Monday, December 6, 2010

Happy Birthday Cullen!

Four years ago we went from being a family of three to a family of four.

I wasn't really sure about having another baby. And I really wasn't sure about the "other" baby being a boy.

First, I didn't want another baby taking my time and attention from Christian. Second, I just never thought I'd feel as deep a bond and connection with a baby boy as what I had with my precious girl.

I could not have been more wrong, on all accounts.

He stole my heart, and to this day hasn't given it back.

He's definitely high-maintenance, to be sure. Always has been. But he sure does have me wrapped around those little fingers. Those cute little fingers.

And his personality!!! He's like no other.

Hubs came home from work this morning so we could give him his gift together:

Fear our mad wrapping skillz.

I told him to get some clothes on (he was butt-nekkid on our bed watching train cartoons) so he could go open his present.

"Did yew git me a car?" he asked.

"Ummmm... what?" I asked.

"Yeah. We got you a '65 Mustang. Now get dressed!" Hubs said.

We took him outside on the back patio, where his gift had waited all night.

He opened it and got so excited!

He immediately jumped on and took off... then stopped, cocked his head to the side and asked, "Where's my Mustang?"
Love you, buddy. Happy birthday to my sweet Baby Love.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Him's So Sweet

I was holding Cullen a few minutes ago, just loving on him and snuggling with him. I was thinking back to four years ago this night, when I went into labor with him, after walking up and down our street looking for our dog. Tears slowly ran down my cheeks, and I held him a little tighter.

"Momma?" came the sweet little voice.

"Hmmm?" I asked.

"I tooted."

Thanks, Cullen. Way to ruin the moment

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

The Perfect Jeans

There have been times in my life (nay, years) when I have not owned a single pair of jeans. Not one. Either I couldn't wear them to work (actually, all of my post-collegiate employers have discriminated against the jean)or I didn't want to spend the ridiculous amount that stores charge for cotton or I just didn't find them necessary.

At this point in my wardrobe, I am jeans-rich. As in, I have lost count of the number of jeans in my clothing rotation. That's not counting capri jeans (although I don't know how many pairs of those I own, either), that's only the bonafide, waist-to-ankle jeans.

Since Hubs gave me a pair of beautiful boots for our anniversary this past January (I don't remember how many years we've been married. Wait. If we got married in '97, and it's 2010, that means we're knocking on, what? Fourteen years?) I have worn the jean with gusto. I wear yoga pants or workout capris (that's really a misnomer; I don't work out. They really could
more accurately be called, "run around the house and stop Calamity Jane from breaking my stuff" pants) around the house, but if we go out to dinner, or take the kids somewhere, or meet someone for lunch, I reach for jeans.

As I've said, I have many pairs, but only one that really makes my skirt fly up. They were the perfect color (emphasis on were), the pefect fit, the perfect length. I loved them. They were the jeans that, on that one day of the year when all my jeans were clean and neatly hanging in the closet, were the ones I reached for. They were the jeans that, right out of the dryer, felt great. None of this "wear them for a day and they loosen up enough to feel good" stuff. They were denim perfection, if you will.

Well. A couple weeks ago we were going to a party (don't ask me whose party. I don't remember. Wait, it's coming back to me. No. No, it's not. I have no clue.) and I was hiking myself up to get into Hubs' really tall truck, and I heard the rip of doom. The rip that lets you know in no uncertain terms that your jeans have left their body and gone on to a better place. I reached behind me, and just under my but-tocks (to quote Forrest Gump) was a new ventillation system. Running horizontally. As in, Daisy Duke-style jeans. I am not a fan of the Daisy Duke-style jeans.

I am mourning their loss, even now. So much so that I could not bear to give them the proper send-off that they deserve. Instead, I sadly hung them back in my closet, hoping I can find a way to salvage them. They still have the baggy knees and the folded up hem, just how I liked to wear them with flip flops.

All my other jeans were the same cut and size, but a different fabric, apparently. My other jeans fit perfectly right out of the dryer, but after about an hour of wear, they loosen up so much that I don't have to unbutton or unzip them to take them off. I find myself constantly jerking them up throughout the day, even rolling the waistband, and when I need to use the facilities, I can just pull them down. Kind of like they're elastic-waist jeans, except they're not. It annoys the crud out of me.

