of followers.

But what would that number be? 10? 100? 1000???

And what about those devoted few (or lots, who knows!) who read it daily but aren't 'followers' according to blogger? They should totally still count!

And there really should be some quality control stipulation for the followers.

If you happen to come from a family of 20 children, just having your immediate family members following would boost your follower point way past where I'm at now without meaning anything other than you have a big family.

So maybe success counts when random strangers start following your blog, not because they know you (and just want to see pictures of their grandchildren), but because they enjoy your writing.

But then, would there be the facebook effect where everyone follows everyone else's blog just to boost their follow numbers while really not giving a damn about who is writing or the content written?

(Although I do think it'd be pretty cool to get to 100 followers eventually.)

Would getting paid to blog count?

Probably, but then not getting shouldn't count as a failure, since monetary value can be hard to apply to aspects in life beyond money.

(It's not like Mother Teressa was getting paid those big Christmas bonuses.)

Never fear though, I have come up with the true measure of successful blogging. It compiles the need for attractiveness to strangers, and the fame, and the exposure of the blogger.

The true measure of my personal success in blogging: making it onto The Daily Show or The Colbert Report.

(FOR the blog.)

(NOT my breastmilk.)

((Which totally isn't to say that milk isn't newsworthy or awesome in of itself, it just isn't what I want to be famous for.))

(((Because really now, lactating isn't nearly as much of a superpower as people make it out to be considering half the population is equipped for it.)))

((((But I degrees, and and am getting a little carried away with parentheses.))))




So yes, I wanted to thank all of you for having stuck it out for the first 100 days, and for giving me the occasional comment (I really like getting comments!), it is extremely gratifying to know that at least a few people out there in the internetland do in fact read what I write.

(Even when it's a little crazy.)

(Or involving far to much detail of bodily fluids... sorry 'bout that......)

Happy 100 days of blogging to me!

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Beautiful Dresses

Having a soldier for a husband means you deal with a lot of crap, like deployments and moving across the country every 2-3 years.

But it is not without some fun perks along the way.

And the latest exciting perk: MORE balls!

Yep, you remember those super formal fancy dress dinner and dancing event which I just spent a week blogging about back in July? Well there's going to be another one at the end of October.

AND possibly one in December as well.

And I am totally stoked!

See, I have this slight affinity for dresses (which would never be known by usual jeans and ratty tennis shoes), and see absolutely no problem needing to procure and wear some additional ones.

The shiny taffeta, the crinkley under layer of tulle, the beading, the ruching, the chiffon... oh yes, I do love gowns!

(I'm sure my mother's memories of my childhood spent pining to wear fancy party dresses to elementary school are coming back right now.)

And despite having just gotten a new, extremely 'ball-gown-esk' dress, I keep looking at more, which are every bit as much of a big poofy gown.

(Admittedly, there's not a whole lot of options other than that if you actually follow the dress code, but I would be drooling over the big poofy ones even if it was acceptable to wear something more casual.)

And why are new gowns needed?

Because it'll be three balls in less than 6 months with the same group of people.

Ok, and because I just love the fancy dresses!

(I'm also pretty sure my mother is remembering our annual Easter dress shopping and needing to drag 4-12 year olds me out of the prom dress section, with me begging to just try one gown on...)

So now I have legitimate reasons to be scouring the David's Bridal online clearance section, looking for some more beautiful dresses!

(Not that I would ever be browsing just to see if there was something at a really good price or whatever, just in case there might be a last minuet formal function requiring gownage to be worn and what not....*ahem*......)

(Actually, with how my life goes, that "last minuet formal" isn't too unbelievable.)

Thank you, dear Army, for fully fulfilling my fancy dress cravings this year.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Sisterly Love

A dear friend of mine, Alexandra, has a brother.

A two year younger brother, who also managed to keep the permanent role of 'baby of the family'.

And when we were teenagers I was quite amused by hearing the stories of their childhood, especially the same story told by her, by him, and by their mother.

(It was incredible how different the same sequence of events seemed depending on who was viewing them!)

And for even greater amusement one day, we dug out some of their old family photo albums.

The sequence of pictures went something like this, as narrated by Alexandra picture by picture:

"There's me playing in the sandbox."
"And there's Cameron [the little brother] checking out my tricycle."
"And here's me noticing Cameron playing with my tricycle."
"And there's me pushing Cameron off of my tricycle."
"And here I am crying and sitting in timeout for pushing Cameron off of my tricycle."
"And here's Cameron happily playing with my tricycle."