So I bought a new pair of jeans last week, a size smaller than the others. The only problem is that I have to do some serious squats and lunges before I feel they're appropriate for public wear. But then they loosen up and are just fine. I haven't actually washed them yet, and am kind of nervous to see what size they'll be after my dryer has its way with them. They are really getting a foothold in the place in my heart reserved for great jeans.

And now it's time.

It's actually past time. I've worn them a few more times than is probably socially acceptable, and they're ready for their first wash.

I'm sitting here, in my too-loose-already jeans, hoping against hope that they'll make it through to the other side just fine.

I don't think I have to ask, my friends, for you to send a few denim-related prayers this way.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

My Girl

Last night after I put the kids to bed, I went into Christian's room to talk to her, one-on-one, about her day.

I asked her about school, and her Girl Scout meeting, and her upcoming field trip.

We were laying in her bed, face-to-face, snuggled up talking.

It was in one of the silent moments that she brought it up.

"Mom, Dorothy and I were talking at school today. She said the sign that your parents won't break up is that they kiss. Is that it? Is that the sign?" I could see her little eyes hopeful, and hear it in her voice. This was big. This was important, and she was almost holding her breath, waiting to hear what I'd say.

Earlier that evening, she sat at the kitchen counter doing homework, and pretended to act grossed out (or maybe she really was!) when Hubs and I were hugging and kissing (big, over-dramatic, kid-annoying, smacking kisses) before dinner. After a minute or two, she ran over and snuggled in between us, all smiles, wanting some hugs and kisses for herself.

So "The Sign," was huge to her.

"No, baby, it's not."

"So what is it? What's the sign that your parents won't break up?"

I told her that there isn't one. That parents just have to make a promise to each other that they will stay together.

That's when she said something that I hope I never forget.

"So... you just have to love each other for who you are?"

Sometimes it's hard to remember she's just eight years old.

Monday, October 25, 2010

I Really Have Nothing To Say

But I'll slap something up here anyway.

Today Christian is home with me. Apparently teachers need to have meetings and workshops and workdays and other such nonsense, and don't like having their classrooms filled with unsupervised children while they do.

I don't get it.

So I have all three. And am being tortured with all the Thomas the Tank Engine shows and other cartoons too goofy to even describe.

I completed Christian's costume over the weekend, and somehow got the boys' done, too. So they're ready to be dressed up as three of the most annoying cutest kids EVAH.

Now I need to get motivated. I need to get dressed and go into town to Hobby Lobby. I think I need to find some studs to bedazzle something.

Friday, October 22, 2010

It's Coming Along

I bought the pattern and all (SEVEN) fabrics for Christian's costume on Monday. I took the boys with me to I-forget-how-many-stores to get it all.

Somehow, I completed FOUR pieces on Wednesday: the skirt, the petticoat (what a nightmare that was), the hat and the apron. I say "somehow," because Wednesday is a day that both boys are with me all day, and one of Christian's friends comes over after school for an hour or so. Also, one of my friends and her son stopped by that day for a while. So it wasn't a "sit-on-the-couch-and-eat-bon-bons-and-watch-soaps-all-day kind of day.

Anyway, Thursdays are my kid-less days, since Cullen and Christian are in school, and Aunt Laura and Granny watch Cavan.

I dropped Cavan off, then Cullen, then went to my friend's shop for a bit to help her however I could. That has been my normal Thursday for the last few weeks. But since I have soooooo many irons in the fire now, I didn't stay as long as I have been, so I could get started on the shirt part of Christian's costume.

So I went home and started on Christian's shirt. And then Hubs came home with Taco Bell, and I took a break.

And then got right back to work.

Riveting, isn't it?

Time was slipping away from me, quite quickly. I had such huge plans for yesterday, and they included: completing Christian's shirt, doing laundry, cleaning the house, getting started on some cake work, yadda, yadda, yadda. Goals, my friends. I had them.

I accomplished NONE of it.

I had some serious issues with the collar of her shirt, and ended up walking next door, borrowing a seam ripper, kidnapping my friend (who happens to live next door), ripping out part of the seam, complaining enough about ripping out the seam that my friend took over and finished for me (I. SO. ROCK.), pooling our brainpower until we figured it out, and finally getting it stitched in place correctly.

Gah. Just typing all that brought out some issues I thought I had dealt with and conquered yesterday.

I moved on to the cuffs and sleeves. Two seconds later, and an hour was gone. I blinked and it was time to go get Cullen.

We got back and I worked some more. I blinked again, and it was waaaaay past time to get Cavan.

I piled the kids in the car and was just about to speed out of the driveway when my mother-in-law hero drove up with dinner and volunteered to go get Cavan for me.

I jumped in the shower and did my hair in record time so Hubs and I could jump in the car and drive to Corpus (also in record time). There was a peace officer's meeting. They had AWESOME food. And that's all you need to know about that.

But the way home... Oh, the way home! Hubs had me cracking up so much that tears were streaming down my cheeks. I had forgotten how funny he can be, and how much I love him. I take him for granted too often, but oh, how we laughed last night! I mean laugh so hard you can't even talk. After we got home, he kept it up. I was sitting on my bedroom floor, laughing harder than I can ever remember laughing, tears streaming down my cheeks, and hoping we weren't waking anybody up!

And now, I must go change the 173rd poopy diaper of the day, and clean up approximately 2,572 toys scattered around my living room.

And Christian's costume is mocking me.

I WILL prevail.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Wow. It's Been A While...

Since my last post.

I don't even remember what my last post was about.

The boys are napping (yay!!!) and I'm watching a cake show (double yay!!!) and thinking about my next two projects: a really elaborate (but fun) baby shower cake, and Christian's halloween costume.

I have two weeks to do her costume, which consists of a skirt, a petticoat, an apron, a shirt and a hat. Plus an accessory. Not too much.

And three weeks to do the cake.

Prayers for me, please!!!

Aaaaaaaaaaand... I have some news that I have to keep to myself for now, although I'm pretty darn excited and about ready to burst!!!

Happy Monday to you all!

Saturday, October 2, 2010

They Were Sew Good...

Sorry. That was bad.

I made some cupcakes last week.

I meant to bake 4 dozen, but actually made 7. Dozen.

I know.

So there are eleventy-billion cupcakes, baked and filled, sealed up in my freezer, just waiting to be decorated.

My neighbor and I were having "fun with fondant day" just minutes ago, until she started feeling really lousy. I made a really adorable goldfish, but didn't get a picture. I will sooner or later, since her baby boy's first birthday is next month. She's doing trial runs for the big day. Which explains why we were playing.

Wow. What a digression.

Anyway, last week I made two dozen cupcakes decorated with... well.. I'll just show you.

I die.

Seriously? The cuteness? Too much.

Purple sparkles.

Teen-iny quilts. Love them.

I also made a stand for them, which, in my opinion, upped the cuteness factor.
Half were triple chocolate cupcakes with white chocolate truffle filling and vanilla buttercream, and half were french vanilla cupcakes with milk chocolate truffle filling and vanilla buttercream.
I don't think I can ever again settle for the mediocrity of un-filled cupcakes.
I have tasted, and seen, that the Lord is good.
Oh yes I have.

Monday, September 27, 2010

My Birfday

Last year was unbelievable. It would have been pretty hard to top, had I not married the best husband ever, like, fourteen or so years ago.

But I did, and he did. Topped last year, I mean.

Two days before my birfday, my friend, who just happens to live next door, took me to lunch at a Japanese grill and sushi bar. Two more friends met us there for lunch and a show.

It was so much fun and the food was un. believe. able.

He did lots of tricks, and made a volcano out of fire and an onion, and had a little plastic toy "pee" on the fire to put it out.

Ooooooooh. Fire!

He made the raw meat slither across the grill...

He made a Mickey Mouse out of the fried rice, and stuck his spatula behind its mouth so that it sang Happy Birthday to me.

He also made a heart out of the rice, and made it beat, too. It was cute.

He flipped his knives and threw eggs in the air, and broccoli in my mouth. I caught it. Go me.


Double yum. I haven't been able to get this out of my mind. I went back on my actual birthday and had it again... and then again, two days after that!

Oooooooooooh, sooooooooooooooup! Yes, that's me. One of the rare pics of myself on Ye Olde Blog. I will never win any Miss Photogenic contests, so, enjoy it while you can.

Fascinating, I know.

My friend, who just happens to live next door, gave me a gift basket filled with all kinds of goodies. Jewelry, Jelly Belly Jelly Beans (which are the ONLY jelly beans I like!), cute little packs of candy, and a really cool "gourmet" bottle of water.

Can water be gourmet? I think, once the price of a bottle of water nears double digits, it can be classified as gourmet. Like the ones in the hotels? That you'd rather drink the water from the toilet before cracking open that puppy? Kind of like that.