Yep, there were numerous sequences of pictures that went like this, with only slight variations of the details.

And there were family portraits prominently displayed where I would ask Alexandra "why were you crying in that picture?"

And she would say "I think I had just gotten in trouble for kicking Cameron."

(Oh boy.........)

But the craziest part of all is that I think the two of them actually got along fairly well for the most part growing up, and certainly have a good sibling relationship now as young adults!

So perhaps the occasional slight (if dramatic) distress on Kristina's part for mommy allowing Adrianna to play with, well, just about anything of hers (and at times the baby toys as well) won't cause too much long term trauma for either....

But then, how will they remember each other when they're adults?!

Will Adrianna remember Kristina as tattley (a common lament of the younger brother husband of mine), or will Kristina be convinced that Adrianna was horribly spoiled (a common theme of the childhood stories Alexandra would tell)??

And is there even the slightest amount of influence possible on my part as a parent???

Ah well, regardless I'm sure it's going to be quite the (sisterly loving, of course) trip getting there.

(Now if only I could get them to smile for the camera at the same time.....)

Friday, August 6, 2010

Birthday Questions

Kristina's third birthday is fast approaching, and it means some important decisions have had to be made.

What is the appropriate level of girlyness for a party theme? After all, every single birthday party Kristina has been to EVER was heavily Disney Princess themed. Would she be missing out without one? Or has it become so overdone that the last thing anyone needs is another round of cheap disposable crown headbands? And I don't want to trap her in a 'girly' theme, dinosaurs or jungle animals really would be ok with me, except that she hit 32 months and suddenly fell in love with all things pink, princess, and tutued. As a pink tutu loving child myself, I certainly don't want to deprive her of that! And then in today's world of striving for the new, we get things like pink princess pirate monkeys... oye!

Who is appropriate to invite to this event? Some of her little friends for sure, but can I just invite the friends that have parents who are my friends that I want to hang out with for the afternoon? And what about the friends from different sects of life, the dance parents don't know the FRG parents who don't know the neighbors... would any of that be a problem? What about adults that don't have children but would bring presents? Or who I'd just want to hang out with during all this?!

Where does one host some crazy conglomerate of people? If there are any kids at all they need a place with space and diversions to keep from driving all of us adults crazy, not to mention all the concerns for refreshments (or really, cake). And what does one do for organized activities at a 3 year old's party anyways? Beer pong is totally out (at least for the kids), and I've always thought pinata's were kinda morbid....

(Sweetheart, please take this baseball bat and whack your favorite character until his or her entrails burst forth in a waterfall of candy, at which point you will swarm to the ground beneath and fight each other like possessed howler monkeys over a tootsie roll, oblivious to the fact that there's a full handful of the stuff in the goodie bag each of you will be receiving shortly.)

When is it ok to ignore gender roles in regards to goodie bags? Do I really have to bother selecting yo-yos for some and wands for others? And what happens when my child would rather have a matchbox car than a necklace??

Why are we doing this again? Oh right, because my child has been asking for her birthday cake and presents for the past 6 months....

And most importantly of all:
How much more critical toy (gifts) mass can our house tolerate before the ratio of children stuff to adult stuff is upset, which would surely cause immediate implosion? Or at least the inability to have any room in the house not be a synonymous with 'the toy room' for the amount of toys in it at any given time.....

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Altruistic Baking

The past couple of weeks I've been bringing baked goods (ie- cookies) to Peter at work.

And even though I know how fond he (and the rest of his battery) is of my cookies, that is not the entirety of my motivation.

Or even like, much of a consideration at all other than assuring my ability to get away with it.

I totally just want an excuse to stop by his office and say hi occasionally.

(Yesterday it even managed to get me a lunch date with him!)

And offices (even the military ones) will never turn away a wife with a container of fresh baked cookies.

See, if I really just wanted Peter to have cookies, I could just make them and have them sitting on the counter when he got home from work.

And if I really just wanted him to get popular with all his coworkers by bringing in awesome home made cookies, I could just get them ready the night before and have him bring them to work with him in the morning.

But no, I just wanted a reason to stop by and see him after I drop Kristina off at preschool (his office really is just right down the road!), so I deviously concocted the perfect plan for achieving this under seemingly altruistic (and appropriately doting) motives.

Yep, gotta love the power of the cookies.