Later that evening, Hubs and I went to a fayn-cee restaurant at the top floor of the tallest building in our town. The Girl Scouts were kicking off their year, and had appointed as their chairperson a really special lady running for District Attorney of our county. She wanted Hubs there, and so I crashed the party. Just kidding. I was invited, too.

Anyway, since a certain little girl in our house had just signed up for Girl Scouts the day before, and will be attending her very first meeting tomorrow after school, we were really excited to go.

Fast-forward to my actual birfday.

My brother-in-law and sister-in-law brought their beautiful baby boy to town, and we, along with about 392 other people, went back to that Japanese grill and sushi bar, where we all stuffed ourselves silly and enjoyed another dang good show. And by "we," I do not mean Cullen. Cullen most definitely did not enjoy the show. Once the chef stoked that fire, Cullen. freaked. out.

Up until that point, he had been enjoying himself, and stuffing himself silly. Luckily, we had so many people with us that they gave us the back room with the really huge grills. We were the only party there, so we had the whole room (and lots of tables) all to ourselves.

I have discovered that my children love some Japanese food. Each one of them devoured an entire bowl of soup. Cullen ate mucho steamed rice; Christian ate all her fried rice; Cavan ate half of mine. Christian ate all her chicken; Cavan ate half my shrimp (they gave me about 15 GIGANTIC pieces); and Cullen wouldn't touch his chicken because by that point the fire of death had chased him from the grill. They also tolerated the veggies fairly well.

And now that I have updated you with their gastronomic choices, I'm sure you'll rest easy tonight.

I saw Hubs crack a few smiles, and he admitted to me that he liked the place enough to go back.


Anyone else hearing a choir of angels?

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Cullen's First Day of School

Usually Cullen is up by the time I take Christian to school.

Not today.

Maybe it was the steady drum of rain outside the window. Maybe it was the soothing song of the wind.

Or maybe it was the fact that his brother cried off and on throughout the night and they just needed more sleep.

Doesn't matter; I woke two sleepy boys as late as possible this morning, while still allowing us to get to Cullen's school on time.

I tried to force-feed them breakfast (neither one of them seemed terribly hungry) and then got them dressed in cute little matching outfits, right down to their little shoes. Yeah. I'm one of those moms. Honestly, what's the point of having more than one kid if you don't dress them in matching outfits??? Isn't that what The Children's Place is all about???

We took the obligatory "First Day of School" pictures, starting at the traditional spot in front of the French doors:
Then he ran off.

But I caught him again in front of the entryway.

He was obviously done with the picture-taking, so I suggested a few more with his newest prized possession: his John Deere lunchbox. Side note: he has two. His Aunt Kelsey and Uncle Rick gave him one, and our sweet neighbors gave him another. He loves them.

Apparently John Deere lunchboxes make picture-taking tolerable for one more picture.

Finally we were ready to go. We got to the school (amid torrential rain. Can I just tell you how much fun it is to unload a preschooler, a toddler, and 18 bags of stuff from a car in the blowing-sideways rain? Not fun at all. That's how much.) and went inside. Cullen was carrying a snack basket for his teacher:

I surely wish it was full of diamonds and bracelets from Tiffany's, but it just had a bottle of water, popcorn, peanuts, a granola bar, a can of Pringles, an apple, and homemade chocolate chip cookies. The best chocolate chip cookies evah. They don't compare with diamonds and bracelets from Tiffany's, but it's what I could afford and had time to whip up.

I'm not gonna lie. It was a bribe. And, knowing Cullen as I do, I'm not one bit ashamed to admit that.
So we walked into his classroom, and I told him to go give his teacher her gift bribe.
Wow. Type here that many times, and you begin to doubt your writing abilities, but I digress.
Miss Jennifer was holding a teary-eyed boy who seemed on the verge of calming down. Cullen took off to play, and I went to put his backpack away.
I pointed out Cullen and Ganket to her, and told her that I knew they didn't want the kids to carry their security blankets around with them all day, but suggested it might behoove her to make an exception for a bit. She looked at me like I could not be more lame, since he was happily playing with tools. Poor woman. She had no idea what was about to rain down upon her. I mentioned that I wanted to kiss him goodbye, but thought it might make him upset.
She called him over to put his nametag sticker on his shirt. Big mistake. Apparently, nametag stickers remind him of his days at the concentration camp church nursery, and he immediately began experiencing flashbacks FREAKING. OUT.
Hubs says he doesn't like to be labeled.

I got the heck out of dodge, before they could give me a refund and boot his butt out.
I was deliriously happy to be going to Ladies Bible Study at church. I haven't been since I was pregnant with Cavan, and have been missing it so much. I met a friend at her house and we went to her new shop, then to Mickey D's for an early lunch.
That's when it happened.
I got...
It had been two hours since I had dropped him off, and he hadn't stopped crying. They weren't sure what I wanted to do. We decided I would come pick him up after his lunch (no Bible study for me this week) and try to extend the time he stays on Thursday.
When I got there, he was a blubbering, snotty, grody mess of little-boy tears. I watched him through the window, sucking his thumb and following his teacher around as he cried. He finally noticed me standing there, and ran to me. I scooped him up and hugged him and kissed him and held him and loved him.
He's three years old. He went to school for three hours, and says he's done. Finished. Not going back.
But, since I have plans for Thursday that don't include him, we'll see about that.
Maybe I should check out a jewelry store before then.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Oh, What A Day

I felt like SuperMom.
  • I got up early and got Christian dressed and off to school
  • I did the laundry (all of it; nothing but empty laundry baskets and full closets and drawers around here)
  • I made rice krispy treats (and if you know me, you know I am rkt-challenged; not sure why I can make towering cakes with minute details but the rkt eludes me)
  • I made homemade, fresh-squeezed lemonade (the kids love it)
  • I tidied up the house
  • I balanced the checkbook (HAAAAAAAAATE doing this)
  • I paid the bills (not so crazy about this one, either)
  • I bought stamps
  • I mailed the bills
  • I ran a few errands and returned some movies we rented
  • I washed all the dishes
  • Picked up a few things from the store
  • And REFRAINED from taking the kids to a drive-through for dinner since Hubs wouldn't be joining us. Go me.

And then my precious, sweet angels the three yayhoos decided to bitch-slap me put an end to my SuperMom status and pushed me off my self-imposed pedestal.

Hubs told me that when he arrived home at 2:30 this morning, Christian was still up. STILL. UP. As in, had not been asleep yet. I put her to bed at 8:30 last night, and she decided to stealth-play in her room.

At snack time, Cullen left his half-full glass (sure wish it had been half-empty) of lemonade (sugary, syrupy sweet lemonade) where Chubs could get to it. Since Chubs is a drink whore, he grabbed it, attempted to drink it, but ended up pouring it out all over himself and my clean floors.

Side note: look how gigantic that baby is! He's freaking HUGE!

No wonder I called him Gigantor when he was born. Well, that and the fact that he weighed ten pounds.

Back to my day. I stripped the boys and put them in the bath, since Cavan and Cullen were slipping and sliding in lemonade, and tracking it all over the house. It was in the bath that they decided to use the tub as their personal waterpark. I caught them standing up and sliding down the incline, and splashing water EV. REE. WHERE. You know. All over my freshly-painted bathroom. This was while I was mopping up lemonade on the other side of the house.

Don't worry; they're still alive.

But I put all three of them to bed before sunset.

And... just to be really mean... I'm taking the boys to get their shots tomorrow.


Monday, August 23, 2010

No Longer A Blank Canvas

I know it's been a while since I've posted anything. Things have been crazy around here for the last month... but I wanted to (finally!) post the finished cake.

Here's the before... actually, just after I covered them with white fondant.

And here's the finished cake, along with the diaper cake I also made.

Everything is completely edible, and made by hand.

For every toy I placed on the diaper cake, I made an edible one to match.

I cut out thousands of polka dots (three colors; three sizes) to match the ribbon around the diapers.

I made labels for the toy phones. My friend's nickname (Nonni) and phone number is on the non-edible one; the other set of grandparents info is on the edible one. I made them both to match with the same fonts.

I made a mold of the binky my friend wanted on the diaper cake, then made an edible one to match it.

This sugar "shampoo" bottle was one of my favorite pieces on the cake. Until I attached it to the cake, you could see right through it, just like the real thing.

This was another of my favorite pieces. I just love how the little monkey rattle turned out. The bananas, pineapples and leaves looked just like the plastic ones.

Eh. This was okay. It's obvious what it's supposed to be, but I wasn't crazy about it. I made a better powder bottle a couple years ago.

I'm also very pleased with this toy. It looked just like the real one. And when I was taking pictures, I picked up the little blue link in the corner, thinking I had put the plastic one on the cake board by mistake! I made it so realistic that I actually fooled myself!