I love you Darling, hope you love all the cookies you've been getting.

(Oh, and I don't know what it's been doing to your office popularity, but mine's gone way up!)

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Squirrel Armor

I am exceedingly amused by squirrel armor.

(Why yes, it IS exactly what it sounds like: itty bitty platemail fashioned for and modeled by a squirrel.)

But it brings up some important quandaries.

Like who is the squirrel knight fighting?

I bet it's the hamsters, they always were a shady bunch.

And there's nothing scarier than a hamster with a miniature katana.

(Except maybe a hamster with a katana and a wakizashi.)

And even though the master armorer made this little fellow a little broadsword and shield, is that really enough for a squirrel?

I mean, if Squeakers (I decided to name the squirrel Squeakers, it's a good name, full of masculinity and warriorness) is anything like the residents in our household, there is no such thing as enough weapons.

Where is his itty bitty mace? His morning star? His flail?!?

And Squeakers' little foot soldiers would need pikes and glaives.

And to properly defend a squirrel castle against those nasty little hamsters he'd need some archers with cross bows standing at the ready.

But then, can squirrel arms even operate a miniature crossbow??

We must make sure Squeaker and his conglomerates are properly armed before entering combat!

Otherwise organized rodent battle would just be inhumane....

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

With Love, From Adrianna

Adrianna wanted to do tonight's blog post.

It sounded something like this: "WAAAAaaaaahhhhaaahhhhhhhh WAAAAAAAAAHHHHH WAAaaaaaAAAHHAaahhhhhh Waaaaaahh WAAAaaaah WAAAAAAAAAAaaaHH WaaaaaaaaaHHAAAAHHHHHH!"

Perhaps it'd be helpful for me to translate that for those of you not fluent in baby.

"Dearest Mother, I am sincerely sorry about perplexing you this evening. I understand that it is normally the time of day during which I go to sleep, and that my lack of said slumber is causing you some mild levels of distress. Do not worry, you have done nothing wrong as a parent. It is merely that as I am only almost 7 months old I am growing so fast that even I perplex myself with my conflicting desires of wanting to take in as much of the world as possible while at the same time being exhausted from a busy day of stimulated growing and learning that was so graciously provided by you. Your kindness and wisdom shines through as you comfort me and coax me into a sleepy daze despite my fatigued protests of not being tired. Thank you for all that you do to so expertly care for me. Goodnight Mother dearest, I love you."

What, you're not buying it?

Perhaps it's slightly influenced by my personal wishful thinking, but it still sounds reasonable, right?


Alright fine, I'll go upload the universal translator:

"I don't wanna go to sleep! I don't wanna go to sleep! I don't wanna go to sleep! I don't wanna go to sleep! I don't wanna go to sleep!"

Sleep tight sweet child, Mama loves you.

(And be glad that your sister conditioned me to take evenings of this in stride.)

Monday, August 2, 2010


The next step in Peter's military career is the (infamous) Captain's Career Course.

And it looks like he's going to be going to it early.

Or at least earlier than we had previously anticipated.

Which means (assuming the Army doesn't change things around to much) we will be on our back to the grand state of Oklahoma next spring.

And I have officially put off panicking about this until after our month of block leave traveling craziness (late Aug-late Sept).

Althoguh I think I really might just watch more sexy Hugh Jackman dancing and singing as a stress relief.

Now if only he'd be wearing the Wolverine costume during the musical....

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Peanut Butter Facial

Now from the title of the post, you might think I'm referring to some new age hippie beauty secret.

(It does exist.)

But no, I am merely talking about my child's latest photo worthy mess.

I've mentioned before about Kristina's passion for the full body experience of everything in life.

Including things not normally thought of as a full body experience.

Like a peanut butter sandwich.

Her current method of sandwich eating involves a lengthy and complex ritual.

First the (square cut) bread pieces must be pulled apart.

Next, the chunks of strawberry from the jelly (technically strawberry preserves) must be eaten off of the bread.

Then the slices of bread that held the jelly may be consumed.

And then comes the facial smearing of the peanut butter.

She used to just wipe the peanut butter off of the bread with her finger and then lick her fingers to eat it.

But then she discovered what a nice texture it was to smear on her lips.

And what's good for ones lips must be good for ones face.....

In retrospect, she's doing well to have kept the peanut butter isolated to merely herself, and not covering the surrounding couch, pillow, quilt, ceiling, etc.