One of my friends requested this cake. She threw a baby shower for her daughter-in-law, and asked me to make a diaper cake, with lots of toys, and an edible one to match it.
It was such a fun cake to do!
Thankfully (and surprisingly!) nothing broke or fell off in transit.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Blank Canvas

Three tiers of cake, covered in white fondant...

Whatever will the future hold for them?

Monday, July 5, 2010

I Remember

I remember clearly the smell of her Coty lipstick and her Emeraude perfume.

Brushing my teeth with her cinnamon-flavored Close-Up toothpaste was almost as good as a trip to the candy aisle in the grocery store.

There was never a visit that didn't include sliced cantaloupe; the very thought makes my mouth water. I cut up four of them last week, and almost felt her there in the kitchen with me, just from the smell.

I miss her so very much.

Special occasions always included her angel food cake with her fluffy, white seven-minute frosting.

Breakfast was always, always, always silver-dollar pancakes. I've tried my whole life to make pancakes the size of hers, but mine always come out bigger.

I spent two weeks of every summer with her. It was a time of cartoons, talking late into the night, ice cream and pickles (to cut the sweet, of course), afternoon coffee at the local diner and visiting all her friends. She rarely sat at home with nothing to do.

If I were good (and she always thought I was!) she'd let me pick out a toy from HEB, or the Perry's store next door.

I remember making mud pies outside her front door and playing on the sidewalk with those tubes of colored rubber that blew up into balloons.

I remember Christmas decorations all over her tiny apartment: the doll-sized tree on the table in front of the window; the bowl of chewy peppermints next to it; the appliqued felt toilet seat cover with a jolly Santa Claus-- his green gloves hiding his eyes and his shocked mouth a cherubic "o" when the lid was up, and waving cheerily when the lid was down; the giant multicolored bulbs that decorated the outside steps annually.

I remember when I got my first speeding ticket. It cost $88, which was a fortune to me. She mailed me a check for $20, which was a fortune to her. She included a note that I should thank the policeman who ticketed me, since he may have saved my life.

I miss her so very much.

Years ago she ran into Garth Brooks in a store in Salado Springs, Texas. She told him that I was a huge admirer. She got an autograph and a hug for me. I still have the autograph, tucked away in a box, along with notes and cards from her. I can picture her handwriting, and the way she scrawled her name.

She was my soft place to land; my biggest fan; my most ardent defender.

I remember one time, years ago, when my stepsister was telling her about something bad I had done, hoping to get her angry at me. She interrupted, saying, "Tracye is my angel and I love her more than anything. In my eyes she can do no wrong, so I don't want to hear it."

Of course, she was wrong; I've done lots of things I shouldn't. Multitudes of things I regret. But it was such an honor and a comfort to know how highly she thought of me. She wouldn't let anyone come between us or put me down.

I miss her so very much.

When I was in college, she fell and broke her hip. After that, it was one health problem after another. She ended up having her leg amputated below the knee. She didn't let her health stop her from traveling four hours and sitting in the front row of my college auditorium, to see me perform in a musical. At the end of the performance, we all walked to the edge of the stage, still in character, and waved to the audience members, inviting them (but not really wanting them to come up) onstage with us.

She giddily yelled out, "Look! It's Tracye!" when I singled her out to wave to.

She lived another eight months after that.

Hubs and I got married on the one year anniversary of her death. It's a bittersweet day for me.

I miss her so very much.

She called, without fail, every Sunday night, just to chat about the week. I can still hear her voice. I can still remember her phone number, and have actually thought about dialing it, almost hoping some twilight-zone moment will cross my phone line with Heaven's, so I can talk with her one more time.

Some of my worst dreams are the ones with her in them, so real that when I wake up and reality slams into me that she's still gone, all I can do is cry.

She would have gotten such a kick out of her great grandchildren. She would have thought they hung the moon.

She would have been 98 today.

She died 14 years ago. In some ways it feels like I haven't hugged her in forever; in others it feels like I just saw her yesterday.

I wish it was yesterday.

I miss her so very much.

Monday, June 28, 2010

He Almost Has It

Christian was minding her own business, watching Martha Speaks. She didn't even realize we were in the room, much less that the camera was on!


Rhoost Product Review

Christian has a few words about our new Rhoost corner covers...


Rhoost sent us a four-pack of their edge table corner protectors. They're easily installed, with no screws, glue or adhesives.

Rhoost products are not only functional, they're stylish, too. They unobtrusively fit into the decor of your home, while protecting your greatest treasures.

We love them! They're on our coffeetable, and they've protected Cavan from bumps more than a few times.

Leave a comment on this post if you'd like to try one of Rhoost's childproofing products. They're allowing me to give away a Sling 4-pack, which will keep little hands from opening cabinets that they shouldn't be into. I could have used those today, when I caught Cavan in the bathroom with a bottle of Windex he'd taken out of the childproofed (not by Rhoost products!) cabinet!

Christian and Cullen will draw the winner's name out of a hat... so make sure I know how to contact you.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Fathers Day

See edit below picture 2, 193.

Alternately titled: The Post With So Many Pictures Your Retinas Will Bleed

I found this inappropriate funny card in Chicago, and couldn't pass it up. So it's what I gave my dad for Father's Day. Along with a ridiculously expensive small gift. He seemed to appreciate both.

He's been needing to cut the grass out at his land for a while, so Hubs and I loaded up our shredder and took it to him.

He seemed to enjoy driving his four-wheeler around and cutting everything down.

It's been needing a good cutting for some time.

"Hi, Dad!"

My stepmother took the opportunity to do what she calls, "Grandma-ing," which is, essentially, carrying Cavan around until he thinks everyone is supposed to do that, and spoiling the other two.

It was so hot that day!

Yep. He thought the card was funny.

He would, though. It's right up his alley.

Grandma has decided sitting down with Cavan is infinitely easier than walking around with him! Note the dirty knees. She tried her best to keep him from crawling around in the dirt, but he wouldn't have it. The dirt was irresistable.

As is this face.

Sunday we went to my in-laws' house to eat way too much good food and spend way too little time with Uncle Rick, Aunt Kelsey, and Baby Harrison.

The babies really enjoyed playing together.

Cavan doesn't have any toys, so he was particularly fascinated by Harrison's.

See? Finally he's bigger than somebody and doesn't have to tolerate having his toys taken away!

"Ummm... Can somebody get that back for me, please? Pretty please?"

And then Cavan did this, and started a whole new kind of problem.

He was just getting a boost from Harrison...

so he could then tower over the younger baby, and show him who's the sheriff 'round these here parts.

And then he needed a little help back down.

I bet Harrison couldn't wait to get back home.

"Aw. It's okay, Cavan. I'm good."

"So, uh, you wanna go ahead and give me that toy back now?"

Harrison had to get ugly, and after he did, Cavan didn't really want that toy anymore. He kind of just wanted the puke cleaned off his leg.

Then the boys had some much-needed Papaw time.

Cavan's not sure he really wants another baby sharing Papaw's lap.

So Papaw had to distract him.

And Harrison thought it looked like fun, so he joined in.

Now back to Cavan...

Cullen heard all the commotion and decided to join in.

Harrison thought Cullen might be trying to hijack Papaw's lap, so he had to get rough.

Chubs was seepy that day.

"Uhhhh... need a little help here, please."

Cavan wasn't much help at all. He was too intent on sucking all the flavor off his thumbs.
Edited to add: But wait! What's that in his right hand, you ask? Why that would be a lollipop! He's holding his lollipop and sucking his thumb! So he really and truly is trying to suck all the flavor off his thumb before finishing off that lollipop! Do I have a genius, or what???

Yep. That's one of them.

And again, he goes for Harrison's head. Apparently it's easier than standing up all by himself.

Grandma thinks he's just trying to keep Harrison down.

You know, show him who's boss.

Aunt Kelsey tried to distract Cavan with a book... so he'd leave her kid alone!
He decided he needed some Aunt Kelsey time...

So she gave him some.
Then it was time for the obligatory "cousins" photo.

Cavan was having none of it. Cullen and Harrison were ready, though.

It didn't matter what Christian tried, that baby would not cooperate. Cullen thought it was hilarious; Harrison was wondering if he should be crying, too.

A couple more tries, and then we gave up on Chubs in the group shot.

He settled down, so we put him back in...

only to have this happen.

Ooooooooh, it's really bad!

We thought maybe he just didn't want his siblings in the shot, since he's with them all the time.

I guess that was the problem.

You remove two hooligans, and all is well.

Until Harrison decided he did, indeed, need to be crying, too.

And decided to jump ship.

But decided to give as good as he'd gotten before he left!
Hope all the fathers enjoyed their day!